American Paragons

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by BrattyCommissar, Dec 9, 2014.

  1. “We’re sorry we have to send you in already. There isn’t time for you to rest; there’s work to do. Good luck and godspeed.”

    The first fifteen of the survivors were barely recorded as surviving the blast before they were sent off. They hadn’t even had time to come up with a hero name, or a costume. They didn’t have cool gadgets, and only the beginning understanding of their powers. This first mission for each of the Task Forces was critical. It’d be how they learned their powers, picked who they were, and would know whether or not they could survive in this new world.

    Mission 1A; The Iron Gate
    Western Edge of Ground Zero

    Taken by KPD police chopper to the perimeter guard currently maintained by Lt Prescott, the Task Force were set down in a forced clearing between a lawn and the road. Police stood at attention where they weren’t setting up barricades along the roads, and emergency response people were briefing civilian volunteers before sending them in to help with whatever little the normal people could.

    Less than a block from their landing zone, the wreckage that wreathed Ground Zero could be seen. Houses were Flattened as entire chunks of other buildings and the road or earth itself smashed through them, and further on the ruins only looked worse and worse. It was to be expected, the blast was a violent experience.

    Lt Prescott walked over to the Task Force, his badge shining as if freshly polished, and his uniform well kept. Much the contrary to him, as under his eyes were dark bags that he mostly, but imperfectly, hid behind sunglasses. His hair was cropped short, and dark brown, his face clean shaven. “Alright let’s get you up to date. I don’t know what they told you back wherever they got you from, but we’re dealing with some Ironmen. They’re cold heartless bastards when on their shit and they’d sooner crush a small animal before petting it. I haven’t a goddamn clue what they’re trying to do with here, but if any of you feel you could get some answers, we have one fella successfully detained for now that isn’t dead.”

    He made a gesture to a police van where a man who appeared to have bands of metal welded to his body, or something, sat surrounded by both officers and two doctors of some sort. Further behind them was a lumpy pile covered with a white plastic tarp. Near to that were some wounded officers and otherwise with medical workers tending to them.

    “The junkies that have come at us seem to be some green users, the metal on their skin isn’t as thick as veterans, which I know sounds like that’d be good, but it isn’t,” Lt Prescott continued, “They still have some mental faculties going on, which means that they still know how to use a gun, and they are using them.” He began to walk, leading the group over to a table with a bunch of tagged firearms, “Don’t mess with the evidence unless you got some sort of power that would help. Rather keep them untouched well as we can for now.”

    He turned from the confiscated gun pile and back to the group, “Look, I don’t know what you guys have come with, so I don’t know where to send you to. I don’t know if you should work on interrogating with our prisoner, or just helping with the barricades in case they come with a truck next they charge. So, just, make yourself useful. I’m sure it won’t be long before they’re here again.”

    Mission 1B; A Bridge Too Far
    Last Bridge Connecting Ground Zero to Rook Island

    Taken by police van to the Rook Island side of the bridge, the Task Force was let off with full view of the burning wreckage of White Fence in what was now Ground Zero across the water. The other major bridges that connected the island to the rest of the city were drastically wrecked as well, dipping into the water instead of standing. The remaining bridge wasn’t in great condition, but it was still clearly viable for transport if it weren’t for the Grass Bloods.

    A female police officer ushered the group over to her behind cover and introduced herself, “Shit,” okay so she swore first, “You guys the survivors? You have to be insane to be coming here. These Grass Bloods want you dead.” She spoke with a hasty tempo, her eyes a bit wild with nerves, “But if you’re our support, and they don't know what you are yet, I am not down with turning you away if you can get those hostages out. I’m Lt Wethers, KPD,” she said, holding up her lopsided badge on her chest, “And there’s been a problem, complications I'm probably supposed to refer to it with. I know you were told we have a hostage situation on here, but it’s changed a bit since before you arrived.”

    The black woman looked up from the cover and made a gesture with two fingers to the bridge. In the distance, with about three cars and a truck between their end of the bridge and the Grass Bloods, there were a few people using them as cover, “Okay so the Grass Bloods, they originally had five hostages, and wanted to trade them for survivors, but…” she lowered back down from out of cover, “They only have four hostages now. There’s been casualties. Some of the emergency response people ran past to the bridge and surprised them. I think it was a guy, Mike? His brother was one of the hostages. According to them, Mike’s still alive but his brother is dead and another who broke free is dead too. We’ve not gotten a good eye to see if that’s true. They threatened to kill them all if we got in the air or anything.”

    She rubbed her temple, and wiped some sweat away, looking over and pointing at a makeshift covered medical tent. Three emergency workers and at least one cop were having injuries treated, "We were able to get most of the injured back successfully without further casualties, but, the thing is, they’ve also been asking for medical supplies now. I don’t think they’re for Mike. It seems they’ve got some wounded now after the attempt. Don’t know how many,” she sighed and rubbed her temple before continuing, “We think it’s two with how much they're asking for, which leaves two wounded Grass Bloods, and four that are okay, with four hostages.”

    “So, I’m open to suggestions, I don’t know what you’re able to bring to the table, but we need to get this bridge going for us if we’re to save more people from the blast…”
    she said, before adding in a whisper probably not meant for anyone to hear, “May be best to just risk the hostages… probably save more from the blast if we didn’t waste time…”

    Mission 1C; Trouble in Paradise
    North West Quarter of the Exterior Utopian Wall

    While it wouldn’t have taken too long for the Task Force to walk here, they were dropped off while the group meant for the bridge went on their way. Waiting for them were two beat cops, one looking at the wall while the other leaned against the KPD cruiser. He was an Asian man in glasses, while the one at the wall seemed to be like he should have been a small town country deputy sort. His uniform wasn’t very well kept, and he made inquisitive ‘ah’ noises as he looked. The Asian officer stepped forward before walking to the trunk of the car, “Alright, so nothing has broken out yet, but I think I should distribute the weapons now so you have them for when it happens. Pretty sure the teams in the other three quarters are well armed, may as well have you guys be too.”

    He popped the trunk and began to open up the gun cases, while the younger more yokel of an officer stopped making the noise as he tried to tell wall cracks from graffiti with the steel, concrete, and bone wall. “Wait, aren’t we not supposed to hand them anything unless…” he began before trailing off.

    “It’s fine. Utopia’s been a problem for decades since the first blast, a second one will just bring more problems,” the Asian officer said, before turning to the group, “Problems, unlike you lot. You’re going to help us contain the problem. What suits your fancy, rifle or--”

    The sound of glass smashing against the wall cut the man off, as all eyes went to a small group of children, all of them pale skinned and dressed in expensive looking faux trashy clothes. The oldest of them couldn’t be more than like, ten or something, and between the seven of them they had brought bags of things. Bottles at least, but another one threw a perfectly good tomato at the wall only for it to fall pitifully short, so there was some variety of garbage with them.

    Seemed the first problem for this patrol wasn’t going to be monsters from inside the walls of Utopia, but kids with garbage bags and bad throwing arms. Unlike monsters from beyond the bone walls of Utopia, this was not a problem they could shoot, which the Asian officer was keen on. He closed the trunk before the guns could be distributed, “I don’t suppose any of you are good with kids?”

    "We're not kids, asshole, we're heroes! Like the Paragon Guard!" shouted in a slightly breaking voice meant to sound more tough than the kid actually could do, to the agreement of his peers. "My dad says you're protecting what's inside there, and we should tear the thing down. Said that if 'it' ever happened again, it'd be because of this thing. I don't know what he meant by 'it', but when I saw him crying today about 'it', I knew 'it' had happened. So," the apparent ringleader of the kids glared defiantly at the Task Force, the two cops present, and at the wall, "We're going to tear it down."
    • Like Like x 1
  2. Mission 1C; Trouble in Paradise
    North West Quarter of the Exterior Utopian Wall
    Things were happening too fast would have been an understatement if there ever was one. The second Blast event, his bus being hurled like a child’s toy and him blacking out, being pulled from the rubble by two pairs of hands and then dragged to safety… It was all too much and frankly he was still reeling from all that had happened when he was set down in a seat in front of someone. Looking up with a blank stare at the older man, a doctor he guessed absently from the attire, Matthew was aware of words being spoken since the man’s lips were moving, but didn’t hear any of them. The man frowned for a moment before he seemed to sigh and then his head was whipping to the side, and he reeled backwards from the pain.

    “Are you back with the living now? Good.” This time he heard the man’s words, and he bit his lips to choke a sob. Yeah… he was alive, while god knew how many weren’t. He’d known some of the people taking that bus back towards Rook Island…. two students attending the university. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, but I need your attention Mr. Yung.” Somehow he managed a scoff at that, the man managed to sound both compassionate and clinical in the same sentence. “You should probably look at your arms, it’ll make the explanation easier.”

    Turning his head to actually focus on his limbs now, Matthew quickly realized what the man was talking about. Lifting them to get a better look, it seemed like growths of bone were protruding from his forearms. He could see a ridge from his elbow to wrist, but it hadn’t quite broken skin just yet, though the skin was drawn tight over the growth. Looking back up at the man expectantly, the man took that as a sign that he was ready to listen. “As you probably know, individuals with “supernatural powers” showed up after the first Blast event.” He nodded at that slowly and the man continued, “It seems that this event is not much different in this regard. From what we can tell, we believe you should be categorized as the Warrior and Infiltrator Archetypes.”

    That was something to hear he supposed, that he was now one of the ‘heroes’ he’d looked up to when he was younger. If it had happened another way, Matthew might have even been ecstatic at the news, but as was, he simply nodded solemnly at the news. The man seemed concerned as he leaned in closer to say something, but the chance was snatched away by the slam of the door being thrown open. “He’s one as well right?” a new voice asked, sharp and quite harsh in comparison to the doctor’s.
    “Yes, but I would advise-”
    “I know what the situation is Doctor, but frankly we need all the help we can get dealing with the fallout.”
    “He’s in no condition! If you send him out-”
    “He’s not going alone. Maybe being around people who’ve gone through the same thing will help him out. Maybe it won’t, but that’s how it is.”

