| Welcome to Xmen Revolution. We hope you enjoy your visit. You're currently viewing our forum as a guest. This means you are limited to certain areas of the board and there are some features you can't use. If you join our community, you'll be able to access member-only sections, and use many member-only features such as customizing your profile, sending personal messages, and voting in polls. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free. Join our community! If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
| When Parting is Death, Reunion Is Resurrection; [Prism] | |
|---|---|
| Topic Started: Mar 28 2017, 11:31 PM (134 Views) | |
| Vertigo | Mar 28 2017, 11:31 PM Post #1 |
![]()
Hypnotic Disorientation/ Cool Hair
|
Mid-evening, Friday March 10th, 2017 (a fortnight before ‘the Ball Game’) Location: 8-Ball Pawn Shop, Hell’s Kitchen, NYC Haggling with pawn shop owners was a tricky magical process that used to make or break a day. Vai had come to learn a few of the basics out of necessity. Back when she’d first abandoned the Marauders there was little else she could fall back on for money. Even when she straight up took out her machete and mugged people, the paper money she could pull from their wallets often wasn’t equal to what she could swap for their jewellery, the gadgets in their bags and cars, the contents of their houses. Pawn brokers were the alchemists who turned those useless objects into money she could walk away with but the yield had always varied greatly for seemingly similar items. And getting angry didn’t work as effectively as she first assumed it would. Nowadays, the haggling was an arcane craft she preferred to practice at leisure. ‘Keep her hand in’, as it were, and spend the money on trinkets, candy and colouring books. She had all the faith in the world when it came to her Brothers, but who knew when hard times might hit again? Who knew when her old skills for solitary living might become something needed for more than just passing pleasures? Like hunting, it was a skill best not left to rust. The raid on the men and women of “7th Precinct”, a police tribe, had been Mesmero’s idea. They were enemies to those with powers, and therefore to the Brotherhood. Striking them down was a public service to those of her Brothers’ ilk. While they were there… Well, no one said Vertigo couldn’t pick up a few souvenirs… She was keeping the megaphone and a pair of sparkly earrings from one woman - those had already been wefted into a couple of dreadlocks. The rest she was dumping on Eightball. Jeff ‘Eightball’ Hagees was a smart cookie who passed for human most of the time, despite possessing some useful abilities. His shop had been a fixture in Hell’s Kitchen since the 70s. Sure, the rent in M-Town might be reasonable and business more plentiful, but building and contents insurance rocketed with every major ‘incident’ there. Sat among the dilapidated flatscan businesses a stone’s throw from the Theatre District, he’d deal with every local, from struggling playwrights to tweaking junkies, mutant and human customers alike. He was happy to rip off everyone, regardless of background or genetics. Favouritism was a luxury for people who didn’t have an elderly grandmother with nursing home bills to pay or a perpetual gambling habit to feed. The door let out an electronic ‘beep-boop’ noise as Vai wandered in. Jeff looked up from the Racing Post, saw the now-familiar green hair and sighed. “Ha-gees!” Vai chirped. “I come for more ha-gel!” She thought ‘haggling’, as a term, was derived from his surname somehow. “Okay Princess, let’s see what you got.” Vertigo shrugged off her canvas backpack, pulled the drawstring loose and emptied the contents onto the counter. From behind his reinforced plexiglass screen, Jeff stared down, showing only a mild curiosity. There were a few office toys she’d swiped from desks, staplers and pots of paper clips; all mixed up and tangled with watches and jewellery taken from those working in the precinct when the Brotherhood had shown up. “Riiiight…” He sighed. “Get it in the hatch, it’s gonna take a while to go through this shit.” There was a mechanical clunk and the service hatch on the counter opened up. Vai obediently laid an arm across the counter and swept it all into the little cavern. Another clunk and the whole stash disappeared under a steel covering, shunted across to Eightball’s side. “The flower makes dance.” She pointed out enthusiastically. Eightball immediately spotted the ornament she was talking about, held up a little plastic solar powered ‘Flip Flap’ flower toy with a questioning expression. It was probably barely worth a dollar but he could already tell Vai had valued that over the stainless steel Rolex he’d also spotted. “Yas!” A grubby finger jammed against the window to punctuate her confirmation. “Right…” He tried to play it cool. “I, uh, just gotta make a call about this…” “Okai.” Vertigo shrugged, not sensing any subterfuge. She was feeling far too hopeful about the dancing flower to read between the lines. Eightball wandered into the back and dumped the toy on the phone stand. Picking up the landline, he tapped out a number pinned to the corkboard next to the set. He’d been told to make a call if the green-haired weirdo came in again. “Hey… Calloway? Its Jeff… Yeah, she’s here, man. Right now.” |
