Mutant NES: The Rising

Update 2

Jan 15th-Jan 29th

News:

Shocking Murders in Indianapolis; Suspected mutant serial killer on loose

A serial killer has struck repeatedly in Indianapolis. Two aged corpses were discovered in the employee’s restroom of Haniy’s bar. They were identified as two cooks who worked there. Forensics indicated that the men had been dead for years yet both men were discovered hours after going missing from work.

A similar series of murders occurred in a frat house. The victims were identified to 21 year old Clay Fitzpatrick, and 20 year old Jonathan Smith. The modus operandi used to kill John was similar to the first two victims while Clay’s death was caused by an injury to the abdomen. Another resident of the frat house 21 year old Aiken Drummer is still missing. The police claim evidence of struggle with scorch marks indicating the likely involvement of one or more mutants. Investigation is ongoing and the suspected serial killer remains at large.

New York Stock Exchange Attacked by Mutant Terrorist Group; Stocks plunge

A group calling itself the Mutant Inspirational Liberation Front attacked the New York Stock Exchange. One of the terrorists was Latino, approximately 50-70 years old and the other a Caucasian woman, suspected to be the one involved in the subway sabotage. Both were wearing facial masks and infiltrated the building. The guards vests changed to a solid block of lead, incapacitating them. Shortly afterwards, all power to the entire street was lost due to a major power surge, not completely unlike those experienced by the commuters on the metro two weeks ago. A mp3 message was left detailing their cause.

The suspects, while escaping, caused the tires of the cars chasing them to turn to glass and eluded capture. The chase caused multiple car crashes, and many are seriously injured although none have been killed.

The NYSE was shut down for a whole day and when it reopened stocks plunged sparking fears of a stock market crash. The NYSE was shut down again for another day before trading was allowed to resume. Stocks fell again but more moderately and began to level out. Investors remain jittery over the situation in the US.

Two Mutants arrested in JFK airport for terrorism

Two mutants were arrested in JFK on terrorism charges. Their names are unknown but they have been identified as an African male and Turkish female. They are currently being held for questioning, they were caught by the TSA’s resident mutant mind reader whose name has not been disclosed on request. The two mutants are said to have links to a Marxist inspired mutant terrorist group.

Anti-Mutant incidents spike in wake of mutant attacks

There have been number of killings and assaults against mutants through the country as part of the backlash in the wake of the Stock Market Attack and the two mutant terrorists arrested at JFK airport. Six mutants were gunned down by an angry member of the Human Defense Alliance Militia in Florida, while in New York a mutant taxi driver was beaten to death by a group of unidentified men, in Virginia a mutant-run school was firebombed, in Missouri two mutants were killed in a drive by shooting of their house by Christian Identity members. The FBI has reported that a very worrying trend is occurring as radical groups such as the Human Defense Alliance Militia and Christian Identity are increasingly beginning to target mutants in semi-coordinated attacks.

House Passes Mutant Registration Act

In an emergency session following the Stock Market attack the Republican lead House of Representatives quickly scheduled a vote on the Mutant Registration Act which passed with small bi-partisan support, Blue Dog and moderate Democrats swung in favor of the legislation while most of the liberals and Progressives sided with Minority Leader Pelosi in voting against act. Majority Leader John Boehner called it “a victory for common-sense and safety for the American people” The MRA makes it a requirement for all mutants to have their powers and addresses entered into a police database and requires that all mutants carry identification card which provide information on their powers which must be presented to a police officer or government official upon request. The legislation will go to the Senate where it faces uncertain prospects where the Democrats still retain a majority though several are wavering on the issue in the wake of the NYSE attack. President Obama has come out against the measure stating that the American people must not give into fear and be terrorized into taking away civil rights.
 
Bronislav

Bronislav officially joins the Russian mafia.

He is in Chinatown one day when he is stopped by a Triad man who presses an envelope into his hand and hisses “You’re going to want to take this job. It’s well worth your while. There’s an address in there. Be there tomorrow at nine.”The Triad man walks away.

