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| Don't Drop the Soap; Blackout, open | |
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| Topic Started: Jun 9 2009, 02:45 AM (1,172 Views) | |
| Sack | Jun 9 2009, 02:45 AM Post #1 |
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April 11th (Boys only, by the way) 7:00 pm Oh man, today was gonna be bitchin'. From what the news had told him over the following days after that small riot and stabbing of the bitchy white commy who went by the name of Zeitgeist, the world had fucked itself over in so many damn ways. Europed was boned. No more tea for them. The Japs were screwed. No more Sailor Moon to jack off to. The terrorist were doomed (because let's face it, Sack wasn't gonna call the Middle East by the individual nations or nationalities). They still have sand to get in their vaginas. And good ol' fuckin' America had her heart cut in half in the Midwest and not even the great state of New York City was unaffected. Finally those damn sewer dwellers knew how to throw a party! If Sack had his way, he'd be wearing a "I 3===D (_o(_ NY" shirt right now. But, shit, he wasn't going to be wearing anything soon, was he? Sack was more giddy than a depressed girl whose boyfriend just broke up with her was with a gallon of Ben and Jerrys. There wasn't any true rationale for his behavior or giddiness, there was only the simple reason that he was about to cause a ruckus. Sure, he'd have to wait in line for a bit longer, but soon it'll all be big tits lathered in soap and lube just waiting for him. God, that'd be awesome if it were true. No, the world would be the best fucking place ever if that were true, even if it was all "zomg we're all dying" and shit. As Sack rounded the bend, he heard the sound of water falling and chatter amongst the people within. He appeared, in one hand lifting a towel and bottle, and in the other the most dangerous weapon of all: a bar of soap. "WHO WANTS TO GET FUCKED IN THE ASS?!" he yelled cheerfully over the showerheads spewing water, his blue, short frame stepping into the showering area. There was a collective groan from almost everyone as he entered. No doubt they were totally waiting for him. Who fuckin' wouldn't? He's so badass. Most people ignored him, but as he began to walk by the rib-high shower stalls, Sack peered over the small curtains that were graciously put in place by the great Trask-master. "What's in the gallery today? Let's see, shall we?" he spoke to himself, peering over at the rounded, flabby, scaled, scarred, and bruised (tragic... ) ass cheeks. "Courtney..." "Sarah..." "A piece of Schmidt.. Oh.. Haha.." "Your name..." "Aaand... vacancy!" he said, dropping the boxers he was wearing to the floor, picking them up with his toes and slinging it over the curtain bar. Moving under it, he set up shop, not really bothering to fully pull the curtain all the way over in his little shower cubby. With a hip bone showing through an ass cheek, Sack pulled the knob and steaming water began to flow. A wide, creepy grin drew over his face as he looked towards the mutant to his right, who looked back at him with a stern expression. Sack's eyes drifted down a little, then back up. "Sup." |
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| Saint | Jun 10 2009, 01:02 PM Post #2 |
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Hypnosis / Psionic Bolts
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Kyle stood there under the spray of the water, its warm rush enveloping his body in a cascade of liquid, giving his sore muscles a brief respite. Running his hands through the stubble on his head that used to be his hair, his fingers rubbed the shower wash into his scalp and down his neck, stopping briefly over the small "X" tattoo on the top of his spine. Then he ducked his head back under the water and let the bubbles fall down to the shower floor, watching them swirl away. After the beating that he had been put through during the riot, his bruises had been slowly healing but the shower helped bring the dark shadows that patterend across his stomach to being a bit more in focus than he would of liked. Still, bruises healed as would his ego. It could of been worse, he could be of suffered what had happened to Zeitgeist. But Inmate #199 had been lucky enough to get away with just an mild attack. Others had come off worse, so he should of counted his blessings. Still, shower time for the young Acolyte wasn't the exact horror film that he had seen in the prison movies. So far, besides from a few glances from others, a few which he gave back, nothing had happened to him. Of course, everyone knew that there was people who had given up themselves to others for safety in here, sacrificing their dignity and respect to save themselves from far worse. Still, the shower curtains allowed the inmates a bit of privacy. Of course, privacy didn't seem to matter to Sack at all as the mutant who looked like a bizarre halloween decoration burst in shouting his mouth off. Kyle inwardly prayed that the obnoxious mutant did not come into the adjacent shower cubicle. But of course, luck was not on his side today as the Gene Nation member counted down the showers and grabbing the first free one that came across. Suprise, surprise which one it was. He glanced at the mutant, eyes meeting briefly, and Sack with that shit eating grin on his face. Oh great, was he going to try the same treatment that Cutter had gotten? But while the arrogant former Brotherhood member had probably deserved it by being a back-chatting little twat who Kyle had no idea how he had even managed to sneak into the terrorist group, he knew that Sack had a lot of power in Gene Nation and in the prison, pissing off any of the main groups was a bad idea. He knew that he had to keep out of anyones bad books but he didn't want to be anywhere near the blue mutants gaze, especially as it flickered over his toned body. "Not much mate" he replied quickly, avoiding the other mutants eyes as he ducked his head under the water again, the tiny streams of liquid splashing off his head. Hopefully if he wasn't interesting enough to the Gene Nation member, Sack would just go away. |
