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| Leave No Survivors; Wolf's Head Attack Team | |
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| Topic Started: Sep 17 2008, 10:38 PM (4,012 Views) | |
| Saint | Sep 17 2008, 10:38 PM Post #1 |
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Hypnosis / Psionic Bolts
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Time:10:30PM Date:September 21st The small police station held only three police-men and one secretary to police over the small island of Wolf's Head, off the coast of Montauk, New York, home to a handful of residents, their number not even reaching five hundred. Yet tourists always visted in the summer months for fishing, the one bridge in and out manned by a toll-booth, nearly rusted due to age and not even manned in winter, so no-body was witness to the truck that rolled up in the evening, parking longways, blocking the exit to and from the island, holding a select few who had been choosen for this mission by Mastermind herself, before she had gone on her secret mission. All they had to do was wait for the signal from their inside man to attack the small village that housed the soon-to-be victims of the Hell Fire's Wrath. Moved to their positions around the houses holding the targets they waited, all seven of them against the whole town. The humans didn't have a chance. Soon they wouldn't be nothing more than memories. Fourty years. That was how long that Eddie Slovas had been the main police man on the island, two deputies constantly recurring every few months as they got a better offer and more newbies moved in. Eddie was sick of it all, he just wanted to retire in peace. It had been a quiet night, only one prisoner in the small cells that they had. He had been found slashing tires and after throwing him in the cell, they had left him to stew for a while, till they could get the locals settled after the mindless vandalism. The only odd thing was that they couldn't find a knife when they picked him up. Still it wasn't of any concern for now. "Just checking on the prisoner Shelia" Eddie said to the slightly overweight secretary as she gave him the key to the cell, as he made his way into the inner part of the small building that held the cells, two doors keeping them from the outside. Not exactly safe, but who the hell ever came to Wolf's Head. The worst thing that happened was when some drunk tourists started a fight, yet when they sobered up they were let go. So Eddie had little to worry about with this. The lights flickered as he opened the door, probably a power shortage in his mind, not caused by a mutant destroying the power and phone lines into the small island. The young man in the cell was listed as a John Doe, refusin to give his name. Yet, he must of only been eighteen years of age, dirty blonde hair and stubble over his face, eyes shut as he lay on the small bench in the cell. "Get up boy! We need to talk. Now I'ma gonna open the cell up so we can talk" Eddie told the younger man as he turned the dented key in the door. He walked in and glared at the dishevelled teenager, only for the boy to stare back. He had such deep eyes, Eddie thought, so deep as he fell victim to Saint's only slightly less violent mutation. Sure, hypnosis wasn't as bad as the blades, but they made for a lot more creative killing. What seemed like seconds passed for him, yet it was minutes and when Eddie suddenly stopped seeing the boys eyes, they were reversed in the cell, him on the bench, the younger man by the door, keys in hand. "What the hell just happened! How did you get those keys and why... have I got my gun out?" he asked, confused in his mind as to what was happening. The only thing he knew was that he was heavy, everything felt like it was being weighed down by weights. The mutant known as Saint only stared back in his eyes, forcing the older man to comply to his whims. "Open your mouth and put your gun in it" Kyle said slowly and calmly, his will focused on the human, forcing his mind onto the overweight graying coppers. Shaking as he tried to resist, Eddie couldn't resist as he lifted the gun to his mouth, eyes starting to tear up as the cold taste of metal met his lips, the long barrel of the gun scratching the roof of his mouth, drawing a droplet of blood. One simple word was uttered from Saint's lips, one that would reverberate with the bang of the gun and the following bump as his body hit the floor, the back of his skull vanished in a fine mist of red spray and chunks of scalp, brain, skull and hair splattering against the back wall. A horrified scream was heard as Shelia entered the room, only to see her employers body, what remaining of the face contorted in a horrfiying manner that would of haunted her dreams had she lived to sleep again. The middle aged woman was slammed against the door by Saint, a blade pushed to her throat, a thin trickle following its path. "Please, don't kill me, I have a family" she sobbed as the reality of the situation hit her, as did the cutting pain to her throat. Kyle's face softened for an instant as he listened to her plea and he lowered the blade."I had a family once too.." he replied, pushing off her , turning his back as he started to walk towards the outside. Shelia stumbled away, hand holding at her neck, shock in her eyes as the brief instant that she was released was crushed by the end of the sentance that Saint had begun."They died at my hand" was the last words she heard as the blades shot from his hands as he spun, impaling her and killing her instantly. A sinister smile slid onto Saint's face as he rummaged though the confiscated box to reclaim his phone. Dialing only one number he told the other person on the line "Lights out". The small collection of houses were plunged into darkness, the only light orginally from the moon before the torches, candles and glow-sticks were taken out of their places to light the night. In the darkness of the night, the brotherhood would make their move. The crackling of the flames as the small police station burst into flames brought out a small crowd, yet some still stayed inside. For these people, Jara and Camera would take them out. For the many that gathered in the square trying to stop the fire or just watching, be they man, woman or child, they would all fall one after the other. Black Tom, Saint and the others would see to that. Now the fun would begin! (OK people, here it goes. Jsut remmeber, we leave no survivors, and several of the people are armed so it wont all be easy. Enjoy!) |
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| Black Tom | Sep 18 2008, 03:54 AM Post #2 |
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Unregistered