Bronislav opens the envelope and finds a wad of bills along with the address to a nearby brothel.

Raul

Raul and Alice continue to flee from the police. They are pretty sure they’ve lost them by this point. Hopefully.

Mark

Mark shifted uncomfortably on the packing peanuts, he was pretty sure some of them were glued to his ass by now. He had been stuck in this truck for hours now. He had already had to take a piss in one of the boxes; hopefully he would be able to hold out until the truck stopped. He was in a Nabisco food truck. He had already eaten several boxes of Ritz Bits, Triscuts and Oreo’s and drunk a case of Tang. Unfortunately there were no clothes but at least he was in no danger of starving to death.

The truck pulled to a stop and he heard the door slam. The driver was getting out. He scrambled out of the box and pressed his ear against the side straining to hear what was going on. It was muffled and difficult to hear but from what he could catch:

Wel..to…United....toms…..see your papers……..know the drill…….inspect the……ment….pen it up”

His eyes widened. Oh no. Did that mean what he thought it meant? Was this truck at the US border?

Michael

Michael does charity and beats up a mugger.

John Michaels

Continues to collect a variety of explosives and various other materials in his attempt to assassinate the President of Vietnam. The date is fast approaching. The Vietnamese President has moved his travel plans ahead by several weeks. He will now be visiting Ho Chi Minh City and his hometown in the coming week. John has only one chance at pulling this off successfully.


Syson

Syson is thrown out of Maria’s bar after frightening a number of patrons. He attempts to get a job as a history tutor but fails in this attempt as people are put off by his odd mannerisms and appearance.


Cody

Cody and Dlanor hunt for Raul and Alice. They are far closer than they suspect.

Stephen

Stephen following his success at identifying the two mutant terrorists in JFK applies to the Department of Mutant Affairs. He receives a call from the Boss informing him that his application has been accepted, and that his power and experience is considered invaluable to the organization and the future of the country. He is asked to begin right away as all resources are going toward investigating the Stock Market attack.

Eli

Eli is walking to class one day when he finds himself being mugged at knife point. The mugger demands his wallet and Eli hesitates considering his options. It would be so easy to just……

August

August is skulking about an alley draining the last of a hobo when he feels someone move up behind him.

“Found you at last” the man says in a deep rumble

He turns around readying himself to fight and finds himself face to chest with a mountain of a man. He takes a step backward and looks at his face. The man has a long scar running through his left eye extending from his forehead all the way down to his chin. He wears an eye patch.

August lunges for him preparing to drain him only to find himself being grabbed by steel encased arms and smashed against the wall.

The man-mountain chuckles “Bad move.”

“What do you want?” he chokes out

Man-mountain grins “I hear you’re not too fond of humans. Well that’s something we have in common.”

Magnus

Magnus shut off Fox News angrily. Those goddamn mutants. They just wouldn’t stop until they had destroyed this country just like Glenn Beck said. Mutants attacking the New York stock exchange, mutant commies trying to blow up government buildings. Mutant serial killer running rampant. Everything was going to hell in a hand basket. Sometimes he thought that maybe those Human Defense Alliance guys had the right idea.

His phone rang; it was one of his underlings “Yeah?” he growled

“Boss the feces are really hit the fan down here. The mutants are rioting! They’re pissed because some Human Defense Alliance guy gunned down a whole bunch of em. ”

His eyes widened. He got up and picked up his gun. He would show those mutant bastard who was boss.

Barnabas

In hindsight Barnabas suspects that maybe he shouldn’t have been quite so obvious that he was a mutant. Now they think he’s a danger. Oh well what’s done is done.

“Police open up!” the demand comes again through the door of his dorm room as the officer pounds the door.
He makes no attempt to move. He is quite confident this will work out for the best. Somehow.

Eugene

Eugene is getting hot and heavy with his cousin when someone knocks on his trailer door. Finishing and pulling out he goes to the door to find a bunch of armed guys standing around.

