Words - so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them. ~Nathaniel Hawthorne
Cara's eyes were red and her cheeks slowly drying, the salty tears leaving a taste in her mouth. She'd expected the others back by now, and as her senses returned to her, hastily pulled the balaclava back over her head. What had she been thinking? She'd left them alone with a villain and a possible traitor in Falconstrike. Hadn't she always thought there was something off about that girl?
Death stood up, wobbling slightly as she did, pushing all thoughts from her mind but a plan of action. What had happened back there... It must never be allowed to happen again. And would they still look to her with fear? Death stroked her knives. Of course they would.
Behind her, a box suddenly toppled over and Death spun around. The echo flitted through the empty warehouse, and Death peered into the shadowy entrances, trying to spot a figure.
"I don't know who you are," she called, "but I know you're there, and if you so much as move I'll have a good enough shot to hit you. I wouldn't move, then, if I were you."
Silence.
"I'm not the bad guy here. You come out, and you surrender, and I won't hurt you." Death bit her lip. She could fight, and she could kill, but what then? Reduced to crying, alone in a warehouse? No. It would never, ever, happen again. Death's emotionless mask had to be worked for, and Cara would not be allowed to resurface. Death was in control.
She rolled her eyes as Mistique folded her arms and glowered at her. Her head throbbed and with every second she became more and more angry with their snapping questions. An ominous wind chilled through the alley and seemed to freeze the air solid. She shot a stony look at Mystique before reaching to the alley wall for support and pulling herself to her feet. She looked down at the still body of Mynah and scowled.
"Awk, great. Look what ya did, shhhtoopid... shhtoopid..." she mumbled, confused that her speech was suddenly slurred. She rubbed the back of her neck, which felt painfully stiff.
She reached down and turned Mynah over, slapping him briskly across the cheek. "Wake up, ya big goon..."
“Poetry is old, ancient, goes back far. It is among the oldest of living things. So old it is that no man knows how and why the first poems came.”
Mynah groaned and stirred feebly. "I'm not a goon, or big," he mumbled.
WHACK! Falconstrike slapped him again. "I said wake up." She sounded woozy.
The villain cracked his eyes open. "What do you want?" he asked grumpily, rubbing his cheek. "And why're we..."
His eyes widened as he remembered what happened, and he crab-walked back from her. He took a deep breath, getting ready to scream.
"Indeed the safest road to Hell is the gradual one-- the gentle slope, soft underfoot, without sudden turnings, without milestones, without signposts." --The Screwtape Letters by C. S. Lewis
*im assuming it was you who said that last part* Ghost/Desmond~~
I smirked from my hiding place in the rafters. I had been stupid with the box, but she didn't know where I was. All the same, I shifted my body so I could move at a moments notice if she decided to go crazy with whatever weapon she had.
"You want me to come down?" The words came out in a sneer, my contempt for the girl barely hidden, "A kid in a costume want's me to come down?"
"Who's the kid? You're playing hide and seek."
I grinned underneath my mask, "Little girl has spunk, but she's no hero. She's just playing dress up to amuse her friends."
*ill let you take it from there. I feel uncomfortable controlling other peoples characters
Words - so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them. ~Nathaniel Hawthorne
I sighed. Obviously what was more important was getting her to a hospital. "Falcon strike," I said, gently grabbing her shoulder. "It's time to get you to a hospital." I noticed Mynah trying to back away slowly, getting ready to scream.
"Put a sock in it and leave Mynah!" I snapped. "We're not chasing some screaming fool around when Falconstrike and Electrum are seriously hurt."
He opened his mouth to say something, then turned around and walked away.
"I'm not ser-oooosly hurt," Falconstrike said, about to topple over.
"Yes, you are," I said firmly. "Please go sit down over by Electrum. I need to say if she's okay too."
Falconstrike suddenly turned and gave me a goofy grin before her eyes rolled up into her head and she began falling towards me. I screamed but grabbbed her and carried her to Electrum.
"Electrum?" I said, softly tapping her foot. "Electrum are you okay?"
I heard a grunt and nothing. I checked her breathing, which was shallow and noticeably raspy. Her beating heart began to quickly slow down, almost to a stop.
"Guys! Help! Somebody call 911! Electrum's in trouble!"
I will review for you! PM about it if you need one!
Hardly able to believe his luck, Mynah limped off into the night. He was distinctly worse for wear, but that's what happened when you tried to take on a group of heroes like that.
The villain stopped by his house to apply some bandages to his wounds, then grinned. It was time to pay Mr. Thompson a visit...
"Indeed the safest road to Hell is the gradual one-- the gentle slope, soft underfoot, without sudden turnings, without milestones, without signposts." --The Screwtape Letters by C. S. Lewis
((Don't feel uncomfortable about it, Rider, there's no bother.))
