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Post by TEAM_DERRICK on Jan 22, 2013 16:55:33 GMT -5
Listen to me and listen to me well, cause I got one hell of a tale to tell. ---
"Sir, you may want to come see this."
The President of the United States was a very busy man. Mostly because of all the executive orders that Task Force 5 forced him to sign. He always figured that so long as he let them do their job, they'd let him keep his. Dammit if there wasn't a lot of paperwork though.
"Wilson, can it really not wait ten goddamn minutes?"
Wilson was a former general turned secretary. His official title had something to do "Internal Defense," but a more accurate title would be chore boy. There isn't much else to say about him, save that in his 57 years of life, he'd seen some pretty grisly shit. Drone strikes, dead kids, torture, it's a hard life being a general. The fact of the matter is that he's a very tough person to spook. And once the President saw the look on his face, he knew something bad was on its way.
"No sir, it can't at all."
He flopped a set of pictures on the desk. Pictures of the moon as far as he could tell. Its surface a pale pink from all the bits of Mars that settled on it. However, there appeared to be a man on the moon. Clad in black, lines of blue glowing on his skin like some tron reject. Instead of a face, it was just a black, features mask made of some metal that no one could ever identify. He knew who he was looking at the second he saw him.
Attached to the papers was a memo. A transcript of a speech from the looks of it. He read over it.
"Oh God. Oh God..." He shrunk back into his chair, on the verge of tears.
"Mr. President..."
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE WE GOING TO DO WILSON? WHAT THE FUCK ARE WE GOING TO DO?!" ---
"I have returned. Many of you thought I was dead, more believed me to be irrelevant. A relic, forgotten and only occasionally mentioned when discussing ancient history. I wouldn't blame you. I was gone for 15 years. People have told me that a lot can happen in 15 years. However, I am pleasantly disappointed to find that nothing has changed about my home.
I was the first. Whether by a God I could not find or through a simple quirk of quantum physics, I was given The Gift. I cannot say why I was given my powers, or the ability to give The Gift to as many people as I wish. In my youth, I tried to use my talents to create a better world. To raise up my species by picking the best of the best to join me as paragons of virtue. I truly believe that the world was a better place than before, but there is still injustice that I simply can no longer tolerate.
Corruption, greed, hatred, fear. All these are destructive enough when employed by normal human beings, but to see actual super villains rise in the world... That was when I realized that my species is effectively doomed. The Gift has merely accelerated our natural talents for eradicating each other. It is my belief, no... No, belief has nothing to do with it. It is abject fact that unless humanity is forcibly uplifted from its plight that it will perish. This is the destiny that I have chosen for myself.
I have arrived to cleans this world of hatred, greed, superstition, fear, intolerance, government, family, religion, and of the greatest sin of all: normalcy. My army is growing as I speak. For those who wish to see the light, call upon us. We are listening. We are everywhere. Even now my voice is being carried to every corner of the world. In every language, in every mind, in every purpose!
Task Force 5. You are to lay down your arms, or else we will force you to. We do not fear death, for in death and the presence of death lies the fullness of life. We are all prepared to live for death.
Death is Life To Burn is to Rejuvenate The Secrete Flame cannot be put out.
This is Jericho, First and Last Servant of the Secret Flame, and I have arrived."
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Post by TEAM_DERRICK on Jan 22, 2013 19:30:50 GMT -5
OOC: I am totally original.
-2010
One second I'm sitting alone in my room. The television is turned on but I am not watching it. Idly twiddling my thumbs, nothing is happening. I let out a breath and inhale. It was the last breath that ever filled my lungs, the last time I had lungs really.
My thoughts turn to my last math test. I failed it. I never was too good at anything. My brother was the one in the family that accomplished everything worthwhile. Suddenly I feel it, a trickle flowing through me. At first I thought that my foot had fallen asleep, however that thought quickly turned to panic as the feeling flowed throughout the rest of my body. The trickle became a river. I could feel nothing but everything around me. I am slightly depressed at my own inadequacy.
My physical being shattered. My nerves screamed to my brain that I was being torn limb from limb. I disappeared. I am suddenly in front of the girl I asked out to prom. She is seated in her living room and is screaming in my direction. I look down to see my skin blackening and turning to ash. Now it is my turn to scream, but as I yell for help my mouth falls apart. My blood vaporizes as it hits the floor.