“Now whats all this here bout now gentlemen?” he drawls in his Southern twang and idly picks at the hole where his missing tooth was.

“Eugene Emmons?” one of them asks. A large bearded man.

“I reckon that’s me.” He answers

The bearded man smiles “I hear you’re a bounty hunter. Well we’re Christian Identity and we think you’re just the sort of fella we want in our little club, we have a job for you. Whaddya say?”
 
Update posted. Same style as last one. For those who have only one line or something that can be because:

1. I didn't think you need much help or input from me on where to take your plot.
2. You had no stories or orders
3. I had no idea what to write
4. Some combination of the above.
 
Alice hands him the paper she's been reading, but once again Raul slaps it away, "I'm driving"

"Well, you should know some things."

"What?"

"Well, the voice masking on the CD went really well. They think you are in your fifties."

Another State Line, Raul reaches in the back where he has a collection of license plates, Maryland. He will have to pull over soon to change the plate.

"Where do you get fake license plates?" Alice asks.

"Fake?" he asks, "But to answer your question, off of cars. Long term parking. Aren't you from Manhattan?"

"Where are we headed?" She asks, looking at the map, they are much too far West to be headed to D.C.

"Undisclosed location," Raul smiles.

She toys with a calculator, does a few simple additon problems on it before the screen blows out, "Do they have the votes the filibuster the Registration Act?"

Raul shrugs, "Damn the paperwork," Raul does not fill out paperwork.

"Do you feel bad about it?"

"Why?"

"They cited us..." another calculator blown out, "a hundred and three times during the debate."

"No way."

"Yes way."

"Well," Raul says, "With that sort of publicity on our side it's all downhill from here."
 
Hell-to-the yes. Story will be in this post within a day or so. Interesting update, Karalysia.
 
Bronislav eyed the note carefully. Eighth Avenue and 54th Street, Sunset Park, Brooklyn. It sounded very familiar. If he remembered correctly, it was a massage parlor...more specifically, it was owned by the Triads.

The Triads didn't have a strong hold on New York, in fact, the didn't have too much of a hold anywhere on the East Coast. Triads were more at home on the West Coast, most particularly in California, like the Russians were at home in the east in cities like New York City. The Russians and Chinese had a habit of cooperating, and Bronislav had a feeling going to this address would be the Russian Mafia helping the Triads.

The money in the envelope, $80,000, was the usual fare for a hit, most likely against some sort of rival. He would need to speak to his superiors as to how to approach this offer.
 
I will pick up the plot line you've given the week after next because I have 5 colloquiums and need to study like a foreign devil.
 
ooc I have a strong urge to just go and start a never ending killing spree :p
 
"How do I look?" Stephen was modelling his new DMA uniform for Lauren. He was waiting for his partner to pick him up.

"Like a hero." That made him smile. Then he heard the car horn bleating from the road below the apartment.

"I gotta go."

"OK. You go be a hero." They shared a quick kiss before Stephe left the apartment.

For the inhabitants of the building, it was too early to wake up. Mostly addicts of some kind. Most people in the building were mutants, but damn if anybody ever talked about it. One that Stephen knew for definate was some guy that could create euphoria in people. He lived in the basement, and regularly got college kids come in and give them a fix. Quite disgutingly, he even saw a couple of minors go in.

He had just passed the other. Old Mrs Whittaker. She spat at him everyday as he walked passed her door. It had just become another part of his routine. It was sad really, a self-hating mutant. Her power was the ability to talk and control cats. Good thing she had so many.

He finally reached the car. It wasn't anything flash like in the movies. Quite average actually. Unremarkable. His partner was at the wheel, a well-aged man like George Clooney. "Get in kid." His voice had a rough edge, but one could sense some gentleness behind it.