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| Blackout | Jun 10 2009, 10:53 PM Post #3 |
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Lucian’s jaw hurt. His ribs did, too. So did his clavicle and his hip and the wrist of his right arm. Earlier, yesterday, maybe, when they had siphoned into his cell to administer his daily dose of liquid sanity, he’d made a very clever comment that hadn’t really made any sense to anyone but himself, but one of the guards had been having a bad morning and started giving him the old inquisition. Lucian had decided to goad the bluebottle-eyed stick figure and let a few choice sentences, regarding said guard’s family in the world far below, slide off his tongue… like regurgitated chicken. No, no no, they hadn’t liked that. They hadn’t liked it one teeny tiny bit. ‘Course, no one had paid any attention to the commotion, to the wet cracks and the rabid snarls as they decorated him with putrid magentas and mottled aubergines, except he’d just laughed, laughed, laughed in their faces until they’d dropped him, disgusted, and left him staggering and shuddering and gasping for air, stomach clenching up. Everyone was highly strung since the world had gone to shit. You could drop a pin and the tightly packed populace would explode like an overripe appendix and eat themselves from the inside out. Today was… sober and insipid, in prison terms, and his aches and pains seemed comparatively dulled. Days like these reminded him of grizzly Sunday mornings, chewed up roaches, ten metre long queues and black trench coats, crunched up faces slapped in the middle of sunless cheeks, familiar pasty British pallor glooming out from underneath the slump of multicoloured golf umbrellas. And in here… two-dimensional gazes leered across shower stalls with the sightless stares of dead frogs, staring hard as nails at nothing. It was like a zoo in this place. Avoid eye contact with the animals. They might bite. Click. Click. Click. Snapping knuckles always sounded louder when drenched, the dull pop of torpedoes bursting underwater. Lucian, his head tipped back, as far back as it could possibly go, craning his scrawny rat neck, he watched the water blooming at him like translucent petals, like heavy autumn rainfall, barely lukewarm and stinging with the stale overtones of recycled eitch two oh… and added the percussion of his popping joints to the drilling of the unfriendly downpour. There was a mouse… a hairless mouse… called Kyle… singing clip clippety-clop on the stair. And Sack… showering behind him somewhere. He recognised that awkward British accent, and the overloaded tones of the walking clot of gelatine piping up like he had something to prove, as per usual. Nothing different about today then, in those regards. Unspoken shower room code said, don’t make conversation. Like in public restrooms, dick in hand, taking a slash-- don’t lean over and talk to the person to your left or to your right. Don’t take the adjacent urinal. Don’t look. Lucian liked breaking the rules. He liked the uncomfortable shift that slid underneath worried expressions, cut away and down and split with quick, uncertain glances that only came with the tension of being pushed across invisible lines. Don’t ask all of these pressing little questions; don’t step into personal space, don’t pick at scabs, don’t point, don’t laugh at the crippled and don’t push the elderly down flights of stairs. Eat your fucking greens. Oh, let’s not. Let’s shave against the grain. Still turned away, still staring at the rusted showerhead, he cut his voice over the scream of the water, saying, “You know what really gets to me these days?” before sliding around on his heel, propping a languid elbow on the drab, sterile white sheen of the tiles, greasy greying eyes slipping from Sack to Kyle, like the slick of old, gritty oil in a frying pan. “The surveillance state. CCTV. Satellite uplink. RFID… “Here’s the thing… there’s the rub…” he caught in the middle of the sentence, a twitch tugging his shoulder up and twigging at his face, and he chased it with an unsteady lick of his lips. Meds. It was the meds swirling through his synapses, making him all off kilter; he snickered faintly, humourlessly, and scratched at invisible spot on his temple, then jammed a crooked finger in Kyle’s direction, while levelly watching Sack. “The political state of North Korea is like a bag of unpopped corn and all it would take to make it go boom is a well aimed satellite shot of Kim Jong-il in his undies.” |
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| Sack | Jun 11 2009, 01:11 AM Post #4 |