    The brief argument seemed settled with that, and the newcomer gestured for Matthew to follow him. Covering his face with his hands, he sighed deeply before getting up out of his seat and following after the man, leaving the Doctor to frown.

    There hadn’t been much explanation from the man after they left the doctor’s room, simply a silent, brisk walk through various hallways that ended with the pair arriving at a garage. A hub of activity with people moving about to and fro, it wasn’t too hard to pick out those that didn’t belong. Namely a collection of people not in uniform and looking like they didn’t quite know what they were supposed to be doing. “Go on, those are the people you might be working with.” With those parting words, the man turned around and jogged off to do whatever his next task was. Running a hand through his messy hair, he made his way over to the group.
    It hadn’t been long afterwards that they’d been split up into three groups and sent out in police vans to help out with the developing situation. He had simply kept quiet and did as he was told, better to do something than dwell on what had happened for now. Looking at the others that had also been selected for this group, he was momentarily surprised that he actually knew one of them. Granted it was because she was somewhat famous and he had a few colleagues who were into such things. Aside from Ms. Kaminaribi though, the other two seemed to just be regular old civilians that had been caught up in all of this by sheer chance.

    Sighing, he focused on trying to figure out how his new-found ‘powers’ worked. Surprisingly enough, there wasn’t any pain as the bone grew and parted his flesh. It lengthened until it was a full blown blade and touching the edge Matthew could feel just how sharp it was. Closing his eyes and focusing allowed him to retract the natural weapons until his skin closed over the ridges once more. It wasn't until after he'd done this a few times that he realized it might have been somewhat disturbing for the others, and looked around, curious if any of them were bothered.
    Climbing out the van when the driver hollered into the back, he raised an eyebrow once the realization of where he was settled in. The walls that locked Utopia from the rest of Rook Island. Not exactly a place he wanted to be on any given day. His attention was drawn to the two officers that seemed to be in charge of the four of them. While he hadn’t used firearms recently with his new responsibilities at work, he had fired them a number of times during university and high school.

    Turning to the newest distraction, he sighed tiredly as he watched the immature brats make everyone’s lives just slightly worse. While normally he might have been appalled by the thought of hitting children, he simply brushed it aside for the moment. He wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep, and then deal with everything when he woke. Which probably wouldn’t be pretty at all, but his future-self would cope one way or another. Still, he turned to Ms. Kaminaribi, he asked,
    “Could you handle this, Ms. Kaminaribi?” Hopefully one of these kids watched wrestling, and thus knew who she was. At the very least she was might have dealt with similar situations involving annoying reporters.
    #2 Zombehs, Dec 9, 2014
    Last edited: Dec 10, 2014
  3. -Mission 1A-

    ...Everything was dark.. She could see nothing, but she could feel something heavy laying on her was removed. She instantly pulled up but was struck down by an immense pain that she fell back down to the rumble-covered floor. She was breathing heavily from the rubble ontop of her... or was it that 'thing' that was lodged inside her? She didn't know but panicking isn't going to help her much... and right now she starting to panic as she didn't know who had saved her. With an abrupt cough to clear her throat from all the dirt that had gotten into her mouth from the explosion, she was able to say "W-who are you? And whats in my s-s-side?" She said as her hand to her side feeling the blood that stained her side, feeling several drops trickling down her skin onto her finger, but from what she could tell it was blooding much.

    "Mame, hold on a second" Was all she heard before she was hold down gently before a sharp pain appeared her her neck, burning her from the inside... gasping for a breath as she tried to wiggle free, but the steady and firm grasp over her body didn't allow her to squirm at all. It continued to be like this for the next 15 minutes before the pain subsided. "You're free to stand up now" The person said as she reluctantly got up, noticing that the sharp pain from her side was... gone! "Yes, as you have notice that piece of glass was removed from your body, it in deep however you were lucky it didnt cut anything important. The shot that i have just gave you was to suppress pain by inflicting mental pain to it injected target, while more stronger pain were muffled behind a buffer that the shot created." The man had said, now she after some time hearing the voice could identify the person as a male...

    "So... where do I go?" Serenity said nervously as she pointed to where her eyes, were showing the man the green eyes that had been gray-ed out, showing that she was obviously blind. Then she heard "Oh! Im so sorry, I guess I should of expected something from you since you did survive the Blast Event..." The man said before he grabbed her wrist before leading her onward. "Most people call me Tom, but either way im just a pawn that the upper guys use, and right now were rescuing other people like you who lived the Blast Event. I doubt I know anything about what you going through right now, so all I can say Is I hope you get used to it soon..." Tom said before he lead her to the left and began walking that direction for around half and hour latter...


    "Sorry Mame, but I had to take you to your group. Specifically called Group A, quite bland really but this is your stop. Im sorry I wasn't able to provide much companionship but never the less I hope you stay safe" Tom said before he left, his footsteps could be heard to her for a while before it disappeared. Now she looked around awkwardly as she was left stranded in the middle of nowhere, not know where to go. She just awkwardly stood in the center of the encampment as people passed by her wondering what she was doing standing doing nothing. Serenity was panicking slightly but she grew accustom to the footsteps to the other people who walked around her. She began to take several babies steps forward, before stopping... Where did she need to go?! She sighed silently as she stood where she was knowing someone would talk to her sooner or latter.

    So while she was doing nothing and standing around, she focused on her ears, listening to the sounds that were all around her. Most common sound she hear was talking as well as the moving footsteps of people as it brushed along the remaining grass. She could hear some conversations of other most likely police officers, worried about some people called the 'Metalmen' who had been trying to breakthrough. Upon further eavesdropping she discovered that they had captured someone, but their conversation abruptly interrupted when the two men stood up and left obviously in nervousness. Then there she was standing along again with nothing interesting, often picking up small phrases and some gossip here and there along with the occasional slander that was thrown around. Besides that she had nothing to do but listen to other people.

    Sure it was interesting but something serious was going on and she couldnt even SEE where to go, and walking off literally blind wouldnt really help her as it would make her even more lost. She felt helpless, as she stood their silently, she knew that she could confidently move around but it was hard to recognize a person gender just by seeing their movement but she could generally figure it out if they talked. So she was debating on going up to ask a random person but then she could just stand there... It wasn't a hard choice it was more like which one she was more comfortable with. In the end she went up and asked a random person where was the one in charge, and that they could lead her to whoever they were. The random person agreed and before she knew it she was probably now close, as her guide left her soon after they had gotten to the Leader. Know she needed to explain that she was blind... oh what that was going to be... She sighed hoping the Leader would just come over and talk to her, before she walked in the general direction of where she believe the person in charge was.
    #3 WanderingSpirit, Dec 9, 2014
    Last edited: Dec 9, 2014
  4. Sarah Yamamoto-Mission 1B

    The ringing still bounced around in Sarah's head. Her body was limp, almost like she was among the deceased, as she was pulled from the wreckage. She wasn't too hard to find. As she was set down in a cot, the young woman's vision was starting to clear. The medical staff around her were working with other survivors, in various states, though Sarah could hardly focus on the man in front of her. " Ms. Yamamoto, can you hear me?" The nurse inquired, the voice somewhat distance, causing Sarah to squint her eyes. How did she...oh, right, her ID in her wallet. Normally she'd be upset with people going through her things, but now...she just didn't want to think.

    "Yeah...I hear you." The young woman nodded. The nurse smiled. "Good. Welcome back. Uh, before I explain any further, you may want to look at your arms." The slightly rounder, kindly woman with brown hair in a bun advised. Sarah gave her a perplexed look, but sat up, grunting at the pain of bruises on her abdomen. Sensations were beginning to register, and on her arms and legs was this...wrapped up warmth. Lifting her arms to her face, Sarah nearly went right back out.

    Covering sections of her arms were globs of gently It was pink, nearly fuchsia now, and it didn't feel unpleasant, yet...what was it? Sarah looked to the nurse, a frantic but exhausted question in her eyes. "You survived a Blast Event, Ms. Yamamoto. The second to hit us. Those folks you've heard of beating up villains and crooks with fiction and fairytale powers? Well...congratulations. You've joined them. It seems that the jelly around your limbs is actually an energy mass, but it's not too strong, leading us to believe that..." She explained, but Sarah wasn't able to hear her, or stop the tears from dripping out of her eyes. So many people, dead...lives ruined...what if Betty thought she had kicked the bucket as well? She'd never forgive herself, since that was where Sarah was headed...oh God, what about her parents? Mother was already worried sick all the time, this could very nearly hospitalize her! And now, she was some gelatinous monster...

    A man clad in a police uniform burst into the tent, glancing at Sarah, then to the nurse. "We need her out here. Now." The older man commanded. The nurse looked baffled, "Sir, her biometrics haven't even come back yet! In this state, we'll be sending her out defenseless!" She shouted, but the officer would have nothing of it. "I'm sorry ma'am, but things are getting out of hand and these people may turn things around for us." He stepped into the tent, over to Sarah's cot, and held out a hand. "I really don't like this either, miss, but orders are orders." He stated, reassuring yet not leaving much room for debate. Wiping her tears away, Sarah looked at his hand to his face. Her options weren't many at the moment.

    She placed her hand in his, and off they went.


    In the van on the way to the site of the Grass Blood hostage situation, Sarah had applied her mind to getting the goo off of her. If it really did come from her, it should respond to her, right? Closing her eyes and concentrating, she sent a single thought to her limbs: "Get off." Just like that, the goo dimmed and hardened, crumbling off of her to reveal relatively unharmed skin. Apparently it had protected her from further injury.

