Omega124
Challenging Fate
Besides Chemicals, he only has extreme resitance. Not actual immunity. Besides, John is in a undisclosed location in Vietnam. How could Eli ever get in contect with him.
Just my two cents.
Mutant NES: The Rising
- Thread starter Karalysia
- Start date
Besides Chemicals, he only has extreme resitance. Not actual immunity. Besides, John is in a undisclosed location in Vietnam. How could Eli ever get in contect with him.
Just my two cents.
There are other mutants, millions thorough the world. My problem is with him amalgamating massive massive amounts of power to the point of basically becoming an invulnerable god which makes well interaction with NPC's and other PC's pointless. And any stories would basically be masturbation rather than interesting developments of character or plot.
- Joined
- Mar 31, 2008
- Messages
- 14,928
Is this ok? 
Name: August "Sonereal" Salazar
Age: ~24
Occupation: Varies
Location: Indianapolis, Indiana
Physical Description: Average height. Average weight....average. Brown hair. Blues eyes. Biracial.
Mutant Powers/Abilities:
Other Skills: Musician (namely piano and saxophone), writer, decent at math. Speed reader. Decent computer skills.
Possessions: Average-looking clothes and shoes.
Injuries: None
Affiliation: None
Followers:
Background: August Salazar was born in the harsh mountains of Williamson, West Virginia. At the age of 10, his family was killed by anti-mutant townsfolk but family friends (one a mutant) saved him and brought him west to Indianapolis.
He's since split with those people because of their humanistic approach to dealing with the way normal humans treat mutants. At some point, August was attacked by assailants and left in the alley. He's homeless so he's pretty much starting off from scratch.
Name: August "Sonereal" Salazar
Age: ~24
Occupation: Varies
Location: Indianapolis, Indiana
Physical Description: Average height. Average weight....average. Brown hair. Blues eyes. Biracial.
Mutant Powers/Abilities:
Spoiler :
Other Skills: Musician (namely piano and saxophone), writer, decent at math. Speed reader. Decent computer skills.
Possessions: Average-looking clothes and shoes.
Injuries: None
Affiliation: None
Followers:
Background: August Salazar was born in the harsh mountains of Williamson, West Virginia. At the age of 10, his family was killed by anti-mutant townsfolk but family friends (one a mutant) saved him and brought him west to Indianapolis.
He's since split with those people because of their humanistic approach to dealing with the way normal humans treat mutants. At some point, August was attacked by assailants and left in the alley. He's homeless so he's pretty much starting off from scratch.
Spoiler :
Anonymoose
KING OF MEESE
Hope everything is alright here. Of course if anything is missing or ********, just tell me. 
Name: Magnus Andersen
Age:43
Occupation:Special investigator, Florida Governor's special mutant taskforce, (Kappa Team)
Location: Gainesville, FL
Physical Description: Average build, six feet tall, slightly graying hair. He has green eyes and has no facial hair. He has pianist's hands, but never picked up an instrument. His voice is a tenor, but he has never considered singing. He is perpetually in a suit, it seems, and usually dons some sunglasses.
Mutant Powers/Abilities: Magnus has a passive mutant ability that gives him (virtually) indomitable will. He has overcome rivals and enemies, as well as his fair share of traumatic injury through sheer willpower. (I hope this explanation means something. I don't know how else to explain it, he just wills himself to keep going, to the point that most humans would break, whether it be from injury or, say, an attack by a psionic mutant.)
Other Skills: Standard police training, investigative training, and mutant-hunting training.
Possessions: (The stuff on his person?) i dunno.. a gun, sunglasses, some trident, a pen, his wallet, probably about 50 bucks.
Injuries: none yet
Affiliation: Blindly loyal to his direct superiors, especially the governor.
Followers: 0
Background:
Also, I've already kind of thought of a particular 'villain' that he's involved with. I hope that's alright. It's probably pretty obvious that it's a psionic guy or an illusion-projector or something. It'd be pretty sweet if somebody would play an illusionist in Miami or something. >.>
Name: Magnus Andersen
Age:43
Occupation:Special investigator, Florida Governor's special mutant taskforce, (Kappa Team)
Location: Gainesville, FL
Physical Description: Average build, six feet tall, slightly graying hair. He has green eyes and has no facial hair. He has pianist's hands, but never picked up an instrument. His voice is a tenor, but he has never considered singing. He is perpetually in a suit, it seems, and usually dons some sunglasses.
Mutant Powers/Abilities: Magnus has a passive mutant ability that gives him (virtually) indomitable will. He has overcome rivals and enemies, as well as his fair share of traumatic injury through sheer willpower. (I hope this explanation means something. I don't know how else to explain it, he just wills himself to keep going, to the point that most humans would break, whether it be from injury or, say, an attack by a psionic mutant.)
Other Skills: Standard police training, investigative training, and mutant-hunting training.
Possessions: (The stuff on his person?) i dunno.. a gun, sunglasses, some trident, a pen, his wallet, probably about 50 bucks.
Injuries: none yet
Affiliation: Blindly loyal to his direct superiors, especially the governor.
Followers: 0
Background:
Spoiler :
Also, I've already kind of thought of a particular 'villain' that he's involved with. I hope that's alright. It's probably pretty obvious that it's a psionic guy or an illusion-projector or something. It'd be pretty sweet if somebody would play an illusionist in Miami or something. >.>
thomas.berubeg
Wandering the World
Karalysia: it's your NES.... i'm willing to go with whatever you want to give me, as long as it fits the general theme of what I had asked.
Seon
Not An Evil Liar
Eta?.
Update 1
Jan 1st –Jan 15th 2011
Shocking new study reveals rate of mutation increasing
A 10 year long study released by Cornell University reveals that the rate of mutation among the population has shown rapid increase. The study has not been able to identify the cause of this increasing rate of mutation but shows that the predicted percentage of the mutant population may be much higher than the 3-5%, “Accounting for factors such as illegal immigration and population growth it is possible that the United States may have a population of as many as 7% of mutants. The rate may be even higher given the difficulty involved in counting mutants with non-visible mutations.” said Professor Bransworth
The study has increased calls by supporters for mutant identification/registration legislation and by opponents of illegal immigration for stronger border control as the study revealed a significant number of mutants of Hispanic origin. As the House reconvened on January 12th Majority Leader John Boehner indicated his intention to place illegal immigration and mutant identification at the top of the agenda for the House. The Republican leadership is likely to push for a similar measure once the Senate reconvenes though how successful any legislation will be in the now divided government remains to be seen.
Mysterious pile of gold found
A large number of gold bars were discovered in a vacant lot next to an apartment building in Washington Heights. Much of it had already been taken away by the residents before an officer drove by and noticed the crowd. It is impossible to know how large the original amount was, by the time the authorities got there only a few bars left, a near riot was triggered when cops came in to take the remaining amount. The NYPD suspects that the gold is the result of a bank heist or jewelry store robbery gone wrong and the loot was dumped in the lot. The gold bars are unmarked and no bank or store has been able to identify them. Their source remains elusive.
Shooting in New York results in death of young woman
A 30 year old Caucasian female was shot in an alleyway in Washington Heights in an attempted mugging gone wrong. She was approached by a black male between 5’8-6’1 with a gun who demanded her purse. When she resisted there was a struggle which resulted in a broken leg the gun appears to have accidentally discharged. This panicked her assailant who fled without taking her purse. Should anyone have information regarding the incident contact the NYPD.
