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| Awesome Possum; -Tommy | |
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| Topic Started: Apr 18 2012, 06:17 PM (957 Views) | |
| Tommy | May 9 2012, 03:19 AM Post #31 |
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Two-Dimensional Form/ Camouflaging
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She’d been able to track down Roadkill with some uncanny luck, but the multi-hued girl wasn’t prepared for this. Not for this. Tommy had never gotten along effortlessly with authority figures, especially those of the World Above, but her interactions with them had never been so blatantly violent. These men harbored a festering corruption in their souls, a desire for blood born of greed. When her eyes came upon them in the shadowed alleyway as they slammed Roadkill against a dumpster, her heart leapt into her throat. Instinctual fear filled its place as she choked on the anxious muscle, and her body obeyed that instinct. It receded into itself, so much so that even light was unable to reach her skin. It wrapped and warped around her figure until she was nearly invisible to the naked eye. The urge to run slammed itself upon her thoughts, pulling at her fears as she eyed the handgun clenched in the officer’s hand. Still, Sloan was in peril and for all her cowardice, Tommy wasn’t about to abandon him. She crept up to the man brandishing the pistol with cold indifference, her body trembling and limbs tingling with trepidation. Her footsteps were silent, inaudible to anyone but Roadkill with his acute senses. The officer laid another assault on Sloan as Tommy’s fingers moved to the gun. “You owe us. And today is payday." “What the--?! Taylor!” The unarmed cop yelled out to his fellow officer as he caught sight of a warp in the air. Tommy’s ability didn’t work as well in open space; nothing to blend into. Still, it was all the jump she needed as the man’s grip on his weapon loosened for a split second, astonishment overtaking him as her body seemingly appeared from nothing. The young Morlock knocked the gun from his hand with a hammering elbow to his fingers. There was an audible cracking sound and then a clatter as the gun traveled across the hard-topped floor. “Aaauugh!” “Oh, I’m so sorry! Sorry!” she yelled, her elbow throbbing with pain. The other officer fumbled for his firearm, disbelief dulling his reflexes. |
[align=center]"I was just a young girl. Drain angels, they called us."![]() Cerebro File - Thread Journal[/align] | |
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| Gambit(Matt) | Jun 18 2012, 12:06 AM Post #32 |
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Kinetic Energy Manipulation, Empathic Charm
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“You said this was it. All I needed to do was get you this and we'd be square.” The dirty, ratty little man eyed Gambit from beneath hooded lids, irises seeming to reflect more light back into the dimness that surrounded the pair than was really present. A pair of red eyes glowed back with just as much impossible light, accompanied by a smile that was reassuring with a hint of mockery. “Don't worry, mon ami. I said what I said, and I never lie.” The shorter man stared at him... doubt rolled off him in waves, yet after several moments' hesitation, he finally handed over a package. Black gloved hands reached out and slid it from his friend's grasp; it quickly disappeared into the folds of his long brown coat. “Pleasure doin' business with you, Slouch. How 'bout you do yourself a favor and get another line of work, no? You gotta be one of the worst criminals I've ever had the pleasure of workin with.” “Fuck you too,” Slouch said with more than a bit of offense in his voice. Remy Lebeau gave the man a slight tap on the cheek with the back of a hand... almost as if it had been a light slap... and then turned to walk through the narrow corridors of the alley. With amusement, he couldn't help but observe that so many of his deals seemed to be done in dark alleys or equally lit bars. How long before the locals wised up and started actually patrolling dark lit passages in an attempt to scrape up bottom feeders like Slouch. Of course Gambit himself wouldn't get pinched... no sir. Speaking of bottom feeders... there were some on both sides of the law, and Remy would have bet anything that the two who had dragged some poor unsuspecting criminal trying to make a decent living out of sight to extort some easy side money. Cops weren't exactly in Forbes magazine, after all. “Don't ever apologize for hitting one of these, cherie,” Gambit said around the cigarette hanging from his lips as he leaned against the wall just behind the cop who was fumbling for his gun. “Looking for dis?” Remy said as he raised his hand to show a police-issued firearm dangling off a bare forefinger. “Now what's this poor fella done to you fine gents? Seems a bit unfair... the two of you gangin up on him like that and forcin de lovely young lady to come to his rescue, no?” |
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| Roadkill | Jun 18 2012, 01:37 PM Post #33 |
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Enhanced Garbage Rooting