    Once she and the other survivors, which seemed to be quite the group from the looks of it, had arrived at the site, they were briefed by Lt. Wethers of the KPD. A peek around the edge of cover revealed their targets, causing Sarah to dart right back in. "Oh God, this is real...this is real..." She muttered, before shutting her eyes tight and opening them, looking to the group. This was real. And she had to get with the program. There would be time for freaking the fuck out after she was able to tell her loved ones she was still breathing. Sarah wasn't close enough to Wethers to hear what she had whispered, so she simply said what was on her mind. "With how torn up we are, they'll know we're survivors and probably make a move to kill us. Does anyone have something that can slow them down?"​
  5. -Mission 1C-

    She could’ve sworn she heard her car alarm. Her still reasonably new Continental R, that impeccably painted peacock metal blue exterior and those round, friendly headlights... her baby was in trouble. It wasn’t until she felt the strange sensation of pavement against her cheek that she began to suspect that, in fact, something could very well be wrong with her. She sat up only to notice that her left arm was glaringly red and dotted with tiny shards of glass… taking another second, she also concluded that it hurt like hell. Charlotte quickly turned her gaze away from her limb, surveying the area for anything that made any sense, only finding a sea of rubble. Wracking her brain, she could make out the name of the little “city” she was in… Koalakilla, perhaps something more native or homespun than her memory served. She’d stopped for pizza and now she was, what, the victim of a car crash?

    Penelope! Her heart skipped a beat as she climbed onto her hands and knees, gingerly pressing her left arm to the concrete below as it began to pulse a little harder. A familiar tire stuck up in the air, drawing the blonde’s attention like a beacon. She picked up the pace, her frantic scrambling jarring her, leading her to assume that if she just passed a hand over herself very quickly, she would likely pull it away and find another gush of blood somewhere above her hip. Ascending the pile of cracked stone and gravel with speed that would inspire an aspiring mountaineer, Charlotte found the shattered remains of Penelope, her faithful steed, windshield bashed in, metal twisted, expelling smoke seemingly even from its seats. She’d seen horror films, and yet, that corpse was enough to send her blacking out.

    After a few moments, she came to once more and a short, towheaded man stood over her, bandaging her arm with pursed lips, taking a few moments to notice that his patient was suddenly stirring. He pulled the fabric bind tight before cutting it off with a short grunt, “Name’s Jared. You know where you are right now?” The blonde blinked by way of a response and watched with interest as he reached into a medical bag for something. In fact, it almost seemed as though the longer she stared at him, the longer he took in fishing out his tools. She blinked and the strange phenomenon thankfully ceased. Jared shone a light into her eyes and checked to ensure that she wasn’t suffering from a concussion. He looked her over with a measured, clinical interest before asking again, “Well? Do you know where you are right now?”

    “Kuakilla,” Charlotte said, voice rising as she pulled the name out from the very back of her mind, “Was on the way to Chicago, actually.”

    Jared appeared to take a mental note and then shifted, “Sorry to be the one to tell you this… but you’ve just lived through a Blast Event. This place is kinda famous for ‘em. Last time one of these detonated, people around here got superpowers. You remember those tales from the early forties?” He took in a deep breath, and for a moment, Charlotte thought she’d be in for a long account of fantastic battles and men in tights, but the paramedic simply raised his hand in a gesture that she didn’t recognize and asked, “So, what can you do? Do you know what I’m thinking right now? Can you shoot webs?”

    Raising a brow, she pressed her two middle fingers to her palm and kept her forefinger, pinky, and thumb all extended, mirroring his hand position, and then asked, “I certainly can’t read minds. And… what does this mean?”

    He squinted at her for a moment, “Never mind. You sure you can’t do anything?” He began to list a few powers that resulted after the last blast and Charlotte began to feel herself fading fast, idly turning her forefinger in a circle, indicating a desire for him to speed up. Much to her surprise, the words started spilling from his lips much more quickly and his eyes shot open in shock, faster than humanly possible. Charlotte wasn’t sure what was happening, but it stopped shortly after it began.

    She sheepishly started to shrug her shoulders at him, coyly dodging the blame by trying to look as innocent as possible and remarking, “Could you say that again, but more slowly this time?”

    Jared, on the other hand, beamed, “Time manipulation. Classic. Alright, your secret is safe with me.” Admittedly, she wasn’t entirely sure that she could do it ever again, but she nodded and pretended to take this enthusiastic man’s oath with a sense of gravitas. He went on to explain that she wasn’t badly injured, lacerations mostly, and she’d best not run a marathon on her ankle… could probably use a sling on her left wrist if she opted for it… and mentioned quite casually that a police officer had been anxiously hoping to talk with her since she was discovered.

    Helping her up with a steady arm, he directed her towards a van where several armed officers milled around, nervously communicating into their walkie-talkies and checking their watches almost in unison. Clearly, there was something amiss. Well, besides the crater that had just appeared in White Fence. The creases in their faces were evident from a few meters away and they only worsened as she approached. She could have sworn that some of them were muttering about the wall around Utopia, but if that was a codeword, she was stumped about what it could really mean. After a very brief introduction, she was hurried into the van that was about to depart for the wall and told that there would be more information provided upon arriving at the scene.

    There were four of them, all standing around, looking ill at ease and fairly nonplussed about their arrangement. First, their lives were flashing before their eyes and the next thing they knew, they were part of a task force? She was barely listening when the Asian officer attempted to hand them guns, palms growing sweaty at the thought of having to actually hold one. Taking the opportunity to more closely examine her compatriots, she was able to glean nothing more useful than their genders before being rudely interrupted by the small gang of children that seemed to only want to stir up trouble for them.

    The only male among them, the one who was doing that thing with his arm that made her turn away and focus a little too intently on the window, suddenly addressed the Asian woman in their group, a weary glare gracing his face. It sounded as though he might know her, but his tone wasn’t friendly enough to suggest that they were anything beyond acquaintances. She stood back, curious about what he expected this ‘Ms. Kaminaribi’ to do with a bunch of little punks. Maybe she was a schoolteacher? Glancing at the red haired young woman, she wasn't sure if she could make out a flicker of recognition on her face... but maybe she happened to be an outsider, too.

    Charlotte took a step forward, away from the car, running a hand through her hair in exasperation. She didn't have a lot of experience with children, being the youngest in both her immediate and close extended family, for the most part, but she figured she ought to give it a shot. Clearing her throat, she started off, "First thing's first, I guess. I don't know anything about this wall or this place, but it sounds to me like we both have the same goal. You don't want anyone else getting hurt and neither do we. Tearing this thing down isn't going to solve anything." She considered for a moment before adding, "And even for a group of heroes, this is a rather large undertaking. Why not just work with us to ensure that your fellow Kuakillians don't end up getting themselves in trouble by doing something stupid?" She cast a glance back over her shoulder to the other survivors, hoping for a bit of encouragement.
  6. Andrew Tolliver - Mission 1A: The Iron Gate, #8AFB17
    Andrew stepped out of the police helicopter, back slumped and weary eyes pointed low, unfocused as though barely present. The young man seemed in well enough condition, all things considered; A few scrapes and bruises, couple of gashes kept under wraps. It was reported that green shards of varying thickness had been buried into several areas of his body when they'd dug him out of the wreckage, though none had pierced deep enough to cause any serious damage. It might hurt a bit to laugh, but he didn't expect to be chuckling about much of anything any time soon. Physically he had suffered little damage, but emotionally..

    Vivid blue eyes moistened, their lids drawing closed as salty fluid threatened to spill down for what must have been the fifth time already. Just as each time before, Andrew lifted a hand to cast away and hide his tears under the guise of a bridge pinch and rub that some used in attempt to rid themselves of headaches. His slightly blurred gaze set down on his own hands which now, by his own will, slowly took on a hard and shiny green coating. When the material stopped spreading, just past the wrist, the young hero-to-be examined the visage upon the faintly reflective surface. He saw himself, as could be expected, but three others appeared at his sides, leaning on his shoulders or screwing with his hair. A solitary tear splashed down onto the crystaline gauntlet, blemishing the image and drawing his attention away. Again he carefully rubbed away his tears, then picked up his head as best he could and approached the officer who'd already begun his briefing.

    Prescott spoke of Ironmen, a known menace to Kaukilla whom he'd only ever met from afar. Andy briefly wondered if they'd expanded their operations beyond his home since birth, if they'd infected neighboring cities as well. The moment after that thought passed through his mind however, his thought processed went someplace a mite darker. He considered taking the first offered tak upon himself, to climb into the van pointed out and beat some information out of the criminal restrained within. Pummeling inanimate objects had been a decent outlet for working through bouts of depression in the past, perhaps turning such efforts toward one of these bastards with the aid of his newfound ability might make his most recent losses more bearable.

    Brows furrowed, fists both coated and clenched, Andrew had already begun his approach. He stopped nearer to the Lieutenant, heaving a silent sigh as a more virtuous side surfaced and infected his thought with warning against his intended act of aggression. The pain borne of his friends' deaths would subside with time, but trying to hasten the process in such a manner bore a risk of corruption. Taking too much pleasure in an act of violence could lead him down a dark path that he would surely regret traversing. Instead, he opted to help with fortifications, fingers uncurling and becoming bare once more as he passed Prescott. "I'll be helping with the barricades. Let me know if there's something else you need of me, sir", he told him in a plain voice that masked his hurt well enough, proceeding to do as he said he would.
    #6 LVL1337N00B, Dec 12, 2014
    Last edited: Dec 13, 2014
    • Love Love x 1
    [BCOLOR=#333333]Kuakilla General Hospital[/BCOLOR]
    She had always believed in karma. It had bit her in the ass more then once, but this time it had really taken a chomp out of her. Annalicia had at first believed her actions to be justified, a stiff of a father who wanted to control every aspect of her life and a mother who had no backbone to speak her mind. She had rebelled against them from the very get-go, and now, if she could take it all back she would. You never know what you've got till' it's gone, as the saying went.
    "..amazing, absolutely amazing. Y' know, the Golden Sun started out the same way--well, I guess all supers started out that way--but man, he was a real hero! About a year ago I was watching his documentary and he talked about how he considered the whole blast event a blessing. Course' he was in the middle of a field when it occurred, but the guy came out without a scratch on him. If you're gonna be like him you gotta have standards, which I'm sure you do, but he was all about justice, and the truth. Y' know, there was a lot of conspiracy talk about the governm--uh, Ms. Rodriguez, are you alright?" ​

    Shaking visibly in frustration, tears began to stream down Anna's cheeks. Her mouth was in hard scowl, jaw locked tight causing her teeth to grind. She had held her composure since arriving at the hospital, along with the past ten minutes of listening to her doctor talk about nothing but the blast. 'She was lucky to be alive' he had said, and that 'she had been given an incredible gift'. Her family, and friends, along with most of the White Fence community had been obliterated--and yet, here this man was comparing her to the goddamn Golden Sun, a retired 'hero' that had been considered an anarchist at the end of his career.