Related story:
Officer Evans frowned as she sifted through the report. Something about this was odd. The chief was pressuring her to close the case quickly as a mugging gone wrong. But it just didn’t add up, what was by all appearances a fairly well off white woman doing in a place like Washington Heights? And why would a mugger have been panicked by an accidental shooting? It happened all the time there it wouldn’t have been anything new. Then there was those scorch marks in the alley. ..and the pile of gold that turned up nearby too. What was that? A bank heist gone wrong? Somehow she had a feeling these two incidents were connected.
She knew for a fact that the residents in the apartments next to it had heard or seen something, it would have been impossible not to. But these places had a code of silence when it came to talking to cops combined with a general distrust of police that was hard to break. But it was worth a shot anyway.
She stood up and clipped on her gun. She motioned to her partner “Hey Ray I want to do some site interviews for the Washington Heights shootings. Let’s go.”
Firebombing of St. Louis mutant-owned convenience store; Christian Identity claims responsibility
A small convenience store in St. Louis was firebombed. The store was owned by an elderly mutant proprietor who was killed in the inferno. The Christian Identity group classified as a dangerous domestic terrorist group by the FBI has claimed responsibility; they issued a statement claiming they would “Destroy these Satanic abominations.” The Christian Identity group has been growing rapidly in the Western states and Southern states particularly following their increased emphasis on anti-mutant sentiments to complement their white supremacy and anti-Semitism.
The incident has provoked further demands from mutant rights groups for hate crimes legislation. President Obama condemned the incident and called for Congress to pass bipartisan hate crimes legislation a move opposed by Republicans, nonetheless the incident has drawn broad condemnation from both parties as well as shocked the local community where the owner was well liked. The incident has also resulted in a jurisdictional clash between the FBI and Department of Mutant Affairs (DMA) as both seek to head the investigation.
Jan 1st –Jan 15th 2011
Shocking new study reveals rate of mutation increasing
A 10 year long study released by Cornell University reveals that the rate of mutation among the population has shown rapid increase. The study has not been able to identify the cause of this increasing rate of mutation but shows that the predicted percentage of the mutant population may be much higher than the 3-5%, “Accounting for factors such as illegal immigration and population growth it is possible that the United States may have a population of as many as 7% of mutants. The rate may be even higher given the difficulty involved in counting mutants with non-visible mutations.” said Professor Bransworth
The study has increased calls by supporters for mutant identification/registration legislation and by opponents of illegal immigration for stronger border control as the study revealed a significant number of mutants of Hispanic origin. As the House reconvened on January 12th Majority Leader John Boehner indicated his intention to place illegal immigration and mutant identification at the top of the agenda for the House. The Republican leadership is likely to push for a similar measure once the Senate reconvenes though how successful any legislation will be in the now divided government remains to be seen.
Mysterious pile of gold found
A large number of gold bars were discovered in a vacant lot next to an apartment building in Washington Heights. Much of it had already been taken away by the residents before an officer drove by and noticed the crowd. It is impossible to know how large the original amount was, by the time the authorities got there only a few bars left, a near riot was triggered when cops came in to take the remaining amount. The NYPD suspects that the gold is the result of a bank heist or jewelry store robbery gone wrong and the loot was dumped in the lot. The gold bars are unmarked and no bank or store has been able to identify them. Their source remains elusive.
Shooting in New York results in death of young woman
A 30 year old Caucasian female was shot in an alleyway in Washington Heights in an attempted mugging gone wrong. She was approached by a black male between 5’8-6’1 with a gun who demanded her purse. When she resisted there was a struggle which resulted in a broken leg the gun appears to have accidentally discharged. This panicked her assailant who fled without taking her purse. Should anyone have information regarding the incident contact the NYPD.
Related story:
Officer Evans frowned as she sifted through the report. Something about this was odd. The chief was pressuring her to close the case quickly as a mugging gone wrong. But it just didn’t add up, what was by all appearances a fairly well off white woman doing in a place like Washington Heights? And why would a mugger have been panicked by an accidental shooting? It happened all the time there it wouldn’t have been anything new. Then there was those scorch marks in the alley. ..and the pile of gold that turned up nearby too. What was that? A bank heist gone wrong? Somehow she had a feeling these two incidents were connected.
She knew for a fact that the residents in the apartments next to it had heard or seen something, it would have been impossible not to. But these places had a code of silence when it came to talking to cops combined with a general distrust of police that was hard to break. But it was worth a shot anyway.
She stood up and clipped on her gun. She motioned to her partner “Hey Ray I want to do some site interviews for the Washington Heights shootings. Let’s go.”
Firebombing of St. Louis mutant-owned convenience store; Christian Identity claims responsibility
A small convenience store in St. Louis was firebombed. The store was owned by an elderly mutant proprietor who was killed in the inferno. The Christian Identity group classified as a dangerous domestic terrorist group by the FBI has claimed responsibility; they issued a statement claiming they would “Destroy these Satanic abominations.” The Christian Identity group has been growing rapidly in the Western states and Southern states particularly following their increased emphasis on anti-mutant sentiments to complement their white supremacy and anti-Semitism.
The incident has provoked further demands from mutant rights groups for hate crimes legislation. President Obama condemned the incident and called for Congress to pass bipartisan hate crimes legislation a move opposed by Republicans, nonetheless the incident has drawn broad condemnation from both parties as well as shocked the local community where the owner was well liked. The incident has also resulted in a jurisdictional clash between the FBI and Department of Mutant Affairs (DMA) as both seek to head the investigation.
John Michaels
John Michaels heads to Hanoi on his mission to assassinate the President of Vietnam, Nguyễn Minh Treit. He begins to watch the Presidential Palace and investigate its defenses when he realizes that to do so is practically impossible. There are simply far too many guards for him to get in and get out without being killed. And then to get out of the city and the country would be impossible.
He despairs and contemplates abandoning the mission and going AWOL until he hears news that next month Triet a native Southerner will be paying a visit to his home province in the south as well as Ho Chi Minh city. Attacking him while traveling seems far more doable. This will require some preparation. And a lot of explosives. He will only have one good shot at this.
Syson
Syson finds himself in the concrete jungle of New York City a place he remembers was once just a small colony known as New Amsterdam. He is extremely bored and decides to look for a job but finds himself hard pressed to find one due his ancient appearance as well as somewhat decayed body. Also his lack of resume and the fact that most employers thinks he’s somewhat insane. Ultimately he is able to become a janitor in a New York Walmart.
He also begins to search for other mutants. He is wandering the streets of Brooklyn one night when he comes across flashing lights and a neon sign which indicate it is a strip club. He has heard about this one, it is supposedly famous according to one of the hobo’s he was speaking to. Why not? He figures and gets in the line outside. The bouncer and the other patrons look at him oddly for a moment but this being New York none bother to pay much further attention to him.
Maria
Maria looks up abruptly from the conversation she is having with a friend and puts her drink down. She feels something strange. An odd presence nearby. She squints through the flashing strobe lights and bustling crowd in her club trying to identify the source of the strange sensation. She has never felt anything like it before.
Bronislav Lelyushenko
Bronislav is haunted by frequent flashbacks of his life with the KGB and FSB. He is getting ready to go to work one day after a nightmare when he receives a knock on his door. It is Fedya grinning at him. “I have a job for you Karak.” He says “It pays fantastically. And it involves mutants” he says slyly looking at Bornislav
He walks into the apartment and roots through the liquor cabinet.
“I am receiving two….shall we say guests, sent by our Chinese comrades. One is a Nigerian male another a Turkish female, they are old die hards who have never quiet accepted the decline of our glorious cause. They feel they could use your services with what they are planning they’re backed. What do you say Karak, interested?”