OOC: This is part 1, as I am in a rush. Part 2 tomorro. Or the day after. >.>
 
the update was good, and i think that as long as you're reading our stories we don't really need to post orders. The way i see it, your job is to throw a monkey wrench in everyone's stories and see how they write themselves out of it, or into a completely new situation. So in conclusion, well done :thumbsup:



Barnabas glanced quickly at the window of his dorm, but it was barred. Who bars dorm windows? Oh well, maybe one of these goons would put him out of his misery. On second thought, he could take a try at those bars, maybe he could break them. That depended, of course, on how long his good luck could keep the door on its hinges. Just as that thought entered his mind the door burst open in a flurry of splinters and he found himself being cuffed and dragged through his dorm as bewildered students watched. He made an ugly face at one and watched him cringe back in horror. Smiling smugly, he let himself be dragged towards the heavily armored van which was going to escort him… somewhere. Good time for a nap.

He woke up to the sound of the door being pulled up, and put on his shades to protect himself from the strong incandescent light of some kind of underground bunker. He put up no fight as the troops quickly grabbed him and hauled him into the labyrinth of the new “mutant section” of the police headquarters. He could feel the fear resonating off all of them, fear, anticipation, and a little hate. He wanted so badly to see how far he could stretch his powers could he take down this squad? This building? This whole block? But no, he was to curious, what secrets were they hiding down here, what were they going to do to him? This might actually be fun!

To his extreme annoyance, it was not fun. They simply dragged him to a cell, and after taking another short nap, then listening to his iPod which he had luckily left in his pocket, he was taken to a room for interrogation. He was pushed in, made sit down in a chair, then made they left him alone with the most boring looking man he had ever seen. Maybe he could brighten up his day. He searched for any emotion, but found none. Was he that boring? He tried to push some of his own depraved emotions into the man, but found that he was indeed shielded from psychic attacks. He did notice that the man did not have a gun, but since he was almost twice the size of Barnabas, he saw no way of getting out.

“How long have you had your powers?” said the man in the most dull voice he had ever heard.

He let out a drawn sigh. Why did he have to answer his questions?

“A late bloomer, huh? Let’s get you out of those cuffs.”

Never thought of myself as an actor, but if that works, why not.
The man walked over, took a key out of his pocket and uncuffed him. Leaving the key on the table, next to the cuffs, he took his seat.

“ready to talk?”

“Yeah, but first, I have a question…. How long have YOU been a mutant?”

“I’m not… what do you…. Ohhhhhh we wear mind jammers in these so that your kind can’t get to us. It’s just like wearing body armor.”

“Not that I don’t enjoy this little session of ours, but I really don’t have the time for this.”

And with that, Barnabas got up and walked to the door. The interrogator knew the door was locked, so if this one wanted to play hard to get, then let him. But Barnabas simply opened the door, and to the shock of his keeper walked straight out of the room. But the door was supposed to lock, thought the interrogator, right after it closes it’s supposed to- he heard the door click shut, and couldn’t quite remember it doing so when the mutant kid had entered. He looked frantically at the interrogation table for the key, then heard a clink looked out the window of the room to see the mutant kid toss the key behind his back. He started yelling, then remembered the room was soundproof.

Barnabas wandered the halls for a few minutes, passing a few nurses, but no guards. I guess those mutants don’t like to go down without a fight. As he turned the corner, he noticed an exit sign at the far end of the hallway. And thus the great Barnabas White walked out of the enemies camp and into the debauchery of the city.
 
A light snow fell on the four men smoking on the sidewalk. They carefully watched the building across the street, one with advertisements of foot and body massages blocking the windows. The men were out of place. It was fairly uncommon to see a Russian, let alone four of them, standing in the middle of Brooklyn's Chinatown.

So, why aren't we going in?, complained the bald man with a dark goatee. I am getting tired of sitting around out here.

Patience Ilya, we haven't seen the sign yet, answered the man with gray, curly hair and a bit of a gut.