    Hiding her face into her arm as she choked back a sob, a heavy shudder rippled through her body as she reminded herself to calm down. Embarrassed by her lack of control now that she began to cry, a quiet, "I'm sorry" was all she spit out. Now aware that he had offended her the doctor quickly finished the bandages on her left arms, and returned to his desk. A concerned look on his face he tried to change the subject, "Well.. thanks to the chase you gave us at the blast site we've been able to easily determine your archetypes as Infiltrator, and Hunter." Leaning back into his chair he read over the report once again, "You've got a lot of potential to be one hell of a spy, Ms. Rodriguez." Anna made no reply to this, head now sitting in her hands as she tried to ignore the mans voice.

    "But, damn. Watching you slip right through the hands of those officers was really something, and you said you had picked up some of their memories right? Incred-"

    "Listen, man, can I just.. can I get a moment?" Shaking her head in frustration she let out another shaky sigh. Were these powers, and her new status as a soon-to-be-'hero' supposed to make her feel better? "Right, sorry." He finally said, becoming more uneasy as she continued to cry. "Is there, uh, anything I could do to help?" Shutting up for a minute was an idea, but Anna didn't have the energy to say how she really felt. Before she could reply the door bursted open suddenly revealing a stern looking officer with a strong hand pointing in her direction, "You. Come with me."

    Confused, and highly offended by the other mans entrance the doctor spoke in her stead, "Officer, this patient only arrived a few minutes ago, I don't think it'd be wise to take her back just yet." Throwing the man a glare and completely ignoring his words, the officer forced Annalicia's attention with a sharp snap, "Come on, girl, we ain't got all day." Shooting her doctor a look of uncertainty she slowly stood from the leather chair and obediently followed behind the other man.

    The officers fast pace almost had her running behind him, her tension growing as she silently kept up behind him, "Where.. where are we going?" Finally asking as they entered an elevator. "Ground Zero." With a look of confusion she returned her gaze back at the officer. White Fence was a pile of rubble, why in the world would they need her there? "Why?"

    "That's classified."

    The short response, and frown on his face was enough to shut down anymore of her questions, but once they arrived to the top floor and proceeded up the stairs to the Hospitals roof, Anna found herself hesitant to follow behind him. This whole situation was crazy and she hadn't even been given five minutes to get a grip. Were they really going to force her into this so quick? Frozen at the steps of the helipad on the edge of hyperventilating, the Officer sighed impatiently once he noticed her terrified shape, "Listen, I know this wasn't your choice, hell--nobody asked for this to happen, but since it did," Grabbing her arm roughly and pulling her up the steps, Anna made no effort to fight against the Officers pull, "You gotta suck it up, and accept these responsibilities. You're alive for a reason, kid. Now come on, you got a lot of work to do."

    [BCOLOR=#333333]Ground Zero: [/BCOLOR]
    [BCOLOR=#333333]White Fence[/BCOLOR]

    Standing amongst a small group of what she had been told were other survivors, Anna rubbed at her eyes tenderly. Sore, puffy, and red she cursed herself for crying so much earlier. The Helicopter ride here had been enough time to clear her head, but since arriving in White Fence she had made a point not too look at the wreckage. If she could convince herself that the blast zone didn't exist as long as she didn't see it, even if it was just temporary, she would stay level headed. Thankfully before her thoughts could revert to anything darker a strong, and stern figure stepped before her, and the rest of the task force.

    Alright let’s get you up to date. I don’t know what they told you back wherever they got you from, but we’re dealing with some Ironmen." Eyes widening in subtle fear, Anna looked around the group to see if anyone else was reacting same. Returning her gaze on the officer, his following words caught her attention immediately. "I haven’t a goddamn clue what they’re trying to do with here, but if any of you feel you could get some answers, we have one fella successfully detained for now that isn’t dead."

    If she could get her hands on the detainee maybe she could pull something out of him like she had done with the officers during the initial blast earlier. Once he finished briefing them on their current mission, and objective, Anna was about to step up to the officer until a tall brunette stepped ahead of her. While he had looked confident at first, it seemed like he had lost it once he finally stepped up to the older man. "I'll be helping with the barricades. Let me know if there's something else you need of me, sir." He said before turning around and heading away from the group. Throwing a sympathetic look his way as she passed by him, Annalicia stepped towards Lt. Prescott. Nerves on edge she forced herself to speak up, "Sir," Might as well make herself useful, "I think I can help you with your interrogation problem."

    Considering her plan to be full proof at first, Anna found herself struggling to think of the right words. Looking down at her hands the left side of her upper lip curved up into a confused scowl as she tried to think of the best way to describe her powers. "If these guys still have some mental capacity left, then maybe I can tap into his head and get the information we're look for." When she had phased through the officers during the initial blast, she had come into contact with memories of their childhood, so she was sure with enough time the she could probably do the same with their detainee.​
    • Like Like x 1
  8. Ariett Deveca
    1B: A Bridge Too Far

    Ariett clutched her side as their meagre group moved into cover, grimacing at the pain from her still-fresh stitches. Functional as she may be, she was in no condition to be dealing with a hostage crisis damnit. Isn't that what the Enforcers are here for?

    Either way, she wasn't given much choice, and so would have to make due with what she had—and that happened to be a pack of young upstarts, no older than herself. At least the punker looked strong enough to hold his own, if need be.

    She addressed the woman who'd been panicking moments before. "They don't know jack, so whatever you were doing with your arms in the van—don't do it again. Not till we have a good plan." She paused for a second, trying to draw the attention of the others. "First things first, how many of yous knows what you can do? My name's Ariett, work in construction, an' I seem to be able to stop myself from bleeding." At that, she raised an eyebrow expectantly. Far as she could tell, Lt Wethers wanted this done fast, and the sooner they knew their assets, the sooner they could form a cohesive plan.
    • Like Like x 1
    • Love Love x 1
  9. Oto Novák
    1B: A Bridge Too Far

    "I'm Oto, welder by day and punk rock demi-god by night," Oto offered with a broad smile and a wink in the direction of the brunette who had led off the conversation. "And as to your question, I don't remember much, but the boys in blue said that I summoned something when they tried to grab me. Crazy shit, I know, but according to Officer Scott over there," Oto added, pointing towards a grim looking officer that stood nearby. "I turned a pile of rubble into some walking monster that damn near tore a squad car apart before he knocked me out with a solid right hook."

    "Thanks for that buddy!" The punker jested, rubbing the fresh bruise that covered the side of his face with a wince as the police officer offered his best shit-eating grin in reply.

    "Fucking fascist," Novák muttered with some humor, mirth that quickly vanished as he eyed the worsening scene on the bridge. "Let's get this job done, the KPD don't seem inclined to let us go home unless we solve this problem and I sure as hell don't plan on letting those ignorant assholes on the bridge kill anyone else today."

    Nodding towards the other members of the group Oto continued, "What else have we got to work with?"
    #9 Iben, Dec 14, 2014
    Last edited by a moderator: Dec 14, 2014
    • Like Like x 1
  10. Byron - Mission 1A

    Damned simpletons. Byron glared at the fools around him, everyone freaking out and losing their minds like this was the end of the world. Sure, a lot of his acquaintances had died in the Blast, and the starting bits of what he had hoped to build into a powerful protest organization went with them, but so what? People died all the time. You'd think these people who called themselves men and women would have gotten past the childish desire to cry and complain about bad things happening, but no. They looked like a bunch of lost and scared sheep. Idiots.

    Thinking of idiots reminded Byron of the pointless bandage around his left forearm. The morons of the medical corps attending the scene hadn't seemed to understand the fact that he was healing, that he had acquired healing powers in the Blast Event, and they'd insisted on binding the wound. He'd torn the stupid thing off twice to show them how quickly it was healing, but no, of course they wouldn't listen. None of them seems to be around now though, so Byron tore the damnable cloth away and chucked it over his shoulder, not bothering to see where it landed. Where there had been gaping gash less than half an hour ago, now there was just a slim scab about the width of his smallest finger, and he could feel it healing further still. Byron suspected it would heal completely within the next ten or fifteen minutes, but only time would tell.

    Someone was blabbering on about things, a cop, but he paid no attention to the man until he heard the word 'Ironmen.' They were one of the groups in the city that Byron had heard of and intended to try to do something about once he got a larger following. They were a bunch of freaks who seemed to glorify technology, so they made for an obvious antagonist group for his environmentalist views. Having good intentions was all well and good, but they would only lead a group so far without solid goals to aim for and enemies to focus on. He had intended for the Ironmen to be one of those, but of course now he was left alone in this awful city full of freaks. The fact that he was one of those freaks now was an irritating thought that made it even worse.