Raul
Raul and Alice (Sylvia’s sister) drive to Yonkers seeking safety. They drive all night searching for a place to stay. They pull up in front of a hotel “I don’t have money” she confesses.
“It is of no concern” Raul replies and pulls a wad of cash out of his pocket. She stares at it wide-eyed. “Who are you?”
“It is of no concern.” He says again.
“Well what do we do now?”
Mark Langevin
Father Mackinnon sighed heavily as he watched the boy leave. He had seen many like him come into his church frightened and confused with what was happening to them. It was a pity that they had been forced to contend with tragedy at such a young age. But as repentant as the boy had seemed it was unlikely he would turn himself in. He had already committed a murder, accidental though it may be. Father Mackinnon had no choice. He picked up the phone and called the police.
As Marks car raced down the highway he noticed lights flashing behind him and sirens. He ducked his head and pulled off slightly to the side to let them pass. Instead of going around him one police car closed in right behind him and demanded that he pull over while another attempted to cut him off.
Not good he thought.
Michael (Uriel Desota)
Michael continues to spread the word, whatever the word is. It is clear to him more than ever with the firebombing of the store that this world needs God's guidance. The area is swarming with cops. He watches them pick over the ruins. Christian Identity is responsible. He shakes his head with disgust. Such misguided lambs to do such things in God's name.
Cody Tepper
Cody groaned as the phone wrong awakening from his drunken sleep straight into a full on hangover. Painful.
He picks it up “Hello” he mutters
“Cody.” It was the Boss “We have a problem. We covered up the incident with Sylvia but the NYPD is pursuing the case. Apparently one of their detectives has found a witness. You left a loose end. I don’t want this leading back to the Department. Make sure you cover your tracks. Do what has to be done but don’t mess with the NYPD.”
There was a click as he hung up and the line went dead. Cody stared at the receiver for a moment before blearily putting it down and going in search of coffee.
Stephen Hunter
It was another boring day at JFK. Scanning people and their usual mundane problems and issues and concerns.
“Death to the fascists” What was that? Stephen focused in on the source. One Nigerian male and a Turkish female. They were mutants. Members of a radical Marxist mutant separatist group. They were planning an attack but not against the plane or airport, they were going to target a government building.
He went to alert security and paused. Alert them for what exactly? They had nothing illegal on them nor were they wanted for a crime. There was no legal reason for them to be detained. Thoughts were not a crime. But they would be killing people and undermining his government….he stared at them torn by his dilemma. An anonymous tip off to the Department of Mutant Affairs maybe? Or should he take a more direct action?
Jorgen Zimmerman
The attempts by Zimmerman’s rather shady mercenary company to reach out to Puntland thus far have had mixed results. The Puntland government has tentatively expressed interest in an arrangement Shareholders are hesitant to invest in a Somali venture with Iraq and Afghanistan being more profitable centers. This may change however as the US government has increased scrutiny on the region due to recent threats against the US by Somali militants.
“Maria. That is a nice name.” says Zimmerman as he leafs through the folder given to him by his assistant. “I would like to meet this woman. She is very attractive. And wealthy.” He licks his lips
“Of course sir.”
“I wonder” he said speaking to himself aloud because that’s just the kind of man he was “If she does anal?”
John Michaels heads to Hanoi on his mission to assassinate the President of Vietnam, Nguyễn Minh Treit. He begins to watch the Presidential Palace and investigate its defenses when he realizes that to do so is practically impossible. There are simply far too many guards for him to get in and get out without being killed. And then to get out of the city and the country would be impossible.
He despairs and contemplates abandoning the mission and going AWOL until he hears news that next month Triet a native Southerner will be paying a visit to his home province in the south as well as Ho Chi Minh city. Attacking him while traveling seems far more doable. This will require some preparation. And a lot of explosives. He will only have one good shot at this.
Syson
Syson finds himself in the concrete jungle of New York City a place he remembers was once just a small colony known as New Amsterdam. He is extremely bored and decides to look for a job but finds himself hard pressed to find one due his ancient appearance as well as somewhat decayed body. Also his lack of resume and the fact that most employers thinks he’s somewhat insane. Ultimately he is able to become a janitor in a New York Walmart.
He also begins to search for other mutants. He is wandering the streets of Brooklyn one night when he comes across flashing lights and a neon sign which indicate it is a strip club. He has heard about this one, it is supposedly famous according to one of the hobo’s he was speaking to. Why not? He figures and gets in the line outside. The bouncer and the other patrons look at him oddly for a moment but this being New York none bother to pay much further attention to him.
Maria
Maria looks up abruptly from the conversation she is having with a friend and puts her drink down. She feels something strange. An odd presence nearby. She squints through the flashing strobe lights and bustling crowd in her club trying to identify the source of the strange sensation. She has never felt anything like it before.
Bronislav Lelyushenko
Bronislav is haunted by frequent flashbacks of his life with the KGB and FSB. He is getting ready to go to work one day after a nightmare when he receives a knock on his door. It is Fedya grinning at him. “I have a job for you Karak.” He says “It pays fantastically. And it involves mutants” he says slyly looking at Bornislav
He walks into the apartment and roots through the liquor cabinet.
“I am receiving two….shall we say guests, sent by our Chinese comrades. One is a Nigerian male another a Turkish female, they are old die hards who have never quiet accepted the decline of our glorious cause. They feel they could use your services with what they are planning they’re backed. What do you say Karak, interested?”
Raul
Raul and Alice (Sylvia’s sister) drive to Yonkers seeking safety. They drive all night searching for a place to stay. They pull up in front of a hotel “I don’t have money” she confesses.
“It is of no concern” Raul replies and pulls a wad of cash out of his pocket. She stares at it wide-eyed. “Who are you?”
“It is of no concern.” He says again.
“Well what do we do now?”
Mark Langevin
Father Mackinnon sighed heavily as he watched the boy leave. He had seen many like him come into his church frightened and confused with what was happening to them. It was a pity that they had been forced to contend with tragedy at such a young age. But as repentant as the boy had seemed it was unlikely he would turn himself in. He had already committed a murder, accidental though it may be. Father Mackinnon had no choice. He picked up the phone and called the police.
As Marks car raced down the highway he noticed lights flashing behind him and sirens. He ducked his head and pulled off slightly to the side to let them pass. Instead of going around him one police car closed in right behind him and demanded that he pull over while another attempted to cut him off.
Not good he thought.
Michael (Uriel Desota)
Michael continues to spread the word, whatever the word is. It is clear to him more than ever with the firebombing of the store that this world needs God's guidance. The area is swarming with cops. He watches them pick over the ruins. Christian Identity is responsible. He shakes his head with disgust. Such misguided lambs to do such things in God's name.
Cody Tepper
Cody groaned as the phone wrong awakening from his drunken sleep straight into a full on hangover. Painful.
He picks it up “Hello” he mutters
“Cody.” It was the Boss “We have a problem. We covered up the incident with Sylvia but the NYPD is pursuing the case. Apparently one of their detectives has found a witness. You left a loose end. I don’t want this leading back to the Department. Make sure you cover your tracks. Do what has to be done but don’t mess with the NYPD.”
There was a click as he hung up and the line went dead. Cody stared at the receiver for a moment before blearily putting it down and going in search of coffee.
Stephen Hunter
It was another boring day at JFK. Scanning people and their usual mundane problems and issues and concerns.
“Death to the fascists” What was that? Stephen focused in on the source. One Nigerian male and a Turkish female. They were mutants. Members of a radical Marxist mutant separatist group. They were planning an attack but not against the plane or airport, they were going to target a government building.