I am suddenly in front of my brother. He is in Iraq. His jaw drops in fright. Translucent and swayed by the wind, my skin sloshes off. My musculature rapidly deteriorates. Soon my bones fall to the sand.
I am suddenly in front of Zain. He cannot see me as there is nothing to see. I scream for help and his head turns. Spooked, he asks his parents if they heard anything.
I am in front of my grandfather. He watches as the ceramic plates of his kitchen float in front of him to reform my bones. My arm bones reform as I reach out to him. He clutches his chest and collapses on the floor. I like to tell myself that this whole thing is just some nightmare, but tomorrow I will read my grandfather's obituary. Thieves broke into his house to steal his kitchenware. Is the reality of the situation any less ridiculous?
I am suddenly in front of my parents. The hardwood of the house is ripped from the wall as all the sinks and toilets overflow. My blood is reforming. It is as blue as the sky. My mother screams to God, my father is dumbfounded.
I am in front of Lucy again. Lightning swarms around me as my muscles are reformed. She screams. As my larynx comes back, so do I. I beat against her wall for the pain returns here. I am delirious. My new blood leaves blue-purple stains on the wall as my skin has not yet reformed.
I am in front of Zain again as my skin returns. Black as tar. At this point Zain seems to recognize me for who I am. Over my screams of pain, I can make out what he's saying.
"Jerry?"
Jerry is dead Zain.
I am in a parking lot. I do not know where. The cars begin to float around me to create my second layer of skin. Metal physically bonds to me as the cars are shredded. I tell myself that I only imagined the red flecks I see out of the corner of my new eyes. I do not wish to think that these cars still contained their owners as they make up my new being.
I wake up in my bed. I look in the mirror. I do not recognize myself, but for the first time in my life I feel adequate.
Three months later I would hold Zain's hand. The warmth flows through my body into his. My Gift is now his. I always wondered why my transformation seemed so subdued next to his.
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Post by TEAM_DERRICK on Jan 23, 2013 23:06:12 GMT -5
Quasar led a simple life. In the morning he would run along the beech, in the afternoon he'd get drunk and fall asleep watching daytime TV. Some could call it boring, but he'd had enough fun for one lifetime. Today was going to be no different even considering the news. Jericho coming back?
"I'm sure they'll take care of it."
He didn't look too old, but he certainly felt old. His once handsome tan face was now pale and full of lines. His eyes carried the look of a man who'd seen a little too much. He had seen too much and had done far too little.
However, one thing he though he'd never see was a robot eating out of his trash can. Not knowing what else to do he ran over.
"Hey, do you know who's trash you're eating out of?" To make his point, he jutted forth his palms. Fire and heat soon surrounded his hand as he called the oxygen in the air to supercombust.
"I don't know who you are, but if you're here to take me out well you got another thing coming!"
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Post by Myrdraxxis on Jan 23, 2013 23:40:32 GMT -5
"The media is absolutely buzzing with news over the sudden appearance of the infamous Jer-"
"Reports from Washington have confirmed that it is the person who appeared was indeed Jericho"
"There has been no word from the government about what action is being taken to-"
Nick separated his mind from the constantly flowing stream of data that hummed through his helmet, sighing as he did so. Or, he would have sighed if it were physically possible. Sometimes he still wasn't used to not having a body.
There were obvious benefits to being telepathically linked to technology, such as the innate and near instant ability to gather data. But after a while of hearing the same thing over and over again it was beginning to get a bit dull.
He let his mind re-submerge into the net, sifting through general clog of forums, blogs, porn site and pop up -oh god the pop-ups- and began tracking down more stories on Jericho. He was old enough to remember Jericho, the first superhero, but young enough to not really have more than a detached interest. If nothing else, it would keep Washington distracted while he pilfered some of his old tech back. Having access to his old stuff would greatly enhance Nick and allow him to fare better in a fight.
While doing this Nick was idly aware that his body was sifting through a garbage can, looking for spare parts. He'd let his suit move automatically while his mind wandered the web. Nick found it rather funny that even if he no longer needed food, he still depended on scraps to keep his "body" running.
'A human body is so terribly high maintenance.' the thought drifted across the stream of data flowing through his brain. 'But I think this suit might be just as bad.'
He faintly heard a sound, like a shout, but ignored it.
Once he had access to better level of equipment, there wouldn't be a need to sift through garbage.
Another shout, this time a bit louder.
