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Welcome back home, Gene-Hazard; TAG: Martha
Topic Started: May 6 2014, 02:50 PM (244 Views)
Survivor
Unregistered


Date: May 3rd
Time: Late at night, 10:00-ish
Location: A small park in the town
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Aaaaahh, home sweet home. Well, not quite, but this town and the school not far away were the only places Will had memories of normality.

Will was walking through a park. It was a normal, run-of-the-mill, small town park, but it carried memories. He remembered taking walks around here. Over by that bench was where he tried to write his name in spray paint before a teacher had stopped him. Underneath that lamp post was where he defended his best friend’s honor before a bully snapped his finger. He had his first kiss behind that tree. He had studied by that fountain. It was nice to be back here, even in the black of night. He would’ve come earlier, but he preferred to come in the small hours when only the homeless and stray teenagers were about. He preferred the dark humor of the time period.

He heard laughing from not too far away. Will turned to find a young mutant couple: a shaggy, hairy boy and a yellow, horny (literally) girl. He smiled after taking a long drag of his cigarette. Spring was nearly finished and summer was on the way, but tonight was a bit chilly. He wore a black, rugged leather jacket, skinny but ripped jeans, a ragged “The Clash” T-shirt, and his trusty DM boots. He watched as the couple walked down the opposite sidewalk. He also watched as a group of suspicious looking individuals began approaching them from behind.

Will counted three at first, which was then corrected to ten as more approached out of the dark. Most were dressed in all black. There were maybe three girls and seven guys, most of whom had shaved their heads. If they were going for the Neo-Nazi look, they definitely did it justice. The couple noticed them and began walking faster, to which the front-man of the group replied, “Where you going, Gene-Hazards?” Will began walking faster. The couple started running. The leader shouted, “Get ‘em!” and the attackers gave chase. And so did Will.

Two, three, four attackers grabbed the couple quickly. Will couldn’t make out anything specific but he heard the girl scream. Will caught up to a skinhead boy, and body-tackled him to the ground. There was a short struggle, but Will eventually knocked him out with a strong punch to the head. When he looked up, the Anti-Mutants were all looking at him. Their grip on the couple was loosened and the young mutants ran. The attackers didn’t chase, they just stood and glared in total hatred. Will got to his feet, finding himself about twenty feet from the nearest attacker, in the middle of the sidewalk. “You a Mutie too then?” Will didn’t answer. He showed a large bruise on his arm from the fight he was just in to his enemies. He didn’t have a healing factor, but it was clear the wound was healing far quicker than it should. Several of them drew knives, Will took off his jacket and held it by the collar. Two Anti’s began running straight for him. They picked a fight with the WRONG guy.
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Martha Johansson
Unregistered

Sometimes there were bad days. Twenty-four hours of irritation or Murphy's Law or total ineptness with no apparent reason, and occasionally it consisted of a horrendous cocktail of all three, prompting notions like "Who did I hurt?" or "What did I do wrong?" Sometimes it almost seemed as if universal forces conspired to sink one's soul into the deepest depression possible, eventually providing a ray of sunshine only to call in an army of storm clouds. The darkness hurt but searching for that potential light hurt more; all one could do was wait and wait and wait some more. And sometimes it was found while other times it was best to wait for the following morning.

But sometimes people were too goddamn crazy.

An earlier Danger Room session prompted Martha to utilize her telepathic possession in a moment of immense stress stemming from a rather aggressive hologram and its decision to designate an increasingly frustrated telepath as a target. Holograms carried no cerebral components and therefore were not privy to a variety of psionic abilities. Also lacking an ability to cause bodily harm they weren't entirely awful except when the objective was to avoid capture, a goal Martha admittedly excelled in only when actual brains were involved. So when it ran at her she acted accordingly, projecting her consciousness somewhere into the empty space and inhabiting the mind of another mutant, one who entertained a few rather controversial opinions concerning the opposite sex.