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As the island-folk poured from their homes, Black Tom Cassidy stayed to the shadows. He watched as men, women and children emptied their houses. Lights in the bedrooms, living rooms and on front porches came to life as the village stirred awake. Saint’s dirty deed in the jail had been subtle and discreet. The flaming police station, however, was not. Saint had gotten himself captured by the police while the other members of the Brotherhood were to sweep the town and lay low. They would know the signal when the saw it. A burning building seemed as good a signal as any. Saint, the handsome Acolyte, was leading this mission as one of Magneto’s chosen few. The Brotherhood members were to pull up the slack and leave none standing. Tom considered himself a businessman. He found no pleasure in the slaughter of the innocents. These people had families and livelihoods. They’d never done anything to the roguishly handsome Irishman. Yes, he had killed people before. Usually, he felt they deserved it, and often they did. Tom was no angel but this left a bitter taste in his mouth. Magneto needed this done and had asked Tom to tag along for the completion of the mission. Tom had no choice but to oblige. This operation was in exchange for some vital information to do with the Hellfire Club. “When a man pulls your balls from the meat grinder, you owe him a favor larger than life,” Tom whispered. The townsfolk were gathering around the burning building. Their faces shone with the dancing light of the flickering flames. Their eyes were wide with a mixture of wonder and disbelief. They had no idea this was a calculated attack. For all they knew, some lazy policeman left the coffee pot on next to a stack of files. They had gathered around in their pajamas and house coats. It was a midnight congregation for a firelight reverie. Tom wondered if any of them expected to be found dead in their night clothes. Does anyone ever expect to be found dead? The Irishman had clung to the shadows for the entirety of the proceeding events. The plan was for this to be a shock and awe attack. They wanted to get as many people together at once for the culling. Ha, no. This wasn’t a culling. It was a slaughter. Once the majority of people were killed, they would sweep the houses and make sure none were left breathing. The large gathering would expedite the process but it was also vital for the shock factor to those who found the corpses in the day light. Tom advanced from the shadows slowly. He could feel the heat from the fire upon his face and was sure that he was visible to some. Perhaps he blended in as someone who had come to see the spectacle of the fire. Perhaps he was recognized as an outsider. It didn’t matter, really. Tom had stepped from the darkness amid a small shrubbery with a trellis that had vines snaking their way through. The lattice had been beautifully crafted and it was obvious the town took great efforts in making the village presentable and hospitable. Really, it was perfect for Tom. His powers could affect much of the surroundings around him. This operation was to be swift, however, and since his plant manipulation abilities were developing he chose to fall back on his primary mutation. Tom’s fingers wound into the openings in the wooden trellis. His mind focused on the wooden frame before him. Tom could focus his concussive blasts through any wooden medium. His shillelagh and the cross on his neck were just tokens that he kept readily at hand. The trellis was a bit larger than either of the two items he normally used. He’d developed his powers greatly since he was a teenager but it still took some focus. He released the blast from the trellis. The frame that was wrapped in vines was a network of crisscrossing slats. The beam that proceeded forward was a representation of that formation. The blast powered forward like a battering ram into the gathering crowd. The unsuspecting citizens were mowed down before Tom’s power. Tom had put as much force into the blast as he could. He wanted these people to die quickly. He wished no suffering upon them. Tom stalked forward with his shillelagh in one hand and a scrap of branch in the other. There was sure to be resistance from the townspeople. He was almost positive that he saw some men with guns and weapons gather near the jailhouse. His surprise attack had taken them off guard for a few moments. The people who were armed, however, would gather their nerve and senses and fight back. “Nothing personal,” he said sincerely. “Business is business.” |
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| Buford Hollis | Sep 19 2008, 03:16 AM Post #3 |
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Mechanical Hyper-Competence
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Buford's stomach had tied itself in so many knots, only the great Alexander's sword would be able to untie it. If he had known how rusty this old bridge was, he would have insisted on waterproofing the Big Pig before taking it here. Back in '84, he put in some back-up plans if the Big Pig ever needed to make itself amphibious, but he hadn't ever tested it. If something happened to the Big Pig, well, Magneto himself wouldn't be able to stop Buford. He had made certain modifications to the Big Pig for tonight. The Pig's self defense systems were to be more aggressive than usual, and Buford installed his electric shock device into the hood of the tractor. He also increased the voltage. Buford would have to scrape off any local who tried to escape the island. He looked over his small armory. A shotgun might be nice, but he wasn't trying to kill zombies. He was a terrorist. He needed something that would strike fear in their hearts. He had a shovel and machete, but it would feel weird to wipe out humanity with such mundane weapons. His pig head wasn't built as a killing weapon, and Buford wanted this to be efficient. He had his orders, destroy this island. He was a solider, and he was going to follow his orders. That didn't mean he took particular joy in them. Ah, there she is. Buford grimaced, and picked up his chainsaw. This would strike fear into the hearts of the sapes. Those poor bastards. At least they would die quickly. He was getting in position just a few yards behind Tom. He heard the energy blaster's words. "Ain't no business I've ever heard of," Buford said; his solemn words were drowned out by the start of his chainsaw. |
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| Primal | Sep 19 2008, 03:01 PM Post #4 |
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Unregistered
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There were fires in the sky. Fires that lit up the dead of night like beacons, lonely markers spreading their flames high into the black, snatching up and grasping desperately for the distant stars. It was almost poetic, riven down into the colours of deepening sunset, amber and yellow and blood red drenching into the horizon. Ironic then, that all the reptilian saw were those colours in furious gradients- the sun had long sunk below the western skyline, but thanks to the fire, to the teenager it seemed it was still setting. The orders were simple enough. No survivors. ‘Lights out’ was a poignant signal. Primal stalked through the darkened streets, lingering behind Black Tom and Big Pig as they did their thing. The chainsaw was a bit much, Primal thought offhandedly, but whatever got the job done, right? This whole thing seemed a little pointless, but Magneto had insisted the reptilian went along…probably to drill that whole weapon thing home they had talked about. In hindsight, maybe he had been hasty in requesting it, requesting that his humanity be wrung out of his being like so much dirty water. Too late now though, but fuck it; by this point he really didn’t care. But that was probably the point. Bodies collapsed in on one another like dominoes in the wake of Tom’s assault. For a moment, those few who hadn’t succumbed to the lethal wave milled in disbelief, wide eyes staring dumbstruck at fallen neighbours as if they expected them to suddenly leap up and shout gotcha! all at once. There was no such reprieve. Realisation dawned, and after the first panicked howl ripped from a youngster’s throat there was an immediate chorus of terror that followed, and the survivors bolted. And Primal was there to pick them off. Like a good fucking sheepdog. Nameless faces all ended up with the exact same expression…that horrified death rattle, peeling into a grimace when they inevitably fell into a lifeless slump. There were a few shots that erupted in the