Rogues Gallery - IC

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Gomorrah

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Everybody in the city knew when it happened. That day was like a great thunderclap all across Freecoast. It was exactly two weeks ago when the double A-G-F finally made their first move in this grand new witchhunt to stamp out the truly powerful beings, the Freaks. They started with the crown jewel of the city, only the most famous vigilante to soar Freecoast's skies; taking out the armour clad Vassel and a slew of his own nemesis in one fell swoop. Recordings of what went down at Cannon Village circulated the television networks for days after that and whether or not you loved or hated the brutal tactics used by double A-G-F Agents to capture- or more likely kill their targets, nobody could deny that they had more resources than what they had originally let on when they announced their arrival as peacekeepers during a conference on the Bluela Military Base only three short months ago.

It was expected that there would be an uproar, a call for the heads of both Major Tabitha who ran Bluela and the double A-G-F's leader, K. Berry. But the more the Agency campaigned, the more propaganda they plastered to the walls and the more speeches they gave, the quieter Freecoast's citizens got, leaving the four top gangs in a messy situation. Though it wasn't just the gangs who were in trouble. Word started to spread to keep an eye on Freak activity and report sightings to Agency offices that seemed to have popped up overnight. People started to disappear, and suddenly it wasn't in your best interest to show off your powers in public. And it didn't matter if you ran with the gangs or not. If you were a special snowflake, the Agency was looking to melt your ass.

Something needed to be done about this. Unsure of who or why this had been set up, you have come into possession of a relic; an old-fashioned flip phone with a number registered to your name and a message telling you to keep the item on you at all times. Today, exactly two weeks after the Vassel was captured and the Agency crept into Freecoast, your phone has gone off. You now have a text message instructing you to go to Sahara, a run down club in north Fortuna on the corner of Hydra Street and Gotch Boulevard.

The Sahara was a classy little number back when it was still operational. Formal attire with fine wines and melodic piano numbers classy. It was unfortunate that it never fully recovered, but none of the businesses in Fortuna along the northern canal really did. This is where the 20-year wear really shows in the district; the street lights flicker giving off an overwhelming eeriness, the roads are dirty with litter that makes slight rustling noises as the wind pushes it along into darkness, and the people? Sparse, but always drunk.

If you were to find any comfort here in North Fortuna, it would be in the dim red glow of the wavy cursive text that spelt out "Sahara". And if you tried to go through the swinging double doors that led to the club's foyer, you'd find them locked. One would assume that the window right next to the doors would be a good option, but it sadly appears to be boarded up. Alternatively, a facility like this is sure to have a back door, and heading around to the other side of the building would also give you a clear view of the canal and the shining lights of downtown Little America that lie on the other side.
 
Gregory Davidson -

Fear, emotion so simple and powerful, that it can make an entire army surrender, or a country loose it's independence. It also worked easily on citizens, no matter which class they are. If explaining, that's what happened in Freecoast - "ocean paradise". It all started when A-G-F decided to hunt down Freaks, and attack various gangs with attached to them economy. Thoughts of revolution were floating in air, but not forming into something massive inside citizen's heads. Everyone was too much scared to speak their thoughts to others - not knowing who to trust, scared that they are targeted, scared that their families are in danger. All that atmosphere of fear kept citizens on their places like some trained puppies.

Otherwise than gangs, business was slowly drowning. Gangs were too scared that some drug traffic is supported by A-G-F, so they denied most of it's income. Greg was one of those drug dealers, who were partially still able to deliver their production, but it became harder from time to time. Because of high attention towards Freak activity in following days, Greg stopped flying, and walking took much more time that simply flying towards his targets. Drug traffic slowed down, but boy didn't give up.

His schedule changed when - exactly two weeks after first action that A-G-F performed - phone he somehow found gone off. Someone sent a text message, requesting to meet at club "Sahara", which was located in north Fortuna. How did Greg know that? Well, he had met with some of his customers by it, but stopped going there because not every person wanted to be in that crappy place. But why did Greg go there now? Message was somehow giving Greg a push towards that strange meeting, and if it was A-G-F trap... Greg knew he would be able to protect himself.

At the exact this moment of time, Greg was slowly approaching north Fortuna. He already went through most of Fortuna, meeting his old customers there. Strange, but they greeted him friendly - even those who argued with him about the price of so called "item". Anyways, he red address again, and continued to walk forward - maybe even forward to future.
 
Josué Costa.

He didn't 'feel' very frequently, nor did the young man have a great deal of motivation. The end of his life was a terrifying prospect, if he didn't think his boss would wring his neck first. Not that the supervisor for his part of the docks was a cruel man, mind you. Not that Josué saw it that way. He was putting his shoes on and about to head out the door, but the old flip-phone went off in his pocket. He yawned, looking at the directions on-screen.