| |
![]() |
|
| Prism | Mar 29 2017, 08:41 PM Post #2 |
![]()
Classier than Rhinestone
|
Time had lulled since coming to New York. Robbie had a nasty habit of basing his sense of time on notable events or moments that excited him, riled him up. The stars had not lined up for him, something he just didn’t stand for. More importantly and less metaphysically, Robbie was astounded that any ex-Marauders in New York had kept a low profile for all this time that he could not even catch a whiff of their crusty asses. Working up and down the tri-state area, he had done things that he was not proud of, and he had also done things that he was really really not proud of to try to uncover any intel on the former Marauders. And on the off chance nothing from his old repertoire worked… well - he hadn’t been away from the Marauder life as long as the others. Opening his eyes to see that light no longer spilled into the flat he somewhat rented from Mrs. Hannaday; Robbie sat up and the wrought iron bed frame creaked. It was a roommate/elderly community service/funeral home organizing type of relationship between the two. Mrs. Hannaday allowed him to stay there rent free, and in exchange Robbie arranged her cremation with some pyromaniac from Hell’s Kitchen who said he may be able to identify some of the characters Robbie was looking for. When the man couldn’t keep up his end of the deal, Robbie took the next best thing from the man: a pawn shop contact named Eightball. Then he left, showing all the mercy he could conjure. Robbie believed there were some freaks out there that always required an arms length. Occasionally, after particularly stressful days and days that hit quite a pleasant spot, Robbie liked to daydream and attempt to remember what it was like to sleep and really dream. More often than not, this was just an attempt to ignore the conscious prison his mutation held him in. Throwing his feet over the edge of the bed he cocked his head, a sound potentially heard coming from the other room. Starting into a full blown sprint, he rounded the corner into the kitchen as his feet scrape-slid on the poorly kept wood floor. A number showed up on his burner telephone, and he flipped it open with a severe ”what” before the phone had even had a chance to fully open. White eyes widened, Robbie was unresponsive until the shaky voice finished. Robbie swore to himself with the pawn shop owner on the phone that if he let her go, he would lobotomize him with one of the many, many porcelain clown figures the man kept his company with. It was finally all happening… Robbie skid around the corner of the sidewalk akin to something from Saturday morning cartoons. When an opportunity such as this arises, you wait to gloat and saddle up onto your high horse until the job’s done. But that didn’t mean ol’ Shadow wasn’t waiting at his flank. The cool night air ballooned the bottom of the overcoat he had grabbed from the closet Mrs. Hannaday kept her husband’s old clothes in. He covered the last stretch of the block and pressed his back against the window of the adjacent building. “If you let this be the real deal,” Robbie looked up to the heavens while clutching his pearls, a slight quiver in his voice. “I know we haven’t had the best relationship, but I’m a strong proponent of second chances. On hands and knees. Amen.” The door swung open, and there she was. Just as the filthy merchant had said. Robbie’s steps in were slow, not out of caution, but he so wanted to relish this moment. Each footstep was a thud, no sound muffled by pesky shoes. “S-.... see I told you that she was here.”