Silence is Always a Test for Strengh

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Venom-chan, May 18, 2014.

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  1. OOC|IC

    A hooded figure walked down the street. He wore a dark grey hood, jeans, boots, and a pair of sunglasses that covered his eyes. Black hair poked from the hood, and he concealed most of his face with it. He looked like a completely average guy, just going to do average things. But there is always more to that.

    The man entered a jewelry store, and pretended like he was browsing things like every other customer in the store. He closed his eyes, though they couldn't be seen behind his sunglasses, and took a deep breath. Then all Hell broke loose.

    People began to throw punches, glass shattered, and there was blood. The hooded figure didn't seem effected by it though, He stepped around the violence and picked a few things from the broken cases. After he grabbed what he wanted, He stepped out into the street.
  2. Although the government did not sanction vigilantism, they were not above seeking the assistance of a strange man with an even stranger skill set. He was adept at dealing with criminals that did not leave a traditional law enforcer with any option but to let the guy go free, and as such, John was quite well thought of. He caught these serial criminals in the act, dealing with them as best he could, whether that involved violence, murder or simply a bit of good old intimidation.

    Today was another day at the office, the boring place in which he worked just to keep himself ticking over when he wasn't needed. His gloved fingers worked away at the keyboard, unnoticed by anyone else at the office. The story was that he had been burned quite badly as a child, and was still quite sensitive about the scars. No one seemed to bat an eyelid at this story.

    Lucky for his sanity, just down the street, it seemed that something terrible was happening, and the ruckus swiftly bled into earshot. Needless to say, John was on his way in mere seconds. Half the office were at the windows, looking down at the jewellery shop, while John took the back stairs down to street level. He took a gym bag with him, as he always did, shedding his opaque shirt and tie, as well as his leather gloves, swapping into a t-shirt that could hardly be considered his usual attire. He also donned a homemade mask that settled neatly over his rather distinctive hair, covering his facial features in an electric blue that was sadly rather garish. It did the job though, which was all he could ask for.

    Stowing the gym bag somewhere in the stairwell, John shot out into the open, a flash of burnished steel grey reflecting the beating sun. His left arm was entirely mechanical, fused to the organic part of him, to a degree that had not even been dreamed of by most people. The augmentation granted him a few powers that were enviable, though for the most part John did not see this. The limb was unfinished, and he still felt the phantom pain of the atrocities he had been subjected to. But right now, this didn't matter.

    One man stood out in the chaos, slipping out of the shop as if nothing was happening, drawing attention to himself just by the fact of his normality. John hastened towards him, a grimace of determination on his face as he met the man hand on, opting to speak first, rather than throw an unnecessary punch. "Hand over what you've stolen, and no one has to get hurt." Well, aside from all the people that were still grappling with one another for no apparent reason.
  3. Silent Panic, he was quite aware of these people. He was aware most of them would also sucum to his little manipulations, so he didn't see many of them as a problem. He could even induce them into a little nap. He was walking down the street, on his way when he heard something that didn't sound like panic. how disappointing, he turned and looked at the figure running up to him, shooting out into the open.

    This was just something that he himself was born with. He wasn't sure why he was born with it but... He saw it as a gift. He figured it was a mutation, something he should use to survive. He made off quite well with his power.

    Why should he be anything else? He could slip himself into the panic everyone else was feeling, but he hated being in that so. He couldn't calem himself done after that, and he just has to wait for it to take it's course. Bailey tensed as the man approached, then paused as he stopped to talk. He sighed, averrting his eyes. He moved like he was going to give it up, but he closed his eyes and tried to shoot hormones into the man that would make him sleep. "Good Night."
  4. That was...odd. John only blinked behind his mask, quite confused as to what the hell this guy was trying to do. Maybe he thought he was a hypnotist, maybe he really was, and all these people were weak enough to follow along with his ideas. In any case, whatever trick this man had attempted to pull, it had had zero effect on the augmented man. Unbeknownst to him, it was simply down to the nanobots in his blood that carefully maintained the metal and organic structures, ensuring his body did not reject the new limb, amongst other things.