"I guess I'll go." He said, pulling out his work-phone in the other pocket. Having two phones made him feel like a drug dealer. Josué shot a text at his supervisor. «Feeling under the weather, it'd ruin some of the imports if I coughed near them. Will work overtime when I get the chance, which I feel will be soon.» And without looking back, he left his room and then his small apartment space. He ran down the stairs, and out the door.

His schedule and his life weren't impacted much by the AAGF's campaigning, given that it was so easy to hide his powers. Like Xavier, he was a 'normal-passing' freak. He was a dock-worker with no affiliation to any gang, despite how much sway the Kane family had where he worked. Living near his job was fortunate enough, given that Fortuna was right there. Being aussie-adjacent wasn't that bad.

He entered the district which held Sahara at its edge after a great deal of walking, but something was off about Fortuna as he gazed into it. It might be the faulty lights and battle-scars, or the lack of people, but something slowed his advance to a near-crawl. It wasn't so much a fear paralyzing him, as it was an unsureness about how to proceed and a need to process things-- like watching a car crash. It looked like twenty car crashes already hit Fortuna, in fact.
 

And so the damn thing rang.

Well, more like it made wild 8-bit sounding beep-beep-boopity-boop noises. Long caramel coloured fingers wrapped tightly around it, covering up the pixelated letters on the outer orange coloured flashing screen. Once upon a time the tips of those fingers were painted with amazing swirling colours or with little letters or emblems within; whatever the fancy of the woman that day really. But now..?

She had refused to open it until she got to where she told herself to go when she was ready to take the call or text or whatever would happen once the phone came to life again. And so here she was. Beneath the buzzing fluorescent light, she stood there in her frumpy, non-form fitting mismatched coloured track suit, kinky hair now straightened always and in a bun as always. No make up, no excessive preening of her eyebrows. She did not look anything like the woman she was nearly 3 years ago. And fitting that she was here now to answer the damned thing in the place she left behind nearly 3 years ago.

Charlisse flipped the ancient thing open and read the text. Dark eyebrows knitted tightly in a scowl and the young woman crumpled to the floor in a floppy kneeling position. For a good 5 minutes she lay there, breathing hard, trying ever so hard to keep calm. What a fool she was. How could she ever think that the message would have been anything else but another address for some kinda' hookup? Just like the old days. But now...?

Long lashed lids snapped open. She had to. Just had to.

The numbers she dialed upon the little number pad showed up on screen and instantly tears streamed down her brown cheeks. "Pleeeeeeeese.... Mama, por favor.... Mama--" Someone picked up. Hazel eyes widened and her throat closed tight she could barely speak, "Oh Mama! I knew you--"

"The person you are trying to reach--" Charlie hurled the phone away, refusing to hear the rest of the automated message.

Of course her mother would not answer. Her mother was not the one who sent the phone. The finality of that thread of hope being severed hit her like a tonne of bricks. Foolish girl. Mama was dead. Papi was dead. Danny was dead. Miggy was dead. She would never see them let alone hear their voices again. Ever again. Because that was her past life. And that life was dead. But now...?

Charlie pressed both her hands to her face and sobbed heavily and heart-achingly loud, her body trembling with each wail. Why not? Why not do it? The Vassel was taken out. The very one and only mutha' effin' Vassel. And with that message sent by the AAGF, she knew that being a Freak was the most unsafest lifestyle to lead. They would hunt her too and kill her. And so why not? Why the eff not?

She had enough energy stored to blow her own head off right now. So why the eff not?

"Please, Mama. Give me a sign. Please. Tell me why not. Why the fu--"

The closet door was ajar. And between her index and middle finger, through the blur of salty bitter tears, and in the low light of the buzzing fluorescent she saw it. Plastic. It was just a little bit sticking out of the closet. Plastic. But not just any plastic.

"Anda...! Ziplock...?" Charlie rolled to her feet and marched on over to the closet door and whipped it open.

Yes, she still worked out. Yes, she still danced. But oooooooohhhh... how long had it been since she had felt... that... that rhythm. From the dark of her mind the music exploded like a blood, red rose blossoming under the glare of a wild blue moon. And for the first time in such a long, long time, Charlisse began to sway. And not just any kind of sway. It was that sway that tickled at her toes and tingled at her fingertips. Heat from her cheeks, a chill down her spine, electricity from her womanly parts. That kind of sway. Her kind of sway.

"Gracias, gracias, muchos gracias, Mama. Thank you so much for the sign. Your little Miss 'C' is here--"

Mama Dayla was a smart woman. A smart and organized woman. And she was rather meticulous. It's probably where Charlie got it from. But the one quirk that Mama Dayla had was her obsession with keeping things in ziplock bags. It stores it well, she would say. Clothes and even shoes, she would say, just have to put a fabric sheet in it. She would laugh and wave a hand, as she placed her kids clothes into storage as they would protest at how tacky it looked. But Mama was right. The plastic did store well, as was seen by Charlie right now. Her 'enforcer' outfit was here in storage almost 3 years later. A white baby doll dress, white sneakers, cut off gloves and ribbons for her hair, waist wrist and ankles. All stored neatly in ziplocks. And each with a fabric sheet tucked in there as well.