If he could just figure out how to-
He realized that it had suddenly gotten very hot. Nick's mind snapped back to the present. A warning light was beeping at the top of his HUD, and Nick realized there was a man standing in front of him. With his hands on fire.
"Uh..." His thoughts raced, sending queries and search algorithms across the net, seeing the strange old man in front of him. Nick recognized the man after a moment. "You're Quasar, aren't you?" He said. He'd never fought the supervillain personally, but he'd heard of some of the man's...ahem...exploits.
"Just looking for a meal is all." Nick tried to sound friendly, and make it seem like he was just a random hobo. A robot hobo. He honestly didn't need a big fight that would attract attention to him. Of course, his voice, filtered through his suit, sounded more gravely and menacing than friendly.
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Post by Mizagium on Jan 23, 2013 23:40:48 GMT -5
A single knock disturbed the serenity of the room.
"Enter."
A Japanese-style paper door slid open and shut slowly, muffled. Incense smoke refracted the soft orange lamps hanging from the ceiling. The woman who entered had to duck to avoid one. Before her was a low table and at the head, a kneeling man, more samurai than soldier.
"Commander Eder." She bowed. He motioned for her to sit, and she did so. "We found another one."
"Oh?"
This close she could see his eyes were closed, his breathing deep and measured. His single word reply fit into the gentle cadence of his life, the rhythmic swelling and depressing of his abdomen. He was garbed in what she imaged a samurai would be, albeit made of military grade body armor and colored like fatigues. A katana rested across his knees - and actual, honest to God Japanese sword, made by an actual swordsmith.
"Aye, sir. Teen, by the news reports. Just appeared. Stopped a few robberies. Made the local news." Her sentences came out much choppier than she had rehearsed. It wasn't every day that she got to go before Reified himself! The sweat might have been from the relative humidity of the room compared to outside, but Commander Eder wasn't sweating...so...
"If you have brought this to me," he began with carefully measured syllables, "Then he is like us." Not a question.
"Yes, sir. A Reified."
A long moment passed between them. Finally, Zain Eder moved. Well, he opened his eyes, but it screamed volumes to her. Two undulating irises started into hers and caused her to tense up.
"Watch him. We will go to him soon."
"Yes, sir."
"Dismissed."
She rose, bowed again, crossed the room and exited, leaving Zain alone in his meditations.
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Post by TEAM_DERRICK on Jan 23, 2013 23:56:33 GMT -5
"I didn't know robots could eat," Quasar continued to eye the man... Machine? The thing.
The more he looked over the man, the more he realized that he was probably telling the truth. Perhaps he was just a hungry vagrant rather than a horrible man-tech abomination. Unlikely, but the feeling just would not leave his gut. He waved away the plasma forming in his fists.
The problem with Quasar is that he had grown soft with age. Okay, softer. He thumbed the iron crucifix that hung around his neck and remembered the words of his priest. 'Dios mío.'
"Come on, sit up." Quasar motioned the bags of fish he had caught earlier today, "I caught more than enough for myself, and although I was going to sell them at the market, you clearly need them more."
Quasar motioned Nick into his house. It was little more than a cardboard box, but it did have electricity. And 10 cats. "I have them cleaned and cooked in a jiffy. I haven't had company in ages so please forgive the mess. Oh and you can call me Mr. Smith."
He started cleaning the fish with practiced craftmanship, and soon lit his wood stove with his own hands. "I haven't spoken to another American in ages, but you do look familiar. May I ask your name, sir?"
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Post by Myrdraxxis on Jan 24, 2013 0:29:44 GMT -5
Nick followed the old man into his home bemusedly, rather touched by his kindness. Well, he thought he was touched by it. Nick honestly wasn't sure if he could even feel emotion any more, or if it was just ghost impulses left over from his brain. Either way, he followed the man inside.
The first thing that came to Nick's mind as he looked around the inside of the shack was 'Sweet zombie jesus that's a lot of cats'. He suppressed the urge to say it aloud, though.
"My name..." he said, considering it. He didn't call himself Warframe anymore, and while the name Nick Dresdon might have garnered some recognition, it wasn't a name he felt comfortable giving out to people any more.
"Dullahan." He replied. "I'm called the Duhllahan."
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Post by TEAM_DERRICK on Jan 24, 2013 0:41:12 GMT -5
"Well, Mr. The Duhllahan," A strange name if ever there was one, "I am honored to have you in my humble abode."
