I CAN DO THIS!

[Sail]

HELLO! THIS IS MY TEST THREAD! HERE ARE A FEW USEFUL THINGS THAT I USE QUITE FREQUENTLY!

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(Credit: Elle Joyner)

 

[Sail]

test test test

 

[Sail]

​

A deep, endless expanse, twisting upwards until it meets topsoil; the horizon kisses the earth, a heavy blanket of purple and blue, flecked with blotches of slow-moving white clouds. He looks down into the endless abyss, unsure of what he will find at the bottom.

Click.

Click.

Click.

BOOM! Large rocks launched into the air, soon followed by a bright orange glow - he rears back in pain as he feels heat sear through his flesh. An unfamiliar feeling. His skin begins to drip onto the grass around him like melting butter as the tower of fire continues to extend into the air-

An uncomfortable sickness filled Kallen's stomach as he awoke from the dream-on second thought, it would be considered a nightmare, which had plagued him in a much higher amount since he had been taken a few weeks prior. His comforter had found its way to the other side of the bed and the remainder of his clothing had bunched up beneath the various crevices of his body.

Slow, unsure, two words that came close to describing how Kallen exited the bed. Another few words, these from his own mind: "Ah darn, that sucked." And then, running water; cold filled his mouth, spreading across his teeth in a back and forth motion. He preferred the soft bristles to the rough ones- then more water, falling around him in a torrent of heat and pressure. The scent of burning wood, seared into his skin by soap; it just so happened he could use his power to make his sweat smell like the chemicals in the soap, which would keep him smelling fresh all day.

He pulled on his running clothes, a pair of loose-fitting black shorts and a red t-shirt made of a material similar to his costume. "Do I come back here before the conference, or should I go ahead and pack it?" He answered his own question by pulling it off the hook and tossing it into a cinch sack-the concealed knives somewhat weighed the bag down, but he'd manage.

As he began his run, the dark thoughts from half an hour prior were blasted away by the cold morning air of Washington DC. Unfortunately, fear filled those holes; his kidnapping had happened on a dark morning much like this one. When the pain of running pierced his chest, he fired a pulse of energy at it, rerouting the pain to his feet, then back to his lungs. Back and forth, back and forth, a metronome of pain that kept his mind away from the memories.

The morning sun sat low in the sky as he partook of the holy grail of cheap American breakfast; the McDonalds bacon, egg and cheese biscuit. Fresh biscuit that crumbled with every bite, bacon that crunched beneath his teeth, filling his mouth with the greatest invention mankind had accidently created; bacon grease. His mouth sang the praises of the "McBiscuit" with every morsel of delectable food. Of course, he washed it down with the world famous sweet tea, loaded with 54 grams of sugar and 220 calories of pure bliss.

By the time the sun had reached its noontime home, Kallen had clothed himself with the bright reds that made up his secret identity. He hailed a taxi, and told the driver(a kind older man whose eyes immediately when wide upon seeing this "superhero") to drive him down to the location of the press conference. Upon arrival, he paid the required fee, "Thank you, thank you so much for bringing me here. I hope I wasn't too much of an inconvenience."

"Mom, dad, I hope you are watching this on the TV. I really I hope I make you proud." Not exactly a thought with words, but an impression felt deep within his soul.

 

[Sail]

Name: PROJECT ALEPH: CODENAME "SEVEN"
Age: 3
Singleplayer, Multiplayer
Gender: Agender
Weight: 35 lbs(245 on Aetheria)
Height: 8'11"

Background:

Alpha Centauri-a binary star pair known to all as the closest star besides our beautiful Sol to Earth-is known to have a singular passenger, simply known as Proxima Centauri. But unbenounced to humanity, a terrible, unforgiving secret lies 1.8 billion miles from the star(approximately the same distance Uranus is from the sun). Atheria, the largest unknown exoplanet in the known universe harbors countless lifeforms…

1968. At the height of the Space Race, the United States government was grasping at straws; "How dare the Commies try to beat us to the moon!" many had said. Little did the American people know, an outlandish, absurd experiment was occuring at a completely unknown base, called "Area Zero". Late October was when the future of humanity was forever altered…

A device coined the "Cosmospear", fired at a sheet of aluminum. The being that came through was a mess. It looked as though a fetus nearly formed, except the eyes were pitch black and the skin like paper mache. The being died an hour after being brought across the Bridge. Codename: One.

A being capable of space-time manipulation was next, its intellect far above any human's. Seconds later, it vanished. Codename: Two. The only record of its existence; the Hebrew character for "Aleph" burned into the nearby wall. A failure. Codename: Three. A minor success. Whatever the creature was, it vanished in a flash of purple light, yet sensors still could pick it up. Codename: Four. Five, once again a failure. Six, another failure.