He went to alert security and paused. Alert them for what exactly? They had nothing illegal on them nor were they wanted for a crime. There was no legal reason for them to be detained. Thoughts were not a crime. But they would be killing people and undermining his government….he stared at them torn by his dilemma. An anonymous tip off to the Department of Mutant Affairs maybe? Or should he take a more direct action?
Jorgen Zimmerman
The attempts by Zimmerman’s rather shady mercenary company to reach out to Puntland thus far have had mixed results. The Puntland government has tentatively expressed interest in an arrangement Shareholders are hesitant to invest in a Somali venture with Iraq and Afghanistan being more profitable centers. This may change however as the US government has increased scrutiny on the region due to recent threats against the US by Somali militants.
“Maria. That is a nice name.” says Zimmerman as he leafs through the folder given to him by his assistant. “I would like to meet this woman. She is very attractive. And wealthy.” He licks his lips
“Of course sir.”
“I wonder” he said speaking to himself aloud because that’s just the kind of man he was “If she does anal?”
- Joined
- Mar 31, 2008
- Messages
- 14,928
What the hell happened?
"Hey buddy, let us buy you a drink!" The man had patted August on the back. Not man. He had just reached the drinking age. Probably a college student. A few of his friends were with him.
August had been sitting at the bar watching TV. The bar had been buzzing with activity. It was, after all, downtown, which is where anything exciting happens in Indianapolis it seems. He was already buzzed and these guys seemed alright. They were buying plenty of people drinks. Rich men....rich boys.....rich college boys.
There were four TVs in the bar and at once, all four cut to BREAKING NEWS! The only words Salazar caught were "firebombing", "Mutant", "Christian", and "Identity". Some people were stunned. Others cheered. Others called out the people cheering and a fight broke out but it quickly simmered down.
One of the college boys, the one who had bought the drinks, raised his glass, "Damn mutie got what he deserved I say!"
August chuckled sardonically, "Is that what people call us these days? 'Muties'?"
"You're a mutant?" Activity and life stopped inside the bar. Full stop. Every eye, ear, and thought was focused on the men at the bar.
"Damn straight Imma a 'mutie'! Ain't no one mo' 'mutie' than this 'mutie' on this side of the 'Ississippi!" August laughed.
There's where I screwed up!
No, not the fact he said it. The fact he didn't noticed the quick twitch in the boy's eye. The fact his telepathy, and indeed all his physic ability, was being jammed from all the beer the guys had pumped into him.
"That's so cool!" The lead boy said. The others looked at him funnily but quickly caught on and started nodding and agreeing. Life came back to the bar and everything was forgotten. No, not forgotten. Ignored for the timebeing.
They kept pumping him beer yet they stopped buying for themselves.
"Damn, man. You need a place to crash?"
August slurred what sounded like agreement and followed the boys out into the timid cold. Was it the alcohol keeping him warm? Nah. Just the fact Indiana weather can't decide what season it is until three months after the season's passed. The boys lead him across the street.
"We parked our car in the parking lot on the other side of the block but you know, we ain't going to walk around the whole damn block just to get there. Nah. We take the alley way. Shortcut.
And August followed.
And once they were out of sight of the street, the boys jumped him. Beat the scheisse out of him. Mugged him. Insulted him. Pissed on him. All the while shouting out slander one probably would hear someone from the Christian Identity shout at a rally.
He had passed out during the beating (and probably before they pissed on him). He awoke some time after they were gone. Not too long though since, from what August remembered, the moon had barely moved. That much he did keep track of, sober or not. Right now, he was fully sober. More than sober actually. His mind was clear of any thought but one.
Returning the favor.
En masse.
Reflexively, August looked around. C'mon! This is an alley way! There must be a-
Squeak!
There we go. He grabbed the rat and concentrated. Rats were fun and easier to drain. The average lifespan of a rat is three years meaning it takes only three seconds, at most, to completely drain the life out of one. This one took a little over a second.
Energy filled him in an instant. A single rat did this! I must've been scrapping the bottom of the barrel for a while! He thought to himself.
He sighed and looked at his hands. He couldn't just walk back into the bar. No, that would be too easy. He watched his hands turn into paws and as his paws came closer and closer to the ground before he finally was looking at the world from ground level.
August scampered down the alley, across the street, and through the backdoor of the bar. The kitchen cooks were lazying about. Most people tonight were simply drinking and having a good time and from the sound of the cheering, the party wasn't over. Yet.
"Man, I hate Saturdays," one cook said.
"Meh. Get used to it. Besides, we're still getting paid, ain't we?" The other cook grinned.
"Man, whatever! I gotta take a piss. Be right back."
"What the *frak* ever man. Just wash your hands, aight?"
"Yeah yeah."
August watched and listened from under a counter. Wait a minute. The man isn't going out to the main bar. There's an employee's only bathroom....perfect. August followed the man like a ninja rat into the bathroom and quickly hid behind a trashcan. The bathroom was one of those one-person deals with the toilet on one end of the short room and the basin sink on the other side with the mirror above it.
Since the mirror was behind him, the man didn't see a full grown man appear from nowhere behind him. He noticed though August clasping his hand over the man's mouth and his mind going fuzzy. August burned through the essence he got from the rat quickly and this man was pretty young. 25 it seems. Easily going to take over a minute to get this guy down.
The man aged before him. Each year passing by in a second. His hair gradually grayed. His skin wrinkled and sagged and soon, the man was far past the point of no return. He sagged in August's hands. Do old people shrink a little bit or something? The man seemed smaller. Whatever.
August shoved the body in the cupboard under the sink. The man didn't release his bowels but than again, he wouldn't. His body was losing energy fasting than his digestive system could handle. August looked in the mirror.
One minute there was August. The next second, there's Joseph Garcia. Above-average Chef of the Haniy Bar and Grill. Someone knocked on the door. "Hey Joe, you done yet? We actually got an order!"
"Hang on Mike, just finishing up!" August replied and trembled. He's ran on empty for so long. That rat was just a drop compared to what he felt now, "Hey Mike, come in here! I think the sink is busted or something man."
The door opened and Mike entered, "You better not have broken the sink again or Haniy is going to-" August grabbed Mike by the collar and dragged him into the bathroom. With little thought, August closed the door and locked it without touching it.
Mike could not scream. He could not move. All he could do was stand there and age to death. Draining did not take energy. Small things like what he did with the door did not take much energy. As a matter of fact, August is pretty sure he's been doing that for years and technically, he's been scrapping the bottom for years. Paralyzing the cook? Didn't take too much effort and he gained a huge net profit energy/essence wise from it.
And Mike was dead. August didn't bother with hiding the body. He exited the bathroom and locked the inside lock. Its Haniy's problem now.
Now, for that order.
Will Continue Later
"Hey buddy, let us buy you a drink!" The man had patted August on the back. Not man. He had just reached the drinking age. Probably a college student. A few of his friends were with him.
August had been sitting at the bar watching TV. The bar had been buzzing with activity. It was, after all, downtown, which is where anything exciting happens in Indianapolis it seems. He was already buzzed and these guys seemed alright. They were buying plenty of people drinks. Rich men....rich boys.....rich college boys.
There were four TVs in the bar and at once, all four cut to BREAKING NEWS! The only words Salazar caught were "firebombing", "Mutant", "Christian", and "Identity". Some people were stunned. Others cheered. Others called out the people cheering and a fight broke out but it quickly simmered down.