Ilya snorted. If the damned Chinese could conduct business like everyone else, things wouldn't suck so hard. He was getting impatient, but the others seemed quite content to wait it out. Maksim, the overweight one, was a Boss and was typically the one to speak on be half of the uppermost echelons of the organization during sit-downs with New York's Triads. Fedya, the blond man with the chiseled jaw, was just lighting his second cigarette. He was what the organization called a Rukovoditel or a Chief, a powerful man who makes sure business is taken care of. He more or less controls all of Coney Island and most of southern Brooklyn. Bronislav, also called Karakatitsa or Karak by a few people in the organization, is one of the best hitmen in the organization, albeit being new. Ilya was Henchman and served mostly as muscle for higher ranking people, except when he was shaking down businesses for protection money.

An asian man in a suit stepped out a side door and into the alley across the street. He lit a cigarette and ran his hand through his greased hair. After a moment, he stomped out the cigarette and walked back inside.

I believe that's our cue.

Indeed, Fedya. Its showtime.

The four men extinguished their cigarettes and headed into the massage parlor through the alley's side door. They walked down a dank hall up to a door held open by Triad muscle wielding a shotgun. Inside, five Triads sat on the far end of an ornate table. The Russians took their seats across from the Triads.

We are happy you have decided to join us. We have a job that requires your expertise and finesse. This would be the repayment for our assisting you in establishing operations in San Francisco

The oldest and apparently the most important Triad in the room slid a photograph across the table. Scrawled on the bottom of the photograph was a name, Chang Kwok.

Who is this bastard?

One of the men to the left of the eldest Triad hissed back at Ilya.

This "bastard" is a Tong who is the only thing stopping us from controlling this neighborhood completely.

And you haven't killed him?

We have tried, but we have been unsuccessful. Not only must he be killed, but his supporters must be intimidated into submitting to our dominance.

Fedya looked at Bronislav.

I believe I know just the man to solve your problem. Karak here can get the job done to your satisfaction.
 
Back in Pennsylvania, Raul is changing the plate again behind the trees.

“You don’t know where we’re going, do you?” Alice asks him.

“I was losing the cops.”

She laughs, “Yeah right, what cops, you’re lost.”

Raul shakes his head and closes the driver’s door.

“I have a lead,” he tells her.

“Christian Identity?”

He smiles, “No, but, cute.

“I think we should open up our targets more,” he hands her the paper, points to a story about a serial killer in Indianapolis, “USA Today, their grisly stories.”

“That stuff sells,” Alice replies, “But what do you mean?”

“Well, what the hell is a legitimate serial killer doing terrorizing a town like Indianapolis, it’s not big enough to hide, Midwestern serial killers are more spread out, he doesn’t fit the profile.”

“With spontaneous aging?” she asks, “I don’t know if we should be associating with serial killers, especially one like that.”

“Alice, the USA Today is lying to you, it is full of racist crap hating on mutants and has been as long as we’ve been around. We should investigate the situation before someone is crucified and labeled a,” he makes quote signs with his hands, “Serial killer just for being a mutant. Maybe it’s a confused kid who needs direction, maybe it’s a serial killer. If he is the latter then that sort of person isn’t going to be able to deal with the mutant inspirational liberation front.”

“If we did clean this up it would look pretty good in the papers.”

“As if that matters, goddamn racists,” Raul laughs and takes the paper away from her, hands her a calculator.

She frowns, “Wait, look,” and she turns it on, “What do you want to know?”

“How long can you keep it on?”

“How long do you need it on?”

“Good,” Raul says and hands her the owner’s manual for the car.

“What the hell is this?” Alice asks him.

“It’s an electric device, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“If you could target your charge very precisely then you could change settings, jumpstart the car, hotwire a car, but you can’t do ANY of that if you don’t know how a car works.”

She frowns, she knows he has a point, “You are the worst, bro.”

“I’m just trying to maximize our potential.”

“Yeah? Like you’re so neat, there has to be a better way to deal with guards than turning their shirts to lead. You can hurt people like that, you’re going to crush them. And you told me about the glass trick, that couldn’t have been the best way, you could have just messed with any part of the engine. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had cars break down on me, they’re fragile as hell, and you put shards of glass in the street.”