. A blank glare cut to Eightball, obviously annoyed with the interruption Robbie spat “you. are. furniture.” A false rise and fall of Robbie’s chest, like a content sigh, was followed by the raising of both arms in a Messiah-like fashion. In an almost welcoming nature Robbie began, “it’s been a while hasn’t it?” A brief chuckle escaped him as he looked down to a glass case and rubbed his finger across a fine layer of dust in a circle. “What was the last thing you remember of me? Was it dropping that shit covered rock on my neck, severing my head from my shoulders in those god-forsaken jungles? Well let me-...” “Should I go?” Eightball interjected, forcing himself into the conversation that quite frankly Robbie had forgotten that he could hear. Robbie ripped a kitchen knife he had stowed in the overcoat pocket and pointed it so as he looked down the blade it aligned with the space between Eightball’s eyes. “Shuuuuuut it!” So frustrated by the rudeness shown by his confidant, the words clung to his throat as he forced them out. “If you do not shut that garbage disposal you call a mouth, my friend here will get opening night and then you a shoddy, bootleg matinee.” With the hand holding the knife balled into a fist pressed against the glass case, he looked back to Vertigo as a shudder born from anger rattled down where his spine would be. “I think we were talkin’ about how you’ve been?” |
| |
![]() |
|
| Vertigo | Apr 8 2017, 12:54 AM Post #3 |
![]()
Hypnotic Disorientation/ Cool Hair
|
“What are you take so loooooong?!” Vai yelled through the divider, hammering with a fist when no answer came. Finally Eightball emerged from the back room. He looked a little… off colour? It was the way people usually looked if Vai yelled at them to be fair though. She’d assumed the perspex muffled her powers somehow. “T'ur mennes. I do not want to make sick in you.” She apologised instinctively. “How many money is dancing flower for you?” “Uh… I’m gonna have t’say… fifteen dollars.” Which was well past generous, but Jeff knew he could get a massively undercut price on half the actual valuables Vertigo had brought in. “Twenty!” Fifteen. Let’s go through everything else ya got here and maybe we’ll come back to that, okay?” “...Okai.” Vai conceded, albeit reluctantly. And so the haggling went on. If Eightball glanced nervously over towards the shop door every now and again, Vertigo never thought it odd enough to be a suspicious action. It seemed normal to her, to have concerns about equally impatient customers arriving to interrupt their parley. After the better part of an hour though, the real source of Jeff’s nervous twitches showed up. Vai only heard the same ‘beep-boop’ noise from the door that had signalled her own entry into the store. She didn’t think much of it until she heard the heavy footfalls on the buffed shop floor tiles and something stirred in the muddled, digital portion of her memories – everything the little clone had lived through before the Skrull Invasion six years ago. “S-… see I told you that she was here.” Eightball grovelled to whoever had come in. Vai’s eyes widened in a mixture of fear and fury. Had the trader called the police on her? Or SHIELD?! Then she heard the reply come from behind her and immediately wished it had just been someone from law enforcement. Things would have been so much easier to deal with then. Life had become an easy binary, where SHIELD were the enemies worthy of death and the Brotherhood were the family she happily obeyed. “You. Are. Furniture.” The Marauders represented an uneasy grey mess slapped right in the middle of that nice, neat, black and white division. She whirled around to see Prism stood, arms out in a gesture that seemed more like an appeal to the gods than an expectation of a hug. He’d barely changed – while soldiers like Vertigo had gone through endless cycles of death and rebirth, his crystalline form never seemed to age like flesh did, no matter how many times he shattered. “It’s been a while hasn’t it?” Vai’s mouth opened but she didn’t know what to say, finding herself frozen to the spot. Colour-shifting eyes welled up and went glassy as Robbie feigned a passing interest in a dusty display case. It was a reaction any past or future version of the savage would never have managed. The copy of Vai stood in 8-Ball Pawn represented the only copy given the time and freedom to rediscover ‘superfluous’ emotions. Nostalgia and fondness… guilt and regret. Abject fear. The wiring in her head glitched and an already tenuous grasp of ‘Inglish’ momentarily escaped her. “…Ra'uk ame enam?” The words left her lips in a barely audible whisper. “What was the last thing you remember of me? Was it dropping that shit covered rock on my neck, severing my head from my shoulders in those god-forsaken jungles?” A pained expression twisted up Vertigo’s features as her heart started to thud against her breastbone. She’d genuinely liked her colleagues. As fellow warriors they’d always watched each others backs, as much as they’d all felt was reasonable at least. In all else, they had been friends, as much as any militarized creations of Sinister’s could