    Byron listened to the cop in sullen silence, half paying attention and half brooding. After the man finished and presented the options, others moved before he did. There was nothing much Byron could do in order to help with an interrogation, but his healing was an obvious combat power. His other power, growing leaves from his hands and shooting them, seemed pretty strongly combat oriented as well. He could always threaten the prisoner with them, but it looked like someone else had volunteered anyway. What he mainly wanted to do was to just go home and leave this shit hole of a city to its own devices, but on the other hand he wanted very much to see what his powers could really do. And those Ironmen sounded pretty cruel to the environment. Ruining their day would maybe make up for the ruined rally, and perhaps even Byron's ruined day.

    With a sigh and a shake of his head, Byron headed for the barricade as well, not bothering to vocalize his choice as the other guy had done. Hopefully this nonsense would be over with quick so he could get back to doing useful things with his life instead of defending some stupid wrecked patch of land.
    • Like Like x 1
  11. Kyla “Flashfire” Booker // Mission 1C – Trouble in Paradise

    She settles back against the hood of their old Chevy pick-up, tipping back the beer lazily as she chuckles at her brothers, lazily scuffling on the sidewalk outside the pub. Dallas sweeps an arm and tries to grapple Simon, a cigarette hanging loosely between his lips, ashes ready to drop he was hardly paying attention, and a beer bottle in the other hand. Simon laughs and lifts the older, albeit smaller brother up as if he weighed nothing, slamming him into a pile of snow that had yet to melt.

    “Y'all are being a bunch of rowdy asses,” Kyla snorts, shifting back to sit atop their vehicle cross-legged, taking another long pull. “It's no wonder we got kicked out.” She rubs over her legs, shivering. She had not bothered to bring her change of clothing with her tonight, she had been too amped for her match. That left her now in her shorts and tank-top. Her gloves, at least, she had slipped off into her jacket pockets.

    “Sure, La-La. Definitely wasn't because you knocked that guy's lights out for grabbing you,” Dallas retorts, sitting up from the snow, readjusting his cowboy hat on his hat and lifting his legs to try and shake snow from his boots. “Nice right hook, by the way. Been practicing on that much?”

    Simon grunts and hauls himself onto the pick-up, dragging Kyla under his arm and ruffling her hair playfully, “Yeah! Didn't you know! Lit'l La-La here's been getting lessons from from Big Ben. Ain't that right La-La?”

    She huffs jerks away from him, laughing and lightly pelting his side with restrained punches, “Yeah, yeah, what of it, Ben knows a trick or two! And I know he tries to be all serious, but still—” Kyla trails off, eyes tracking an expensive looking vehicle as it runs along the streets, “No way they're from anywhere around here...”

    Dallas looses a wolf whistle, “But did you see the beaut in the driver's seat? Mm-Mm-Mm~” He hefts himself up and dusts himself of snow before tipping his hat jauntily, “A'ight. Who is the sorry sap that's going to phone Ben and Pop? One of y'all gonna volunteer or are we drawing from the hat again?”

    Kyla shrugs and draws out her phone, “They'll be glad to hear the news. And it's not too terribly late.” She scrolls through the numbers before raising it to her ear, climbing off the truck and starting to pace down the street to stretch her legs and warm up a bit. She sighs out and closes her eyes as the dial tone continues to ring. . .

    . . .She stirs, pressed against a wall and unsure what had happened. A stinging pain draws her attention to her hand and the broken remains of her cell phone where glass had splintered into her palm. Her whole body felt battered and bruised, worse than her most brutal match had ever been. Kyla frowns, laying there face down on the concrete a moment longer, her whole head swimming. It was surprisingly there given the late winter and recent snow... But it was rather uncomfortable, cracks and jutting pieces jabbing up into her, spurring her on to move and actually turn her body.

    Nursing her injured hand against her chest, she pushes herself up with one hand. With that, her eyes finally fall upon the devastation around her. The buildings around her are scarcely recognizable. She can see the twisted corrugated siding of a building that had been not so far off from the pub, twisted and warped. She winces and rubs at her eyes with her good eyes, unsure and dazed at what was happening. Her ears were ringing still as she stumbles, looking for her brothers. They had not been too far off before whatever had blasted apart brick and mortar and left husks of feebler homes.

    She staggers over the rubble, idly picking out the glass from her hand as she tries to pick out what direction the pub was even in. From amidst the rubble, she could pick out outstretched limbs. They were scarcely identifiable as human, scorched away by heat and shriveled as they were. Kyla shudders and averts her gaze, deciding it best to pick a direction and go as she raises her voice, calling out for her brothers. They would be bound to hear her. If not–She tries not to consider what fate awaits them.

    The scrapper hears a clatter as feet move over the rubble, a burble of static and a report as someone calls over their radio, “Yes, we've found another survivor. Commencing detainment. We'll have them back at the station shortly.”

    She frowns and shuffles on her feet, reorienting herself to look at them, “Hey! HEY! Have you seen two guys around here? One's pretty big, bit of a doofus? And the other's sort of this cowboy looking guy?”

    The group continues on their way over to her, the one on the radio speaks up, “Ma'am, I'm sorry, we haven't seen them. We need you to come with us. We'll explain on the way what just happened, but we need to go now.” The uniformed officer reached out with a gloved hand to take a grip on Kyla and lead her.

    She jerks away and shuffles back, “What? No! I'm not going anywhere til I find my brothers.” Kyla raises her fists defensively as she continues to backpedal. Her eyes move between them. It did not look like any of them were actually armed. She could probably knock one or two of them out before taking a sprint for it.

    The leader rolls his eyes and something, holding it in his hand, “Bailey, come help me. She's in a bit of shock and we really don't have time for this right now.”

    Kyla eyes the pair as they approach and continues to backpedal before finding herself against a broken wall. She curses herself before realizing she would have to make a break between the two. She takes a deep breath, mapping a path in her mind, seeing spot she would slip between them and break past the third before she plants her foot to make the quick sprint.

    Only to find the world rush past her and her head swim as she suddenly as to reorient herself. She goes spinning and crashing to the ground as her foot slips beneath her. The officers fall upon her in no time flat. Kyla shouts and struggles, but it is no use against the three of them. In no time, the leader has her head pinned and twisted to the side as he seeks out the vein, injecting a dose of something that feels like ice in her veins before Ground Zero fades away. . .

    . . . She comes to to rhythmic tapping, settled in a cot with a white cotton sheet thrown over top of her. Kyla grimaces, the rich scent of antiseptic heavy on the air mingling with something else. As she raises arm to stretch, she winces and looses a grunt.

    The tapping ceases and a soft tut-tut comes from the entity, “Shouldn't do that. You've a few cracked ribs, you know. Ah, and those stitches in your hand. We've sealed it best we could, bandaged it all up, but you'll have to take it easy.”

    Kyla furrows her brow, mind foggy and just hating the feeling of cottonmouth. A glass of water is offered out to her and she accepts it gingerly, sipping at it. Glancing over the brim of it she finally murmurs, “That blows... But, uh, do I know you?”

    The older gentleman shakes his head, leaning back in his chair and looking over his charts, “Nope. Wouldn't think so. But I'm the one you get when you... Assault the recovery team?”

    The girl arches a brow, “I wouldn't say assaulted. I just didn't want to go with them.”

    The guy snorts with amusement and nods, reviewing the report, “Nice trick, know anything else you can do, Houdini, or are you just a one-trick pony?”

    She shrugs, toying with the water, “Hell if I know. Didn't know I could even do that. I'm a boxer.”

    The guy nods, “Well, I'll be sure to bet on you your next match. You must stomp your competition with that up your sleeve. What's your name, kid?”

    She shrugs, “Kyla Booker. Yours grandpa?”

    He shakes his head, “Think I like Houdini better.” He laughs, “Sam White, though... Do you know what happened?” Kyla shakes her head. “It's called a Blast Event. You know, just like your history books all talk about. That spawned all those superheroes of the last age. Go figure, you're going to experience some changes.”

    Kyla rubs her arm, “Wasn't much one for history books... So, ah... What happened to everyone in the blast zone? How many are okay?”

    Sam shrugs, “Still finding that out. But most of White Fence seems to be lost.”

    Kyla pales, “Look, have you heard anything, about a Dallas or Simon Booker?”

    He pauses, “Not really, but I've been here most of the time. But I'll keep an ear to the ground. They need you to go help out with some stuff. I know, it's awful soon. But it doesn't look able to wait. Think you can do that?”

    The boxer sighs and sets her drink down on the instrument table setting nearby and runs her hand back through her hair. “I guess. It would sort of kill me just waiting around not knowing anything.... But would you mind keeping our old man posted? I can give you his number.”

    The older gentleman looks at her uncertainly before sighing, “I'll see what I can do, kid. No promises.”


    North West Quarter of the Exterior Utopian Wall

    The trip had been a short one, and Kyla had been largely silent. She had tried to keep as far from the man with the arm growths, as fascinating as they may be, and cast occasional envious glances at Katsumi. Of course she heard about her. She was only a little older and had made quite a name for herself in the women's athletic world, bringing a bit of pride to Kualkilla. Kyla rubs her eyes, wondering how many times she had been encouraged to try and follow in the footsteps of that woman... Overall, though, the only one she really did not have much to say about was the blonde along the trip, and she really held herself in an odd manner. Too rigid, Kyla determined, as they filed out.

    The red-head surveys the wall, uneasy in its presence. They had been briefed that they were to be guarding Utopia, against both sides, but to be around it was just making her nervous. She shudders and tries to keep as far away from it as possible, even as the officer tries to offer them their weapons.

    That is, until their first disturbance. Kyla's eyes follow back from the source of the thrown bottle to see more miserable pitch. She barely manages to stifle a laugh. It was a nice release of tension to have these little heroes show up given everything she had already been through, but still, they apparently had a job they needed doing. For whatever reason.