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Sack's grin held. It had been a while since he had one of those rare, bare-naked conversations with another prisioner. Most of it the time such conversations were aimed at making other people uncomfortable, something Sack was exceptionally good at. His appearance, first of all, was his greatest weapon. Unlike many of the other inmates who had been forced into recessive stages of their mutation, Sack still possessed signs of his origins. Physical mutations seemed to be unaffected by the null-field, leaving many of the inmates looking like their usual pretty selves. Most of those with physical mutations belonged to his gang, it turned out. Sack was no different. His body remained transparent and still together, thanks to the fancy and dandy brace he was given by the CAGE. For some reason, the operators of the prison system had believed his body would fall apart when he entered. Since it hadn't yet, he wasn't going to remove it any time soon. It kept things good for him. People avoided him because he was strange, and he didn't have to jack off like everyone else. He had no visible genitals and he wasn't about to go digging around to stimulate himself. Not in the shower, anyways... "True, true," he said with a nod to the responding, naked male. Sack studied the side of the man's face for a moment. He had seen the guy in the yard a few times, but he never knew if the man was part of any of the gangs. But, given that the hairless-ass guy was near one of the douchebags from the Sayans, he only figured that he was one of them. That's how things where here. If you're seen with someone, you're with them. There were few people who could dodge the gang rivalry and not be caught in the middle. Those people were still alive. How lucky for them. "Man, do you have a razor or something? You got like, no hair for someone to grab onto 'cept the top of your head. I mean, you know, a razor is a good thing here. Last time someone had a razor a few people died, a few people I didn't like." Of course, that meant Gene Nation didn't like them either. He grinned, pearly whites showing in a sadistic smile. "Someone found a sharp tool a bit ago and got the Sayan in the kidney, I heard." Moving under the shower, he let the water hit his body. If he had the power, he would have taken it all in and assimilated it with his protoplasmic essence. Living for almost two years in constant dehydration as a precaution for hi spower was difficult, but one got used to it. The amount of dehydration he got was kept under watch, so even if he drank some of the shower water, he'd be in trouble. So he opened his mouth and let the water fall on his tongue like a child, speaking with it sticking out. "Ya know, guy, Ah dun' t'ink we've evah been talk'd, have we, guy? Wuddya in foh?" Just as he had begun the interrogation of the guy next door, one of the batshit inmates began talking to himself in Sack and Kyle's general direction. Sack grinned, tucking his tongue away and listening to the guy. He really didn't make any sense. The guy hardly said anything that related to anything. Luc was a tweak, one of the members of LD50 (what a lame gang name too, seriously). All the psychos joined it. How they managed to even have a gang when they were all batshit insane didn't make any fucking sense. They probably had a crazy-scale they put themselves on to measure who was the top nut. They had suicidals, the abusers, the loons, the tweaks, and even a cannibal. "Aw, is KJ still wearing undies? Would've thought that grandma was wearing big girl panties by now," he sneered. "Any more acronyms for us? T.I.T.S. would be cool.. Ever seen a pair of tits?" Okay, on the crazy scale, Sack was maybe a 4. Luc would have been a 8. He could've been a nine or a ten, but Sack was damn sure the guy was a retard. "Hold on, let me talk slower for ya. Heeeeeey. Hiiiiii. Have you ever seen tittiieeeessss? You know? Boobs. Booooooobs." He emphasized the female organ, squeezing the air in front of him. "Boooobieeeesss." "Anyways, now that tweaks-magee is done, what're ya in for?" He turned back to Kyle. Yeah, it probably wasn't a good idea to turn your back on a psychopath, but, shit, he's fuckin' Sack. Lucian was at least smart enough to know a gang war would happen if he attacked him. |
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| Saint | Jun 11 2009, 09:03 PM Post #5 |
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Hypnosis / Psionic Bolts
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The hot water splattered down onto his body as Saint stood in the shower, looking over to hear what the blue mutant had to say. The British Acolyte did not care to be in the same room as the mutant, and standing within a few feet of the gelatinous Gene Nation member just made his skin crawl. However, Kyle hadn't made it this far through prison without being able to fake emotions to stay on peoples better sides. However, there was always things that you could not avoid doing and having shower time in CAGE was one of them. So, you had to take the bad with, well the bad. The words that came from the mutants mouth made Saints mind jog back to the stabbing. Well, it would make sense that the hit had been carried out by a rival gang but as he had just kept his head down, Saint didn't exactly go fact chasing. He didn't know Zeitgeist or even knew his real name, and other than he was a friend of Piotr, had no real connection to him. Still, it was obvious that Gene Nation would be the most likely to attack the Sayans. LD50 didn't really seem to have the same rivalry that the other two inter-prison factions. "Nah, I don't have a razor. Just never had that much hair anyways and I'm guessing being in here ain't helping it" he said, not actually sure why he was being quizzed about his body hair. It was an odd subject to bring up but from what he had heard, Sack wasn't exactly all there anyway. The next few words he couldn't make out under the splashing but then the conversation got an unwelcome intruder as the ramblings of Lucian broke in like a rabid dog walking in through a families home. Unwelcome and most certainly unwanted. "Well, thats interesting....." Despite this, the mutant continued talking, insane ramblings as his eyes glanced over both of their bodies. It was that same glance that sent shivers down Saint's spine. And not the fun kind of shivers, the ones that made him feel the urge to go scrub his skin clean. Even when he was under the heated spray that washed the sweat off his skin, he still felt unclean underneath the other Brit's gaze. Saint did not understand his ramblings about Asian military leaders. However, Sacks