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Roadkill still wasn’t happy with how they’d managed to sneak up on him. Blind or not, it was infamously difficult to sneak up on the Morlock. Every breath, every footfall, even a person’s own body heat usually gave them away long before they managed to get too close. But when he heard those ratcheting clicks he knew that a bullet had been loaded into the chamber, and with his own special kind of ‘somar’ he could tell that there was no way he was going to be able to dodge if it was fired. Letting his muscles relax, he’d just put his hands up, turning with a sly grin and was promptly pulled into a back alley before he had the chance to say one word. It didn’t look good. He’d been trying to persuade them that he could get the money, even get it to them in a couple of days. Never mind the fact that he’d earned it square, it was better to get them off of his back than to wind up as another of New York’s less glamorous statistics. As the beatings ensued, he sensed a couple of unseen faces in the alley with him. One seemed to take up no space at all and when he heard the contact and the yelp of pain, followed by the gun hitting the ground and a string of colorful curses, he spread a bloody smile. “Thanks TomTom.” The other cop responded by training his firearm at her face. But there was another unknown that was headed their way down the alley. It wasn’t until he heard him speak that he realized who he was dealing with. The slow and easy drawl, the lazy yet deliberate way the words seemed to tumble out of his mouth. It was music to his ears. But Remy LeBeau? Well on second thought maybe it wasn’t all that surprising. With a good-natured laugh that hurt his bruised ribs, Nick leaned over and spit some red onto the pavement. “You make it sound like I’m a damsel,” he commented-and was thanked with a backhand to the side of his head that sent his hat flying off of his head. “Why don’tcha just hand that gun back over nice and easy?” Another gun was swiveled away from Tommy and aimed at Remy, but Nick could tell it didn’t seem to bother him none. “Look, all this for a game?” He could sense the muscles tensing next to him and thought he might be in for another smack but it never came. “Tell you what-we got enough here for a rematch. How ‘bout double or nothin’ on mine. I win, you leave me alone. You win, I pay you double what you think I owe. Everyone wins.” One of them reached out and grabbed Tommy. “We win, we get to read this one her rights,” he said pulling her in close. Nick tried not to let the repulsiveness upset him too much, and just ignored the comment. “Now, if only we know where to get some cards…” He purposely turned toward Remy. |
![]() -Thank you Tommy (not the speedster) | |
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| Tommy | Jun 19 2012, 12:26 AM Post #34 |
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Two-Dimensional Form/ Camouflaging
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“Don't ever apologize for hitting one of these, cherie.” For a moment, in her harried stupor, Tommy thought it was Sloan’s treacle drawl oozing from the unseen portion of the alleyway. It took a few seconds for her senses to readjust before she realized that an unknown factor had appeared from the blackness, clad in a trench coat and swathed in charm. There was another deluge of confusion as Sloan’s appreciative words remained unheard by the young girl, her senses shutting out all else but her view down the barrel of the officer’s handgun. Her instinct was to recede… to disappear, but she could only shut her eyes and clench her jaw in fear. Tommy waited for the click of metal, the sound of flame and gunpowder, but the only thing that came was the painful sensation of a vice grip upon her arm, followed by the feeling of chilling steel pressed hard against her chest. The multi-hued girl struggled against her captor, pushing against his rigid arm with clawing hands. She didn’t quite hear what the cop said to Sloan as he pulled her body even closer, despite the fact that his words were practically spat into her ear. His tongue grazed Tommy’s ear and she cringed, her body going limp for a moment before she picked herself back up. Her eyes darted to Roadkill and the crimson-eyed man, wide as saucers and looking like glazed pink glass. |
[align=center]"I was just a young girl. Drain angels, they called us."![]() Cerebro File - Thread Journal[/align] | |
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| Gambit(Matt) | Jun 20 2012, 11:30 PM Post #35 |
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Kinetic Energy Manipulation, Empathic Charm
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An eyebrow quirked as Remy looked down at the gun that swiveled his way, already thinking of how pleasant it would be to spit his cigarette in the man's face with just enough charge to cause second degree burns. Would it blind the man? Hopefully. However, the gun pointed at the girl took a bit of the wind out of Remy's sails... would Sloan be quick enough on his feet to react before the girl got lead poisoning? Before he could make up his mind, however, the fellow Cajun beat him to it, suggesting a rematch. This time, Gambit raised an eyebrow at him... had he really been stupid enough to con cops on his home turf? Had the guy really shit where he slept? Gambit shook his head and extended his arm in a gesture of peace; the gun's owner snatched it back, muttering a curse. “So dat's how it is, eh? Cards. Think I might have a deck layin' around.” Remy started to slide his hand into his pocket when one of the two cops – the one not holding onto the girl – flinched. He was obviously concerned that the Cajun was about to make a move for a weapon. “Don't worry, mon ami... I ain't gonna embarrass ya in front of de little lady. Not in a fight, anyway. Cards?” Remy shook his head as if the outcome was inevitable, “Now cards is another matter.” Pulling a deck out of his pocket, he opened the box with a single hand and overturned it, allowing the cards to slip in to the other hand. Pocketing the box, he began shuffling the fresh deck with a single hand, cards spinning from the front and disappearing back into the middle of the deck with apparent ease as Remy gave his fellow a meaningful look. “What game you playin, anyway?” |
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| Roadkill | Jun 21 2012, 02:16 PM Post #36 |
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Enhanced Garbage Rooting