Raul frowns, “I suppose you have a good point.”

“Look, when we get to Ohio, I’ll drive. Now that you’re not so busy being,” she waves her hands in the air mockingly, “Mysterious, you can actually work on your own damn powers.”

Raul’s frown only deepens, “Fine, but read that book.”

“Oh, I will, I’ll get more precise than you, hell I’ll be running the whole damn grid from any outlet, shutting off power at all the prisons and the security anywhere we need to go. You’ll be jealous, and see that there are consequences for pushing me so damn hard and taking it easy on yourself.”

“Point taken,” Raul’s patience is thin, Alice has turned the tables on him completely, and for her part she has a big grin on her face. She turns to look studiously at the manual. Raul starts the car and gets back on the highway.

-

Changing to the Ohio plates, Raul finishes screwing it in and heads back to the driver’s door, only to find Alice, big grin on her face on the other side, sitting in the seat.

Raul frowns and goes to the other side, sitting in his own passenger’s seat. Alice hands him a calculator.

“The way that it feels to me, there are a lot of suboptimal conductors in that calculator. You could fix that, if I’m not mistaken.”

Raul pulls a screwdriver out, Alice slaps it out of his hand, “Don’t look at it, hold it in your hand. Concentrate, my padawan.”

Raul frowns, but it is marred by a sly grin, he concentrates on the calculator for a second and hands it back to her, screen dark.

She turns it on, “You got, like three of the problem spots, but you could still make it faster, there’s another dozen places you need to change the wiring to gold or platinum. If you finish with that one I think you know where the rest of the calculators are.”

He shakes his head, “Is this how it is now?”

“Don’t worry,” she smiles and starts the car without turning the key, patting the stubby hair left on Raul’s head “The force is strong this one.”

She pulls onto the highway, “Let’s go catch a serial killer.”
 
Present

Indianapolis was a sort of anti-thesis to the other American major metropolises such as New York City. Those cities were alive at night.

Indianapolis slept. At least, most of Indianapolis slept. The criminal element and those who respond to the element do not and this is true even on the east side. A police cruiser rolled up one of the many streets America forgot. The so-called "criminal element" was hiding tonight because someone or something has replaced it. The city is gripped by fear by the serial killer who everyone has a nickname or two for. "Father Time" was August's favorite so far.

"Joey, grab the shotgun. I ain't taking any chances with this guy," Officer Mike ordered as he stopped the car a dozen meters away from a man sitting on a sidewalk with a guitar. Curfew was an hour ago and so help this guy if he was a mutant.

Mike got out of the car and walked cautiously over to the sitting man while Joey fished for the gun in the back, "Hey man. Whatcha doing out after curfew? Show me some ID."

The sitting man stood up but didn't reach for his pockets. Taking no chances, Mike drew his service pistol, "Show me some ID!"

"We don't need to do all that....just put the gun down. We're all friends here." The man's voice was like silk to Mike's ears. They felt so civilized. So out of place here! And they were seductive.

"You're right," Mike holstered his gun just as Joey walked up with the shotgun, "Joey, there's no need for that. The guy's just homeless."

"Yes but I'm glad you guys are here! I have information about the serial killer but I need a ride to the police station. Can you guys take me?"

"No problem," Joey answered, "Just-" He turned and stopped. His jaw couldn't drop any lower without falling off. Before him stood a man. No. A monster.

Joey lifted up the shotgun but the monster swung at Joey. Its metal fist connected and Joey felt his left arm break from the impact but not for long because he was sent flying to the sidewalk. Mike didn't flinch. "Hey Joey. What's wrong?"

"You're friend is just tired. He's about to take a nap," said the man whose voice brought serenity with every syllable. It's late. Joey is very tired. The man said so. He didn't see his friend and partner of many years laying on the ground, writhing and screaming in pain. He had saw Joey walk over to the sidewalk, lay down, and fall asleep with such dedication that there was no way this was out of the normal.