mockery of him also drew a grin to Kyle's face. Almost though wasn't a smile, as he knew better to let his guard down amongst pyschopaths. Lucian may seem harmless, but his eyes told a different story. Looks like Sack felt a lot safer in his presence than Kyle however as he turned to repeat what he probably said under the shower a minute before. As for Sacks question though, his answer needed an instant reply. The truth was not something he wished to disclose right now. Telling everyone that he was Magneto's lieutanent would certainly get him some allies but it would get him a lot of enemies. So something else that was close to the truth but not a complete lie. So he decided to go with something closer to the actual facts. "Well, I got arrested back home in the UK. Joined a supremecy group and we got sold out to the police. Before I knew it, Im drugged up on sedatives and in a prison cell. Yeah, thats the long story short" Kyle said, trying to keep an eye on both of the mutants in the showers. Already he wasn't stupid enough to turn his back to them. You had to keep an eye out in CAGE, cause you never turn your back on someone, cause they might just shove a knife in you. Or seeing that they were in the showers, something else |
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| Blackout | Jun 19 2009, 10:48 PM Post #6 |
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Lucian’s lids hooded as Sack twittered on senselessly and gestured at his chest, gesticulating wildly and forming sign-language breasts around transparent pectorals that undulated and jiggled with each frantic motion. Mm. Yes. Quite. Crane said nothing while Sack flapped around like a moron, sliding his tongue along the corner of his mouth and gathering a few rapidly cooling droplets of water on its tip, and then sucked hard on his teeth. “Ohh, you can pronounce the simplified vernacular for breasts,” he purred, blithely fingering the wedge of soap in his hands. “How clever. You deserve a gold star. Or… and I’d be concerned here; that’s quite some speech impediment you have. That vowel elongation really needs seeing to. I suggest diction lessons. Maybe it’s a brain tumour. I’d get it checked out if I were you. Could start t-t-t-ticking.” Kyle, Lucian noted, paying attention to him once again, looked nervous. How adorable. Luc heard the mouse talk, he saw the word bubbles pop from the younger Briton’s mouth like the soap froth that lathered around their feet in a carbonated swill, watched him animate the sentences and cross the t’s and dot the i’s with practiced flourishes. There seemed to be a dot-to-dot puzzle here… a body language word search that got smashed together all nice and tight and cosy, and it still didn’t add up. Kyle, somehow, intrigued him, and not just because he was a pretty piece of flesh just waiting to be unwrapped… when one prides oneself on psychological superiority and manipulation, picking up on tiny, invisible signals becomes second nature, and the tweaks and the twitches and the infinitesimal slide of eyes one direction or another all whispered secrets in his ear. Delicious little secrets, like a box full of chocolates. Kyle was lying. Pure and simple. And while that in of itself was not really surprising, considering where they were, Lucian couldn’t help but want to pry between the mortar and pull a few of those bricks out until the walls started to crumble and revealed whatever was hidden behind. His head tilted, drifting a few degrees, stormcloud eyes narrowing to slits where they fixed on Kyle, bone-thin lips cracking into one of his slimy trademark simpers. And he smiled. Just smiled, and bit on the crest of his pout like it was a small morsel of candy, and then grinned and released it and simply said, “You.” You, you, you… are a pretty little liar. And I want to pull apart all that lovely grey matter synapse by synapse. |
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| Colossus | Jun 21 2009, 01:00 AM Post #7 |
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Piotr Rasputin made his way into the shower room after having shed his clothes and placed them in one of the dirty laundry receptacles. He crinkled his nose at the site of the half-full bin and made a mental note of the irony of the situation... he would be seeing those same garments in a little less than two hours while on laundry detail. He didn't relish the thought; if he had his way, he would be back in his cell reading one of the books delivered to him from the library, or simply dreaming about the day he would be free. No matter how much time passed, he never gave up hope that one day a window of opportunity would present itself for him to escape the confines of this place, just as it had when he was imprisoned in Hydra's bunker. Grabbing a rag, a towel, and a bar of soap, the large mutant quietly rounded the corner and walked into the steam-filled shower room as if he were carrying the weight of the entire world on his shoulders – pretty much the way he walked anywhere he went. He payed little attention to the glances he received... some nervous and furtive while others carefully analyzed from peripheral vision, looking for any opportunity to win a 'friend' like the large, broad-chested young Russian man with a chiseled jaw. Others merely gave him an 'I don't give a fuck who you are' look. None of it mattered to Colossus – he only wanted to mind his own business and get out the first chance he got. Glances didn't matter to Piotr, but words did. Information could be just as valuable in a place like this as cigarettes... sometimes even more; Mikhail had singlehandedly saved the lives of Sayans thanks to fleeting bits of conversation overheard. It was the only reason Rasputin wasted any brainpower at all on what his fellow prisoners were saying. Most of the prisoners were relatively