night, cracking thunderously in miniature explosions as those who could grabbed for weapons and rallied themselves into something that resembled a defence force, but Primal found himself skirting around to the island parameters as several individuals managed to sprint for the water…somehow imagining it would offer them sanctuary. Or maybe it was a preference to drown rather than be torn apart by something not quite human, not quite prehistoric. Slip into something a little less comfortable. One small family, a typical three point one; mother, father, and a little boy who was clad in Spiderman pyjamas and one slipper (the other of which had been lost in the rush) hurried towards the nearby jetty. The island’s occupants were fairly well off; therefore quite a few of them owned their own boats. The triplet was attempting to slip through the shadows and escape on one such vehicle- unfortunately for them, Primal was on an intercept course. Initially the reptilian moved like a bullet from a barrel, following orders without trying to think too much about it. Thinking just ended up leading him down winding roads to complicated conclusions, which never resolved anything and usually brought him right back to where he had started. If only he was so lucky. Hammering his full weight into the male and splitting him from jaw to stomach with a single vicious slash, he then spun to flick his tail into the woman, cracking her neck and slamming her into the ground in the same movement. As he rounded onto the last piece of the set however, Primal ground to a sudden halt. The boy’s shriek split the air, tearing above the clamour, begging silent heavens for his mommy, mommy, mommy, as if the watchful expanse would reach down and save him. Raen’s jaw tensed, eyes fixated upon the six-year-old, oxygen freezing in his lungs. This was why you didn’t stop to think. There was only a single choice, just a yes or no answer, but responding in kind severed any link to the humanity that the demi-lizard had been holding onto…that he had been clinging to as if it was some kind of safety line. As if it could rescue him from becoming what he was. It was a useless kind of battle, a suicidal run, one that left him scrabbling in a dark pit underneath a pile of body parts as high as he was tall. But it was only months since his indoctrination, only a number of weeks since he had stepped off that pavement, and as yet he was still a kid, just twelve lonely years separating the terrified child and he. Twelve years separating Raen and a place where there was anything like freedom or future, twelve years since there was anything to look at, really look at, instead of staring at the ocean and only seeing water. Back when a smile was a smile and there was nothing behind it, nothing to question or doubt, nothing hidden lurking beyond it- and there was just him, just him and a wish and the pull of the wind chasing behind him and nothing to stumble on, nothing to blindside him…before everything became the same, the same as that six-year-old boy. Blue-faced from screaming so hard, screaming as though the world was ending, screaming as though there was nothing left to live for. Little legs tucked up tightly into his chest, fingers clenched into little fists, screaming because there was nothing fucking left but the memories of his parent’s ashen faces and the emptiness of a deathblow. And Raen, for those few moments, found himself unable to move, caught in the midway between relenting and mercy. He didn’t have any mercy left in him, was what he realised with a shudder. The hesitation wasn’t for the child, wasn’t for the seconds left of the boy’s life that ticked over one after the other…no, nothing as dirty or filthy as pity or mercy. This was that kind of sickening horror at the fact that there really wasn’t a sickening horror to what he was doing. It was a contradiction in terms, and that in itself made him feel like tearing his fucking eyes out, but maybe it was valid. Maybe there was an excuse for it. Maybe that was what Primal told himself as claws connected with flesh and it gave way to muscle and fibre and bone that snapped like so much cinder toffee. Maybe it was just the feeling of those remnants fragmenting, but whatever it was, as the child’s body broke beneath his grasp, the Acolyte felt nothing but cold. |
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| Juggernaut | Sep 19 2008, 08:22 PM Post #5 |
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Unregistered
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The sounds were resounding, painfully terrible. Within the domed helm that he wore as part of his attire, the sounds echoed. Like a chamber they reflected on the round surfaced multiple times and beat into his eardrumps. He was suprised that he was not yet deaf due to the noises he had been able to endure over the years. He wanted the noise to stop, but he knew that the only way it was going to stop was when everyone had been slain. Everyone; even the women and children. None were to be left alive. Cain didn't know if he had a problem with it. He felt as though a hint of his humanity was being lost, replaced with an animalistic slaughter as he witnessed his fellow Brotherhood go about their bloody business. Thinking about things was never his forte. Thinking about whether or not this humanity was being replaced with mutanity. If this was what they were after -- this sort of slaughter on humankind -- was it really worth being part of? His brows were furrowed within the domed helm, his blue eyes shut tight as he listened to the world around him, trying to adapt to the noises so that they no longer caused him mental harm. In his life he had killed people, he wasn't going to deny it. He was a murderer and a thief, a destroyer of things people loved. But this... it was entirely different. He wanted to believe that he had changed himself before coming to this city, vowing never to kill again and the whole clich'e. There was only one man that deserved his full wrath, but he would have time in the future to deal with that man. "Charles..." He said, his teeth gritting tight, his jaw muscles clenching together as he thought of the name. It was his only salvation, his only way to actually proceed with this mission. He had to fill himself with hate and loathing for his step-brother in order to join this party. Some people were just downright murderous. Some had no problem killing innocent people and wiping a town off the face of the map. Cain did have a problem with it, and the only way to kill someone was to put Charles Xavier's face on it. His eyes opened. Through the portholes of the helm he could see in front of him a few Brotherhood members; the reptilian raptor fellow was leaping at people, Buford was weilding a chainsaw so all he needed was a face of leather, and Tom was firing off strange concussive blasts. Out of the three, he focused on Tom, mostly because Tom seemed to want to end it as quickly as possible. He liked the man; Cain found him funny and he was easy to get along with. But business was business. To the people they were attacking, they were all the same. Bald, handsome faced men. A few wrinkles on their placid faces, a scornful look in their eyes... He hated those eyes...! Taking a deep breath, his nostrils flared, eyes buldging as his mentality became feral. In the trees that they had been hiding in, Cain moved forward crushing all the foliage in his path. Ahead of him was a building -- strong, able to endure the storms of the sea. Built like a fortress, these houses seemed oddly nostalgic of a warship in the ocean. Not even the gods of war could stop the Juggernaut. Pedalling forward, his heart lept in his chest, beating, drowning out the world. The beats came in unison of his heavily crafted boots, trembling the terra beneath him, leaving definitive imprints of where he had been and where he was going. The portholes of his helm closed him off to the world, designed to only give him tunnel vision, to only let him look forward. The Juggernaut wasn't good at turning anyways. His domed skull tipped forward, tilting his center of gravity. The wall came and then was no more. An explosively concussive sound battled the already outrageous noises as the Juggernaut crashed through the building and out the other side. Behind him, the building tilted, all of the supports of the side the Juggernaut passed through were entirely gone, leaving nothing but air between the roof and the ground. The Juggernaut kept moving, unstoppable, crashing through more and more buildings, barely able to see those eyes he hated as debris and the world exploded with everything he crashed through. If anything, the Juggernaut was only here to demolish the town. |