One of the college boys, the one who had bought the drinks, raised his glass, "Damn mutie got what he deserved I say!"
August chuckled sardonically, "Is that what people call us these days? 'Muties'?"
"You're a mutant?" Activity and life stopped inside the bar. Full stop. Every eye, ear, and thought was focused on the men at the bar.
"Damn straight Imma a 'mutie'! Ain't no one mo' 'mutie' than this 'mutie' on this side of the 'Ississippi!" August laughed.
There's where I screwed up!
No, not the fact he said it. The fact he didn't noticed the quick twitch in the boy's eye. The fact his telepathy, and indeed all his physic ability, was being jammed from all the beer the guys had pumped into him.
"That's so cool!" The lead boy said. The others looked at him funnily but quickly caught on and started nodding and agreeing. Life came back to the bar and everything was forgotten. No, not forgotten. Ignored for the timebeing.
They kept pumping him beer yet they stopped buying for themselves.
"Damn, man. You need a place to crash?"
August slurred what sounded like agreement and followed the boys out into the timid cold. Was it the alcohol keeping him warm? Nah. Just the fact Indiana weather can't decide what season it is until three months after the season's passed. The boys lead him across the street.
"We parked our car in the parking lot on the other side of the block but you know, we ain't going to walk around the whole damn block just to get there. Nah. We take the alley way. Shortcut.
And August followed.
And once they were out of sight of the street, the boys jumped him. Beat the scheisse out of him. Mugged him. Insulted him. Pissed on him. All the while shouting out slander one probably would hear someone from the Christian Identity shout at a rally.
He had passed out during the beating (and probably before they pissed on him). He awoke some time after they were gone. Not too long though since, from what August remembered, the moon had barely moved. That much he did keep track of, sober or not. Right now, he was fully sober. More than sober actually. His mind was clear of any thought but one.
Returning the favor.
En masse.
Reflexively, August looked around. C'mon! This is an alley way! There must be a-
Squeak!
There we go. He grabbed the rat and concentrated. Rats were fun and easier to drain. The average lifespan of a rat is three years meaning it takes only three seconds, at most, to completely drain the life out of one. This one took a little over a second.
Energy filled him in an instant. A single rat did this! I must've been scrapping the bottom of the barrel for a while! He thought to himself.
He sighed and looked at his hands. He couldn't just walk back into the bar. No, that would be too easy. He watched his hands turn into paws and as his paws came closer and closer to the ground before he finally was looking at the world from ground level.
August scampered down the alley, across the street, and through the backdoor of the bar. The kitchen cooks were lazying about. Most people tonight were simply drinking and having a good time and from the sound of the cheering, the party wasn't over. Yet.
"Man, I hate Saturdays," one cook said.
"Meh. Get used to it. Besides, we're still getting paid, ain't we?" The other cook grinned.
"Man, whatever! I gotta take a piss. Be right back."
"What the *frak* ever man. Just wash your hands, aight?"
"Yeah yeah."
August watched and listened from under a counter. Wait a minute. The man isn't going out to the main bar. There's an employee's only bathroom....perfect. August followed the man like a ninja rat into the bathroom and quickly hid behind a trashcan. The bathroom was one of those one-person deals with the toilet on one end of the short room and the basin sink on the other side with the mirror above it.
Since the mirror was behind him, the man didn't see a full grown man appear from nowhere behind him. He noticed though August clasping his hand over the man's mouth and his mind going fuzzy. August burned through the essence he got from the rat quickly and this man was pretty young. 25 it seems. Easily going to take over a minute to get this guy down.
The man aged before him. Each year passing by in a second. His hair gradually grayed. His skin wrinkled and sagged and soon, the man was far past the point of no return. He sagged in August's hands. Do old people shrink a little bit or something? The man seemed smaller. Whatever.
August shoved the body in the cupboard under the sink. The man didn't release his bowels but than again, he wouldn't. His body was losing energy fasting than his digestive system could handle. August looked in the mirror.
One minute there was August. The next second, there's Joseph Garcia. Above-average Chef of the Haniy Bar and Grill. Someone knocked on the door. "Hey Joe, you done yet? We actually got an order!"
"Hang on Mike, just finishing up!" August replied and trembled. He's ran on empty for so long. That rat was just a drop compared to what he felt now, "Hey Mike, come in here! I think the sink is busted or something man."
The door opened and Mike entered, "You better not have broken the sink again or Haniy is going to-" August grabbed Mike by the collar and dragged him into the bathroom. With little thought, August closed the door and locked it without touching it.
Mike could not scream. He could not move. All he could do was stand there and age to death. Draining did not take energy. Small things like what he did with the door did not take much energy. As a matter of fact, August is pretty sure he's been doing that for years and technically, he's been scrapping the bottom for years. Paralyzing the cook? Didn't take too much effort and he gained a huge net profit energy/essence wise from it.
And Mike was dead. August didn't bother with hiding the body. He exited the bathroom and locked the inside lock. Its Haniy's problem now.
Now, for that order.
Will Continue Later
das
Regeneration In Process
I think it's good as long as everyone is fine with how you're handling the character updates (I am).
And thanks for the plot hook.
And thanks for the plot hook.
erez87
Lord of Random
- Joined
- May 16, 2002
- Messages
- 13,500
A stripper club. I actually have been to one in almost every major empire in the world. I remember the Roman baths, those were lovely days where you could watch humans fight lions and sleep with women and men a like with no one even bothering you. Such free days. Today I am no longer interested in the sexual pleasures of life, they seem uninteresting, they bore me after thousands of years of having them. I am here for a view and for finding entertainment of a new kind.
This one seems to be lovely but I cannot help but notice this new strange smell. I smelled humans from all corners of the Earth, every nationality has its own, every race does as well. Yet this is some new kind of nationality or race. I smelled it before in New York, but only for flitting moments. I am sure this is how mutants smell like. Perhaps one is enjoying this club? Only one way to tell.
*As Syson is finally inside the club he sits on a chair on the side of the bar and lifts his robes a little. His left leg is clearly seen to be nothing but bare bones, one stripper that sees it begin screaming as people slowly stop doing what they did. The screaming stripper runs out of the club as well as anyone else who notices his leg. A smile on his face he is sure this will attract attention as needed.*
This one seems to be lovely but I cannot help but notice this new strange smell. I smelled humans from all corners of the Earth, every nationality has its own, every race does as well. Yet this is some new kind of nationality or race. I smelled it before in New York, but only for flitting moments. I am sure this is how mutants smell like. Perhaps one is enjoying this club? Only one way to tell.
*As Syson is finally inside the club he sits on a chair on the side of the bar and lifts his robes a little. His left leg is clearly seen to be nothing but bare bones, one stripper that sees it begin screaming as people slowly stop doing what they did. The screaming stripper runs out of the club as well as anyone else who notices his leg. A smile on his face he is sure this will attract attention as needed.*
Seon
Not An Evil Liar
You sit in the desk by the window, nursing a cup of coffee.
"...cover your tracks..."
Cover your tracks. Cover your tracks. Cover your tracks.
"...what could he mean?" you wonder out aloud.
"He means," a voice from outside the window said. "to silence the witness."
You freeze. The room's in second floor. You hear the lock of the window give and the window open. A figure floats into the room. A red haired woman probably not a day older than 25. She's wearing a dark blue suit. She has a completely blank expression on her face.
Dlanor.
She looks a rather frail, yet you feel a little shiver. Some time ago, you and Dlanor were sent in to break apart a standoff between a violent drug cartel and the FBI. She arrived a few minutes before you and just walked in alone. There were much gunfire. When you rushed in there, you found Dlanor wounded by a bullet to the arm.