    Of course, first up was the mutant-man throwing Katsumi up to the plate. Kyla bristles a bit and crosses her arms, fuming a bit and setting her jaw, though she attempted to hide it. The blonde seemed to have the same idea as she set forward. Kyla sighs and hangs back, listening as she handles the kids. . .

    Only to mentally face-palm and start dashing across the street and fixing on the spot just beside the ringleader of the kids. She tries to focus on how she did it before, murmuring various encouragements to herself in order to try and get it going. It was not until nearly half-way across the street that Kyla manages to flash out of existence and appear beside him. She smirks inwardly in triumph and turns on the child, reaching out and smacking upside the back of his head in reprimand, “What're you doing?! All of you! Here y'all are, out at this forsaken place when your parents are already worried sick! Y'all are gonna be the death of them! Go on, get on back home now!”
    #11 Blackstone, Dec 17, 2014
    Last edited: Dec 17, 2014
    • Like Like x 1
  12. Mission 1C - Trouble in Paradise
    Katsumi Kaminaribi

    Before the Blast - White Fence

    Her name was Christine Palmer, a young girl of age eight, who was suffering from an, "Undoubtedly terminal case of leukemia," as the doctors described it. A strange little girl at heart with a series of loves so different from another they might have also thought her to possess two personalities. She was girly to many, but always professed her interest in the high-adrenaline world of professional wrestling. Dressed in pinks and tiaras, Christine would nevertheless sit down to enjoy a good showing of men and women beating on each other with chairs and floors, cheering the entire way.

    Katsumi Kaminaribi was her favorite in all of it, delivering lightning-fast strikes like no other Diva out there. She'd become Christine's role-model in more ways than one, displaying a strength that was not squandered by a presence of beauty even on the mat. Her life ending, Christine was given her chance to make a wish come true through the Make-a-Wish Foundation, and ultimately she decided to ask for a day with her one and only Diva.

    Katsumi honored the wish of course, always willing to reach out to a fan in need; especially one with so much suffering to come. Christine had yet to reach debilitating stages of leukemia, and so Katsumi opted to take the young girl out on a rowdy day of adventure and badassery. Soon she wouldn't have the opportunity to go so crazy and have so much unrestrained fun.

    Along with a "necessary" entourage of film crew employees and photographers, Katsumi had gotten on her way to the girl's residence on White Fence, soon to surprise her at her doorstep. Dressed in her famous Diva outfit of blues and blacks (albeit with a few more articles whilst in public), Katsumi had stepped out of the SUV and started for the door as the film crew shuffled behind. The home was pristine, a practical carbon copy of the other residencies around it save for the difference in garden management. A bouquet of flowers and a balloon rested on the doorstep, no doubt left there by another sympathizer.

    With a smile on her face and a few famous lines at the ready for Christine, Katsumi reached out for the doorbell and rang it.

    The house turned a shade of green and the total light of the world darkened. Startled by a sudden crackle of lightning behind her, Katsumi, her finger still on the doorbell, turned to witness the event transpiring, eyes widening with each second. Too stunned to move, she could do no more than watch in horror as the signature of a shockwave, carrying billows of dust at its forefront, rampaged towards her position. She rose her arms to her face and turned away before being thrown into the door of Christine's home, nearly breaking it inwards.

    Reeling but not unconscious, she opened her eyes to a blurred image of dark serpents striking the Earth in every place, unleashing molten fractures wherever they struck. Before she could cry out, the sidewalk before her burst open, and the shadows of some large debris cast itself over her. There was nothing more.

    Katsumi awoke to uncontrollable shivering. She was cold. Beyond cold. She could barely keep her muscles from thrashing about. Rising in a fit of terror and pain, she splashed water upon the taken aback medical personnel surrounding her. One of them wiped his glasses of the droplets she'd thrown onto him, while the other seemed only mildly disappointed about the water stain on his coat.

    Looking about, she realized the source of her frigid body; she was half-submerged in a tub of water, and while seemingly vaguely warm considering what the electronic thermometer said, it was still cold compared to the air. She clutched her arms and grit her teeth before hastily wiping her face of moisture.

    "Miss Kaminaribi, you're awake."

    No shit.

    "You've been unconscious for a few hours. Do you know where you are or what happened?" one of the doctor's asked. Looking about frantically, she realized she couldn't quite answer the first question. A field hospital? She shook her head.

    "I uh. I was in the middle of some bombing, I think," she tried to rationalize the event. The doctor's wrote a very short message down, but appeared quite apathetic to whatever it was they were recording. They seemed on edge and hasty, like they needed to talk quickly and get on their way. One of them kept checking their watch. "What happened? Where am I?"

    “We’re sorry we have to send you in already. There isn’t time for you to rest; there’s work to do. You'll get more information on your way out. Good luck and godspeed," they stated. A pair of guards came into the tent and stomped towards Katsumi. The rest was a blur.

    Her mind was focused elsewhere when someone had spoken up to her. She could only recall a single name; Christine. The dread of realizing she had not fulfilled a dying girl's wish had only begun to settle in during the car ride to Utopia's Northwest Wall. Her eyes were drawn to the ground, partly to her hands which she flexed open and closed over and over, monotonously and slowly. A tiny spark arced from one finger to another.

    The sound of children drew her out of the trance and she looked up to see a gang of punks throwing trash at the unfettered barrier. She turned to see some man staring at her. What was his name? Matthew? He looked at her expectantly, and it only took a short moment to get the idea, though she appeared too slow; others in her "group" had already taken to chastising the kids in their own ways.

    Charlotte attempted to relate to the kids while Kyla appealed to parentage. Both wrong answers to the issue in Katsumi's opinion. She'd lived on Three King's West Isle and seen what ill-behaved children were like. They were all with cops, which undoubtedly decreased the amount of favor they had with the kids already, and there was no way that mentioning parents would help to increase it. She'd need to be the tough voice that elicited respect, she resolved.

    Starting forward with a glare in her eye, Katsumi shouted out to the kids.

    "Ey! You think bottles and rotten produce are going to do anything, punks?" She did not stop in her approach, getting closer and closer to the tallest and oldest kid she could identify before staring them down. "You want to do something useful then go help with the people rescuing wounded at the event site! You know why we're here? We're not protecting it kid, we're protecting you from it. You stay here and throw tomatoes at a wall all day and the only you'll get is a sore arm."
  13. Downtown, Happy Targets Gunrange. Close to White Fence.

    ”Damn. Your aim is getting really good.” His friend whistled, staring down range at where the bullets had slammed into a target with pretty good results. The guns felt so right in Hugos hands. As if he was destined to use them.

    ”This is nothing man. I can hit moving targets to!” He boosted, pride shining trough. He spun the guns like in the old western movies of his youth, pivoted in a piruette and fired. The bullet struck home, punching a hole trough the target. Lous gave out out cheer and his other friends, Amanda and Jay joined in on the cheering.

    ”But only with the family guns?" He asked, eyeing the pieces of old, well worn iron, pearl embed wooden handles with the day of the dead motifs etched into it. A family heirloom. Hugo had taken them without permission to nerd out about his heritage and his dreams. And to show how well he had mastered the two sixshooters. Hugo was about to say something when it happened.

    Hugo still remembered seeing a light. He remembered a explosion, white hot and massive, the air vibrating as if the molecules themselves were shattering in place. He remember a shockwave discplacing him several hundred meters, flinging him like a rag doll. He remembers on of his friends screaming and huddling down behind the concrete barrier that was there to stop cars. The memory, against all logic, would turn out to be a fond one. Not becouseo f the terror, but becouse of what it represented. A new start. A new beginning. All of his friends had somehow survived. Two of them had ducked for cover behind a massive barrier. Loui, his freind from texas had thrown himself flat on the ground. Only Hugo had kinda stood there. To stupified to move. Mother always said he was abit slow to react. Well, he wasn't anymore. Not when he held his guns. It was gut reaction plus a supernatural ability to aim just where he wanted in a instant. As he lay there, head ringing. He had been picked up by two officers and a medic from the National guard a few minutes later. When he woke up at the hospital, he was still clutching the guns.

    ”Damn kid. You some sort of pistelero or what? We would have had to surgically remove the guns if you kept up your grip for much longer.” The officer spoke. He was a fat man, mid 30's. His own gun at his belt. ”Afraid you might have to put those to use son. We got a situation, and they are telling me you are just what they need.”

    ”Pistelero.” Hugo paused, staring down at his guns. ”I like it.” Hugos smile made everyone pause and stare.He would go places, do great things. This was his destiny.

    Western Edge of Ground Zero

    Pistelero spun his guns and snapped them back into his holsters. ”We got a bunch of bad bandidos on the loose?” He asked, the youthfull eagerness and good nature shining trough his words. The young man wanted so bad to good it hurt. There wasn't any ill intent in all of his body. He smiled and and took in the information given him, taking to his task like a fish in water. He was finally allowed to do good. To help bring the bad to justice. He was the Pistelero, the spirit of the old west given flesh again. But even in his excitement, Hugos thoughts was with his mother and father, with his friends. He was going to protect them all. He just hoped the blast hadn't cost his dad another job.

    ” Don' worry about the guns, I can handle it. They never seen a shooter like me before.” He flicked the guns out of his holsters, spun them and twirled them around like it was nothing. ”We'll take care of those pendejos no problem.” He grinned at everyon present. ”I'll be on the barricade.” He stated, turning to where people shored up their defenses. ”I will be able to put my gun to use. I don't think I can get your man to talk, guns only scare a person so much.” He shrugged.
  14. “He’s not going alone. Maybe being around people who’ve gone through the same thing will help him out. Maybe it won’t, but that’s how it is.”

    The Iron Gate
    Western Edge of Ground Zero

    “Oh, yeah, he’s uh, right over there,” came the reply to Serenity’s search for Lt Prescott. The voice was shaking, young, not one that sounded like it should have even been there. With the redirection, Prescott turned to Serenity, only to charge forward and shove her aside as he tackled the man to the ground, the sound of metal and flesh hitting the dirt echoing in Serenity’s mind. She had in her first blind steps stumbled right into one of the Ironmen, and hadn’t even noticed it. Not a good start.