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| Gambit(Matt) | Sep 19 2008, 09:58 PM Post #6 |
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Kinetic Energy Manipulation, Empathic Charm
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He sat on the roof with his red-on-black eyes fixed on the small police station only a few blocks away; his stomach was in knots at the thought of what was to come. A three of clubs slipped from the Cajun's fingers and disappeared from sight into the darkness as it slid down the thin tar shingles that comprised its surface. The wayward card barely even registered to Gambit's mind. “Wipe them out.” “Hope you're jokin.” The silent, piercing gaze of the magnokinetic bore holes directly into him... burning him as Magneto seemed to almost dare him to object to his orders. He wasn't joking. The Cajun swallowed hard as he spotted an orange-yellow glow from the windows of the police headquarters of Wolf's Head – Saint had made his move and it was time for action. Remy slowly stood up and walked down the pitched thirty-five degree roof as he descended from house's zenith until he reached the lowest edge and leaped off, lightly landing on the ground. His shoes barely made more than a whisper as he broke the impact with bent knees, trained since birth at stealth. The house was one story, likely the three bed and two bath deal that most middle class families with young kids and a mediocre job in a factory or construction company had. He had landed near a door, its window taking up the top half of the barrier and giving him a limited view of the kitchen. Gambit wrapped his half-gloved fingers around the cool brass of the doorknob and gave it a firm twist, not surprised in the least that it wouldn't turn for him. He looked over his shoulder, the previously darkened sky now beginning to glow brightly over the tops of buildings from the fire in the center of the small town. The screaming of innocent humans reached his ears and it was all he could do to suppress a shudder; he'd wanted no part of this... not murder. He had no problem taking down Sentinels or trying to infiltrate military complexes holding mutants without good reason, but murdering an entire hamlet of men, women and children over some deal made between the leaders of the Brotherhood and this Hellfire club? No... no matter what side of this war he was on, Remy Lebeau would never take the lives of people without a damn good reason. Remy looked back down at the doorknob in his hand as it began to warm and radiate with kinetic energy. The only question remaining was... what qualified as a good reason to take lives? Stepping back a couple of paces, Remy squinted as the doorknob erupted in a small explosion, slamming the door against the wall as it swung violently on its hinges; the window shattered from the force of the explosion and shards of the glass rained heavily on the floor. It was guaranteed that those inside were awake now, if the screaming hadn't already – not to mention the sound of splintering wood, exploding brick, and thunderous footsteps of what he assumed was the big guy on the team. Rarely was the behemoth of a mutant ever quiet. Purposefully and without delay, Gambit strode into the kitchen, flipping on the lights as he passed the switch, and rounded the corner just in time to see a middle-aged balding man in a pair of jeans wielding a baseball bat; the look in his brown eyes was one of fear mixed with a burning rage to defend his loved-ones. Without hesitation, the man swung the cudgel at the Cajun, as he let out a desperate growl of rage that someone dare intrude in his house, but the attack was thwarted as Remy – due to his heightened reflexes – caught the end of the bat in his hand and held it in place as his red eyes met the other man's gaze with the same ferocity. With a speed that the stranger could barely register, Gambit hooked a foot behind the man's Achilles tendon and pulled back as he slammed a palm into the man's chest, sending him to the floor of the kitchen on his back. Placing a foot on his chest, the mutant placed his other hand on the bat and ripped it from the weaker man's grip, before placing the thick end firmly on the man's chest. He was about to say something when a feminine scream drew his gaze away from his opponent to find what he assumed to be his wife standing several feet away, her hands over her mouth in shock. Gambit ignored her, looking back down at the man beneath his foot, “Ain't gonna tell you this but once. Don't take nothin. Just get your family outta here now.” With that, he threw the bat aside and it hit the cold tile with several dull rings before rolling into a cabinet. The man merely stared at the intruder, a look of slight confusion on his face. “Go on... get outta here,” he said as he turned to leave. “I'll be back shortly, and if you're still here... I'll kill all of ya.” With that, he walked out the door and back into the growing chaos. As far as he was concerned, Gambit was carrying out Magneto's orders and clearing the town of its inhabitants; he just hoped everyone else on the team would see it that way. |
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| Camera | Sep 20 2008, 09:39 AM Post #7 |
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Unregistered
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‘Leave no survivors’. Those were the orders. No big deal. Camera didn’t have a problem killing, especially humans. But what she could never stand was the constant screaming, the pleading, and the whining. Easy fix. Once the police station went to flames the photographic mutant put headsets on her ears and turned on her Zune. Putting on a playlist and securing it, everyone moved to their positions. Saint, Razorback, Primal, and Black Tom moved to handle the crowds. The Juggernaut started to blast through the buildings and Gambit was off doing whatever he was tasked to do. A little ways away from the police station was a long row of houses, some men left to help with the fire, other men stayed behind. Cameras orders: take out the families inside the homes. With a task like that and orders of no survivors the photographic mutant knew what it meant. Packed with her was fives throwing daggers, a few mol tov cocktails, and newly acquired photographic memory of various fighting techniques. Okay so maybe it wasn’t as effective as Black Tom’s blasts, Primals' prehistoric fury, Juggernauts strength, or even Razorbacks’ chainsaw but for a power that’s not as offensive it was best for her to put it to good use with the arsenal she had. Camera approached the first house and kicked it