And 8 people dead, 29 people heavily injured, and 5 people reduced to babbling incoherent mess screaming about a demoness that stopped bullets midair and shot it back at them.
8 people. Killed by their own guns.
"What do you mean...silence the witness?" you say when you are finally able to speak.
Dlanor nods. "It's just what it says on the tin, Mr. Tepper. Kill the witness."
You slowly get up from the chair. "...what?" you say when you are fully up.
"The Boss," Dlanor said. "Was extremely specific when he called me to ensure the job was carried out. Our department, as you see, Mr. Tepper, is in a political crisis. If the word goes out that one of our agents went rogue, than it could mean the dissolution of the entire organization. The Boss believes that the only way to ensure this would be the death of the witness in question. This was determined after an exhaustive study into the dossier of the detective who is on the case, and I must say that I agree with the Boss."
You can scarcely believe what you are hearing. Dlanor maintains her business-like neutral expression. It's always so hard to find out what she is thinking. There is a reason why she is called the Murder Doll in the department. "But that's insane," you say. "The witness is innocent."
Dlanor does not answer, and clenches her lips. "Do your job, Mr. Tepper," she finally says.
"I don't want to," you answer. For the first time, you see something other then her usual blank expression on her face. It's a unique mixture of frustration, nervousness, and panic.
"Please, Mr. Tepper," Dlanor said. Dlanor saying please? "How would the government be able to deal with mutants of high power without heavy casualties without our organization?"
You don't answer that.
"Please." Dlanor repeats. You slowly pull out the gun and the dartgun, reclaimed from the scene of the murder a week ago, and stare intently into it.
What's wrong with another murder? The thought crosses you like a lightning bolt.
........................................................................................................................................................
Dlanor waves a hand over the door. There's a click as the lock disengages, and you immediately rush into the room. You see the woman reaching for the phone, and close the distance with a single leap to rip it away. You pull out the gun and...
"Wait! Please!" the woman falls back, trying to get away from you as far as possible. There's no escape, Dlanor still remains in the doorway. "I won't testify! I promise I won't testify."
The gun wavers in your hand. You find that you can't pull the trigger. You feel slightly lightheaded.
"Sorry Dlanor..." you finally say. You close your eyes. "I can..."
splat.
You open your eyes just in time to see a kitchen knife fly straight into the witness's stomach. She goes down with a whimper. You feel some droplets of blood splash against your cheek. "Mr.Tepper... you lost your nerve again. This is highly irregular behavior. Boss will be worried," Dlanor said.
"You actually killed her," you say flatly. You slowly turn around, rage filling your heart like poison. Dlanor's still there, standing in the doorway. She's trembling slightly.
"Mr. Tepper," Dlanor's voice breaks a little. "Leave now. I must arrange the crime scene as Boss instructed. You still have 2 weeks worth of vacation. Enjoy it."
"...damn it," you mutter. You stumble towards the doorway. As you walk away, you can swear that you hear Dlanor sobbing.
You pause at a nearby restroom. You wash away the little droplet of blood that is still on your cheek. As you do so, you note how blank your expression looks like. It's just like Dlanor's, you think. You wonder what the others in your department call you by...
"...cover your tracks..."
Cover your tracks. Cover your tracks. Cover your tracks.
"...what could he mean?" you wonder out aloud.
"He means," a voice from outside the window said. "to silence the witness."
You freeze. The room's in second floor. You hear the lock of the window give and the window open. A figure floats into the room. A red haired woman probably not a day older than 25. She's wearing a dark blue suit. She has a completely blank expression on her face.
Dlanor.
She looks a rather frail, yet you feel a little shiver. Some time ago, you and Dlanor were sent in to break apart a standoff between a violent drug cartel and the FBI. She arrived a few minutes before you and just walked in alone. There were much gunfire. When you rushed in there, you found Dlanor wounded by a bullet to the arm.
And 8 people dead, 29 people heavily injured, and 5 people reduced to babbling incoherent mess screaming about a demoness that stopped bullets midair and shot it back at them.
8 people. Killed by their own guns.
"What do you mean...silence the witness?" you say when you are finally able to speak.
Dlanor nods. "It's just what it says on the tin, Mr. Tepper. Kill the witness."
You slowly get up from the chair. "...what?" you say when you are fully up.
"The Boss," Dlanor said. "Was extremely specific when he called me to ensure the job was carried out. Our department, as you see, Mr. Tepper, is in a political crisis. If the word goes out that one of our agents went rogue, than it could mean the dissolution of the entire organization. The Boss believes that the only way to ensure this would be the death of the witness in question. This was determined after an exhaustive study into the dossier of the detective who is on the case, and I must say that I agree with the Boss."
You can scarcely believe what you are hearing. Dlanor maintains her business-like neutral expression. It's always so hard to find out what she is thinking. There is a reason why she is called the Murder Doll in the department. "But that's insane," you say. "The witness is innocent."
Dlanor does not answer, and clenches her lips. "Do your job, Mr. Tepper," she finally says.
"I don't want to," you answer. For the first time, you see something other then her usual blank expression on her face. It's a unique mixture of frustration, nervousness, and panic.
"Please, Mr. Tepper," Dlanor said. Dlanor saying please? "How would the government be able to deal with mutants of high power without heavy casualties without our organization?"
You don't answer that.
"Please." Dlanor repeats. You slowly pull out the gun and the dartgun, reclaimed from the scene of the murder a week ago, and stare intently into it.
What's wrong with another murder? The thought crosses you like a lightning bolt.
........................................................................................................................................................
Dlanor waves a hand over the door. There's a click as the lock disengages, and you immediately rush into the room. You see the woman reaching for the phone, and close the distance with a single leap to rip it away. You pull out the gun and...
"Wait! Please!" the woman falls back, trying to get away from you as far as possible. There's no escape, Dlanor still remains in the doorway. "I won't testify! I promise I won't testify."
The gun wavers in your hand. You find that you can't pull the trigger. You feel slightly lightheaded.
"Sorry Dlanor..." you finally say. You close your eyes. "I can..."
splat.
You open your eyes just in time to see a kitchen knife fly straight into the witness's stomach. She goes down with a whimper. You feel some droplets of blood splash against your cheek. "Mr.Tepper... you lost your nerve again. This is highly irregular behavior. Boss will be worried," Dlanor said.
"You actually killed her," you say flatly. You slowly turn around, rage filling your heart like poison. Dlanor's still there, standing in the doorway. She's trembling slightly.
"Mr. Tepper," Dlanor's voice breaks a little. "Leave now. I must arrange the crime scene as Boss instructed. You still have 2 weeks worth of vacation. Enjoy it."
"...damn it," you mutter. You stumble towards the doorway. As you walk away, you can swear that you hear Dlanor sobbing.
You pause at a nearby restroom. You wash away the little droplet of blood that is still on your cheek. As you do so, you note how blank your expression looks like. It's just like Dlanor's, you think. You wonder what the others in your department call you by...
I was actually wondering whether I'd get away with giving my character mind reading on top of mutant detection and mutant suppression and several barrels of cash and weapons, but it seemed a nice way to avoid trouble which might seek out mutants in high places more easily so I thought it'd slip in as a weaker backup power (though of course come to think of it while I didn't intend to emphasize it, it is obviously the bomb in regards to social charisma, diplomacy and bluff)... more to avoid trouble then get out of it though it works for that too.
Hmmm... instead of making a new character I bet I could make a ton of cash rounding up rogue mutants! (And get killed... but what the heck! Joergen has already established his legacy!)