be. When Scalphunter left it had felt like a confusing betrayal. When strange forces compelled Vai herself to follow that example, she’d felt abject shame after coming to her senses. Fear kept her from trying to go ‘home’. Fear’s opposite had secured her loyalty to the Brotherhood. Out of all the violence she’d committed over the years - from tribal genocide to terrorism - deserting the Marauders was the one thing she held as an actual crime, the one disgrace she was undeniably guilty of. She just never thought she’d have to answer for it. “Well let me-…” “Should I go?” Eightball interjected, forcing himself into the conversation. Robbie ripped a kitchen knife he had stowed in the overcoat pocket and pointed it so as he looked down the blade it aligned with the space between Eightball’s eyes. “Shuuuuuut it! If you do not shut that garbage disposal you call a mouth, my friend here will get opening night and then you a shoddy, bootleg matinee.” If he was here to drag her back to their chalk-skinned master… part of Vai felt like she should submit to a punishment she knew was deserved. But her hard-wired survival instinct howled like a banshee, drowning out any ethical concerns. If she had to kill him again to get back to her Brothers, add to the level of her betrayal… Maybe she would. Even if it was just long enough to warn her family that she might disappear against her will. One hand moved slowly inside her coat and behind her. She was grasping for the firearm stuffed into her waistband. Going into combat she kept everything holstered or sheathed in easy reach, but walking among civilians without fuss required certain sacrifices. “Leave here, Ha-gees.” She agreed with Prism, her eyes following that knife of his. Whichever way this went, it wouldn’t likely turn out well for anyone caught in the middle. A muffled slam from behind her implied Eightball had locked himself in the stock room. She wasn’t invested enough to turn and check. “I think we were talkin’ about how you’ve been?” “I am gud.” She said honestly, fingers curling around her pistol grip. “I have, uh… last I see of you was all a smash and from a far back. When sun find your body it makes big shine I see before I go…” She added in answer to his earlier question. “To think it gives me sad. I do not know why I kill for ‘Skrull’ things. I never like them after!” Especially not that big blonde Skrull bastard working for SHIELD. He’d arrested her twice since leaving the Marauders. “I am sorry for the bad I do to all you… but I will not give you my death. Does the God-Maker send you for me? Like in days we make the hunt for Greycrow?” [size0]*T'ur mennes = I am sorry **Ra'uk ame enam? = What is this? |
| |
![]() |
|
| Prism | Apr 8 2017, 03:27 AM Post #4 |
![]()
Classier than Rhinestone
|
Already with the gibberish. The only reason Robbie stood in this little shop of horrors that only 4 crime television shows had based scenes off of was for his nectar-like revenge. And apparently, even that was too much to ask for when, like Robbie, you’re the bottom feeder of the karmic pond. This, however, was too close of a fit for the puzzle piece Robbie had picked up to not just mash all the edges up in an attempt to make it fit. The contender for an American entrepreneurship award had already locked himself in the back room, so he was free to waltz all over this place, all over Vai’s carcass, and grab a couple locks of green to weave a nice post-mortem friendship bracelet out of. Half of the time Robbie could say that he was reasonably sure that that neither him nor Vai knew what was coming out of the savage’s mouth. At some point in the distant past, a past Robbie either had actually forgotten or wished he would already, there had been some moments that the two would have at least acknowledged the humor in it. In a band full of assassins and killers, you were getting a deal if it could go that far. Now the two, small talking when Robbie had come to feel that gurgle of a last breath - it was making him sick. The knife was still clenched in a fist, pushing against the glass case and for a split second the grinding of the two similar materials might be confused for the glass cracking. The mutant wasn't that oblivious, the deaf hand reaching into her coat. He knew coming into this that it wasn't an ex-Marauder support group. It’s been x many days since I last killed someone. No, Robbie had flickers of a memory of a rock falling towards his head and locks of green whipping on either side of it like tentacles representative of the slimey creature his eyes graced now. “When sun finds your body it makes big shine I see before I go…” Robbie’s head began to tilt counterclockwise, it continued