And the Metal Man didn't crush Joey's skull in the ground with a gargantuan fist of steel. He saw a kind grandfather place a blanket on Joey so he wouldn't get cold. The grandfather ask Silk Voice, "What's this boy's problem?"

Silk Voice replied, "Mesmerized. Isn't that right....Mike?"

"Yes." Mike didn't consciously answer but some deeper mind did.

"Tell me Officer Mike. Are there any mutants locked up in the jail?"

"Yes."

"When are they supposed to be transported to a more secure location?"

Mike dreamily answered, "A week. Incompetence runs high. I think they should've moved them out to Gary that second they were arrested....too dangerous...." Mike's subconscious voice faded out once it realize it was saying too much.

"Interesting. Do you have a fever, Mike? Let me check your forehead...."
--------

Few Days Earlier

August is skulking about an alley draining the last of a hobo when he feels someone move up behind him.

“Found you at last” the man says in a deep rumble

He turns around readying himself to fight and finds himself face to chest with a mountain of a man. He takes a step backward and looks at his face. The man has a long scar running through his left eye extending from his forehead all the way down to his chin. He wears an eye patch.

August lunges for him preparing to drain him only to find himself being grabbed by steel encased arms and smashed against the wall.

The man-mountain chuckles “Bad move.”

“What do you want?” he chokes out

Man-mountain grins “I hear you’re not too fond of humans. Well that’s something we have in common.”

August, despite clearly not having the upper hand in this conversation, chuckled, "How'd you find me and more importantly, why?"

"You killed my mark, boy! The young mutie fratboy? I had been tracking him for a while, waiting to deliver the fatal blow but then I see you, all shapeshifty-like, go in and kill him and everybody in the building! Nice work there. Not clean. But good enough if I say so myself."

"Something tells me that a man like you would have plenty of problems trying to sneak up on anybody but....you're quiet. How the hell are you quietly moving like that?"

"'Cuz the legs are a gift from South Positronics. So are they arms. Allows a man of enormous girth such as myself to speedily and silently deliver a megaton of pain to those I want dead!"

"You didn't come here to brag. What do you want with me?"

"I come offering a hand in equal partnership. How about it? I can be the big guy with the heart of gold and you can be the small guy with the crazy shapeshifting. How's that sound, 'Father Time'?"

"I despise the nickname but I like the offer. Your thoughts kinda say you have something else in mind."

"Mindreader?"

"Sorta. You're difficult though....South Positronics again?"

"Brain implant."

"Of course. You keep talking about South Positronics. Who are you?"

"Ricky Grenvalls. South Positronics? Just a mutant-friendly megacorporation I use to do mercenary work for a decade ago. They gave me the arms and legs to further enhance my mutant strength and speed. Listen kid. You're thinking way too small. The serial killing of humans? Sure, you'll get a few dozen but you won't change anything."

"Then what do I do!? Huh?"

"You kill people who matter."
--------

Will be Continued
 
i like the "everyone gets updated at once" idea, and the weekly news things, but maybe speed it up, make it a 1 week update instead of 2.
 
Question, SKILORD. Do you prefer to arrive at Indianapolis this turn? :bow:
 
“How the hell did that mutant escape, he had simple mind reading powers, nothing to be worried about, he couldn’t disappear, we knew that!”

“It seems you left the door open, just a crack, some lucky accident for our mutant friend here, then he just walked out.”

“We didn’t get him on any cameras?”

The security guard said he didn’t notice him, and was probably sleeping on the job again and we were getting the outside cameras updated so none of them were working properly. In essence, we have no idea where he went.”