Cara/Death
"Little girl has spunk, but she's no hero. She's just playing dress up to amuse her friends." The voice was definitely male, and Death had pinpointed its location - the left hand corner of the warehouse, behind the stacks of material kept for sewing up old costumes. It must have been one of those that'd fallen over; they'd been precariously balanced in the first place. Death edged towards it, knife drawn, eyes trying to pierce the shadow.
"What friends?" she said with a smirk, hoping to keep him talking. "You see anyone else here? It's just you and me and my knife."
"Oooh, a knife? Little girl thinks she's bad." The voice was mocking, infuriatingly so, but Death was getting closer with each step.
"You going to come out, or will we have to fight? I'd suggest you choose quickly, because if you don't come out in the next five seconds, I'm going to choose for you." Death left her words hanging in the air and stopped, waiting for the voice from the shadows to make his move.
Only a minute had passed after Death left that I realized Flux was gone. Where had he gone? I snuck into the shadows, away from the others, and ran off to find him. He would have said if he had to leave, or got hurt. So that left one thought in my mind, fight. The thought brought a rush of adrenaline throughout my body, increasing my speed.
Coming to a stop, roughly, five blocks away from the other scene, I found Flux, along with some sort of metallic wolf. I ran forward, and aimed my hands, palms to the ground, at the enemy, and shoot out a bone bullet from each finger. Running after them with speed I had never known. The bullets hit the machine, and bounced off, except one which hit a knick. It didn't go far enough to hit skin, but marked where to stab it.
Pumping out more bone, I surrounded my arm with thick bone, making a large hammer heads, like the kind you only see in a video game. I leapt into the air, and swung the mallet down. The wolf had barley registered the bullets by the time I was on my way down, and I was able to land the blow. I don't think it felt it much though, the metal armor absorbed most of the blow, and it sent it right back to me. If my arm hadn't been all bone right then, I think it would have broken (even if it had, I could have fixed it in a second though).
That User Who Changed Their Name A Dozen Times And So No One Ever Knew Who They Were Half the Time and When They Did Only Used Bolt.
The tragic tale of losing all #Brand for nothing in return.
I dropped out of the rafters, landing silently on the floor in front of her. The dim light of the room caught on the shine of my mask and reflected throwing my face into a brilliant light, completely ironic for the shape of the mask.
"I would like a fight, see what little girls made of."
She leapt at me, the anger leaking out of her even through the mask that covered her face. I stepped aside and slapped the dagger away, sending her skidding on the smooth cement floors.
"But, that wouldn't be any fun" I finished, sliding out of the way again as she leapt at me.
Words - so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them. ~Nathaniel Hawthorne
((I'm hoping we can speed this up so we can get everyone posting again on the next day. I know I've done the sun thing before, but I can't think of anything else right now and I think we really need to get moving again.))
Cara/Death
Death hated playing cat and mouse, even when she was the cat. The boy who stood in front of her now was clad entirely in black, as she was, but he was going to be difficult to catch. His feet made no sound as he dodged her assaults.
"Have a name, then?" Death asked, pausing to lash out between each syllable.
"Ghost," the boy spat in response.
"Ghost and Death. What a combination!" Death smiled at her own joke, even though her mouth was hidden beneath her mask. Couldn't slip up again...
Ghost suddenly jumped back and seemed to melt into the shadows of the walls. Death's eyes followed the movement of his body for mere seconds before he vanished, leaving her brandishing a knife, alone, as the sun broke through the curtains.
I cocked my head to the side. The room was brighter; sun must be rising. I stepped back into one of the few remaining shadows and vanished, as my namesake suggested.
- - - -
I dropped the mask on my bed and started peeling off the layers of black and grey. Time for life once again.
Words - so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them. ~Nathaniel Hawthorne
OK I asked earlier about joining, here's my character.
Real Name: Mark Hewitt
Villain's Name: Plague (whoops I didn't read the description template thing well enough he's actually a villain..... *fail*)
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Appearance: Messy black hair, very tall and pale, tends to wear dark baggy clothing, is always tired with dark rings around his almost black eyes.
Costume: (I'm going to be different... ) He wears a dark green version of what the soul reapers out of 'bleach' wear with an orange mask that covered his whole face, unlike his usual messy hair it is combed and swept to the side.
Personality: Is rude and haughty, thinks that the only people worth his time is his cousin, Mel and the others in their disguise. Shows little facial expression.
Powers: Spreads disease, is most effective when he is touching people, however he can make people ill by releasing viruses, etc. in to the air. He got his powers from a bad batch of blood while in hospital.
Weapons/Skills: Is often targeted for looking down on people, and so learned to fight using these experiences.
Other: is Mel’s cousin and a new transfer student.
Last edited by bonnie babe on Sun Oct 04, 2009 9:40 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"Everything should be made as simple as possible, but not simpler" -Einstien
A person is more than their experiences, stacked up like stones... Our best moments are the foundations we use to reach for the sky. — Yumi and the Nightmare Painter by Brandon Sanderson
) He wears a dark green version of what the soul reapers out of 'bleach' wear with an orange mask that covered his whole face, unlike his usual messy hair it is combed and swept to the side.