Charlie would be at the Sahara in an hour and a half. She just needed to freshen up a bit.

"--and babygirl gots her Sway back."

<~~~<★>~~~>​
 
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Valor (Linens)

The early morning sun peaked through the expensive carbon fiber glass window, into a room. Although furnished simply , the ground was still covered in fine soft carpet, and the walls painted with a clean light blue coating. It reminded Valor of her old room. Well, in fact, it was her old room. After her presumed death, her family moved out of Freecoast, leaving the empty suite on the edge of Mercy Heights. It wasn't Valor's home anymore, since it was sold some time ago, but she stayed here sometimes when the owners are out. It is her home after all, and having palace with AC and hot water was a big bonus.

But now it was time to leave, morning is rolling along and Valor doesn't feel like being charged for breaking in to some rich man's fancy apartment. Unwillingly, the lazy figure moved, and the next second, rolled off the bed and on to the floor. Letting out a sigh, her body vanished from the ground and reappeared back on the bed.

"Oh...shouldn't be doing that..."

Valor had always relied on her freak ability just because of the convenience of it, but now with the AAGF out and about, she decided to try and drop the old habit. Of course, with little success. Probably because Valor was so good at running away from problems and distancing her self...literally that she didn't think the AAGF can do anything about her. But it was still a concern.

She stood up, still a bit sluggish from waking up, and peered outside of the window. The sun was still rising and the streets were clear. The fiber glass window reflected her face as she touched it with the tip of her finger. The next second she was outside, about to drop twenty stories down to the ground. The next second she was on the ground, unscratched and walking along just like someone out for a early morning walk.

"...Hope no one saw that."

The security camera on the corner turned around with a buzzing sound. Valor threw herself against the heigh walls of Mercy Heights, and in an instant transferred herself to the other side. The junction of Roseau Parish and Fortuna-.

Valor pulled out a small day planner from her pocket, on it a day two weeks ago was highlighted. The day when AAFG started the campaign. The rest of the days are crossed out, Valor put another cross on the current date. It was a record for her freak powers, she's been aware that she needs to hide her ability, but using it was like a second nature already.

A slight buzz came from her pocket at the time. The almost one hundred year old artifact was buzzing and lighting up, which it haven't done since its owner received it. Flipping it open she saw the message, it wasn't like she had better things to do in life. "Grabbing" some breakfast as she passed a vending machine and planning out how to get there in the few seconds before her steps paused.

"Maybe...maybe there is a taxi around...right?"

Valor (Linens), was taking a long time to travel when living as a normal human. But she got there, sooner or later. And is now restraining the urge to teleport into the locked door after peering through the cracks of the boarded windows.

"This better not be something pointless."
 
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What little that was able to be seen through that old barricaded window wasn't much different from the sight outside. Dimly lit, the foyer of Sahara showed hints of higher living in the fine marble floors that stretched over the large room. Sadly, it's been covered in clumps of trash and seems stained with a substance that can't be identified directly. What's peculiar is that the far end door leading into the club itself seems to be missing, replaced by a steel-bar door, as if this room was used as a homemade prison. It's very clear that Sahara hasn't stayed abandoned, though from what is discernable, the building seems empty at this moment.

Shuffling, then a clatter, a black mass immerges from the alleyway, then slumps over and… pukes. It appears to be a drunken teenager, and by the foul scent wafting from their form and the dirt covering their clothes, it's more than likely that this young man is homeless. His dull, tired eyes stare at Valor for a brief moment before he reaches into his winter jacket for a flask. Plopping down at the corner of the building, the boy simply swigs from his drink liberally, clearly trying to mask his woes in booze.
 
Eva Lucy LeBlanc

The day before had gone about as well as every other day did. Night at the re-made casinos, making some quick cash off some good hands, enough to get food for the next few days, and drinks for the night. Then she gets an off day or few, hanging out around the center of 'Lil America. It was where she grew up, it was where she spends most of her money. Eva always found the best luxuries around here, oh, and Fortuna. Nightclubs, poker. Drinks, poker. A few drunk bets are usually fun, though when the money runs low, Eva's got an eye on the entire table. She found the balance a pretty good way to spend her money, no matter how slow it ended up taking her to actually win it. She always was able to see the cards around the table, though never was able to change the outcome. Just make a good amount of money several times over.