in. The man of the house was first to show his face. The blonde threw one of the knives into his skull. Falling backwards she heard a woman scream through the music. Glaring a quick gaze to the mantle the mutant saw that the residents in that particular house were newlyweds. In a cheerful voice she said, “Come out come out where ever you are.” As she spoke the blonde put one side of the headsets to hear for panicked breathing of sobbing. Which she did hear, following it Camera found the woman hiding and dragged her out. The woman began pleading cries of mercy and that she was pregnant. The blonde gave and aggravated sigh, not in the mood to hearing the pleas and cries. The photographic mutant pulled out another knife and rapidly slit her throat. As the woman held her throat gurgling she fell over. Coldly Camera said, “I don’t care.” She turned her back to retrieve her first dagger she threw and wiped the extra blood on both daggers off on the couch. The woman stopped gurgling and when the blonde looked back to her she saw the woman’s eyes open and frozen with fear. The blonde stepped outside of the house and looked at the next one. Heading over to take care of the next family. |
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| Saint | Sep 21 2008, 04:47 PM Post #8 |
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Hypnosis / Psionic Bolts
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It was strange. Even though not the first time he had killed and not the first time he had done it close up, Saint was surprised that he didn't feel any remorse. Only a sense of graitification, like that first slice of a freshly made cake. That reminded Saint, he would have to buy some food on the way back, what with the sudden influx of big eaters, many who were helping him here, the fridge was running a little bare as of recent. His ponderings were stopped as a man, bleeding and burnt on the floor pawed at his leg, thinking he would help. Giving a glare at disgust that the animal on the floor would even dare to touch him, Kyle pulled his foot high out of the mans reach and slammed down hard. Repeatedly. Eventaully the hand stopped moving and Saint started walking, throwing blades at people he saw moving down the small alley that he was moving through. Black Tom was doing a great job and Saint would remember that he could be relied upon. Obviously some of the others he hadn't seen but from experience he knew that Camera and Primal, although he didn't personally agree with them as much as he should of as part of a team, would kill for the dream. It was what united them from the traitors and the animals in the world. Hearing the chainsaw in the background, Saint gave a little smile. Obviously someone had been watching too many late night horrors on the tv, but it did give the required affect. Fear spread panic and panic made the people like lambs to the slaughter. Ohh, maybe he would pick up some mutton to cook tonight! That would go down well, especially if he managed to get that old Nigella recipe out that he had in a notebook. Something with a red wine sauce. At least they wouldn't have to feed Jara after this, must be like a buffet for her. After a few moments, Saint saw Gambit leaving a house and decided to check out if he had done a good job. What he saw inside disappointed him deeply. A family, a wife and her husband and two small children. Remy apparently hadn't got the balls to do it. Still, everyone knew he used to be a sap lover with those X-Men and X-Factor, only a step above the animals. It was disgusting and it needed to be dealt with. Unsheating blades in his fingertips, Saint walked in. If you wanted a job done well, o it yourself. "Oi, Gambit, you left this behind" Kyle called out, a sadistic look on his face, his accent making seem more sinister. Lifting up his left hand, he held by the hair the man of the house that Gambit had just spared. The area where the neck should of been was covered in blood and the mouth and eyes were in a silent scream that would never end He threw it in the air so that the decapitated skull landed only a few metres away from the mutant. "Next time, finish the job we been given. We have orders to follow" Saint said as he dusted his hands and started to walk off back to the burning building to finish off the few wounded who hadn't been already, hoping that everyone else wasn't having too much trouble in the fun. |
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| Alix | Sep 23 2008, 04:51 AM Post #9 |
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Telepathy, Telekinesis / Empathy
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Ari Boyd might've been more than at home in art galleries and in the art world, but Alix was definitely not. Nervously, she'd fidgeted all night with the hem of the uncomfortable black dress despite any and all appearances. There were rare times that she ever abandoned her black coat and otherwise typical manners of dress and appearance- this evening, naturally, had been one of them. Instead of the messy mass of curls she'd pulled her hair back into a tight casual updo, effectively making her look older and at least a little professional. The polished black dress did much to refine the look, effectively evolving her appearance from an awkwardly dishelved teenager to something a bit more suiting for a fancy art gallery. Add in a bit of makeup and she actually managed to pass of for a twenty something- a surprising change from the poignantly young appearance she tended to have. Despite the fact that she was both an obvious mutant and looking for something he didn't have, the gallery owner had been more than hospitable in every right. Instead of meeting her telepathic voice with scorn and discourse, he'd mentioned his own daughter who was, apparently, a mutant as well. He shared stories about her in middle school and what sort of tribulations the supportive family was going through. Eventually, with no notice made by customer or owner, the trip that had been intended to last minutes turned into hours, each sharing various tidbits of conversation that Alix generally wasn't the best at. From mentioning Ari who's forte was if anything mutant based artistic skills to the older male's expressed interest in starting a mutant art gallery, the fact that the painting hadn't been there wasn't so bad after all. He apologized of course, and when she made mention that the Centino paintings were done by an old friend he promised to look for them on buying expeditions and keep in contact. Naturally, she gave information about xaviers along with the address to X-factor, should he ever need anything. With the conversation at a pleasantly ending tone and the time of night certainly becoming concerning. They'd both been heading to the door and completely ready to leave when the power suddenly and unexplainably went out. It wasn't winter- there were no blizzards to cut the power to the entire town. The gallery owner quickly began to explain that sometimes things like that just happen when suddenly, something much more than a mere power outage hit her mind broadside. The dying pleas of a mother, the final questioning thoughts by a police officer who shot himself in the head. ::You have to get back inside. Now.:: Suddenly Alix's pleasant, agreeable telepathic voice changed into something urgent- afraid. The older man could do nothing but listen to such fear and the two were hastily back into the doors of the gallery just a moment to soon. The final fearful ring of the doorbell was drown out by the screams of pain and death from Black Tom's weapon. Almost immediately she reeled, mind and every other possible sense hardly able