quiet... their mouths clenched just as shut as their assholes. However there was one voice echoing off the slick shower walls; he recognized it as Kyle's. Catching the tail end of what the young man was saying, Piotr guessed he was recounting the tale of how he ended up in this hell for whoever had expressed interest. Kyle was one of the few Colossus didn't mind so much. However, just as he reached an empty stall and hung his towel over the curtain rod, he heard a single chilling word floating through the fog... a very distinct voice. His hand froze on the shower curtain, his eyes narrowed in dislike; a few moments passed before he realized that he had accidentally let that cold gaze fall upon the prisoner in the stall across from his own, who was just finishing up his shower. Clearly uncomfortable, the stranger quickly wrapped his towel around his slight build, giving the Russian a few nervous glances before quickly trotting out of view. Yanking the curtain shut, Piotr threw on the water, barely wincing at the blast of cold that hit him before warmth crept in the shower. And as he lathered up his rag with white suds, he listened. |
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| Sack | Jun 21 2009, 02:20 AM Post #8 |
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Sack's yellow and violet eyes shot right back at Lucian as the nutjob began to whisper clever little strings of wit into a matt of bullshit. He stared at the guy, who was all wet and slippery like a bitch lubed up to suck a giant fake dick. He grinned, keeping such images to himself, but somehow that just seemed to prove that Lucian was right about a brain tumour. Maybe he should get it checked out... Oh well, Lucian would never know, so cancer really wasn't somethign he was gonna talk about. "Bitchin'! Maybe you can give me some lessons on grammatical theory of clockwork and linguistshits!" Sack cackled; he was totally badass, you know? Makin' up these kickass insults and everything. Lucian didn't mean shit besides trying to sound like a creep. That's how he got to people. He scared them. He scared them with things they didn't understand. Prison psychology was something Sack had great experience with. The only thing that he couldn't calculate accurately was a member of LD50. So no matter what he thought about Lucian, he always knew there was a lingering threat, a lingering factor that the stability of the drugged out mutie was gonna snap. He could do it right here, right now, right after Sack finished laughing. Moving in the shower to lean against one of the surrounding tile walls, Sack's white smile faced Saint, but the corner of an eye remained open to watch the batshit one. "Shit," he grinned, eyelids widening some. "Bet that was something. Fuckin' Brits think they can rule over America, now they're tryin' to put the race down. Pussies and bigots. I bet you'd get into Gene Nation just fine. I'm sure you've heard plenty about us from your Sayan homies, but they always fuck things up. They don't get the heart of the Nation." He'll just play along with Saint's decoy story. People talk shit. That's part of prison life. Sack never trusted anything anyone said unless they were part of the Nation. And speaking of Sayans, one of the big boys just walked in with his cute little towel around him. Sack eyed him momentarily and resumed his friendly, non-confrontational demeanor that he had going on with the Sayan-style monkey. "So, what did -- do -- you do?" he asked curiously. Part of knowing the enemy was knowing what they did. In here, they were just humans, although the nullfield didn't account for physical appearances for some reason. On the outside, a place they would likely never see again, they were more. They weren't just slave monkeys like they were here. Even then, the information of their mutation was insane and simply something to talk about. "Like me, I mean, look at me. I'm a fuckin' sack of bones covered with two year old Jell-O with a bad dye job. But that's just here." He lifted a hand, presenting it to Saint. In the light of the shower, is bones were clearly visible. He got a sort of wild-eyed look on his face. He was talking about who he was -- what he was. He was a criminal. A murderer. A serial killer. "On the outside, I couldn't be killed. I've been shot in the head, electrocuted, beaten, slashed; tons of things. Bitches couldn't do shit. Hell, I could'a jump off this dog cage and be bitchin' after my ankles, knees, and everything snapped." Looking towards Lucian (and glancing towards the larger Sayan), he repeated himself, trying to get Lucian to talk some sense for the fuck of it.. "What the fuck did you do, Lucian, to get your baby-smooth ass in here? Go fishin' for eyeballs? Twisted a little girl's nipples so hard they came off and then ate them? Jesus, guy, that's horrible." |
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| Saint | Jun 24 2009, 10:10 PM Post #9 |
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As he had looked into the eyes of the LD50 member, Kyle skin felt as if hundreds of tiny icicles were falling down his back, slipping into his stomach and converging into a deep pool which the chilly temperature prickled and spread under his skin till it started to close in to grasp his beating heart in its cold embrace. Or put simply, the one word was enough to terrify Saint. Lucian's eyes, the ones that hinted at what lay beneath his eccentric behavior to the potential menace below, stared back. Barely hearing what Sack was saying as the Acolyte dipped his head back under the water, letting the warm water wash over his body and head, the water washing freely over his very short hair, courtesy of the CAGE "barbers". It felt cleansing, even if under the water he could still feel the gaze upon him. Out of the side of his view, he saw the