Flash back to the year 1972. A pair, fully inseparable, except by the Cosmospear. Four, ripped away from its host, its friend, its pal. Left alone, the powerless shell of a Voltai without its Inhabitant went into a state of dormancy. For the next 37 years, it did nothing.

2009: The first activation of the Cosmospear since 1974, another act of desperation by the US government to stop a space rock hurtling towards Earth. The laser fired; the rock was not stopped. Instead, it burnt up above the forests of Siberia, a fireball that leveled a good section of trees. The Soviets claimed it was two satellites crashing, but everyone knew the truth.

Who else but the one stuck in a state of eternal rest would be hit by the Cosmospear? The powerless Voltai, now brought to Earth across two full light years in less than a second. Codename: Seven.

Seven soon took up the mantle of "Plasma", a vigilante who gained a modicum of Fame after saving the governor of California from an assassinstion attempt. People have yet to discover Seven's true home, yet many harbor suspicions that "Plasma" is less human than they have led everyone to believe.

Powers/Abilities:
High Movement Speed: Due to the lesser gravity of Earth, Seven is able to move at seven times their normal speed back home. This averages out to about 100 feet per second, triple Usain Bolt's speed.
Charged Particle Manipulation: Able to alter the electrons and protons in a 15 foot radius, allowing them to channel electricity, generate static and temporarily stick people to things by turning them into a magnet.
Color Changing Skin: Seven is able to change their skin color, allowing them to blend somewhat into society. This can occasionally be used as a camouflage(such as turning solid black).

Weaknesses:

Very Physically Weak: Unable to lift much due to low weight. Additionally, Seven is not very good at hand to hand combat, and they cannot take many hits.
Terrible Immune System: If you are sick near Seven, they are sure to get it. While it won't kill them(they can go into a temporary hibernation to regenerate) it will hurt like hell.
Constant Solution Need: Without the proper food from home (of which Earth is in short supply), Seven must get all their vitamins from a specially designed solution. Without it, Seven would die.

Appearance: Humanoid. Long, spindly limbs, small torso and head. Roughly grey in color naturally. While in the "Plasma" persona, they turn their skin purple to match their previous Inhabitant's energy color.

 

[Sail]

Begin Log. Project Aleph, Test Number Seven

Conditions: Temperature set to 62 degrees. Moisture level at 43%. Fully depolarized. Cosmospear set to fire at full power, directed at a surface comprised of 10% graphite, 33% iron, 57% copper.

Hypothesis: A portal to Alpha Centauri will open, bringing a [DATA EXPUNGED] into the chamber.

Experiment Log: Cosmospear triggered at 1704 Universal Standard Time. Beam was focused at the center of the surface.

A portal of yellow-green color was ripped open, identical to the prior experiments(see Test Numbers Two, Four and Five.) [/FONT]

Seven gripped the metal bar above it's head. Grey semi-fluid spilled over it before solidifying; it splashed down onto the pavement below, nearly invisible with a passing gaze. They made a soft coo, a brief splash of red filling what would be the cheeks before they continued to climb upward. Of course, "climb" was a subjective word. "Climb" typically requires lifting one's entire bodyweight-Seven was not doing this. No, Seven had coined a new term, a new word once realizing the limitations of the English language; "glosh".

They gloshed and gloshed all the way to the precipice of the apartment building, humming an out-of-key rendition of "God Bless America." Oftentimes their notes went a bit too high(even higher than a normal human); the lows sounded almost computer generated. Just a bit…

A sudden, searing heat washed across Seven's back-they snapped their neck backwards to see what was going on-more waves of heat as a large building three blocks away was torn apart by explosions. "Des is brought upon these crucios. Sij akiis donan! No, no...first the transmission device, then donaniis."

Higher, higher; people watched from their office windows as the grey creature scaled their office building. They pointed outside, shouting. Seven pressed it's ear-like structure to the glass, listening close.

"Is that Plasma?"

"No you fool, Plasma is purple. That...thing is grey. It doesn't even look human." Three letters were brightly stitched above this man's left breast pocket.

"But…"

"Get back to work." Those three letters: NBC.

"I'm on my lunch-"

"Get back to work. Lunch can come later. We've got an A-H-D in the broadcast room. Something about..." The voices faded as the two men left the office, leaving Seven alone once again.

Another explosion. Seven did not turn around to see this one. They continued the climb, making sure to not misplace one of their hands. Falling would mean starting again, something they did not have time for. Falling would mean failure, a word Seven barely understood. The closest picture they could drum up was a memory...distant, not just in time but in location. A memory from before earth. Not before earth existed, but before the concept of earth existed in Seven's mind....

Ten feet til the top. The two ran across the Junaak, leaping from sharp rock to sharp rock. Lightning cascaded around them, a heavy smell of burnt ozone filling the air. Onward, to the Great Ujis… Five feet til the top. The memories floated into their mind, a fine salve for the boredom of climbing. A searing pain deep within their chest. And then, the presence was gone. All that was left to do, now unfinished. Aethia had not lost a part of its salvation in that moment-it instead had bought stocks that would come to be paid off in the distant days ahead.