    The noise was replaced with another. Swears and screams, before a meaty thunk came when Prescott’s fist met the jaw of the man who had tried to sneak by only for the wouldbe heroine to run into him. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Prescott asked, although it wasn’t clear who he was asking, for if it was the man, he wasn’t going to let him answer as he punched him again. And again. And again.

    Finally Lt Prescott stood up off of the man, after his sounds of pleading for no more were replaced with gurgling as he choked on his own blood. Some medical officer had been standing, patiently waiting for Prescott to get off the man, and they dragged him away and over to where Anna was about to ‘interrogate’ the other prisoner. The man looked young, maybe not even a real man yet. Seventeen, maybe eighteen years old, with bands of metal around his skin, seemingly grown forth from where his flesh should have been. There weren’t many, most were hidden beneath his clothes. Prescott calmly guided Serenity over to the interrogation area where Anna was, “Don’t let him escape.”

    At the touch and probe of the prisoner, Anna found herself assaulted with indecipherable images. A thought, a feeling, a plan. They were meaningless beyond the idea that there was one. They weren’t doing this mindlessly. Suddenly, she caught a glimpse of something important. Someone important. Standing regal in the memory, was a figure shrouded in darkness, with the stature of giants. He was in a warehouse, and stood towering over it. A name. His name. The giant’s.


    Pistelero’s jovial quip about guns was met with a rather perturbed look from Lt Prescott as he wiped down his hands of the blood, and made sure his uniform was still in good order. The dark bags under his eyes were more clear than before, before he adjusted his glasses once more, them having jostled out of place when he began to beat the only partly metallic junkie.

    Which resulted in a blunder for both himself and Druid, the two distracted for different reasons (Druid with his own ego) as they bumbled into each other, the stumble of their steps enough of a break for a woman in similarly concealing clothes to get a quick drop on them, coming out of the shadows of the buildings where she had been hiding and trying to make a run for it, beyond the barricades.

    And right into Andrew.

    Surprised, the young hispanic teen fell over after running into him, and fell to the ground, small vials of glowing orange liquid falling from her pockets, and glimpses of metal from her skin in sight. She began to quickly try to scamper to her feet, and dart away from Andrew as both police officers shouted at her to stop. But Lt Prescott wasn’t shouting at her. No, instead his eyes went to Andrew, and to Druid and Pistelero who had let her slip right past them, “Stop her!”

    A Bridge Too Far
    Last Bridge Connecting Ground Zero to Rook Island

    Not all of those that were at the bridge were quite able to get away and into joining the group. Instead, officers had to tend to them a bit more. Their stability wasn’t as good as the others, causing some worry about sending them into the mission with the others at all. But they weren’t to be sent away; the officers were going to try to get them enough medical attention so that they can stand and not just be a liability for the group.

    At those who could join fully, Lt Wethers seemed to be expressing a bit of shock and discontent with their apparent lack of knowledge of how their powers worked. That wasn’t useful to her, she needed them to go and get at them, and the thought of schooling them was on her face as she just looked even more frazzled than before. “Christ,” she muttered.

    But that wasn’t the worst news, as things would appear to be. One of the other officers on a radio, looked a bit confused, as Ariett was able to pick up on. He lowered the radio, and walked to Lt Wethers and spoke to her quietly, in hushed tones, and her face contorted in disbelief and anger. Out of everyone there, it was only Ariett who was able to pick up on what was said more or less.

    Something along the lines of fake hostages.

    Lt Wethers spoke in a way that everyone there could understand, “You make sure of that, before we do a fucking thing.” The man nodded and went back to talking on the radio elsewhere, trying to be out of earshot. She turned sharp to those who were present to be yelled at, “And you lot, think faster before people who don’t have to die, die.” She spoke a bit with her hands as she said that, her eyes a bit wide, and her teeth near clenched. Her hands shook even when she seemed to be trying to make them be still, her breath was shallow and through her mouth. Her gaze turned down, “Dammit, help from some actual Enforcers would be nice about now.”

    “Hey, fascists!” came a voice from the bridge. One of the Grass Bloods, for certain. “We see you have some new friends with you! They’re not in regulation uniforms for police or emergency response! You wouldn’t happen to be working with any outside help, would you?” Anyone who would risk a look would see a blond haired blue eyed man peeking around from behind a car, with a struggling man in his grip, a human shield, “Oh, or are they for trading? I’m sure we’d love to do a trade.” He seemed to say something to the man, before turning back with a flip of his head, “Seems it’s unanimous on our end! What about yours? We’d love to see your ‘totes hardcore mohawk brother’ to come on down.”

    Trouble in Paradise
    North West Quarter of the Exterior Utopian Wall

    Charlotte’s plead for support was met not quite the way that she likely would have wanted it to be. As Kyla stormed forward, one of the kids with a better arm than the others pulled back a piece of moldy fruit, and threw it. Fortunately, her teleportation across the rest of the street had her blip and completely miss being hit by it. Charlotte was less fortunate, as the gooey apple hit her and left an unpleasant and wet stain on her clothes before falling to the ground with a squelching thud, the fruit rolling to a stop beside Matthew’s foot.

    Kyla’s swipe at the back of the head of the child, however, was a bit harder than she had quite intended, knocking the kid stumbling and landing on his own bag of garbage. He squirmed and thrashed to get off it, while his compatriots had a laugh at his expense. At Kyla’s words about their parents, the kids stopped in place as a thought that had seemingly never crossed their minds finally slipped into the way of their plans. A nice majority of them began to look guilty as all hell, regret filling their tiny minds, “Maybe we should go home…”

    The eldest, the one assaulted by so many adults talking down to him, and in the case of Katsumi who marched over to him as he was on the ground, quite literally talking down to him… was less moved to return home where things may be safe. “Guys, we can’t just go home. We need to help fix the town!” he said, turning his eyes back to his friends as they began to shuffle away from the scene, talking amongst themselves about hoping they won’t be in trouble, and what they need to do with the rest of the stuff in their bags. The boy stood up and glared at the heroes, and the cops, before he stormed off, “Fine, you won’t let me help you here? Then I’ll just go help somewhere else, by myself.” And so he was gone, leaving his trash behind in the process.

    The Asian officer watched as the kids dispersed in two groups, scratching at the back of his head. The other officer spoke up, “Should we go make sure he don’t get into any trouble?”

    “No, he’s not with our problem; we’re going to make sure the wall isn’t going to burst with monsters,” said the Asian officer, opening the trunk again, “Wouldn’t have thought they’d be that easy to be done with, but not complaining. So,” he looked up at the group again, “You’ll be wanting guns with the patrol, right? Come pick out something comfortable. Or just get to walking the wall, we need people going,” he gestured one way along the wall and then the other, “So split yourselves up so we can get this done fast too. One group will go with myself, and the other with Officer Garfield.”

    “Er, yup. As Officer Shin says, we’re going to split up into two, iffin y’all doing have a problem with it. Also, I don’t think y’all should be coming with guns just yet. No trainin’ and,” he turned and looked at Officier Shin, who was giving him a bit of an annoyed look, “Right, just, whatever, ain’t none my business much.”
  15. Andrew Tolliver - Mission 1A: The Iron Gate, #8AFB17

    Andrew worked silently on the barricades, working harder on suppressing the urge to break down under the sorrow and guilt related stress that accompanied the realization that he'd been the sole survivor of the group of his closest friends. That is, until a fuss was made not far off. The young man stopped what he was doing to turn in time to catch sight of Prescott beating the ever-loving crap out of some guy. He watched, half wishing he'd been in the officer's place. This time he didn't mentally scold himself for thinking it, wanting more and more to vent his emotional troubles through inflicting physical pain and quickly starting to care less and less about the possible negative effects on his personality in the long run. He'd been that way most of his life, generally forgetting the considered repercussions in favor of the obvious benefits of his actions.

    As it would happen however, he might soon get the opportunity to abandon restraint after all.. And to think, he'd done so well in passing up a violent interrogation not long ago. In the now, some woman who'd seemingly come from out of nowhere bumped into him as she ran past. That in itself made his brows furrow, sorrow turned to anger by the simple accident in a desperate attempt to bury his true feelings. When he heard the order to pursue the woman, he didn't stop for even a second to wonder if it was meant for someone else, turning and bolting off after her as quickly as he could manage.

    Already, the crystals grew and encased his tightly balled fists as he gave chase, appearing jagged and unrefined as they formed. He might have wondered how exactly he controlled the hard green substance were he in a calmer mindset, but right now he only cared about catching up to this assumed criminal. If he managed to get his hands on her before anyone else, she'd pay for whatever it was that she was guilty of. He might regret it later, but right now he was in no mood to ask questions first.

  16. Oto Novák
    1B: A Bridge Too Far

    Novák frowned looking across the barricade at the blonde asshole calling for his head and spat nonchalantly to the side,"Well, this sure is a shitty draw, looks like they took a liking to sweet little old me." He had gotten used to the looks and comments in the city, but this was a whole new twist to the tried and true game of judgmental stares. Fuck them, Oto thought, he wasn't going to let some fearmongering fucks get the better of him.

    He eyed the others in the group thoughtfully and saved a particularity questioning glance for Lt Wethers,"I'll go, if it comes to that, but I don't plan on being a sacrificial lamb...we need a plan. I can cause a distraction once I reach the bridge, but I can't hold them all of by myself. Someone else needs to show up for the party. Preferably someone who can help me bust some skulls."