to cope with such monstrosities in a single dose, much less an amounting surge of carnage and destruction. It took only seconds for her to fall to the floor and loose whatever lady-like grace she'd managed to concoct for herself. What had been a smooth and pleasant outing had been diminished into something terrible- something below human. It took every effort of will to not loose control right there in a miserable ball of pain and fear, all swelled up in one single urge to vomit. Her mind quickly organized itself to send out a distress call to whatever mutant- x-factor or xmen- happened to be closest. Wolf's Head.. brotherhood.. they're murdering them all- that was it. She'd still not managed to pick herself off the ground when the gallery owner looked to her suddenly, fearful and enraged at such an attack on his town. ::You have to go into your office. Hide.. These people- these creatures.. they will not hesitate. Do not move or think- just stay.. I'll do what I can to protect you.. but don't leave:: Any other moment he might've argued. Who was she, a girl barely under 20, to tell him what to do? But the fear in her voice- her strained reaction to whatever was outside was enough to make clear how serious she was. The screams and panicked footsteps outside helped back up the point and he nodded. ::Give me your key. I'll.. I'll lock the door behind me.:: She slowly, painfully and shakily stood, black and white eyes suddenly filled with something that, if the man had known her, would've driven home any points that this wasn't trifle. She was afraid. Really, truly completely afraid. ::This isn't us. We're not like this. These men.. please remember.. they're not mutants. They mock us.:: Never in all of her life would she equate herself to these barbarians. He brought the key forwards, hands shaking and she took it without a smile. ::Stay safe.:: She added before wrapping the shawl she'd used for warmth over her head to hide her own distinctive hair color. With a final glance to the locked office door she turned for the exit and took a breath, silently attempting to calm herself before exiting the darkened gallery. She didn't look back again before facing into the mass of helpless innocents that were being picked off one by one by the barbaric notions of creatures who thought themselves superior. Superior? How could this ever be considered superior? It superiority as Hitler and Stalin and every other genocidal megalomaniac had imagined it. Cows for the slaughter, lesser of two evils. What has to be done. The excuses, the rhetoric- all of it reverberated ferociously through her mind leaving her with nothing more than a clench of fear and a wave of hate. If this was what it meant to be a mutant- if being the same as them meant she was destined for this.. then she'd rather have died right here, right now. A world like this... she couldn't live in. She had no delusions on facing the bulk of the brotherhood and winning; nor did she think she could really save all of the people on this island.. The fear was too much, the pain and horror reflecting into her mind too much for her to be a real open threat to any of them. She could, however, give some direction.. possibly, maybe. Calm the crowd into a collective unit that was at least capable of fighting back. From behind a group of men, she silently moved closer. You can do this; you have to fight. You have to protect them. it wasn't her voice. She wasn't speaking, more.. she was thinking for them. Each man found themselves to be the source of new boldness and threat as they moved for the dark remains of the police station. Guns; there had to be guns. Silently, she moved her way from that group, and closer towards the nearest brotherhood member. Directly she'd never be a threat.. but as long as she could hide through these crowds and keep herself safe... maybe, maybe she could spread some of her own doubts and questions into the ranks of the brotherhood and encourage some dissension in their ranks. It was all she could do to maybe slow the massacre, and blindly move past her own amounting fear. [ok, that's set up. for xmen who answer- please understand that you are -not- set to win this fight. If you have issue with this, do not join. Also; new york and other locations are close to an hour or so way from wolf's head. Keep this into account. we really only need one other besides Storm, who is set to get involved.] |
[align=center]![]() STRIKE ME DOWN SHOULD HAVE HELD IT ALL ALONE WASH THE QUESTION OFF MY HANDS I'M THE FATE IN NO ONES PLAN[/align] | |
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| Black Tom | Sep 23 2008, 06:51 PM Post #10 |
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Tom advanced into the thinning crowd of villagers. He was firing into the mass of people with his shillelagh and the scrap of wood. He focused his powers into a narrow beam from either conduit. A thin blast with that force would easily penetrate flesh. Tom walked along the cold ground. Some of the people he had bowled over were still writhing at his feet. There was no need for them to suffer. A quick bolt of his energy through the chest or neck sped along their passing. To kill the townsfolk quickly was a necessity. The longer the mutants remained on their rampage on the small island the more likely it would become that the sentinels would arrive. That was something that no one wanted. Together this motley crew of mutants should be able to take on a sentinel. Hell, Juggernaut could probably take out the machine himself. A group of sentinels may not be as easy to subdue however. People had strayed from the main group once the killing had begun. The innocent villagers were running around, trying to find their family members or simply escape the murder around them. One woman was running away and Tom fired a blast from both hands. Her back arched as the blasts penetrated her and she cried out. The woman fell to the ground onto her face. Tom was fairly certain she didn’t need a second dose. He stepped… BOOM! One of the men from the town had gathered up his courage and his ammunition. He fired a shot from his rifle in the direction of Tom but luckily the shot had been wide. It was to be expected that the townspeople would eventually mount a defense of some sort. At least with someone firing at him, Tom didn’t feel like utter shit about killing someone. In the darkness however, Tom could make out other men gathering and coming forward. They had weapons in their hands as well. Many of the men who were still standing were advancing with weapons. Tom hurried around and crouched behind a police squad car for cover. He peeked over the hood and fired a blast at the man who had shot at him. A blast from the shillelagh twisted him around at the shoulder and a blast from the stick him in the kidney area. “The natives are getting restless,” Tom called out to his teammates in warning. Tom leaned on the hood again. He held his shillelagh between both hands. He focused all of his ability through the wooden shaft. When he released the blast it was fired as a sheet parallel to the ground. The blast sliced through the air and struck a man in the gut. The energy continued on through the man. The man gurgled for a moment and toppled over. His torso fell to the right as his legs fell to the left. Tom hid behind the car once more. He crawled to the other edge of the vehicle and peeked around. He was looking out to his teammates. They were all going around picking off the innocent, happy as you please. He saw a girl, a young woman with black hair, just at the edge of his field of vision. She was stalking around and creeping by. Tom didn’t know if she had a weapon or not. “Look out over there!” Tom called out. |