That had been in the afternoon and still "Birthday Song," courtesy of 2 Chainz, mentally played on loop. Post-possession detoxing took time, she understood that, but this could potentially last days, especially since her mind could process whatever she'd carried over. With the Skrull it involved an immediate assimilation--whatever she encountered most definitely was not comprehended. So after realizing she'd been staring at a female student far too long Martha chose rehabilitation through fresh air, even if it was late and the cold accompanied the fresh air. It was quite simple: dress accordingly. A sweater, a coat, and jeans would do, along with a pair of gloves, a moderately flattering scarf, and one of several pairs of faux fur trim boots she owned. A small part of Martha wanted to dress as female as she could to mitigate the male persuasion but going out in a dress at 10 pm seemed like an adventure reserved for the club scene.

It hadn't been long, maybe almost twenty or twenty-five minutes, but a distant commotion dragged Martha's attention away from nonchalantly humming, hazel eyes settling upon a group of darkened figures all engaged in some activity of sorts. Further focus provided unsettling information; it was a violent activity, specifically what seemed to be a brawl. Her steps momentarily slowed as dialogue became apparent, though there was a disconnect and so Martha neared the curb, a boot tentatively hovering over the road. The park was too far away for any proper discerning. Burying a slight hesitation she connected to the individuals, immediately bolting toward the park when "Mutie" returned. The response was impulsive. She couldn't let another mutant suffer because of ignorant fools.

A new discovery came upon reaching the scene--someone had already engaged the group of idiots, a third party she assumed to also be mutant. It was entirely possible another human chose to defend mutantkind but more plausibility lay in the genetically enhanced. She silently approached them, measuring approximately fifteen feet so as to dispatch several attackers if necessary. But her eyes were accustomed to the dark enough to notice someone at the forefront raising their arm, obviously for a punch. Once again, impulse took control and she ran forward, cutting fifteen feet to nearly ten feet and projecting a wave of telepathic disruption at everyone involved
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Survivor
Unregistered

*swoosh* SMACK!

Will's reaction to the first guy was near-instantaneous, as soon as the attacker got close enough. His jacket flewright in front of the guys face. He used the blind spot to sucker punch the guy. The redhead's fist thrusted the jacket forward, making contact with the man's face. Once he felt gravity launching the attacker away, he opened his palm to catch his jacket and thrust it in the direction of his second attacker, who was fast approaching.

This one (a girl this time) did well to slow down before attacking, leading with a switchblade. Will whipped his jacket, which the girl dodged and answered with carefully aimed knife jab. The redhead brought his jacket back around, allowing it to catch the blade. After some struggle, Will managed to wrench the knife out of his attacker's hand and to the ground with his now-holey jacket.

He exchanged blows with her for a couple seconds. The pair ended in a knot of limbs, which will took as an oppurtunity to twist his leg a little; an action that in this position dislocated her knee with a satisfying crack.

As she collapsed screaming, her companion that Will had felled earlier rose up and launched a knife underhand at his face. Will caught the attacker's wrist, an action that took quite a bit of effort. He heard the running footsteps of a third attacker approaching. This fight wasn't going as well as he had hoped. And then it happened.

At first, his current preoccupation stepped back some feet and collapsed, followed by the sound of the running one collapsing on pavement. And then Will forgot how to stand for two seconds. It was minor, but out of knowhere he began feeling extremely dizzy. His head pounded a little, and he briefly tasted acid in his mouth, followed by a brief burp. He realized the others were experiencing this too. This wasn't normal. It was mutant.

He looked around and found a girl. A...young woman. She was standing not far away and looked too engaged to not be guilty of something. "Hey!" He called out. Why'd she do that to you? She couldn't be working with the other guys. "What was that for?!"

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Martha Johansson
Unregistered

The disruption required little concentration. Almost an instinctual response, such a psychic interference was akin to breathing for those capable of it, and admittedly, Martha didn't think twice before trapping her intended targets. Unfortunately, launching forward meant the entire group became involved, including who she assumed was the good Samaritan, although other scenarios formed, one which labeled them as a mutant far too trigger happy for the good of anybody. If that was the case and the person in question wasn't too hostile, perhaps she could persuade them to join the Institute. It'd be her first recruit and possibly prove to the older X-Men that she was, in fact, of their kind. And if this turned out to be a mistake, then everyone who wasn't a brunette and dressed rather fashionably with killer boots earned a long nap.