Meanwhile…

Barnabas was wandering again, but this time, he actually had a purpose. He was in one of the seedier area of New York, but had yet to find exactly what he was looking for. Most of the people around him did nothing because e was so out of place, it seemed obvious he was a mutant and they didn’t stand any chance against him. What he needed, now that the cops were on to him, was protection. And what better way to get protection than joining a gang. Besides, that’s what all the cool kids were doing anyways. AH, that’s what I was looking for, perfect.

Barnabas strolled into a seedy tavern occupied by a few middle aged gangsters, and some younger upstarts trying to climb the ladder of success. He walked up to one of the gambling tables where a tough looking man was eyeing him cautiously. Smiling slightly, Barnabas strode up to the table and plopped down on a seat across from the man. “ecer played Russian roulette?” he asked

“naw, you’ll have to inform me on how it’s played these days.”

“Well, first we’ll need a revolver, preferably a six shot. Then we put one bullet in the ammo thing, and spin it, flipping it back on without seeing where the one bullet is. Then we spin the gun on the table and whoever it faces takes it, puts it to his head and pulls the trigger. If it doesn’t shoot, he passes it to the man across from him, who after pulling the trigger, puts in another bullet and spins it on the table again. To raise the stakes, I say we start with six bullets, that’s a 50- 50 chance that either of us will win.”
While he was saying thus, he could feel the gangster put a magnet under his table so the gun would inexplicably point towards Barnabas.

“Sounds fair, let’s do it. Yo Ricky! You still got that old revolver Jamal gave you?”

“Yeah, I’ll make sure the match is played fairly, hold on a second.”

After shuffling around some glasses behind the bar, the bartender came forward holding a six shot revolver with six bullets. He handed them to his friend who loaded the thing, then put it on the table. He looked at Barnabas for a second, trying to gauge his reaction through the thick black sun glasses, then gave up and spun the gun. Thanks to his well placed magnet, the gun stopped right in front of Barnabas. He was about to pick up the gun, but found himself lying flat on the floor, his head burning with pain, and a warm stream of blood flowing down the side of his head. He readjusted his glasses, then sat back up at the table.

“Just making sure you aren’t one of those damn mutants.”

“That seems fair.” Barnabas said, then put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened to the two gangster’s annoyance, and Barnabas nonchalantly handed the gun over to the gangster, who after making sure the gun was exactly the same as when he gave it to him, pulled the trigger towards the ground to see if it would shoot. Click… nothing happened. He mumbled something about a faulty hammer, then looked down the barrel of the gun to see if he could gauge the problem. He pulled the trigger gingerly and the gun went off, leaving a bloody headless mess standing in front of Barnabas.

“You will all do as I say now, and report to me, and if not, I will give each of you the same chances I gave this poor man.” He said pointing towards the corpse which was creating a growing puddle of blood on the floor.

He saw the bartender draw his own gun, and he quickly put the revolver to his own head. Confused the man stopped momentarily, and Barnabas spun the ammo cache, put it back to his head and pulled the trigger. “Sorry” he said after the gun clicked on the empty shell of the bullet which was now buried in the bloody remains of his friend. He pulled the trigger again and watched as the bartender fell to ground. The other denizens of the bar were starting to get to their feet, fear mixed with anger flowing out of them. After repeating the process 4 more times, there were four dead gangsters and one who was cowering on the floor in mental insanity. Barnabas reclined in a bar chair with his feet on the bar, this should get him the attention he needed to join a good gang.
 
Seon said:
Question, SKILORD. Do you prefer to arrive at Indianapolis this turn? :bow:
Click to expand...

-

A Night of driving and Ohio was gone.

Indianapolis.

The city didn't look like much from a distance, but Raul figured he'd be there in half an hour, big flat land stretching into forever. He kept fiddling with the calculator while he asked, "Aren't you tired?"

Alice just has a big grin, "No, we're going to go solve crimes and save the world. I'm supercharged."

As if to prove it, little spaks shoot out of her ears, she laughs.

Lines on the highway fade back into nothingness.

-

OOC: There you are, consider me in the city. It doesn't take more than a couple of days to make that drive even with the aforementioned meandering.
 
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