Eva sat up from her bed, a comfy one at that. She was a bit well off, both from her own method of getting money and from her parents. Granted, she sold most of the possessions she was given when she split up from her parents, for many reasons. Primary? Gambling requires capital. Secondary? Despite the fact that she and her family was close, Eva wanted to start something up on her own. Her own house was pretty good, albeit small. She didn't need much. She looked over to the bedside table, which atop sat a bundle of cash, the old little device she acquired a while ago, keys. Eva usually had a stack of money on her on the off chance she needed something important. Alcohol, debts, food.

Past two(?) weeks had been a bit sketchy, after all of the AG-Fucks stormed in on the town. (Eva often loses tracks of the days) Ever since then, and ever since she somehow got that old little relic of the past, she's been double checking her tracks. She's been on watch for a long, long time, though now it seems a lot more different. Even if she didn't use any of her actives, she had a bit of paranoia. Sometimes it's a reasonable thing, especially in times like this. So obviously, she was a bit stressed out. The brunette stood up, shaking off the restless night and beginning her morning routine. It was a bit of a slow start, but Eva was in no rush to get anywhere.



Jeans, black sweatshirt, rings, grey sneakers. Nothing too flashy, just a generic outfit Eva through on in the morning. She did have some more flashy clothes she enjoyed for the later-night expenditures and 'investments', but nothing too much right now. At some point in the day, Eva caught the device buzzing in her pocket. Sahara? Well. Already being so close to the channel of Fortuna, this wasn't all too bad. At the very least, if this entire thing had been some scam, Eva knew the place pretty well. A few easy places to hide in, and a couple gaps between buildings to keep a fight one on one.

She did find herself really close to the canal. After quickly snagging some food in South 'Lil America, she took her trek towards Fortuna. The walk itself wasn't all too bad, though things tend to happen within the span of seconds through this area. Hands in pocket, the brunette's gaze shifted towards the water. Somewhat calming and relaxing to an extent. Not much else she could/should do while up on the bridge, just take her quick walks as she did.

Towards the end of the bridge, she turned her gaze towards the recognizable lights of Fortuna, seemingly on at all times of the day. Sahara was a sign she saw quite a bit in passing, though always seemed to ignore due to the lack of people. Now, she figured it was an invitation to something, though was ready for a potential fight as she approached. Steps away, the girl took a pause to assess the situation, though seemed to just be gazing around the scenery, a few blocks from Sahara.
 
After lingering a moment, Josué's apprehension seemed to clear up like clouds leaving the sky. It was a larger hurdle than he'd expected, but there it went. He took a deep breath, and trudged into Fortuna. The streets were as empty as they were rumored to be, with a stray cat or a sad drunk hanging around every so often. Josué's slow walk into Fortuna was met with no resistance that didn't come from his mind. The dim and inconsistent lighting seemed to get to him, causing the boy's breathing to grow quicker.

He then yawned loudly. The sound didn't seem to echo in any way, but rather be swallowed by the quiet of the streets. Josué shook his head and started quickening his pace. Josué walked briskly through Fortuna with his eyes cast down at his feet to avoid the gaze of any who were actually present, beelining for Sahara, or any place with that sign on it. That he cleared enough distance to see it was a matter of patience, and Josué jogged the last few paces before he was there. He saw a set of shut doors with nobody outside, and a young woman standing out front. There was no other calculation made, Josué knew that with the sign and someone waiting for him, it was the right place. He raised an eyebrow at Valor, and cleared his throat to make it obvious he was there. "Why did you call me here?" He asked, bringing a hand up to scratch at the nape of his own neck.

@Cresion Breezes
 
Gregory Davidson -

Fortuna was indeed a damaged area - not fully recovered, but still enough to attract some crazy people to live here. Although, Greg could live here, but already adored his two story apartment. A fancy building rose by Greg's vision, and he walked with a higher pace, again looking through the message on an old phone. Sahara - a nice little place to meet someone you totally don't expect. Actually, it was someone who Greg didn't expect to see...

"Uh... probability of you being sender of the message?" Greg asked, raising his eyebrow. He was slowly looking both on Valor and on Josué. Greg's hands were casually set in his hoodie, as he was trying to think logically - one of these people is sender, or maybe is not, so he has to figure it out.@Kit-n-Kat @underpressure
 

The wind whisked away at her black leather over coat, and although not needed, Charlie pressed down at the black fedora on top of her head. Wait, no. This was not Charlie. See how she walked? Those hips moved with so much more vigor now. Not a Charlie kind of walk. No, this was someone else; this was Sway.

Normally the long black coat would be worn by her shadow-manipulating brother, Miguel, and the stylish fedora would be donned by her older brother, Danello when they were out on a job. And even though they were not with her in body, as she strut on over towards the Sahara, they were with her in spirit. Sway could not help but close her hazel eyes, tinted with shiny greens now, and twirl once for Miggy, then twice for Danny, arms above her head, pirouetting with much expertise and drive. Long dark curly hair had been unleashed now; no straightening treatment after her shower. And the long, lovely, Latina hair, bounced and flowed, chasing her movements in the night time air.