Quasar stacked the fish on the stove, stuffing and basting them in spicy sauces native to not just Brazil, but from the South Central USA as well. Hopefully to give him a taste of home when they were both so far away from it. Quasar knew that he could never go back. Not for a long time.
As the fish baked, Quasar was about to ask man-robot about his odd name, but figured that the robot-man would tell him himself if he truly wanted to. The television popped on as it was apt to do at total random, send scared cats in ever direction. The same news broadcast was on as always, Jericho.
"So, what do you make of his return?" Quasar asked hoping to start a conversation. Before the robot-dude-man-thing could answer, a buzzer went off in the kitchen.
"Ah, the fish is ready!" And up Quasar went to serve some down home country cookin'.
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Post by Myrdraxxis on Jan 24, 2013 0:54:41 GMT -5
As the strange old man called Mr. Smith set a plate of fish in front of him, Nick realized he might have miscalculated when he was trying to convince the old man he was human. He stared at the plate for a second.
Then at the tv.
"It sure is fascinating." Nick said, answering Quasar's question, stalling for a few seconds. "I wasn't very old when Jericho was around the first time. Seeing it now is kind of like looking at history."
He waited until Quasar glanced at the television...and then quickly reached up and lifted his helmet off slightly, giving him enough room to scoop the meal into his suit. He tried not to wince as he felt the meal literally go right through him.
'I'm going to smell like fish for days.'
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Post by TEAM_DERRICK on Jan 24, 2013 1:15:56 GMT -5
Quasar was thinking to himself again, he did that a lot these days. The fact that Jericho had returned, well, it reminded him of his youth. Some good memories, some bad, all in all okay. However, notcing that his guest had eaten his fish so promptly-
"Oh you must be starving! I'll fetch you some more!" And with that he grabbed his guest's plate and went to scoop up more charred fish flesh. However, it wasn't until he returned to the table, hot sizzling fish in hand, that he noticed that he had a second guest. An uninvited one.
Jericho stood in a corner, "Quasar! It's been too long!... Who's the robot?"
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Post by Calefrun on Jan 24, 2013 1:41:35 GMT -5
"So... tell me again why we're going after this guy?"
Pyrosus growled. He hated when people asked stupid questions. Even if it wasn't a stupid question. He just hated having to explain things to people, as if it wasn't enough that they had orders from Graviton.
"Because," he said irritably, "he has the Gift. And more importantly, he's been on the news. I'm sure Task Force 5 already knew about him, but now he's out in the open. And as if it wasn't bad enough that he's apparently been playing the hero and stopping some bank robberies, don't forget that this Jericho dude is back. If he's anything like Commander Eddleton says, the Force is probably looking to bolster their ranks in preparation for whatever may come."
"So why bother with him, then?" The Sanctuary soldier persisted, "it sounds like he can look out for himself. Besides, we've seen this type before. They want to fight for 'good' and all that. They find out about a secret organization in the government, and it's all they want to do. Meanwhile, there are those out there who are in actual need of our help, and may actually be willing to help us, and we choose the 'hero!'"
"Because," sparks crackled in the air around Pyrosus as he spoke, "he has the Gift, and they WILL go after him. Maybe he will want to join them. So we let him go. Our job is to be there, making sure that if he wants to get away, he has that chance. And most importantly, we're going because Graviton TOLD us to. Now shut up and get prepared, we're leaving in half an hour."
As the soldier walked away, Pyrosus grumbled to himself. For the ten millionth time, he wished that Jason was here to handle this kind of crap. It had been over a year since Tim has last seen his best friend, and on every mission he led he couldn't help but think that Jason could be doing a better job than him.
He pushed the thoughts from his mind, and slowly calmed himself. There would be plenty of time for self-doubt later. For now, they had a mission to do. And who knew, maybe this one could turn out well for a change.
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Post by Mizagium on Jan 24, 2013 9:54:45 GMT -5
"Fascinating." Andrew observed the television screen with uncharacteristic interest. Some news program was going on about the return of Jericho, recounting his superhero career from what they new of his origins, to the Lighthouse Society, to his disappearance and destruction of Mars. They played a series of clips of the Mars shards raining down on the world and the heroes who tried to stop them. The report ended ominously, replaying some amateur footage of the supposedly moment of his arrival.
His grandfather, seated on the big couch turned, perhaps sensing someone standing in the limbo area between living room and kitchen, and was not surprised to find Andrew.
"Quite the story, huh? The first hero coming back...are you old enough to remember him?"