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Even a blind Morlock could feel the disbelief coming from Remy in what was overall a more than slightly awkward pause in the conversation. He knew exactly how this looked-and from the cops’ warped sense of perspective that was how they perceived it as well. And as he thought back on it, if he’d known they were off duty cops he’d never have sat down at the table with them in the first place. He’d had a couple of drinks that night, and was feeling particularly invulnerable. Sitting in on the game had been a whim. And with all of the hell that had followed, he wished he actually had conned them. But no, this was a simple case of Roadkill’s reputation getting the better of him. The cops had done some sort of investigating after their embarrassment and what they found out about him had led them to draw certain inconvenient conclusions. Be that as it was, they were now in a tight spot and it was starting to look like their options were quickly thinning. Fighting the cops was always an option; though dodging a point blank range bullet was something he didn’t think any of them was capable of. When the gun was aimed at Tommy, Roadkill did the only thing he could think to do. At the very least it would buy them some time. Because gamblers never could resist a bet. And it seemed to be working fine. Remy pulled out a deck of cards and as their attention was focused on his nimble fingers deftly shuffling through the cards, Roadkill took hold of a large empty wooden spool that probably had held some sort of wire and rolled it over. It slowed to a stop at the cops feet and one of them kicked it on its side, making a decent sized surface that they could gather around. One of them kept a gun trained on Tommy’s temple, pulling her over as he looked at the two southern gents joining the makeshift tabletop. Roadkill was already there, rolling up his sleeves as a gesture of good faith and looking for an opening that might be useful. “One hand take all?” He tipped his head inquisitively as the cop holding Tommy let his hands wander a little over her body. His tail twitched. Somehow he knew how this was going to end, even though the cards were just starting to fall. Picking up his cards he felt along the surface of them, his extremely sensitized skin running over the edges of printed ink to get a read on what he was holding. To his left and right were the cops, and Remy was straight across. He trusted Remy to follow through if things went south. Putting his gun down for a second, the cop grabbed his cards, holding Tommy in his lap like a prize. |
![]() -Thank you Tommy (not the speedster) | |
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| Tommy | Jun 23 2012, 01:55 AM Post #37 |
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Two-Dimensional Form/ Camouflaging
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His hands were sweaty... Moist and dirty fingers crawled upon her skin like worms attempting to steal her innocence as fuel for their lecherous hunger. She kept an arm pressed tightly against her chest and another one in-between her thighs. Still, the officer continued to grope at her quivering form. It wasn’t necessarily the shaking of someone engulfed by self-interested fear, but rather, it was due to concern for the safety of both her and her comrade. It was not the first time Tommy had been held at gunpoint, nor was this the only time she had been unwillingly fondled by revolting characters. As tragic a statistic though it may’ve been, she was a young woman living in New York, and a mutant at that. She was not unfamiliar with depravity. The multi-hued girl had been raised among the supposed “wretches” of mutant society, only to find that such a title for the Morlocks was erroneous in its bestowal. True ugliness, veritable repugnance, lived within the soul and not atop your skin. Tommy was too bright a young woman to allow the sickness of others to taint her outlook in the long run. When the cards were dealt, she looked to Roadkill and smiled, though her cheeks were stained with moisture and salt. “It’d be n-nice… if you could win for me, please,” she uttered with a melancholy giggle in tow. |
[align=center]"I was just a young girl. Drain angels, they called us."![]() Cerebro File - Thread Journal[/align] | |
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| Betsy Braddock | Jun 25 2012, 12:20 PM Post #38 |
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Telepathy (I'm not a bloody ninja)
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For anyone who is interested, the Pottermore house cup is being awarded on July 5th, then the second book content will probably come after that. I am still interested in Pottermore, but I just hope they don't do the whole series in real time, as that'll take seven years...and I am not THAT interested. |
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| Jet Black | Jun 25 2012, 01:11 PM Post #39 |
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Unregistered
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Hear hear. -crosses fingers- |
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| Gambit(Matt) | Jun 30 2012, 05:32 AM Post #40 |
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Kinetic Energy Manipulation, Empathic Charm