Yarrrr, go lawful good/neutral. I bet evil will get its fingers into such a law though, lol, of course. But then again that Supers comic story was always silly. With all these amazing powers running around registration does sound like a necessary infringement upon liberty. A well organized mutant society would have it... does the X-men school have files on their students? Hmmm... oh I could set up a training camp somewhere in the arctic or Antarctica. That'd be neat! I gotta find this gold dude and make him bankroll me more properly...
Adventure thread found!
erez87
Lord of Random
- Joined
- May 16, 2002
- Messages
- 13,500
Everyone has their limits. Burying Syson 5km underground will make him for all matters, dead for ever, unless some chance will make his body rise to the ground again. He is far from a god, he just can't die.
qoou
Emperor
- Joined
- Dec 13, 2007
- Messages
- 1,991
Maria was baffled. She had no idea what she was feeling. It was nothing like anything she'd ever experienced before. Someone, or something, had just walked into her club, that she could tell. He was alive, and perfectly calm. Yet there was still something wrong about him, and she could not put her finger on it.
At that point she heard screaming and turned around just in time to see one of her strippers run out. "I should have never hired that bimbo" Maria thought. Yet she had to act quickly: the unease spreading through her club was almost palpable to her. She lowered norepinephrine levels of her customers, and for good measure pushed dopamine levels up slightly.
Pushing her way through the crowd she finally reached the center of the commotion: a man, seemingly around 80-90 years of age. Not the typical customer. A bouncer had also rushed to the scene, but now seemed to be paralyzed with fear. Maria frowned. "What in the world do you think you're doing old man? Don't think I won't have you thrown out just beca - what. What is that? How?"
Maria now remembered where she had felt this kind of presence before. This was the feeling of worn-down glands. But this was far past normal. It felt as though this man, standing before her exposing his bone leg, was hundreds if not thousands of years old. This was not possible.
"Throw him out" she told her bouncer. "Throw him out!" she repeated and used her powers to bring the bouncer to action. She forced enjoyment back into her customers' bodies and walked back to her table. And even though she was also fine-tuning her own hormones, she could not help but wonder what other unpleasant surprises the future held for her.
At that point she heard screaming and turned around just in time to see one of her strippers run out. "I should have never hired that bimbo" Maria thought. Yet she had to act quickly: the unease spreading through her club was almost palpable to her. She lowered norepinephrine levels of her customers, and for good measure pushed dopamine levels up slightly.
Pushing her way through the crowd she finally reached the center of the commotion: a man, seemingly around 80-90 years of age. Not the typical customer. A bouncer had also rushed to the scene, but now seemed to be paralyzed with fear. Maria frowned. "What in the world do you think you're doing old man? Don't think I won't have you thrown out just beca - what. What is that? How?"
Maria now remembered where she had felt this kind of presence before. This was the feeling of worn-down glands. But this was far past normal. It felt as though this man, standing before her exposing his bone leg, was hundreds if not thousands of years old. This was not possible.
"Throw him out" she told her bouncer. "Throw him out!" she repeated and used her powers to bring the bouncer to action. She forced enjoyment back into her customers' bodies and walked back to her table. And even though she was also fine-tuning her own hormones, she could not help but wonder what other unpleasant surprises the future held for her.
- Joined
- Mar 31, 2008
- Messages
- 14,928
"Order up!"
Sure, August knew how to make a cheeseburger before he became "Mike" but Mike's ability to make a good American cheeseburger is stunning. This is definitely a skill August knew he's going to want to keep.
Thank....cologne.....hot.
August grinned and looked the waiter in the eyes. Very mild and passive telepathy? Should be useful for now. Only works one way hopefully. The waiter? His name was Donny. He's in a few different relationships. He's 22. Oh, and he likes the job for the ladies. Mike and Joe has a lot of snippets about the bar's favorite waiter but that's all he needed to know.
"Where's Joe?" Donny asked.
"Bathroom." Donny shrugged and took the plate.
August looked out into the bar. Damn! The college guys were already gone. Would've been suspicious if they had returned after "taking" him home after all. They were regulars here but Mike didn't know their names (because I don't care, his thoughts summed up) and Joe is....was new.
"Hey, does anyone know where those college guys stay? One of them left a watch with me. Told me to hold onto it and that'll take it off me when they leave but those guys are gone," August sighed, "I ain't going to hold it all night!"
"I do! I'm going to go over there once the place closes. Hand it to me," a woman (the one Donny's been all over this evening) stated.
"Yeah yeah. I gotta find the watch. Come around back here and give me a second."
One trip to the bathroom later, August was walking out the backdoor in heels. Her car said she was rich like those boys. Why do these kids hang out in this bar? Whatever. There are three decayed bodies locked in a bathroom and it won't be long until someone notices something. The boys didn't live far away. Good.
The pack leader of the college boys was Aiken Drummer. The other two were Clay Fitzpatrick and Johnathan Smith. They stay on campus and getting on campus requires an ID. Good news is that August now had an ID.
Frat....house? August knocked since the lights were still on. Smith answered the door.
"Julia! How are-?"
"You pissed on me after knocking me out?" August asked sweetly in Julia's voice.
"What are you talking about...wait a minute. Julia?"
Push.
John Smith suddenly couldn't get any of his thoughts out. All that passed his lips was mindless phrases. His thoughts were being bombarded by rather meaningless things. Colors. Sights. Sounds. All of it a disruption. He swung, slowly, at August who easily sidestepped and clasped his hand over the boy's mouth.
John was 20 and had used a fake ID to get into the bar, like his other two friends. Damn the boy for his health though. It'll easily take over a minute to drain-
"Who's at the door, John?" August swore and snapped his fingers at Clay who had just entered the front hallway. It looked like someone punched a hole through the boy's abdomen because one pretty much had. He doubled over and collapsed to the floor, blood pooling around him. He never lifted his hand off John's mouth.
Other animals don't require the hand over the mouth but humans do for some reason. Its a trade off August supposed. Draining humans paralyzes them while he did it. Doing it to animals didn't so no chance in hell of him draining a bear.
Unless I paralyze it with my mind. No time to think about this!
For the second time tonight, August was caught slightly off guard but not off-guard enough to get him killed. He swung John, now in his late 60s, around to block the fireball.
Aiken Drummer.
"Hey Mutie!" August-Julia giggled, "So, a mutie that beats up other muties? I suppose the first part's a secret, huh?"
"What the hell Julia? What are you doing!?"
"Oh yeah, that." August shapeshifted in a snap to his normal self, "I ain't Julia and your ability to throw fireballs is impressive. It's going to be a shame to kill another mutant."
"You don't know me so shut your mouth!"
"Your father is the head of the Parents for a Christian Environment. Your mom is dead. Was she a mutant? Because neither of your friends know you were a mutant. Trust me, I would've known."
Aiken smiled, "My dad is. Not that it matters. You ain't going to tell anybody!" Flames poured from his hands at August and engulfed him--no it didn't. It wrapped around him.
"Out of ya league fool. I'm running on a dozen car batteries right now or something. Look!"
August held his arm out, the flames bent around his arm as if trying to avoid him. He snapped his fingers and the flames went out. Aiken launched a ball of flame this time. The shield took the blast but he knew that if he stood here taking shot after shot of those, he's going to run out energy sooner or later.
With a quick flick of energy, he blasted a hole in the wall next to Aiken. The single second distraction was enough for August to close the small distance between himself and Aiken. Sobered up, August landed punch after punch into Aiken's face, neck, and chest. Time for the killing blow! August hand shot to Aiken's mouth but Aiken cut him off and August screamed in pain as the boy's flaming arm, knocked his arm away.