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| Jason Matthews | Sep 24 2008, 09:34 PM Post #11 |
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Unregistered
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From the moment the brotherhood set foot on the island and each member went their own way, Jason suddenly became acutely aware that this was to be the first time he'd been asked to kill somebody. While he had no obligations with the order, he did feel more than a little bit of self-doubt. What would happen if he managed to screw this up? If somebody escaped? Jason wasn't a sociopathic/homocidal psycho, unlike several of his teammates. Killing people wasn't exactly on his list of top ten pastimes. But Jason placed his absolute trust in Magneto and his plans. No matter the means, the end would have to be mutant equality or domination. There was no way Cutter would allow his people to continue living as they had. This rationalization gave Jason the ability to slide his knife into the crack between door and frame, pick the lock, and make his way to a bedroom. In the first one, he found a boy about his age. Quite handsome, actually. For the slightest of instants, Jason wanted to wake the boy and tell him to run. Run as far as he could, until he got to the water, then swim if he had to. Nobody would know what Jason had done if the kid didn't get caught... But that wouldn't be possible. The humans would need to find this place and feel the anguish that his people had, slaughtered at their hands. Cutter did his best to envsion himself as one of the sentinel pilots, and void himself of mercy and compassion. Jason felt and immediately buried a pang of regret as his switchblade found itself piercing the sleeping boy's eye, then his brain. Quick and hopefully painless. In a moment of childish naivety, Jason hoped that all his kills tonight would be as easy. Unfortunately, the light in the next room was on, and the young mutant could hear voices. Placing his hand on the doorknob, he remembered once again why he was doing this, and as he opened the door, looked at the probably married couple's first confused, then scared expressions. He first took down the man, who foolishly charged him, probably assuming it would be no more difficult than pinning down a child, then the woman before her scream could alert her neighbors. As he did so, Cutter reminded himself again and again. This is for the betterment of mutantkind. This was the mantra that would allow him to do as he was told. |
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| Toad | Sep 24 2008, 11:22 PM Post #12 |
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Unregistered
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"Pointless." If anyone else saw the randomosity of the crimes that were currently being done here, that would be what they would think...It is all pointless. The sounds of screams and helpless cries were being sung into the night. It was as if it were birds....singing...horrifically. Not for the faint of heart. Mortimer grinned as the sound only enhanced as the seconds grew into minutes. He now stood in a crouched position on one of the lower homes in Wolf's Head. A couple was making their way home. How sweet-ish. Toad hissed in the night and took a small step back. With a stomp of his right foot, he leaped from the roof tops and with a thud his form was now standing before the two. He turned his head and gave them a calm smile. Looking as if he were not meaning to harm them. They looked to him as if he were mad. Wondering...why did he just jump like that? Or What the hell? Within a moments thought, Toad opened his mouth, releasing his tongue at the man. Its tip quickly wrapped around the man's throat and lifted him into the air. The man began to gag uncontrollably, doing his best to grip the slippery substance that coated the tongue. His hands slipped and began to grow numb from the numbing slime that coated it. Toad chuckled to himself as he felt the man's breathing slowly fall to a halt. With that, Toad quickly used his tongue and sent the man into the nearest wall. With a loud thump and thud, the man now lay on the cool cement, lifeless...dead. "Now where is the hottie..?" He hissed in a purred tone as he turned his head to find her beginning to make a run for it. But where could she go? Toad took the chance and quickly used his feet and black flipped over to her, only to land right before her. The woman ran right into his arms and he held her there, only for a good moment or so. The woman began to cry out for help only to have a cold hand over her mouth stop her cries. Tsk tsk tsk. Sorry to say this but.....no one can help you...." Toad cooed to the woman's ear, his grin wide and silly as always. "We were told...leave no survivors." He informed her and with that he used the same tactics and wrapped his tongue around the woman's neck. But, being kind enough not to raise her from the ground, just to savor the moment. Her eyes wide in shock and panic, she began to try and pry her way from Toad's grasp. But she began to late. Her air was nearly gone. Scratch that... Gone. Her body fell to the ground with a solid thud and toad zipped his tongue back inside his mouth. "Yum! Heh Hah!" He laughed and hopped over to the next prey he'd be more than happy to kill off. |
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| Static | Sep 25 2008, 01:19 AM Post #13 |
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Unregistered
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((It's past my bed time, my eyes hurt and this is crap. BUT I don't know if I'll get the chance to post again within the next day or two. . . at least a decent one, so this will have to do. If you don't like it, blame the people that told me to join this thread. )) Anyone who has ever experienced the loss of someone special to them can understand the need to remain occupied, the desire for some time alone and the sudden self-awareness. Grief was an odd emotion for Callan. Immediately following her emotional visit to Boston, Cal had done a fairly good job of postponing her grieving. There had been a few times, just before she fell asleep, that she looked back on everything that had happened. She almost allowed herself to revisit the initial shock of her loss, the nauseating nervousness of her reunion with Mal and the strange realization that she had managed to hold onto the girl she had once been. Yet when she came dangerously close to opening the box of Pandora in the back of her mind, she immediately withdrew the key. Since then, she had spent a lot of time trying to remain busy. Not only did this keep her mind off of the death of her mother, but also the unexplainable mystery of the revolution that was being forced onto her by that event. She wasn't just regretting the time she wasted hating her mother (and she was now quite convinced that it was, in fact, a regrettable waste). She wasn't even bothering to consider what happened to people after they died. This wasn't just about the death of one person, and all of the things she never said. Callan wanted to, now more than ever, fix her own life. As Abraham Lincoln once said, "In the end, it's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years." She didn't want to look back on her life someday and realize that she'd made every mistake possible. That was becoming a frightening possibility despite her efforts to change. So for the past month Callan spent time studying harder than she ever had, training more than was probably wise, and putting herself to work. She had been in Mutant Town patrolling during the absence of