Someone spoke up -- Martha wasn't terribly surprised, though she'd clearly not projected anything strong. Alright, if they turned on her it wouldn't be so horrible. A quick psycho-chaff would do the trick, especially since that previous disturbance allowed for a higher susceptibility to further telepathic tampering. Martha's gloved hands balled into fists. The light was almost green.

"What was that for?!"

She snorted, not caring to stifle an obviously inappropriate laugh, instead meeting the displeased and partially clouded faces with a smirk. It was a bit derisive, but such a question deserved mockery. "It's more fun when we're all tipsy," she called back, unfurling both hands and placing them on her hips, cocking her head a bit. She followed with a slightly infuriated, "You're welcome, by the way." The attackers, however, weren't too keen on the conversation continuing, and so they split into two subgroups, one charging at the other individual -- who was now recognized as a male -- and the other coming for Martha. She moved back several steps before darting through an open space between a pair of women, believing herself to have escaped until a hand grasped the telepath's arm firmly, pulling her back in. A man arrived, brandishing a small blade, but his attack was countered with a psychic scream; the distance between the groups was significant, meaning a controlled counterattack wouldn't another angry outburst from the man she'd saved.

She smiled inwardly as all stumbled back and a few even collapsed, obviously weakened by the previous assault. Wasting no time, she hurried towards the others, resorting to physical defense when another woman swung at her. She ducked immediately and offered a kick to her hamstring, mildly proud of her combative capabilities. The Danger Room was paying off. However, it soon ended when a larger, intimidating man took her place and Martha didn't move fast enough, her jaw catching the last of his punch. Vision blurred by tears and the sensation of trickling blood becoming all too real, Martha felt an anger boil inside, preparing a cerebral bolt designed to leave him incapable of anything. But the pain and confusion caused it to separate and therefore reduce its potency, instead manifesting as three blasts and stunning him and two others. She scrambled to her feet, wiping at the red and wincing when pain surged. "You ready for some teamwork?"

Martha spun around, glaring at the recuperated group she thought she'd left incapacitated. "If this gets to you, it's nothing personal."

And with that, Martha loosed another psychic disturbance, this one much more powerful and resembling the terrifying roar of a monster.
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Survivor
Unregistered

It was a little bit rude to interrupt a guy while he's pummeling other guys in the ground. Especially racist guys. One would get concerned about where your allegiances lie. But Will was positive this chick was not with them. Whatever happened to him happened to them. She was fighting them as much as he was. Will gave a concerned expression at the girl's sudden laugh.

"It's more fun when they're all tipsy," The girl was good looking, but Will tried to push those thoughts out of his head. If she could make him dizzy, chances are she could get in his head, "Your Welcome, by the way,"

"Yeah," Will began saying, smiling, "Thanks for-" a sound that resembled "pleugh" escaped Will's lips as a fist impacted with his cheekbone. He landed face first on the pavement, badly scratching the left side of his face. Ow. Turns out one of the guys was still good to fight. Turns out a couple of them were. Alright then.

Will got up as fast as he could, and was met by his attacker and another. All three of them were still dizzy from the previous mind-bending, but they gave each other a run for their money. After a scramble of fists, the men ended up on the floor. After a great deal of clawing and slapping, they were interlocked in a mess of limbs, which Will used to smashed the two Neo-Nazis' heads together. They were knocked out. Just like the movies.

Stumbling to his feet, the redhead found mind-bender-girl having trouble with an attacker. He put his hand to his face. He was bleeding kinda badly but it'd be alright.

"You ready for some teamwork?" "Thought you'd never ask, mate," "If this gets to you, it's nothing personal."

Will's eyes widened, "Oh no don't-" Too late. Will dropped to his knees. His head was splitting. He couldn't feel his limbs. It was like that feeling you get when an airplane ascends multiplied by ten. He couldn't produce any vocal sound. And then he vomitted, which probably wasn't that attractive. His smell was gone, and all he could hear was faint echoes of sound accompanied by white noise. The girl's scream was deafening. His vision was blurring slightly, but he noticed everyone else in the area was already on the ground, unmoving. He also vaguely remembered peeing himself at some point. He finally let himself fall to the ground. He couldn't feel, see, or hear anything, but hopefully he didn't land in the vomit. He sat there, clinging to every bit of consciousness he had.

What the hell just happened to me?
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