    "I'm afraid not." John spoke quietly, his accent plain as any englishman, though his actions were not the stereotypic mild ones that so many seemed to believe of them. Rather than turn the other cheek, the man stepped boldly toward the criminal, his metallic left arm outstretched at the last second, going for a grab of the thief. It was hardly textbook hero behaviour, but this was the real world. He had no catalogue of witty one liners, nor a swanky costume, and he certainly didn't see the point in flashy moves if he could restrain the man by simple means.
  5. Silent Panic, or so he called himself, was panicked. It wasn't working, Why wasn't it working? It should be working. His eyebrows furrrowed in flustration. "No." He whispered. "No." He echoed himself, why wasn't it working? It worked on everyone else. He closed his eyes to try again but then he was grabbed, He tried to move out of the way but he got trapped in the man's grasp.

    The sunglasses fell off to reveal greyish eyes. They were panicked, yet angry. "Why isn't it working!?" He shouted at him. "What did you do?!" He reached up and grabbed onto the man's shirt. "Why!?"
  6. Well, that was easy. John still didn't know what this man's method of madness was, though it was quite easy to see the results. Unfortunately for him, the police were only a phonecall away, and a certain cyborg man was in the process of phoning them. He continued to hold onto the criminal as he spoke to the operator, quite plainly ignoring a man that most likely thrived on attention. They always did.

    Finally he turned his attention back to this 'Silent Panic' fellow, that had apparently been working for a while, though as yet they had not crossed paths. "Just give it a few minutes, and we'll have you locked up. So, while we wait, do you want to tell me how you did this?" He was genuinely curious, and of course it might answer the question as to why he was unaffected by it, where most of the people around them were still in the throes of anger, though some were beginning to wind down into plain exhaustion.
  7. Maybe Bailey did strive for attention. He didn't get very much of it as a kid, because there were so many kids. But this was also the only way he could make a living for himself, He only had a high school degree so getting a real job was hard, and if he did get a job, it wouldn't pay a living wage. He was just a man fighting for survival.

    This guy had been careful to avoid hitting up big places, but he had gotten greedy this time. He struggled in the other man's grasp, fighting to free himself. He relaxed when he realized what the man was going to do with him. He had run into the police a couple of times, and he could handle that no problem if he got away from this guy. "Oh, Okay." He whispered. He smiled up at him. "What kind of criminal would I be if I told you that?" He took deep breaths of air, trying to rest up for his great escape. "Now tell me, What is wrong with your hormones?" He asked. He wanted to find a way around it if he could.
  8. What an odd question. John raised an eyebrow beneath his mask, finding this man stranger and stranger as time went on. Unfortunately, he had never been all that brillliant at thinking around corners, and as such did not quite twig just what was going on here. "My hormones are fine, so far as I know." He replied, feeling that the information was hardly that ground breaking. He wasn't aware that a large portion of his bodies natural processes had been outsourced to artificial components.

    Sirens blared in the distance, soon revealing a car that came screeching unnecessarily around the corner. "Looks like your ride is here." John smiled, not realising that handing the man over was the last thing he ought to be doing. Even so, he made the exchange as he always had done, unaware that he was basically setting the guy free. Oh well, you live and learn.
  9. Bailey frowned. He didn't struggle in his grasp, because he saw he would escape soon. He was thinking about where to run, because surely the guy would stay there. But then, He got an idea. He'd let them drive him away from the guy before he broke out. "Liar." He commented over the hormones. "Clearly they are not. So what is it?" He asked.