    Standing up to his full height, Novák rolled his neck and cracked the knuckles of his fists with the well-practiced ease of a born street vagabond. He grinned fiercely and summoned up all of the nihilistic bravado he could muster,"It may be a bridge too far, but either way, let's go where eagles dare."
    #16 Iben, Dec 24, 2014
    Last edited by a moderator: Dec 24, 2014
    • Like Like x 2
  17. Matthew was a bit surprised to see the other two also step up to the plate and try to deal with the children in their own manner. He on the other hand took the moment to calm down a bit and try to focus on the task at hand. It wasn’t much help, but even a bit more clarity was welcome. The rotten fruit’s wet impact caused him to look back up, and he frowned before nudging the deformed apple away slowly. Despite that incident though, it didn’t seem like the kids were going to cause much more trouble. Watching as the majority shuffled off and their leader ran off on his own, he finally moved from his spot. Pulling out a few napkins from a coat pocket he offered them to Charlotte, before addressing the three, “Good job.” He paused for a moment, debating if he should comment, but in the end chose not to. He wasn’t quite sure what to feel about the “powers” he had gained and it’d be safer to just remain silent. Instead he chose to nod towards the pair of officers before making his way on over.

    Walking over to the opened trunk, he glanced at the contents before reaching in for one of the rifles. Recalling what firearm safety his friends and the range staff had drilled into his head, he did a quick check of his new weapon. Safety on, clear the chamber, all that. While he had never worked with this model, the M4 Carbine, the procedures was similar enough that he didn’t fumble around with it for too long. As he dropped the shoulder from his shoulder, he became aware of the officer’s look.
    “Doesn’t look like formal training, but good enough for me.”
    Scratching the back of his head in slight embarrassment, Matthew couldn’t help but feel slightly better though. Even if it had been something as simple as that, letting himself fall back into a routine almost automatically had been soothing. “Thanks,” he muttered as he took the offered magazines and slipped them wherever they could go. Fiddling with the sling took a while before he was able to get it to sit comfortably on his shoulder. Once he was finished though he stood beside the Asian officer, apparently a Mr. Shin going from his partner, as he waited for the other three. Not that he didn’t like the other officer, but he did seem a bit more uptight and strict than his peer. He didn't really want to be out here in the first place, but if he had to be, he'd rather not have someone riding his ass the entire time either.
  18. -Mission 1C-

    Charlotte grimaced as the scent of moldering apple wafted into her nostrils. She was thankful that the fruit had only managed to leave a slimy trail behind on her buttoned, navy blue cardigan. It wouldn’t show up if she scrubbed it out when she had a spare moment, more than likely, and that thought cast a cloud over her brow even as Matthew genteelly offered her a clump of napkins.

    “Thank you, but I don’t think those’ll do much good,” she said tersely, trying not to come off as too blunt. It was much easier to simply part with it, beloved though it had been, by shrugging it off of her shoulders and letting it crumple onto the ground below. However, standing in the slight chill with nothing more than a thin, white t-shirt, she began to realize just how much trouble that little brat could get into if they let him run off for good. Sure, part of her wanted to grind his nose in the disgusting fruit of his lackey’s endeavor, which had added insult to injury to her worst day in years. There was no use in denying that she felt a right to teach him some sort of lesson, but mainly, she wanted to stop him from doing anything stupid. She was still new in Kuakilla, hardly knew a thing about the city, but if the cops were hell bent on making sure that nothing crossed over the wall on either side, it was probably for good reason. Ms. Kaminaribi's approach, though well-intentioned, didn't sit with her quite so well and Charlotte's mind soon could focus on little else besides making sure that little trouble maker wasn't headed for his untimely doom.

    The redhead in the leather jacket who had knocked the little firebrand onto his ass earlier still stood where she had dealt the fateful blow, and Charlotte bit her lip, not looking forward to how awkward this would be. One of the worst things about leaving behind the stuffy parties she had become accustomed to was the fact that she’d now have to learn people’s names. God, long gone were the days of familiarity and ease.

    “I—ah, sorry, didn’t catch your name during the ride over,” she offered her most charming smile, aware that it meant nothing here, but counting on it to make her feel a little more at ease. Shifting a bit the blonde went on without a moment’s hesitation to check to see if her audience even turned her head in acknowledgement, “But would you like to come with me and search for that kid? We could go with Officer Garfield, survey the wall while we’re following the boy’s tracks? You seemed like you really got through to him with that…” Tactfully. “Effective maneuver of yours.”

    She was much more inclined to go with Officer Garfield, as he seemed to favor the no-guns approach to things, a tactic that she much preferred to the potentially gruesome alternative, but she decided to keep that provision a secret for right now, just in case the teleporter’s trigger finger also applied in a more literal sense.
  19. [BCOLOR=#333333]Annalicia Rodriguez - Mission 1A: The Iron Gate[/BCOLOR]
    [BCOLOR=#333333]Western Edge of Ground Zero[/BCOLOR]

    Lead over to the prisoner, Anna followed behind Prescott nervously. It was hard to imagine that not even a few hours ago she had been wandering this area in search for help. Everything was still too surreal for her to comprehend, it almost felt like she was on autopilot as she kept up with the Lieutenant. An endless list of questions were buzzing through her head, and yet she still remained quiet. More terrified of the answers that the officer may or may not have for questions, she couldn't help but prefer to stay in the dark for the time being.

    Eyeing the police van and the figures that surrounded it, her gaze eventually landed on the prisoner. Unconscious, and restrained she hesitated to step close but was reassured by one of the Officers, "It's all right, he isn't going anywhere." Once Prescott informed the officers of her task, Anna was promptly left with the prisoner and his guards.
    Given a stool to sit on as they laid his body out along the floor of the van, she scooted closer to the bumper of the car with the Ironman's head now at resting level to her chest. Once she was in position the officers backed away and watched curiously from afar as Anna went to work.

    Despite accidentally activating her powers earlier at the Blast site, this would be first time she had ever purposely tapped into someone else's head. Her last experience had hit her like a punch in the face, leaving her playing over the Officers memories like a stuck film until her asshole of a Doctor started talking. Still tense, Anna was still eager to test out abilities. Slender hands gently rested on the mans head, her fingers nestling through his hair until they ran against his scalp. Taking in a deep breath and concentrating, the bottom of her palms tingled with energy as they slowly sank into the Ironman's head.

    Images, and f a c e s . . .

    They all came to her in bright flashes, flickering before her as if she were staring through the very eyes of the Ironman. Each image and word he passed, no matter how obscure and incoherent, was melted into her brain repeating constantly in her ears like a broken record. With each figure he came into contact with, or spoke to, his impression of others and the influence they had on him were picked up by Anna. She could tell if he was lying, if he felt confident, or self-conscious about his actions or words, but above all there was one thing that stuck with her the most--the prisoner, like the rest of the Ironmen who had tried to rush into the blast site, were acting under orders.

    As she trailed deeper into the Ironman's head, her sight began to clear and the images began to focus. Tall iron beams stretched above his head, supporting the high metal ceiling above a warehouse. The smell of dust assaulted her nostrils while the heavy impression of eagerness, confidence, and commitment flooded her chest. Slowly the Ironman lifted his gaze, the sun glaring at his eyes through the window as a giant silhouette consumed the light behind its figure. Taking in this image his--No, its, name began to surface, mumbling from the lips of her host as she came to identify the giant, "Baltor."

    Energy and information surged through her body like electricity, suddenly. Convulsing in her seat until she snapped back into consciousness with a gasp, her hands tugging out of the mans head before they could solidify. Gibberish flooded from her lips, her body trembling with information as she struggled to contain everything she had just probed from the prisoner.

    B a l t o r.
    His name poured from her mouth, and flooded her brain. Overtaking the gibberish and repeating in strained mumbles, it continued to scream in her head even when she could gather moments of silence. Grabbing her ears and hiding her head in her lap, she panted in fear, unable to control her own thoughts as information overloaded her head. This earned the concern of the medics nearby. Pushing past shocked Officers as they watched Anna fall into a manic episode, the medic spoke up gently trying to gain the red heads attention. "Ma'am," Eyebrows knitting in concern she slowly reached out to touch Anna's shoulder, "Are you alright?" Before she was touched, Anna inched away violently, the stool screeching beneath her as she shoved herself unintentionally. Startled from the other woman's approach her thoughts began calm, and reality slowly began to settle in.

    Still jittery, wide eyes shot back and forth between the medic, the officers, and the unfamiliar grey haired girl Prescott had brought over, "B-b-bb.." Shaking her head violently in frustration as she struggled to spit out her words, she fought back his name with everything, stuttering in reaction before she was finally able to speak, "B-b--Bring me, Prescott!" Gasping out her words, her frustration began to return as nobody seemed to answer or react to her words. Body still shaking visibly, her hands quaked in her lap both in anger, and anxiety as she finally shouted at the group, "N-now!"​
    #19 Valhalla, Dec 29, 2014
    Last edited: Dec 29, 2014
    • Like Like x 1
  20. Ariett Deveca
    1B: A Bridge Too Far

    It looked like they were going to just have to wing it after all. I don't know that she realizes it, but— "We aren't exactly trained, so lay off, would ya?"

    That dealt with—at least in her mind—she turned to Oto, who seemed the most in control of himself at the moment. "I got nothing in the way of bashing skills, but if you're going over there, no way I'll let you do it alone." Thinking back to the still-present pain at her side, she grimaced. Whether she'd be able to knock anyone down or not, she could at least take a couple hits before she dropped herself. I hope.

    "But there are four hostages." Or four fakes. She almost wished she hadn't heard that. "We'll need four to trade. We might be able to pass off one of your, uh, golems? If you can get it to generally good proportions, we might be able to convince 'em its just a freak." Kinda like us?

    If those hostages were fake, they'd probably be less than willing to pass them over. And if they were real, she wasn't eager to run in guns blazing and get them all killed.

    A couple of unarmed freaks surrendering themselves wasn't the ideal plan, but it was all they really had to work with so far.
    • Like Like x 1