with his eyes widening, continuing and continuing and continuing until he thought he may voluntarily tear his head from his shoulders or his eyes pop out onto the floor like two shooter marbles. Dramatic as it may be, he had to remind himself with every word that communicating with Vai - it was a practiced talent. But the initial shock of it all, the literal breakdown in communication was what allowed her to continue. Spitting what she may rationalize in her brain as reasons for her betrayal. She continued on, hitting all of the bruised spots in the two’s tumultuous relationship. The mutant heard the buzzwords that he sought in the carefully crafted apology he hoped to hear from his former teammate. Pleading insanity, it was a smart move. Robbie saw his fault, trying to keep Sinister happy by keeping his little team of handymen and handywomen together when a few special ones had become fond of the idea of life outside. But this wasn’t some blue as a that jewel from the Titanic state court that would buy such a defense. It wasn’t until she brought up the God-maker, just who Robbie wished to avoid drudging up, that he finally felt caught. He was the person who gave all of their lives meaning. And it wouldn’t be until about 5 minutes from now, when Robbie drove this outdated kitchen knife through her chest that he’d be be reignited. Given meaning again. “No hun,” condescension dripped like a venom off his words and equally deadly. “Sinister did not send me.” Robbie spat the word the name with the same hatred he addressed Vertigo with. “Bein’ truthful, he didn’t have much of a use for us after a good number of the team left. Apparently those who were left just weren’t as reconcilable.” Robbie began to pace mid-explanation slinking the overcoat off his shoulders and onto the floor. He was not closing the gap between the two, but added no more of a buffer face. “Had the option of waiting for the boss to cover his tracks, wash his hands of his little project or come deliver a handwritten thank you note to each” his steps began to slow, “and every one of”, Robbie stopped and rested the majority of his weight on the ball of one foot. “You.” His body did not move from his frozen pose. In an instant, before he had finished his eenie meenie miney mo dance on words, light folded and draped around his arm effortlessly camouflaging itself. An out of place, apparent floating knife was flung from Robbie’s hand towards Vai. The facets that wove down his arm nearly clicked back into view after he stopped manipulating the light. Without hiding the fact that his arm extended, directed toward his target’s forehead - Robbie shrugged. “It slipped.” |
| |
![]() |
|
| Vertigo | Apr 19 2017, 06:27 AM Post #5 |
![]()
Hypnotic Disorientation/ Cool Hair
|
Prism’s head twisted like a grotesque wind-up toy. Like he was possessed. He likely was, in his own way. “No hun, Sinister did not send me.” Just saying the word aloud seemed to make both of them wince internally in equal measure. If that was the case, then what possible profit could Robbie make from her final death? Vai’s mind scrolled frantically through fractured memories, trying to find anything it could cobble together into even a half-assed theory. Her twisted-up mind just couldn’t form anything coherent enough to base a course of action on, leaving her stood staring at her former colleague in horror. “Bein’ truthful, he didn’t have much of a use for us after a good number of the team left. Apparently those who were left just weren’t as reconcilable.” Kaleidoscope eyes carefully followed the caged-tiger-pacing Robbie began across the shop floor. Vai’s heart pounded a double time beat to the slam of crystallised footsteps. It gradually fell out of synch as Prism’s pace slowed to a solemn march. Her seething gaze searched out his. In the old days, it had always been a sign of respect when she avoided eye contact of other Marauders. After all, she could fell even the biggest of mutants like trees if they fell into the trap of meeting her stare. And it could take hold within seconds. If Robbie was prepared to risk making that mistake now, she felt the resulting blackout would be as much his own fault as hers. “Had the option of waiting for the boss to cover his tracks, wash his hands of his little project or come deliver a handwritten thank you note to each… And every one of… You.” And then he came to a complete stop – a timer to some spring trap winding down to inevitable zero. His arm shimmered out of view and Vai stopped breathing. She looked like a cross between a hippy just starting to bug out on bad acid and a deer caught in headlights. She knew how this trick worked. An out of place, apparent floating