"Stories," he answered simply. "History. I think I might remember the Mars Incident." Did he? Or had his father recounted that story to him? He thought he remembered is father, but could only recall disembodied voices, a ghostly embrace - and nothing of his mother. No talked about them in this house. No one asked, either.
"Well...you should probably get to school soon..."
"I will."
The follow-up story concerned the recent appearance of a new hero, dubbed the "Helmet Hero". While not the most creative name, it was certainly the least stupid. Andrew hadn't thought of a name before venturing out, didn't think it was important, until the news programs kept jockeying to come up with the best. The back pages of his notebook were scrawled with rejected names.
He exited the room, gathered his bag, and headed off to school. He didn't take the bus anymore - he used his powers. Energy filled his body: power, wonderful, glorious power. Too much, though, and he started to glow, so he kept it low and shoved it all into his feet.
Both feet to the ground. Push with the right - he was off.
Running through the woods took longer than on the sidewalk, but this way he was less likely to be spotted without his mask. Animal stayed out of his way, whether for fear or respect he didn't know or care. He arrived in the parking lot in what felt like record time, although he had forgotten to time it, so he couldn't be sure. Not even out of breath, he strolled on through the mass of cars as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
No, everything was... extraordinary.
Those who passed for his friends waved him down and he joined them, a solid mask of teenage over-excitement forming across his face. They talked, laughed, complained, and went to class. He made excuses in their conversing to touch each one - and measure how much of his power it would take to crush them. More than he could handle...but not for long.
-
"Can it be..." Zain Eder spread the files over his low table and moved his eyes from one page to another. Pictures of varying quality showed Jericho on Earth, at various locales. Recently, he showed up in Brazil. A tablet came with the manila folder and played a series of news clippings on a loop, all showing Jericho.
"Jerry. Why have you returned to us now? Have you forgiven them? Or are you here to exact your revenge?"
This did not bode well. He gathered everything up and set aside neatly, turning to a second report. This one was handwritten - one of his recruits.
Commander Eder,
Our Sanctuary leak has informed me that they are planning to move on the so-called "Helmet Hero". I know you have decided to wait him out, but if Sanctuary gets him we may loose them. The contact is beginning to think they suspect him. And if this boy is indeed like us, then loosing him will put many lives in jeopardy.
Respectfully, I request permission to bring this boy in myself before Sanctuary can. I await your decision.
Honorably, Mary Anne Raines.
Always ambitious, that one. Always seeking her commander's approval. Her devotion to him was startling...but useful. Her intel was near perfect and she and he tended to think the same thoughts, although he suspected she had trained herself that way. Still, she was correct. Losing his potential Reified would be disastrous.
Not wishing to waste time, he dialed her number on his phone.
"Commander," she answered.
"You have my permission. Go. Take Justin and Yvonne with you - I don't want any screw-ups. You are in command of this operation. Do not fail."
"Yes, Commander."
He hung up.
Jericho...
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Post by Myrdraxxis on Jan 24, 2013 20:53:49 GMT -5
Duhllahan froze in his seat, mind racing over a thousand different scenarios centered around escaping this situation. They all pretty much boiled down to "oh shit".
Jericho.
Duhllahan wasn't necessarily afraid of the legendary hero -in fact, fear was an emotion that he wasn't fully sure he could feel- but he was most certainly wary. Thus far he had been able to steer clear of any of the major supers that would recognize and/or try to recruit him. Aside from Task Force 5, Jericho was at the top of that list.
"I'm nobody important." he said quickly, standing to leave (and feeling a fish tumble around in the foot of his suit). He bowed to Quasor."Thank you for your hospitality." he tried to move for the door.
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Post by TEAM_DERRICK on Jan 24, 2013 21:06:09 GMT -5
Suddenly, the door simply wasn't there. This isn't to say that Jericho blew a hole in the wall or that the door had fallen from its hinges. Where the small, birch door had been there was now a featureless wall. Jericho though always had an eye for Feng Shui so he relocated one of Quasar's pictures of a kitten onto the wall. Now it looked pretty nice.
"You say that you are no one important, but you are both very, very important to me." Jericho's voices reverberated throughout the room. The reverberating patterns would get stuck in your head for days.
"I- I'm retired," Quasar was nearly pissing himself as he managed to stammer this out, "I don't want anything to do with you!" Trying to defuse the situation, he offered a plate of charred fish to his old nemesis. Jericho promptly ignored it.