    He frowned, and at least pretended to be displeased as the cops showed up. "You got me." He exclaimed, but he couldn't hide a pleased tone in his voice. Hopefully the guy just thought he was insane. He let himself get handed over, then paused as they tried to handcuff him. Oh yeah, He guessed his plan wouldn't go as planned if handcuffs happened. { You can just steal the keys. } He reminded himself as he got handcuff and put in the back of the car. "I'll see you again soon!" He called out to the strange man with the messed up hormones.
  10. With that all sorted, John hurried inside, unaware that just down the road the police were in the process of losing their charge. No doubt, he'd be mortified when he found out about the debacle. But for now, he could only rush back into his office building, retrieving his gym bag and replacing his usual attire as he made his way back up to the office. He had not been missed, and even now people were still using the excitement down in the street as an excuse not to do any work.

    Time passed, and finally it was time to go home. John walked back to his apartment, as he always did. However, tonight he was feeling a little distracted, and as such felt a cold beer might not go amiss. On a whim, he entered a local bar, sitting at the counter where he soon found himself cupping a drink in his black leather clad hands. He knew he looked odd, but this was hardly a concern after all these years.
  11. As soon as they were down the road, and the man with the broken hormones was out of sight, He began his escape. He closed his eyes and slowly lulled them into a sleep. The car crashed into the side of the road, the only reason he was spared was the cage. he managed to free himself from the car and steal the keys. It took a while to get out of the handcuffs. He paused and looked at the crashed car.

    He knew the guy wouldn't survive if he didn't do something. He stepped over and tried to work the radio. He awkwardly called in that a cop was down and that was all. He hoped they'd help him to the hospital and he knew he didn't have very much time after that. He ran towards the forest.

    A while later, He was back in the city and into his normal person clothes. Today it was a suit jacket and tee shirt with jeans. He was going to go home but he decided it had been a stressful day. He deserved a drink. He walked into the local bar. He glanced around and sat down at the counter, ordering a nice bourbon, why not. He glanced over at a man clad in leather gloves. Interesting.
  12. Sitting in the bar, John took in the sight and sound of the growing crowd, absorbing the relaxed atmosphere and trying to feel it himself. He had not heard word that the police car had crashed just after he had sent them on their way, aand as such was not all that worried about his latest run in with a criminal. Even so, that man made him uneasy, and he couldn't help but feel there was something very off about him, even more so than any other criminal lowlife.

    And then, on the tv in a dusty corner, the local headlines rolled and showed the police cruiser in all its smashed glory. John momentarily glared at the footage, before somehow managing to angrily down his drink. He ordered another with a wave of his hand, starting on this one with unconcealed zeal. He knew he shouldn't do it, but a little drink every now and then could hardly be that damaging, right?

    He turned to the man next to him, showing uncharacteristic friendliness, especially for a brit. But small talk was one of the staples of the bar scene, and as such he felt it was probably prudent to have a chat with someone, if only in an attempt to appear slightly more normal. Well, he told himself this, anyway. In truth he was just damn lonely. And so he spoke, "I'm pretty sure that drinking alone is supposed to be a sign of addiction, or something." He muttered with a wry smile.
  13. At first, Bailey barely noticed the TV in the corner, He watched it with great interest when the wreck appeared on screen. He wanted to see if the cop lived, or unfortunately, passed away. He thought the guy would live, because he had called it in, and that would be good. If not, Oh well. His attention turned ton the man angrily downing his drink.

    { A cop? } He wondered to himself, Cops seem to take each other's deaths hard. { Maybe. } He sipped his drink slowly. He paid for it, so, he might as well enjoy it. He looked back up at the screen, to see if there'd be any mention of himself on it. He kind of liked when he was, it was interesting to see other's reactions. He glanced to the man as he turned towards him.

    He observed him from behind the glasses. His eyes tried not to give off anything other than a polite friendliness. He let a small smile slip to his lips. The man before him wasn't unattractive, He had unusual hair, but still attractive. "Maybe." He said, "I guess we're both addicts then." He chuckled, whiel revealing he had come here alone.
  14. Of course, he had no reason to suspect this man of anything, and didn't even think anything of the fact that he took such keen interest in the story regarding the crashed police car. It was one of those stories that tended to pique the interest of most civilians, for the simple reason that it was such a freak occurrence. People liked to gawk at anything out of the ordinary, especially if it involved some sense of violence or danger, so long as it showed no threat of effecting them. This fit the bill nicely.