"I tried to be fair you cheating bastard!" Aiken's head jerked to the side like a boxer who had just received a strong hook. This boxer was hooked again, this time from the other side. August sent one telekinetic punch after another into the boy before landing a "chop" to the back of the boy's head, knocking him cold to the ground.
He burned through most of the energy he had gotten from John but it was over....
The police can deal with these guys. One guy was pretty much toasted. The other guy had been drained and as for Aiken?
Well, he was still alive.
But August would be damned if he was going to let him remain alive with that nice-to-have mutant power. Why let such an ungrateful mutant keep his power when August could simply drain the kid and his power? With that train of thought, August clamped his hand over the boy's mouth and drained him and even once he was dead, he kept draining.
Until the kid's bones turned to dust.
--------
Two-week plan
-Lurk in the city. Drain stray animals and homeless.
-Look for other, less-than-friendly-to-human, mutants.
Sure, August knew how to make a cheeseburger before he became "Mike" but Mike's ability to make a good American cheeseburger is stunning. This is definitely a skill August knew he's going to want to keep.
Thank....cologne.....hot.
August grinned and looked the waiter in the eyes. Very mild and passive telepathy? Should be useful for now. Only works one way hopefully. The waiter? His name was Donny. He's in a few different relationships. He's 22. Oh, and he likes the job for the ladies. Mike and Joe has a lot of snippets about the bar's favorite waiter but that's all he needed to know.
"Where's Joe?" Donny asked.
"Bathroom." Donny shrugged and took the plate.
August looked out into the bar. Damn! The college guys were already gone. Would've been suspicious if they had returned after "taking" him home after all. They were regulars here but Mike didn't know their names (because I don't care, his thoughts summed up) and Joe is....was new.
"Hey, does anyone know where those college guys stay? One of them left a watch with me. Told me to hold onto it and that'll take it off me when they leave but those guys are gone," August sighed, "I ain't going to hold it all night!"
"I do! I'm going to go over there once the place closes. Hand it to me," a woman (the one Donny's been all over this evening) stated.
"Yeah yeah. I gotta find the watch. Come around back here and give me a second."
One trip to the bathroom later, August was walking out the backdoor in heels. Her car said she was rich like those boys. Why do these kids hang out in this bar? Whatever. There are three decayed bodies locked in a bathroom and it won't be long until someone notices something. The boys didn't live far away. Good.
The pack leader of the college boys was Aiken Drummer. The other two were Clay Fitzpatrick and Johnathan Smith. They stay on campus and getting on campus requires an ID. Good news is that August now had an ID.
Frat....house? August knocked since the lights were still on. Smith answered the door.
"Julia! How are-?"
"You pissed on me after knocking me out?" August asked sweetly in Julia's voice.
"What are you talking about...wait a minute. Julia?"
Push.
John Smith suddenly couldn't get any of his thoughts out. All that passed his lips was mindless phrases. His thoughts were being bombarded by rather meaningless things. Colors. Sights. Sounds. All of it a disruption. He swung, slowly, at August who easily sidestepped and clasped his hand over the boy's mouth.
John was 20 and had used a fake ID to get into the bar, like his other two friends. Damn the boy for his health though. It'll easily take over a minute to drain-
"Who's at the door, John?" August swore and snapped his fingers at Clay who had just entered the front hallway. It looked like someone punched a hole through the boy's abdomen because one pretty much had. He doubled over and collapsed to the floor, blood pooling around him. He never lifted his hand off John's mouth.
Other animals don't require the hand over the mouth but humans do for some reason. Its a trade off August supposed. Draining humans paralyzes them while he did it. Doing it to animals didn't so no chance in hell of him draining a bear.
Unless I paralyze it with my mind. No time to think about this!
For the second time tonight, August was caught slightly off guard but not off-guard enough to get him killed. He swung John, now in his late 60s, around to block the fireball.
Aiken Drummer.
"Hey Mutie!" August-Julia giggled, "So, a mutie that beats up other muties? I suppose the first part's a secret, huh?"
"What the hell Julia? What are you doing!?"
"Oh yeah, that." August shapeshifted in a snap to his normal self, "I ain't Julia and your ability to throw fireballs is impressive. It's going to be a shame to kill another mutant."
"You don't know me so shut your mouth!"
"Your father is the head of the Parents for a Christian Environment. Your mom is dead. Was she a mutant? Because neither of your friends know you were a mutant. Trust me, I would've known."
Aiken smiled, "My dad is. Not that it matters. You ain't going to tell anybody!" Flames poured from his hands at August and engulfed him--no it didn't. It wrapped around him.
"Out of ya league fool. I'm running on a dozen car batteries right now or something. Look!"
August held his arm out, the flames bent around his arm as if trying to avoid him. He snapped his fingers and the flames went out. Aiken launched a ball of flame this time. The shield took the blast but he knew that if he stood here taking shot after shot of those, he's going to run out energy sooner or later.
With a quick flick of energy, he blasted a hole in the wall next to Aiken. The single second distraction was enough for August to close the small distance between himself and Aiken. Sobered up, August landed punch after punch into Aiken's face, neck, and chest. Time for the killing blow! August hand shot to Aiken's mouth but Aiken cut him off and August screamed in pain as the boy's flaming arm, knocked his arm away.
"I tried to be fair you cheating bastard!" Aiken's head jerked to the side like a boxer who had just received a strong hook. This boxer was hooked again, this time from the other side. August sent one telekinetic punch after another into the boy before landing a "chop" to the back of the boy's head, knocking him cold to the ground.
He burned through most of the energy he had gotten from John but it was over....
The police can deal with these guys. One guy was pretty much toasted. The other guy had been drained and as for Aiken?
Well, he was still alive.
But August would be damned if he was going to let him remain alive with that nice-to-have mutant power. Why let such an ungrateful mutant keep his power when August could simply drain the kid and his power? With that train of thought, August clamped his hand over the boy's mouth and drained him and even once he was dead, he kept draining.
Until the kid's bones turned to dust.
--------
Two-week plan
-Lurk in the city. Drain stray animals and homeless.
-Look for other, less-than-friendly-to-human, mutants.
erez87
Lord of Random
- Joined
- May 16, 2002
- Messages
- 13,500
Thrown out. This was not the first time. Somewhat amusing, but still intriguing how people who seemingly froze when seeing my bare bones suddenly moved as if out of character for themselves to throw me out. Strange.
Oh and that woman who shouted to throw me out. How insulting, has she never heard of respecting the elders? Such unforgiving times, such insulting people. Throwing an old man out by force. I am truly disgusted.
Well that was time well spent, I did enjoy the moment but that smell of a new kind of human. I hope I won't get used to it so quickly like anyone does with a new group of people he never met. In any case, my search continues.
Perhaps in my quest for a job I should use my only true skill, my memory of history is unchallenged in this modern world. Maybe offer myself as a history tutor?
Oh and that woman who shouted to throw me out. How insulting, has she never heard of respecting the elders? Such unforgiving times, such insulting people. Throwing an old man out by force. I am truly disgusted.
Well that was time well spent, I did enjoy the moment but that smell of a new kind of human. I hope I won't get used to it so quickly like anyone does with a new group of people he never met. In any case, my search continues.
Perhaps in my quest for a job I should use my only true skill, my memory of history is unchallenged in this modern world. Maybe offer myself as a history tutor?
Similar threads
- Poll