large stature of the Russian mutant and knew that he was there. Feeling a little more assured of his safety, Saint still kept his guard up but felt safer than he had done, with the psychopath of Lucian and the wide-boy arrogance of Sack. Still, it could of been worse. he could of been alone in the showers with Lucian. Kyle had the idea that Lucian had been some kind of deranged serial killer on the outside and everyone knew that they always struck when people were alone, like a gazelle separated from the pack always gets eaten first by the predators. When the next question was asked, it was a bit more of a oddity than the others but still what must of been on peoples minds. Their abilities, ones which evolution itself had gifted them with and what had been unfairly stolen away by the oppressive guards, dogs a regime that was afraid of the future and only responded with threats and violence. Which was why the mutants needed their "powers" to help shape the future. Still, it was one which Kyle was a lot more comfortable with using. "I could make blades, like energy ones, from my hands. Nothing that flashy, but useful. Surprising how much they came good for me when everything else started going to hell" he answered, a bit more enthusiasm than the last answer. Kyle didn't see the point of talking about how many worthless human dogs he had attacked, nor how he once cut an angel down with them. Likewise with the hypnotism. Facts like that didn't need to be told to everyone. However, Sack seemed suddenly enthralled by his own descriptions, almost marveling at his own body. Yet once again, Sack turned his attentions onto Lucian and it seemed that Saint might find out the answer to his theory faster than he had thought. |
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| Blackout | Jun 25 2009, 11:22 PM Post #10 |
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Lucian’s eyes craned across the top of his sockets as Kyle and Sack discussed themselves in a nice narcissistic bundle of self-deprecation and delicate word selection, and he spied the big Russian slide into a nearby shower stall, but he pretended not to notice any of it, like he was far too wrapped up in the bite of water smashing against his freckle-dashed skin, or maybe something only he could see crawling across the ceiling. And then Sack turned his curiosity onto the technopath. Mm, interest, how quaint, maybe he would sprout whiskers and burn his cotton socks. Sucking a short gasp of air in between his teeth, Lucian began, “Ah… me, me, me… this and that… little things, here and there… poked my finger in the wrong hole, nearly got it bitten off,” and he clicked his teeth shut to emphasise his point, grinning into the bite. “Caused a few problems the thin blue line didn’t think too much of. Well, they never put me up on charges for the things that would really get their little toes curling up in their boots or their knickers in a twist, no, no… although… I guess trails lead wherever they follow… but really… they might’ve known about the psychological bombs I dropped, the girls I’d fucked… up… the boys I’d ruined… but they obviously didn’t care enough to try and lock me up until I crashed the national grid. Total blackout. You know what happens during total blackout? People panic. They forget they’re human beings trapped in a civilised society; they get all scared, like a bunch of wild rabbits; they think it’s the end of the world. They can’t reach anyone. They can’t function outside of their precious common sense and order.” Sack’s face loomed transparent against the slick of liquid sloshing against his glutinous skin, and Lucian’s feline smile spread wider as he focused his surprisingly lucid rant onto the humanoid bag of gelatine. “People like you and me, we feed off anarchy; we breathe it. All this societal conditioning and so-called sanity, it constricts us. Binds us. There’s a certain sense of freedom in chaos that you can’t find in anything else, and this world has trained itself to stop thinking, because when the people in it are given the opportunity to think for themselves, when everything that they’ve built up around them collapses, they descend into little more than the animals they’ve tried to rise above of.” Kyle, prettily quivering in his corner and pretending so hard not to, made a nice soft shape against the harsher background of steam-damp tiling. “Oh, you… you… might be thinking, he’s insane, insane, he’s a fucking nutcase, and they’ve dosed me up so far past the eyeballs that maybe I’m beginning to believe it too, but… my lovely hairless little mouse, I heard them singing in the pitch black depths of an artificial night which I brought crashing down upon their heads, and from where I was standing it sounded like screaming, and in that moment I was the sanest person left alive.” |
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| Colossus | Jul 2 2009, 11:10 PM Post #11 |
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“Both of you are disgusting,” the Russian muttered from his stall, a hand covered with a lathered rag running up and down a large, well-muscled arm. He gave the Lucian and Sack a withering glance, hating them for their part in dashing his faith in humans and mutantkind. Perhaps they were all depraved animals… pushing each other to unimaginable breaking points. After all… wasn’t he guilty of killing – no… murdering – scores of men? Not just men – fathers and sons and husbands and lovers. Not all of them had hated him. Many were just doing their jobs or were brainwashed into beleiving whatever their superiors told them to believe. It was all too common in his area of the world. Still… these people sounded like they enjoyed it… almost as if their calling was to cause as much misery and destruction as they could. No matter how dirty Piotr’s hands got, he