Her trim, yet finely muscular figure was hidden at the moment neath the overcoat. But that is not what she wished to show off right now. No, what was worn upon her face was what she wished to show the world-- and the AAGF should they try to take her tonight. Sway wore her mother's mask from celebrations of Dia de La Muertos; the Day of the Dead. It was striking. It was smart. It was stylish. It was Mama Dayla.

mask_zpsz50bvtxm.jpg


Not power as in Magical or Enchanted, no. But it gave Sway an extra notch of confidence; a means and motivation to excel in this new moment in time...

...or it would give that extra bit of strength to topple the buildings around her if this truly was her end.

But for now Sway was content to just swagger on towards the two men at the main entrance of the fallen Sahara. With each rhythmic step, white kicks peeked out from neath her black leather overcoat. But it was not the two men that she would go to meet. Yes, she still had full intention to make her mark tonight but for now she knew that she must just watch and be ready. As the two men talked amongst themselves, Sway just plopped down her ample behind on the corner right beside the drunken and soured smelling teen boy.

"'Sup, bruh," she said and for no apparent reason, her voice was raspier, lower than usual, "how is your night so far?"

Before he could answer, Sway pulled out two items from her leather overcoat. One item was shiny, chromed and lovingly etched with care and expertise. She twisted off its lid, put it to her full blood red painted lips, and took a tiny swill. A quick head shake she gave and soured look upon her face held momentarily, just before she tapped the tip of her flask to the teen boy's flask as a saluting gesture. "Salut los muertos, no? For my families rest, mi companero. That is 100% Cuban liquor. Ughs!"

After screwing the lid on and tucking away the flask, the other item she snapped open and the orange light from the ancient cellphone lit up. After she gave it a cursory glance, the young woman snapped it shut then gently placed the ancient plastic beast upon the ground in front of them. Leaning back now, Sway casually inspected her swirling red painted finger tips that poked out from white lacy cut off gloves (gloves that, in fact, smelled faintly of a Country Breeze). She blew upon said fingertips before buffing them upon her coat's lapels.

"So. What do you think, companero?" Hazel eyes lost their green sheen now, "you think that whoever called the people here--" Sway gave an upward chinbob in the direction of the other 2 men, one much, much taller than the other, at the Sahara's entrance "-- whoever they are, you think they want us as players? Or are we all just getting played?

Sway reached out and flicked the side of the resting cellphone, sending it spinning in place on its back. When she pulled her hand away, she then folded her arms. But one hand near her armpit was shaped into a gun; index and middle fingers out, all other fingers and thumb tucked in.

"So what's your name, bruh?"

Hazel eyes were now hued dead black. If he did not have a phone or gave the wrong answer, Sway would blast a focussed concussive shot into the teen boy's ribs and wince as the familiar sound of guts exploding out the other side would sound out.

"My name? Me? Anda! Well, It's been nearly 3 years.... but I'm back. Ahora.

Sway is right here, right now, bitches."

<~~~<★>~~~>​
 
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Valor (Linens)

Though the cracks of the window bars Valor can get a glance at the broken and run down club. There was trashed that piled the interior, on the floor and walls that once were new and shiny. The place was devoted of any human activity as expected, but something seemed off about the "abandoned-ness" of the room. Valor blinked at the sight, and silently planned out a path to move herself within the room. But before that she took a glance around. There was a drunken young man who sat himself down near the building.

Now regularly this won't be a problem for Valor, since a drunk man probably won't be able to tell what happened. Though now with the AAGF and all these things going on with freaks, she didn't want risk exposing her powers to anybody.

"Why did you call me here?"

Another young man approached the doors while asking the question. Of course, Valor had no answer for it, she wasn't the one who called him, nor did she know who did.

"Uh... probability of you being sender of the message?"

When the third person came to the abandoned site Valor was sure that the message she got was a group message, and these two were likely a part of that group. It seemed risky though, just straight up asking a person they see about the message, the whole thing could've been a trap of some sort. Valor felt that she probably shouldn't be exposing anything about herself, with any chance that this was a trap. She looked at the two with a blank expression, blinked twice, and yawned.

"...No idea what you're talking about." She paused for a second and made up an excuse for her to be at the abandoned place. "Just passing by while trying to get up to the north and heard some noise," She pointed at the drunk who was at the corner of the building. "Turned out it was that dude over there."

She turned around and walked the opposite way from the two young men as well as the drunken teen. "...I have places to be." She quickly said as she hurried away. But not far away. The dark haired youth simply turned a block, glanced around and check that there is no human in sight, and vanished. At the same time reappearing on the top the building, right behind the dim neon sign that spelled out "Sahara". At the same time an energetic lady with long curly hair was talking to the teen. A lot of people are here, and it is unknown if they are friends or foes. Valor looked at the two young men that she just left, the lady and the teen, then to the horizon.