A spike made of polished aluminum rose thirty feet into the air, various black panels flashing numbers and words dotting it like the craters dotting the moon's surface. Seven pressed their hands into one near the base. A grey goop began to seep through the cracks, flowing into the electronics. Atoms buzzed, acknowledging the new element-Atheriam, Am, something between Antimony and Tin but yet neither one.

Seven focused upon the negative ions within the tower. One by one, connections were made in their mind, trees were constructed that would soon be paths for-
Plasma. Tendrils of lightning scaled the tower; those were the very outer branches of Seven's lightning tree. Sparks exploded from the initial impact. Then, the rest of the tree came into being, tearing the transmission tower apart from the inside. Flames licked the rooftop; Seven's mission was done. They had already leapt from the building and deployed their specially designed parachute as the tower was turned to ash.

Two city blocks away, Seven found a television store. They had shifted to the purple of their "Plasma" persona-half of them now showed static; half of the display TVs now displayed a screen that read "We are experiencing technical difficulties." The others displayed a playback of the fight at the superhero press conference.

A man spoke, "The current whereabouts of the President, Vice President, and Clifford Chore, the congressman from the day before are unknown. It is believed the current target of the attack was the President, but investigations are still underway to determine the true culprit and their motives." The video had made it to the point where Syn had split into two. Seven grinned, turning away from the television. "At this time, we will broadcast a message from the Emergency Alert System."

"Iinys, I'm coming." They had to find a way to join the Hoods and Capes, no matter what it took.

 

[Sail]

"Wait a minute…" Before Diero had a chance to notice the momentary shift to a more scholarly tone, Gora continued on with her spiel. He continued looking around the room, searching for the person in charge. He kept one ear open to listen to Gora, and one to listen for any other trouble. He wasn't particularly good at such a task, and found himself repeatedly returning to hearing only Gora's words.

Simba crawled up Diero's left arm, the little pitter-patter of small spider feet sending a comforting warmth throughout his body.

"...she was worried about the Speakeasy? Maybe this half-orc knows something I can use? It seems she is acquainted with Corella." His prior task on hold, he turned to Gora, raising one eyebrow a bit higher than the other and asked, "What exactly was she so worried about with this speakeasy? Have you been having trouble?" [/SIZE]

 

[Sail]

"Looking back on this day, I have made a realization. Many do not understand what it truly feels like to be surrounded on all sides by smoke. Many also do not understand what it feels like to hear the howls of pain of people dying from gunfire and being unable to stop it from happening; they don't even understand what it feels like to see someone die. But, the very action of watching death occur takes something from you. I know it took something from me."...would likely be what a movie starring Transfer would say if it began with this event.

But, of course, it did not begin with this event. It began with a very different one-the day he snapped. At that time, he did not know what had happened, and he wouldn't until two weeks ago in an abandoned warehouse, when confronted with Death himself. But, that's a digression from what is really important. What's really important is what happened after he fired that first blank into the air.

"Pearson!" The exclamation was not a shout based one, but a loud whisper. "Crawl on your stomach off the stage. I'm going to fire some more…" Transfer hoped and prayed to whatever gods existed, if any did, that the sounds of "rata-tat-tat" muffled what he was to say now.
"Run behind the stage. I hope to reunite with you there."

One. The smell of burning plastic filled his nostrils. His hand shook as he prepared to fire the next blank.

Two.

Three. "Pearson, I sure do hope you are still alive."

Four. He still couldn't see out of the smoke bomb's cloud-it seemed that the wind was almost non-existent.

Five. The gun had been fully unloaded of blanks. He rummaged into his pocket, searching for the two unused bullets from the day before. While rummaging around, he tried to picture the battlefield-"Battlefield, huh. Never thought a press conference would turn into one of those". -from before he set the smoke bomb off. Of course, he assumed the building across the way had collapsed, but what threats were there? "Wasn't there some very muscled guy right in front of the stage? I'll check and see."

He ran out of the cloud of smoke. Air caught in his throat when he saw Night Watcher dozens of feet from his original position, very obviously injured; furthermore, he felt his heart stop as his gaze fell upon the crumbling tower. Flashes of purple, unnatural vibrations in the air, shadows dancing across the ground, a herald of some super-hyper looking individual, a monster that looked straight out of an H. P. Lovecraft story, ramming into people who were in the employ of the enemy.

Transfer swung his arm toward Finn, still locked into combat with Anarchy. He shakily lined up the sights with Finn's face plate and fired both bullets.

He tossed the gun into the smoke and then fell to the ground, bracing for what he assumed might kill him. A hand on a mushy corpse to use it as a battery of pain-his consciousness drifted into the signal-less body.[/FONT]