would never understand what drove some men to be so evil. Why couldn’t they be happy with finding someone special to love and raising a family? Didn’t they know that the paths they were on not only ruined good people, but always ended in lonliness, misery, and often death? “Because of my crimes, I must endure your company whether I like it or not. I am willing to accept that, but I will not stand by in silence while you,” he cast a glance toward Sack, “take pleasure in the pain of others.” He looked toward Lucian, “Or say nothing while you claim to preach a message to justify your actions. You are simply an evil man who should not be allowed to be among productive members of the community.” He turned his gaze back to his washing, not caring to pay them any more attention, “I am glad you are here, and I hope you stay a very long time. The world is a better place without you.” |
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| Sack | Jul 4 2009, 04:34 AM Post #12 |
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Sack hadn't revealed much information about himself, other than he was still the same gooey blue freak that he was here in the CAGE. Except on the outside, he could recover from nigh any blue that wasn't going to incinterate his bones. Oh, and also the totally fuckin' awesome ability he's never told anyone except Gene Nation members he has. Yeah, these naked dudes here in the shower will never know the might of his big, slippery sack all over them. "Blades? That's it? Hehn," Sack mused as water spilled over his transparent, naked body. "I guess that's good enough. Energy blades. What are you, a ninja?" Sack sneered at Saint, then turned an ear to listen to Lucian's rant. "So... Your power is fucking people with your finger? Bet that comes useful when you get bent over a bed, don't it?" Sack cut in as Lucian continued to talk. The guy talked some sense. Sack was the type that lived off the insane and the batshit, made a living (albeit a short one) off causing people to panic and break the limits of their normality. But, of course, Sack wasn't gonna take the messege too keenly. Leaning over the edge of his shower toward's Saint side, he lifted a chin, motioning to Lucian. "Fancy way of sayin' he takes it up the ass." "Both of you are disgusting" Sack heard from the white ass Sayan. Sack looked at him, grinning. Oh, he was disgusting, was he? "I'm disgusting? You're the abomination. Look at your petite white ass. You think you're better than me just because you're okay with God? Fuck you and your peachfuzz pubes. I'm a goddamn productive member of society, white boy," Sack grinned, water falling over his face, even going over his yellow eyes without a blink. "You're on the wrong side. What are you, some sape lover? I think everybody here is gonna disagree with you, mole rat. I don't think you know where you are -- everybody here has reason to be like we are. It's fuckin' pussies like you who just lick the cock of humans when Darwin's all for us. You're damn right I take pleasure in the pain of others. I woulda' thought you'd like that, Commie. I shared my pleasure." |
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| Saint | Jul 7 2009, 11:02 PM Post #13 |
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Whilst Lucian rambled, Kyle realized that the words he said had some validity to them rather than making it sound like a completely different conversation that the LD50 member was having. Kyle even remembered that big blackout from home, having to spend the night sitting around Match's flame for light rather than using the light bulbs. That was a while ago, but it had been major news at the time. Dozens had died in the night, from electrical mishaps to crashes on the road. But what he had said was chillingly true. People could get away any amount of crimes but the minute you did something that was costing the government money and they couldn't cover it up or use for positive propaganda, then you were a bigger target than those mass-murderers and rapists on the streets. Yes, he made sense and he was right but there was the simple fact. When you were as deranged as Kyle believed Lucian to be though, well then you deserved to be locked up. However, the ninja statement from Sack was a new one. While Kyle could see how the remark could be made about him, it was still quite random. Well, Sack himself was quite random as well, commentating in Lucian as if he wasn't standing within earshot of them. He said that he couldn't be killed, but Kyle was sure that wasn't for lack of trying from probably everyone. When Lucian turned his mad eyes around to look at Saint however, the mutant knew that his card was marked. Saint knew that when he was freed from the prison, there would be someone who he wouldn't want to take to a better place for mutants. However, when Piotr spoke up, Kyle wanted to agree with him. Unlike Sack, Kyle believed that all mutants should be equal, unlike the more physically mutated against the ones who were lucky (or unlucky) to resemble their human counterparts. So while he shared some of Gene Nations sentiments, he also knew that he disagreed with them. But he piped down his agreements, only letting a small grin cross his face as the larger Russian slammed vocally into them. If he needed to get everyone onside, then Kyle couldn't pick a side in the fight as openly as the situation might of needed. So instead, he took the cowards way out. "I'm done. Laters" spoke the British mutant as he grabbed his towel from the top of the stall and spoke his brief farewell as the few droplets from his shower fell harmlessly to the floor, splashing as they landed. Wrapping the towel around himself, Saint left the shower, leaving the three faction members to shower, alone in their differences. |