"I'm afraid I am in need of your services. You can either join my cause, or simply be caught in the fire that will soon spread to every corner of the world. Either way, you will die, but at least you can live for something before you die."
Jericho placed his hand on Duhllahan's shoulder, "And I can promise you all the spare parts you will ever need. A proper lab, so long as you do as I say."
Quasar shot an unsure glance at both of his guests. His bladder couldn't hold for much longer.
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Post by Damien on Jan 25, 2013 0:04:53 GMT -5
As per his quasi-nomadic ways, Miguel found himself wandering the streets of Rio de Janeiro. It was around the time of year that Rio hosted Carnival, and a lot of the women, clad in the most barely-there clothing that could possibly be legal, attempted to get him in the festivities. Not wanting to be too rude, he politely declined. Luckily, he knew enough Portuguese to get his point across.
"Sinto muito. Eu realmente não estou com disposição para a festa."
While they were still stunned that he spoke their language, he closed his eyes, calling his chi to encase his body and empower his feet. The air had a tangible change to it, and all of a sudden all that was left was a somewhat blurry image. However, this only lasted for a few seconds.
In reality, the chi being manipulated to empower his feet allowed him to perform a flash-step, moving faster than the human eye could perceive. When he stopped, he had moved out of the crowd of half-naked women--no, nine-tenths-naked women, and that's still understating the lack of clothing--and into the alleyway about twenty yards away. He continued this movement, eventually moving to an area of the city that wasn't occupied by party-goers.
He sensed a massive amount of energy emanating from a nearby house and moved to investigated.
Inside sat an older man, from whom the energy was radiating, and what appeared to be a robot or android of some sort.
He stood there at the window watching the pair, attempting to figure out who this man and machine were.
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Post by Calefrun on Jan 25, 2013 0:25:37 GMT -5
Tim groaned. Why did they have to make textbooks so heavy? Hell, why did textbooks even exist anymore? He could pull up any information he needed just as easily on a tablet or something. School policies had never made sense to him. With his backpack slung over his shoulder, he started making his way through the crowded high school's hallways as all of the students made their way home for the day.
For a moment, he wondered what things would be like if he could do the same.
"Pyrosus, do you have a visual on the target?" he heard through the tiny speaker implanted in his ear.
"Yeah, yeah, I see him." He mumbled, "You sure that this is that 'Helmet Hero' guy, though? He looks really... normal."
"Have I ever been wrong?"
He chuckled a little. "No, Maya, I guess not. Any of those Task Force 5 guys around?"
"Not that I can tell. You know they have ways of hiding themselves, though."
"Yeah, I know. What a pain in the ass. Hopefully they get here soon so we can get this over with." He glanced down an intersecting hallway and saw the soldier that had been asking questions before, disguised as a janitor. How fitting. The others were around too, doing what they could to hide among the schools population.
They were ready to move when necessary. Pyrosus was getting pretty bored just keeping an eye on this kid, but with luck things would start to heat up soon. And he meant that quite literally.
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Post by Mizagium on Jan 25, 2013 18:01:28 GMT -5
"Excuse me," Jared Ito muttered habitually when he bumped past someone. The other person barely grunted a reply and kept going. Normally, Jared would have kept shuffling along, avoiding eye contact and generally being a vagrant, but something about this man...
"Ah, wait, sir!"
"Eh?" He was a tall, well built man in his mid forties, fairly generically white.
"I don't mean to - to intrude, but I...I can help you."
The man looked around uncomfortably. "Look, pal, I don't want any trouble."
"No! See, I know you have HIV and - "
"Hey, man, fuck you!" He shoved Jared hard enough to send him staggering to the ground and kept walking.
"No," Jared pleaded. "I can heal you!" But he was gone. "I suppose it is a bit strange..." he muttered, picking himself up.
How ungrateful. Dude didn't even stop to let you explain.
"I don't think I would have either."
Really? With the world the way it is, you wouldn't believe a hobo could heal you?
"I offered. He refused. That's that."
It doesn't have to be.
"No." Jared covered his ears to try and shut out the voice. "No no no no no. I'm not listening to you."
AIDS is still a killer. Who knows? He might have passed it on without telling anyone. OR he might not have. But it happens. Even if it doesn't, don't you want to save him?
"Of course I do...but..."
He doesn't have to know.
"He doesn't have to know..."
...