If anything goes wrong, she could just run. Run away, like she always did.
 
W8b1KtX.png

Common traits?
Shared invitation for sure; No apparent matches other than that.
Abilities present. Interesting.
Can't read two of them. Unsure about intoxication.
Girl with glasses is a bad liar.​

Quiet steps sounded as the slender frame crossed the boardwalk and stopped in front of the entrance. The verbal exchange of the small group in front of the Sahara seemed tense. If she had to wager a guess, she'd say that the four people present had no contact prior to meeting here. The bulky army jacket and a flat chest contrasted with feminine hips, and skimpy fabric covering long legs. Without a voice, it was hard to determine what sort of person strolled towards the establishment, though the peculiar headgear most certainly revealed an eccentric personality.

"Aren't you at the place you have to be?" a feminine voice asked with a pert quality in her words. A faint distortion seemed to echo in the distance, as if the voice was filtered--perhaps the helmet's doing.

"I'm sorry, I just figured it would be a good idea to confirm we're all on the same page, no?"

How? How is this possible? It was not possible. But it was real. An inherent contradiction. Such things don't exist. But they did. Romeé's head hurt badly. She let out a yelp, then spiraled down onto a squeaky mattress.

Okay, so... Nobody knows. Yet, this is adressed, clearly. Possibly a mistake? Conincidence unlikely, but not impossible. How to react? Progression must be made. Anonymity failure rate 0%. Well, not anymore. 1,09% since arrival. Statistically, death is imminent.

Haha. Drama, so human. Silly. But justified. No, not justified. But amusing.

That's subjective. So is silly.

Ignore.

Whereabouts were found out. Connection to S? Improbable, once again, not impossible. Uncomfortable situation. Could hide trail. Did already. Failure.

Mhh...​

"I took the liberty to verify likely attendees'... well... attendance." The girl stuttered before finishing her sentence, rubbed her upper-arm with the opposite arm's hand, and let out a nervous laugh. The childish vibe insincere, she appeared clumsy enough for it to be authentic all the same. She waddled over to a small, beaten-doww piece of wall, hands behind her back.

"I'm glad it seems unrelated!" she announced happily, her words not connected to anything said between the five of them. She plopped down on the remains of the wall, crossed her legs and put her head to the side. Or, at least, her helmet moved to the side. "So I'm mostly here because I'm incompetent, it seems. Why did you guys come?"
 
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Gregory Davidson -

Woman - after noting Greg himself and another guy - said something awfully familiar to "places to be, people to see", and ran off to the corner of street. For a second Greg had really thought that she wasn't something he should pay attention to, when suddenly, something reminded him about his powers.

Teleportation mainly transports object from one position in space to another, relatively unlikely both in space and in time. When doing that, gravity surrounding disappearing object sucks in because of sudden appearing space. That's basically how Greg explained why his damn head started aching.

"Do you realize how much energy did you just transfer" Greg asked in space, trying to locate girl's current position. He knew it was relatively close - second "suck" appeared very close to him. But before he could do anything - someone else appeared.

alaska said:
"So I'm mostly here because I'm incompetent, it seems. Why did you guys come?"
Click to expand...

"... you know, I begin to think that this was not such a spooky idea to come here" Gregory said to the figure, advancing to her.
"Gregory Davidson" He casually announced, his left hand moving out of his hoodie in a strange form of handshake. "Damn, I always mess it up it seems"

From a closer look - as Greg stood to a lamppost - his face had sights of relative unimportance of sleep in life of that guy. His hair was a crazy mess of dirt, something that looked like dust, and chemicals - yet somehow it still looked attractive.
@alaska
 
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Josué sighed. He heard sounds of drama around the corner, and the woman he'd asked a question to just disappeared. He looked around, arching a brow but otherwise stone-faced. "If you came here, you don't have some other place to be." Josué could spot a Ukranian from a Russian by what ugly hat they wore with their (otherwise rad) jacket, but he couldn't find the dark-clothed Valor among the dimly lit streets. He shuddered and stepped forward to lean against the door, because as it was, his plaster-white collarshirt and beige skin in its healthy glow made him stand out too much in this district of decrepit buildings and old codgers clinging to their drinks.

Josué shook his head and jogged over to those who he could catch up with, stopping to stare between Gregory and Romee. "I have to know. Are you here for the reason that I'm here? Some phone you forgot you had went off, and gave you the address? I got somethin' like that. Having two phones makes me look like a drug dealer though, so I'm not super happy about it." He said, voice flat enough to ruin any sense of urgency his words might've had. It's like he'd just woken up.

What if the door wasn't locked to begin with? I didn't even think of that. And what of the girl that ran off? Is she spying, or is she afraid that we're spying? Should we even be here right now?