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| Blackout | Jul 19 2009, 01:23 PM Post #14 |
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Disgusting. That was a nice word. A nice word often spat by the religious and self-righteous; it rolled off the tongue, and Lucian quite liked it. It made delicious oxymora, like disgustingly beautiful. Unfortunately Colossus made it sound limpid and soggy, which the unbalanced Brit mused was the general state of the showers right now. Lucian ran his fingers along the spongy cushion of his palm, tracing the jagged lines that crisscrossed its surface. As Sack concluded his colourful rant, the technopath picked up where he left off, as though an invisible thread connected their sentences. He didn’t agree with everything the Gene Nation clown said… Darwinian superiority meant nothing to him; Lucian may have been a lot of things, but discriminate was not one of them, but sparring with the European brute was far more interesting than getting into a cute little debate on the matters of mutant politics. Maybe that would come later. Maybe they’d squabble until the sun came up and the cows went home and the showers ran dry. Maybe maybe. “Someone out there, sitting behind an expensive desk, wearing expensive shoes, eating expensive food, lining up all his pens and papers in perfect little lines, because he thinks that disorder in the workplace is the sign of a disordered mind, well he happens to think you’re as disgusting and vile as the rest of us, and a hell of a lot of people agree with him, and that’s why he has that economically-unfriendly mahogany desk and those inordinately priced Berluti shoes; that’s why they keep him there, because important people think his opinion matters.” Kyle’s departure was watched with faint amusement, but Lucian didn’t pause or linger on a syllable like he often did, didn’t let a manipulative sentence drip out in between his teeth. He kept his gaze on the Russian, and continued without rest. “In that case, whose opinion is more correct, more PC? Are you right about everything, Piotr? Are you right about this, Mr Rasputin? And if so, why aren’t you the one sat behind that desk telling people who bend over backwards to lick the shit off your shoes what to do? Why are you the one locked up with the rest of us disgusting simian manifestations? “Are you right when majority rules state otherwise? Really? And if you really think so, then the minority moves a step up, and in here we’re all the minority, and once again, that makes you just the same as him,” he crooked a finger towards Sack, and then bent it back at his chest, “and me. Either way, we’re all wearing the same clothes.” Lucian tipped his head back and let the water drench him. “And we’re wolves, and sheep, and the planet’s a zoo, a farmyard, and they’re all getting fat on slop.” He dropped his head so that it levelled off at a crooked tilt, and sneered at the Russian. “All animals are equal, but some are more equal than others.” |
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| Colossus | Jul 20 2009, 11:08 PM Post #15 |
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Steely eyes watched as Kyle left; he was probably the smart one, keeping out of everyone else’s way in an attempt to make his stay easier or keep out of the spotlight until Magneto came. Normally Piotr would have done the same thing, but he was growing tired of listening to all the trash these men talked at each other. Why couldn’t they be decent? Why did there have to be so much hatred, which in turned stirred up even more? It was this attitude of superiority and twisted philosophy that caused the problems they all faced in this day and age. Piotr was not a philosopher; he had not studied the ancient academics, nor had he been in any class or debate club. He just didn’t have the right frame of mind to formulate arguments to counter those thrown against him. The Russian was far from slow… he was just quiet. ‘A man has two ears and one tongue for a reason,’ his mother had always stated. Colossus had taken that to heart. So instead of having a witty reply or sound argument formed and ready to go at the end of Lucian’s little speech, Colossus merely turned toward the two and stepped out of the water. He approached Sack, towering over the Gene Nationer with a glare fixed on the man that communicated the anger and frustration Piotr felt. “I do not suck any man’s dick, žópa. You accuse me of doing such a thing again, and I will separate your head from your body. I do not care for Darwin either. I only wish all men to live in peace with each other and that no harm would come to those I love. That is no bad thing to want.” He continued to glare at the supremacist, muscles and veins bulging slightly under wet skin. “And you,” he said as he flickered his gaze over to the technopath, “You think too much. I do not care about men in business suits or pens. I do not see them and do not know what they do, but I know what you have said and done, and those things do nothing to make the world a better place. We are much more than animals… we are intelligent beings who have a responsibility to take care of the place we live. The earth has been good to us and we must be good in kind. You do not see your actions as bad, and that makes you a bad man and I will stop you if I ever catch you doing such things outside this prison. That goes for any businessman or street thug… human,” he glanced back at Sack, “Or mutant.” He slowly spun around and walked back under his shower head, the water plastering his hair back to his scalp. He should have probably left instead of returning to finish washing, but Piotr was not afraid of these men, their words, or of being punished for fighting if it came to that. He was already in hell… it couldn’t get worse. |
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7:21 PM Jul 11