As it happens, the man was on his way home when he bumped into Jared. It was easy enough to trail him. Even paranoid schizophrenics were easy enough to elude if you knew how. Being creeped out by Jared didn't seem to deter the man, though. He made no effort to double check the locks or windows.
A simple mistake was all it took. The kitchen window had been left unlocked, the one over the sink. Miraculously, he managed to avoid knocking over the pile of dishes drying in the sink. The gentle churning of the dishwasher also served to mask his entrance.
The man had a wife and two kids. No one apparently locked their doors in this house because he was able to creep in and scan their bodies. Neither child had a trace of the virus, but he still gave a general immune system boost to them anyway. His wife was clean, too. Just the husband.
I'm guessing a prostitute. Or an affair.
Maybe, but if he could cure the disease now, he could potentially save four lives.
He laid his hands on the man and stimulated deep sleep, sedating the unwilling patient, and spread his influence through his body. HIV was up there in the ranks of draining diseases, but not impossible. He'd done this before.
There was a certain euphoria in healing another. Sometimes, he felt like he and the patient were connected on some deep, spiritual level, although Jared himself was not a spiritual man. Still, the union in those moments was too great to ignore.
He felt sleepy.
No!
Yes.
Not now!
His vision blurred. He tried to call back his powers, but his Other had already taken control.
His last sensation before blacking out was feeling the man's esophagus twist into a pretzel.
...
Jared came to some hours later in the middle of the night, splayed across the sleeping couple's bed. The couple was no longer there, however, just deep crimson stains where they had once been.
Bleary, Jared staggered out the room and down the stairs to the living room. Anathema had granted him the knowledge of where he had placed the family (yes, all of them) but not what he had done with them.
He vomited before the horror even fully registered.
Four humans, two adults and two children, had been taken apart and stitched back together in a terrible abstract art piece. Hands and arms and legs had become single limbs, joined at the digits, connected to the wife's head with several sets of genitals instead of eyes. Four torsos surrounded a set of hands, impossible to distinguish. Hanging flesh stretched from between two walls, the floor, and the ceiling. A dragon made of organs embraced what had once been their bodies.
Holding back tears and sick, Jared set to work.
It took hours to pull the mass apart and reconstruct each body. Each bone had to be back in the right place, each ligature and tendon, every exploded organ. A few bones seemed to have just...vanished, and Jared was forced to exclude them.
After placing the bodies back in bed, he realized something. No one was going to believe that a healthy family of four all suddenly had simultaneous heart attacks. No, a burglary was much more believable. So, he went back around and used his powers to manipulate the lifeless corpses into appearing to have bullet holes through their skulls. Although he wasn't a forensics expert, he had seen enough wounds to give it his best shot.
Anathema snickered at the pun, but otherwise didn't talk the whole time.
It was just after four in the morning when Jared Ito slithered out the kitchen window, pockets full of various bills and jewelry. The jewelry he ditched in a dumpster later, but kept the money, as dirty as that made him feel.
Even murderous vagrants have to survive.
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Post by Myrdraxxis on Feb 3, 2013 13:02:31 GMT -5
When Jericho touched him, Nick confirmed that deep down, in some part of what could be defined as the remnants of a soul, he could still feel fear. He stared at the god-like figure, the first superhero, processors racing to try and think of an answer.
Part of Jericho's offer was tempting. Very tempting. The thought of having access to the level of technology that had helped him give birth to this very suit and wonders like it again was almost too good to pass up. However...
Doing so would mean shackling himself to this man. Nick had already tried working under conditions like those, when the government had him on their payroll. Nick didn't have the slightest intention of going back to that.
On the other hand, if Nick refused then Jericho would probably just kill him.
"I...I suppose I have to accept." the Dullahan said at last, extending a hand to shake Jericho's. "I am The Dullahan, formerly known as Warframe."
"I'll go along with this. For now."
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Post by Damien on Feb 3, 2013 17:22:19 GMT -5
As Miguel walked from the window of Quasar's "home" to the door, he felt a massive amount of energy emanating from inside. Either Quasar had begun to channel his powers or another, more powerful entity had arrived.
He opened the door, channeling his chi into his feet to move quickly and silently into the same room as the mechano-man and another person that was not there earlier.
He entered a fighting stance, preparing himself to engage the newcomer if he planned to harm anyone there. Miguel felt no evil intentions from the mechano-man, not even from Quasar, but he could not read the stranger so easily...
"You!" he said, looking straight at Jericho. "Tell me your intentions here and perhaps I will leave you be."
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