@alaska @RecentlyInsaneRussian
 
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Valor (Linens)

Valor perched on top of the building while ignoring all words thrown at her by the people on site, she didn't like it when too many people are around. But after all, she came here when she got that message, whatever happens, she would have to deal with it.

So when the new voice came asking, feminine but cold and electronic, she knew she is stuck in this, what ever this is. It was strange how the voice seem to have came out of nowhere, or, in fact, it came from the ancient phone that gave her the message.

"Ay, looks like someone has a fancy way of talking."

But before the voice could go one of the young men at the door, the one with a the hoodie spoke. And he spoke to her. No one ever acknowledged the energy that emits from her teleportation ability, she knows that it does effect the surroundings, like air pressure. But without any special devices...or special abilities, humans can't notice.

Valor took a deep breath, the situation was complicated, and it probably requires her to take action. If there is one thing that Valor hated in life, it was taking initiative. She stood up slowly, and walked out from behind the sign, then plopped herself down on the edge of the roof.

"Hmm...man, you're pretty good huh? The better question here is probably, how do you know?" She looked down at the young man while fumbling with her hair.

"Well, I'm here because...you guys are right, I'm here because I have no where better to be and no better people to see."
 
Gregory Davidson -

Greg clearly didn't expect such attention to his persona, and lightly looked up on the girl.

"Well, first of all, your so called teleportation made gravity field shrink around you, after which it pulsated around with a wave. It's normally more than 10 times lower for even human to feel, but, yeah, I'm kinda connected to gravity" Gregory said in his usually, carelessly charismatic voice, then turning to Josué.

"Yup man, same thing - also, why are you talking about drug dealing like it's something bad?" He said his last words, winking in the most seductive way he had even did. Welp, eventually, from drug dealing you go straight to seduction - that's how it works?
@Cresion Breezes @underpressure
 
Eva Lucy LeBlanc

'A handful more show up. Interesting...' Eva spotted the few others who joined in, and figuring that this was either a setup or a coincidence, a bluff was in order. She flipped up her hood before continuing her step towards the small little group of people, now considering everything that could happen. Paranoia wasn't all too something she was used to, hardly risking anything in the casinos.

Continuing her step towards the people she spotted, she looked between the people that were here. With a bit of a smile, she flipped her hood down and addressed the group. "'scuse me, but this place over here isn't quite the place for parties." She pointed down the block to a few other lights just a handful of buildings away. "Pop back in a few and that's the place y'wanna be."

She paused for a second, before shifting gaze to the men of the group. No way of telling if they had phones too. She didn't quite catch what they were saying before she popped into the conversation, except a quick mention of drugs. Was this the kind of place she was invited to? Well shit. She turned her gaze upward to the girl up top the roof, then shoving her hands in her pockets, trying to figure out these people. "Unless you all aren't in it for the drinks."
 
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Her head didn't move this time. Instead, the small frame exuded a sort of stoic rudeness. Impolite without intention, Romee's voice sounded with more static this time, muddling a few vowels here and there.

"It probably is not spooky, no." she agreed, and jerked around. With a hectic motion, she turned her upper body towards the man who had introduced himself as Gregory and waved him instead of taking his outstretched hand.

Gregory Davidson. No immediate association.
Codename? Perhaps. Voice seems real.
I'm paranoid.
No, I'm not, this is serious.
Traveler? Does not appear as such. We'll see.​

Her train of thought quieted down upon hearing yet another voice speak up. She didn't move to face him, but listened intently.

The phones, yes.​

"Something like that, I suppose. " she answered, a thick Spanish accent on her last two words for some unknown reason. The sudden shift in tone, mixing with the way the static drowned out sound occassionally, made it difficult to be sure what she had finished her sentence with. "I generally prefer not to die. I find it bothersome to be adressed by means of phone, by someone unknown. I figured I'd most likely be dead shortly if the sender so wished, so I thought attending this little get together. It doesn't seem scary yet."

A small scoff escaped her, but she waved upwards. "Fancy? Not at all." she insisted. "Perhaps I'm a little quick to judge, but I'm gonna assume everyone here has powers? So, then," she began, without waiting for confirmation of her theory, "It seems likely this is some sort of, uhm... what would you call it... authoritive measure? Then again, I've never got the impression there is such competence present in these little witchhunts..."

Talking too much. Unsure. Potentially dangerous?
How many?
Not enough, certainly.
It's difficult.​

"I wonder if we could enter forcefully, if we tried? Wether we'll find drinks inside is another issue, I'm afraid."
 
From the top of the Sahara, Valor was able to see not only the surrounding area better; the worn down streets of north Fortuna and the various people that were starting to gather here-

One of which started talking to the inebriated boy that stooped on the corner, who seemed to appear more and more in a state of unease as he realized that the Sahara wasn't as quiet as it was 5 minutes ago. He started to stand, though came very close to falling back over again, before realizing that he may not be able to get away from this woman's questioning. "Um… what?" He muttered, unable to parse the familial tongue Sway used for certain words.