X-Factor, and when she wasn't frying junkies, she had been in New York or other towns and cities near the school. Staying hidden in her room wasn't helpful at this point. At least roaming around and people-watching during her downtime helped occupy her more than a surplus of introspective time. In fact, this was the reason she found herself on her way to Wolf's Head. From what she had heard, the small town was at least moderately interesting. If nothing else, Cal was pretty sure that the people there would provide some inspiration for a cool painting or two. What she didn't expect was a flaming police station to catch her eye in the middle of the night. That wasn't the inspiration she was looking for, though it certainly tore her mind away from the thoughts that had been plaguing it for weeks. Not long after she caught sight of the burning building, a distant collection of cries cut through the silence. She couldn't quite figure out the intention behind the unexpected noises, but it wasn't long before a telepath confirmed her worst fear. "Wolf's Head.. brotherhood.. they're murdering them all," a voice sounded in her mind. Brotherhood? Here? Callan couldn't begin to understand why the Brotherhood would terrorize a place like this, but that wasn't her main concern. She knew better than to underestimate them. The mere mentioning of them in the same area as her was frightening enough. What were the chances that she would be stuck in a place like Wolf's Head during a Brotherhood attack? Apparently those chances were great enough. Without stopping to consider turning back, hiding, or waiting for help, Callan took off running toward the beacon of hatred that lit the otherwise dark sky. If Magneto's people really were murdering everyone, there was no time to waste. Why and how didn't matter. Someone had to help. Now was Callan's chance to prove that she was useful, that her returning to Xavier's wasn't solely based on her desire for acceptance. She really did believe in equality and justice. She didn't stick around the mansion just to play with the X-men. Now was the time for her to show just how committed she was to Xavier's dream. But when Callan turned the corner and saw the massacre that had taken place, the facts were like a knife to the gut. . . or a couple knives. War was hell. So she had been told, but now she understood why veterans were so traumatized. She now began to truly get what "the youth" was going through in The Red Badge of Courage. Cal knew she would have to fight. She knew people were dying, and that wasn't changing anytime soon. She didn't know a seemingly harmless trip to an island town was going to involve standing before the mutilated corpses of a bunch of innocent people that had gathered in front of a flaming police station. She stood stunned for a moment, her mouth hanging open and her wide eyes scanning the bloody scene before her. A soft yelp of sorts escaped her lips as tears began to form. She was petrified. But then she noticed the continuing slaughter on the outskirts of the collection of bodies. This wasn't over. Now was the time for her abilities and character to be measured. Callan just hoped that she wouldn't be found wanting now that it really counted. There was still a chance she could do something to stop this. . . right? Sparks began to erupt around her, their size increasing with every harsh crack as she pulled off her gloves. . . but this was no better than a trembling boy pointing his rifle into an army of men running at him with fury in their eyes. Would she be able to fire when she could see the whites of her enemies' eyes, or would she turn and run? |
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| Toad | Sep 25 2008, 10:59 PM Post #14 |
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Toad was so proud of his previous kills, his search for more prey grew into a feast. The sight of a decent group were rustling their way through the twisted areas of the island. It was kinda funny. Like mice to the slaughter. He took his time, leaping and flipping over roof tops. Trying to find the next, perfect prey. All of them would be yummy, but one began to stand out above the rest. She looked mildly calm. Like she was concentrating. It was rather, hypnotizing. While everyone rushed past her, she remand unphased. Toad grinned at her. She was beautiful. Her long black hair with her soft pale skin. It was fascinating. He nodded to himself. "I think I found my next mouse..." He cackled to himself in a snicker and leaped into the shadows. He watched her walking path. She remained straight and forward, not really maneuvering through any alleyways and such. Toad stood himself strongly in one of the darkened alleyways that the woman would soon pass by. At that moment, he'd snatch her up. Seeing as she was so calm made Toad believe he would have the upper advantage. He knew he did. He waited a good 30 seconds as the people were rushing and spazzing. Toad did his best to remain quiet, but what the hell? It was almost as hard as sleeping on a bed of nails. He wanted to kill them all, but he knew he had that one person. He'd wait for her. She was the most pretty of them all. Finally, her ram began to appear from the corner, soon connected to the body, the wind causing her hair to wave back into a dance. Her mind completely taken by her thoughts. Excellent! Within two of the Woman's steps of the alleyway, Toad did what he does best and whipped out his tongue at the woman and snagged her wrist and began to pull her in. Toad's laugh rang down the empty alleyway as he felt that he had made a wise catch. "Hellllooo Baby!!" He cooed in a near muffled tone as the woman began to notice she had been seized by Toad, the king of the Frogs. |
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| Alix | Sep 25 2008, 11:26 PM Post #15 |
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Telepathy, Telekinesis / Empathy
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When Tom called out, Alix ducked, quickly moving out of vision as best as she could manage without the full frame of her ability. Silently she slid through the crowds, one hand barely managing to stay buried in her hair at the edge of her temple. Her focus remained on two things pointedly- keeping those around her safe as she could manage despite the overwhelming hurt and fear that reverberated in her mind... and keeping out of sight. While the whole of the brotherhood didn't quite know her yet there were a few who'd had a run in or so with her more than meddling tendencies. Suddenly however, that focus on her moving through the crowd was pulled away when her wrist was caught by something... slimy. She struggled, barely putting up a physical fight as she was pulled in. Even still, she kept her head down, even though the fear of those around her made things.. a great deal more hard than they really should be. Eventually however the shawl she'd used to carefully disguise her strangely colored black and white hair slid free and she turned to face him- easily revealing herself as a mutant. For a moment she waited, black and white eyes darting uneasily from him to the ground before back on him. ::You're worse than any mutant hating human could ever be.. You.. the brotherhood.. You're disgusting.. not because of the way you look... but because of what you're doing-:: Her telepathic voice echoed into his mind- distracted, and oddly hurt sounding despite the fact that she looked completely unharmed. |
[align=center]![]() STRIKE ME DOWN SHOULD HAVE HELD IT ALL ALONE WASH THE QUESTION OFF MY HANDS I'M THE FATE IN NO ONES PLAN[/align] | |
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8:15 AM Jul 11