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Eyes dropped to the spool settled at the feet of the cops, and then bounced from Tommy to the cops to Roadkill as they all began to settle around the makeshift table. Roadkill had offered a suggestion – one hand... simple enough, but dangerous for what the Cajun had in mind. Slapping the deck of cards down on the table, Remy cleared them so that the cops wouldn't become suspicious... cards handled too much tended to attract such emotions. “One hand it is. Draw. Five cards.” He glanced at the cops and managed a teasing smirk, “No wild.” “No wild?” The cop said confirmed questioningly, an uncertainty in his voice. That single question with the displeased tone told Remy all he needed to know about the cop not posing as the girl's jailer. He was a greedy son of a bitch looking for a quick buck for whatever vices he indulged after hours. He was one of those leisurely pond fishers... not one of those that followed the trade as Remy did. It was amazing how much pride these posers could take in knowing rudimentary poker. Gambit played on that. “S'matter? Ain't got the pair between your legs for a pure game?” It was the only way to ensure a win for them. “Shut up an' deal,” the guard said after a moment's hesitation. He'd taken the bait. “Good luck,” Remy said with a smile as he reached over and shook the man's hand. He then reached over and grabbed Roadkill by the hand, “May the best man win.” And the ace he'd palmed disappeared as he released his fellow Cajun's hand. Dealing the cards. He picked up his own... a pair of fours, a seven of hearts, a joker of diamonds, and a two of spades. A crap hand. After a moment, the cop on his left holding onto Tommy laid down two cards. Remy deftly slid two fresh ones over to him. The man wasn't a player... the look on his face made that clear. And it was Roadkill's turn. |
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| Roadkill | Jul 2 2012, 04:14 PM Post #41 |
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Enhanced Garbage Rooting
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“Don’t worry,” he said over his shoulder to Tommy with a charming smile that he hoped disguised his own worry. He knew he could get her out of this, but he could also tell that the cop that was holding her was getting a little too friendly. Somehow he wondered if there was going to be a way out of this that wasn’t real messy. With nimble fingers Remy shuffled the cards, laying out the simplistic terms of the game to the cops. It was going to be a straight forward game of skill, removing the wild cards took away a little bit of the element of chance and somehow made the whole thing a whole lot more cut-and-dry. Of course Roadkill knew that Remy was as slick as they came. Though his outer appearance stayed somber, he smiled inwardly-more thankful than ever that the Cajun mutant had happened by when he did. “Best man?” He laughed a little and shook Remy’s hand, pulling back the hidden card and slipping it in with the rest of his cards with ease. As he rubbed his fingers over the edges of his cards he could feel one of the guards eyeballing him with scrutiny. “What the hell is this,” he said grabbing Roadkill by the hand and causing his cards to flip up and flutter down all over the table. He twisted the wrist back until Roadkill ground his teeth in pain. “You think I ain’t never seen swindlers before?” Glancing down at the up-ended cards he saw two aces, three kings and a five of clubs. “Six cards,” he said and tightened his grip on Roadkill’s wrist. “Must have been…stuck…together,” Roadkill said through gritted teeth. His tail slithered around the neck of a beer bottle on the ground behind him, getting a solid grip as the cop mercilessly bore down on his wrist. Knowing there was likely no other way at this point he whipped the tail forward and smashed the bottle against the head of the cop who was holding his wrist. The glass made a shattering thunk, leaving a blotch of red on the cop’s forehead and allowing Roadkill to get free long enough to whip his tail around bring the broken shards up to the neck of the cop who was holding Tommy. “What do you say we let the lady go,” he said as he rubbed at his tenderized wrist. |
![]() -Thank you Tommy (not the speedster) | |
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| Tommy | Jul 6 2012, 11:25 AM Post #42 |
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Two-Dimensional Form/ Camouflaging
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The cracking, shattered symphony of glass against bone caused Tommy to start, slinking out of the officer’s grip as his eyes darted between his injured partner and the crystalline shiv pointed at his jugular. “Hey! C-Calm down, Sloan. Let’s not do anything you’ll regret now, eh? You don’t want any more fuck ups on that shit stain of a record,” he said with a gulp in tow, hands raised in surrender. The pastel-skinned girl scowled at the man before relieving him of his firearm. She held it out before her as though it were some grubby rag, the handle pinched between her thumb and forefinger. Tommy inched toward the other policeman still clutching his bloodied head in anguish and swiftly took his pistol as well. She loathed such brutal devices. They slew more people than they protected, if such a cruel machine could even be considered anything other than sheer offense. When people said they had a gun for protection, what they truly meant was that they had the means to instill fear with a deathly threat tucked neatly into a holster. “Uh… I’ll just, um, get rid of these,” she mumbled. She strode to the nearby storm drain and summarily tossed the guns down into the chilly black. However, as she turned back to the group, the pastel pixie let out a choked yelp. The previously downed officer had picked himself up, crimson droplets trickling from his forehead as he moved to grab his baton. “I don’t need any bullets to beat the shit out of you freaks. I didn’t train for a year just to be fucked in the ass by a blind man and his sissy sidekicks,” he spat. With his cudgel firmly in hand, he lunged at Gambit with red-faced ferocity. |
[align=center]"I was just a young girl. Drain angels, they called us."![]() Cerebro File - Thread Journal[/align] | |
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7:31 PM Jul 11