Players? Called? Nah man, this was starting to seem shady. "I don't know nothing lady. I just come here to drink and watch the water…" His eyes get shifty, flipping between everybody in eyesight. "You guys here for Samuel? 'Cause he's not gonna be in the mood to talk with all the shit that's goin' down."

The roar of an engine reverberated through the air as a very large pickup truck barreled down Hydra Street, skidding to a violent stop in front of the club with little abandon to the safety of those standing around on the road. Upon closer inspection the vehicle looked very outdated and run down with parts cobbled on that clearly weren't from the same model. In short, the three people in the truck were driving a piece of shit.

The one individual located in the rear of the machine leaned out and shouted in a clearly Australian accent, "Oi Tracy, get your ass in here, we're late!" At sight of the truck, the young drunk man, Tracy, started to appear overly confident; it was clear that these were his friends.

With a grin, Tracy leered at Sway and said, "That's my ride!" before starting to walk to the back of the pickup…

From Valor's position on the roof, she could also see what lied up behind the sign. Yes, it was increasingly evident that somebody has been in the building recently, as a grouping of lawn chairs sat in a semi-circle around a large cooler, and by the look of the beer cans littered about, you can make a fair assessment on what's inside. Located not far behind this drinking station is a hatch that leads from the roof to the Second floor of the club. Unlike the front doors, this remains unlocked, meaning that the residence- Samuel possibly? Obviously didn't take into account flyers or people with teleportation getting up here. Going inside would bring Valor one step closer to solving the mystery of whoever sent that text, but would she risk going solo into the dark building?
 
From behind the white skull mask, hazel eyes glinted something rather menacing when the teen began to protest that he knew nothing of the situation. And then the corner of the Latina's full lips pulled up in a very dead humoured smirk. And then the held breath after the controlled inhale. She would then wink and, in the next heartbeat, a sonic boom would sound out and the the little boy would find one side of his ribs instantly shattered and the fragments would violently eject out the other side--

"You guys here for Samuel? 'Cause he's not gonna be in the mood to talk with all the shit that's goin' down," said the teen.

--okay so maybe not. He said something right for Sway afterall.

"Oh, but I'm in the mood, my friend..." the smirk still held but the eyes lightened up a touch, curiosity now filling within, "...and what shit exactly? So much of it flying around nowadays, no? Perhaps we could let Samuel know that--"

With her head still aimed at the teen, Sway's eyes darted in the direction of the pickup truck--or whatever was left of it. Muscles at her shoulders tensed up as soon as the Aussie called out to this boy, this 'Tracy.'

The lithe Latina was about to command her older bro Danello to get a good look at the truck and its plates and for younger bro Miguel to get a good look at the faces in the cab of the truck since he could see in the dark-- and her breath caught in her throat when she instantaneously realized that neither was there right now. And then her heart broke a little more, and she felt a bit of her soul escape when she acknowledged just how alone she felt. "Right here. Right now," she whispered instead.

The look upon the teen's face she did not see, for she was too busy looking down; too busy feeling sorry for herself. And then she saw the ancient plastic beastly device sitting there on the ground. And then her shoulders began to slide back and forth as the music began to play in her mind.

"Ooooohhhh!!! Hey doncha' worry 'bout it, kay, Trace!" said Sway in a very un-Sway like and very valley girl kinda' way as the boy walked away, "I'll talk to Sammy about everything for you. We'll party next time, right, bae...?! Later, T-boi...!!"

Slinking out from neath the black leather over coat, a very sleek and shapely caramel leg slid and posed, the contours of said leg accentuated with a slight flex. Then with a flourish, the overcoat flew up at the very right, and revealing, moment when Sway turned around and bent over at the waist to pick up the ancient cellphone on the ground.

Sway strut away and towards the others gathered as they stared up at the roof at young female staring down upon them. That up there has gots to be the pendeja that summoned us all here. She flicked the cellphone open and closed letting the orange light flicker on and off as she walked towards them. It flashed and clicked in time to her hips motions and to the sound track going off in her head; she was 'topping up her charge.' Oh yeah, the Latina knew full well what she had done, and she was done pussy-footing around.

And if it hit the fan and went sideways, then so be it. Her brothers were with her at this very moment. The black leather overcoat puffed out in the nighttime wind. Own the night, Miguel would say. The chills ran down her spine as she re-adjusted the black fedora upon her head. Bring 'em to their knees, Danello would say. Sway of the Daylas was itching for a fight. She adjusted Mama's white skull mask. Let the players play, nina.

"Right here, right now.." said Sway beneath her breath and snapped the cellphone close for the last time.

​
<~~~<★>~~~>​
 
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