    He turned his attention to being a friendly stranger, smiling as he offered, "Well, it's nice to meet you fellow addict. My name's John." He smiled with false warmth, trying to hide his uneasiness in this social situation. He had never been one for banter or small talk, but he tried to make the effort anyway. Paradoxically, he was lonely as hell, despite the fact that he hated socialising, it was a tricky situation to be in. Once upon a time he had had comrades to sate his desire for a friendly relationship, had even married when he was far too young, but now he had none of that, and no real idea how to remedy the situation.
  15. Bailey just wanted to see how much the public knew about him.

    Bailey smiled at him, masking his own emotions of curiosity and an interest. He had to play it safe, of course, gaurd himself from doing anything rash. "Enchanting to meet you, John." He said, like he was completely confident in his charisma. "The name's Bailey." He offered up to him.Bailey was quite alone himself, because having any real friends gave them a chance to find out about his crimes. He didn't want to hurt anyone, and tried to keep relationships separate from that. He'd never use his powers on a love interest, and never will.
  16. "Good to meet you too, Bailey." He smiled, though the expression did not touch his blue eyes. He did not often show a genuinely happy emotion, had not done so since the trauma he had experienced back home. It was only ten years ago that he had finally left the base in the innocuous English countryside, but it seemed like a lifetime away. But, he couldn't dwell on it for too long, and so he attempted to speak in a relatively relaxed manner, "So, small talks a bitch, isn't it? I'd talk about football, but I'm afraid that's not my scene." He couldn't really stand American sport, did not understand or appreciate it.
  17. Bailey was always kind of an outsider. { There's clearly somewhere he'd rather be. } He thought, because of the his eyes didn't sparkle with happiness when he smiled. { I wonder.... What it would be like to see him like that? } He wondered quietly. He smiled. "It is, Isn't it?" He paused. "I don't care for sports myself..." Any sports really.
  18. "Well, I'm glad I'm not the only one." John replied, trying to remain as friendly and open as anyone else might have been at the beginning of an evening out. He had never been a heavy drinker, and was actually a little bit of a lightweight, which was probably why he was already getting a bit of a buzz from the alcohol. His usually pale complexion was marred by slight redness to his cheeks, an unfortunate side effect of both the beer and some growing embarrassment, "You know, I'll leave you to it." He didn't know what he was thinking, trying to talk with this guy, and he very rapidly aboutfaced and took a sudden interest in the bottle in his hand.
  19. Bailey downed his drink and then ordered another. He grinned. That was good, He guessed. He got his drink served and then he took a swig of it, as John tried to excuse himself from the conversation. They hadn't said much to each other, so, Bailey wasn't done yet. He took another sip or so of the liquid courage and then turned to him. He couldn't believe he was doing this but his body reacted before his mind could put a stop to it. He leaned in and let their lips brush for just a second. He was surprised that a man's lips were not that different from a woman's but... He then pulled away, and downed the rest of his drink. "Sorry to trouble you."

    Then he ben to get up, to disappear into the crowd.
  20. He was rather shocked when he found himself kissed by what was essentially a stranger. He blinked, furrowed his brow and then quite unsteadily hopped off his seat in pursuit of his assailant. He was a little confused, and was quite curious to find out just why his good friend Bailey had decided to end their discussion in such an odd way. He also wanted to assuage his fears that he had been a bother, being the classic briton that couldn't handle even the thought of offending anyone. So, off he went, just catching a brief glimpse of the glasses wearing man, hastening after him, just about managing to catch up.

    "Hey, I...uh, you know you're not a trouble at all. I'm really sorry if I gave that impression." One of the most lame sentences ever said, but there it was. At least it was genuine.
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