knife was flung from Robbie’s hand towards Vai. Her arm flew up, forearm guard still strapped in place under her coat. It was a scrap fragment from a dignitary’s supposedly bulletproof car, a target Mesmero had them attack last year. Luckily it was enough to send the knife careening away, landing with a clatter on the floor to Vai’s left side. Robbie shrugged. “It slipped.” “Doyen-bosa.” Vai lowered her arm, revealing an expression like a lioness eyeing up a gazelle, but with the slight tilt of a smile and a hint of bitter laughter in her voice. “I think you lie, Robbie.” It was her attempt at a joke. Despite his facetiousness, he really wasn’t hiding his intentions. What would be the point, when he’d made them so abundantly clear that even a savage like Vertigo could comprehend it? The Marauder Vertigo had been would’ve made her response just as openly; bluntly. But this particular little killing machine, the one who’d finally evolved a fraction beyond her programming after the Skrulls…? What went on in her mind was a little more nuanced than the blind attack dog who’d decapitated Prism and fled. Just a little change was perhaps still enough to be noticeable. And enough to stop her making best efforts to murder Robbie all over again. At least not outright. She sucked in a breath, doing it through her nostrils to keep the action as subtle as possible. Like her coat, the layers of sweater and cardigan were so oversized that it masked the rise of her chest. The second Prism looked to make another move, Vertigo let out an almighty, incoherent howl. She pushed her aura out ahead of her too for good measure, at full force. It was the kind of sledgehammer tactic that, at such close quarters, had left SHIELD and Interpol agents reeling in the past, blood dribbling from their eyes and ears. She had to hope it was enough to sufficiently throw Robbie off – energy absorption versus extreme disorientation. On her next breath in, she dived into the tinnitus-riddled void her voice created. Vai launched herself at the other orphaned Marauder. The gun she had been reaching for was used in a clumsy pistolwhip motion, aimed for the side of his head. And then like a gymnast flipping themselves over a vaulting horse, she flew through the air and landed in the space between Prism and the door. “I do not lie as you.” She tried to impart once more. “I DO have sorry.” With that she bolted through the door. Out on the street wasn’t any safer but at least she wouldn’t be pinned inside an enclosed space. The handgun she clung to felt warm and heavy in her palm, despite having yet to fire. [size0]*Doyen-bosa = Bullshit |
| |
![]() |
|
| Prism | Apr 20 2017, 04:08 PM Post #6 |
![]()
Classier than Rhinestone
|
”I think you lie, Robbie.” Entertainment drained from his face as a seriousness boiled over from the tensed back and broadcast across his face. What would have received a pity-chuckle from Robbie instead seemed to churn at his would be insides. Images, like poorly received antenna television, forced their way to the forefront. When there was significant downtime with the old team, the crystalline mutant may investigate these savage and unrefined quirks that his green-haired partner possessed. He would teach her the crumb-like memories of his existence before that of the Marauder they knew. That relationship seemed to have been burnt at both ends of the wick, and in Robbie’s hand just a small pile of cinders. There were minute differences between the Vai he knew and the one in front of him. Differences that were not blatant, but made Robbie question himself and whether these were features he simply had not noticed or were a part of something larger, something Robbie did not know because he had not lived the same life Vai had outside of the Marauders. With a nearly unnoticeable shake of his head, the clouds of memories past were wiped away and the anger and vengeful motivation welled up yet again from Robbie’s depths. He still hadn't answered his former teammate. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to. The grand revenge story Robbie had scribbled revision after revision in his mental diary was collapsing at every joint and unmasked a hollow skeleton paper machéd together by old headlines of supposed glory days. Why did she seem to look at him with such sadness? Not sadness, but the closest the barbarian could achieve. It wasn't that Robbie was looking for something so primitive as a stubbed toe and some hurt feelings in his scheme, but understanding it more would be like a double glazed doughnut - all the sweeter. The knife clambered across the floor as a result of Vai’s deflection, the cheap culinary cutlery against the even cheaper linoleum frayed and upturned at the edges provided only a brief moment of sound before the silence once again set in. With a sigh accompanied by a near simultaneous lunge to close the gap between the two, Prism reached out towards the green-haired woman’s neck. Attempting to restrict airflow and significantly reduce Vertigo’s influence, Robbie was instead met with a wall of sound mid-lunge. The world twisted and turned as if the ceiling became the floor and the floor the ceiling. Though he had put his entire momentum behind himself, he still crashed into the glass case next to him. Cheap memorabilia and chotchkies spilt onto the floor as Robbie’s feet slid repetitively attempting to find something to help him stand. “Fuc… Bii…” His teeth ground and unintelligible sounds wove through his attempted exclamation. Finding some ground, he rose still uneasy on his feet and images of his target unclear and occasionally multiplying. Before his footing reached anywhere near stable, Vai no longer stood in front of him but instead cartwheeled over with the all-familiar barrel pressed against his temple. Even in Robbie’s stupor his eyes narrowed as he awaited the darkness that came from his shatter. He would find a way to piece himself back together and would without doubt find his former teammate in an even more vulnerable and susceptible position. In the middle of Robbie’s inner, momentary forfeiture monologue, the exit vault off of his shoulders pushed the still woozy, crystalline mutant to the ground as he slid to the back of the shop and into another glass case. Blurred images of Vertigo’s quick exit from the shop and echoes of sorry were on repeat like late night infomercials as Robbie rose to his feet. As he looked down, defeatism still dripping from his face, the contents of the case eventually waded past the empty and useless stare that had controlled Robbie’s eyes. Shoving his hand past the glass, shards vibrating with a hiss against his arm, he pushed past the cheap brass knuckles, canisters of pepper spray, and butterfly knives. Without thought and without remorse, Robbie grabbed a handheld taser and rose it with a crackling arc over his head and was brought down into contact with his thigh. Making quick work exiting the pawn shop, Robbie swung around the door frame and fired a careless bolt of electricity in the general direction of Vai. Of course, he didn’t want this over yet, but a couple of singed hairs would be the last of her worries with that mess of a mop. “Vai!” The shout morphed into something more of a growl as his shoulders seemed to pop in opposite directions of his kneecaps. The growing surge filled him as edges and colors became more clear, his actions feeling more deliberate and decisive. “What is your life now Vai?” Still shouting, Robbie’s facial features twitched both with a jolt of energy and a fury reminiscent of his former life. “What’s makin’ you wake up each mornin’? I wanna know what falls out of your pockets when I hoist your body up by your ankles!” A smirk crept across his lips, and another warning shot fired her way. Though it was technically a warning, this shot was fired right at those little dancing legs that lept and skipped out of any trap she seemed to find herself in. |
| |
![]() |
|
| Vertigo | May 2 2017, 02:14 AM Post #7 |
![]()
Hypnotic Disorientation/ Cool Hair
|
Outside, the air was literally freezing. March tenth saw the first snow New York had gotten in almost a month. A couple of inches already lay over every surface not churned into submission by the city’s relentless footfall and motor traffic. Vai had to scrabble just to avoid slipping over as she bolted out of the pawn shop. The lights of Hell’s Kitchen reflected a blurred nightmare rainbow in the ice and melt-slick salted tarmac. Flakes were still falling from the sky at a lazy pace completely at odds with the mutant-fuelled chaos unfolding. Thick clouds of breath puffed out of Vai like a steam engine. She looked around, tried to make tactical snap judgements. She was a simple creature who lived to follow orders; her instincts now were far too conflicted. She wanted to run home to the Brotherhood and plead for sanctuary, hide behind Mesmero’s voice, Max’s enormous body, George’s impenetrable skin until she could figure out what to do. But she would die before deliberately bringing a dangerous problem, entirely of her own making, down upon her Brothers’ heads. At least the city’s grid layout made things easier. Had the same confrontation happened somewhere like Dubai, Chongqing, Tangier or even London; Vai would have gotten herself trapped in some snaking, dead-end alley within minutes. In New York she only needed to place a few familiar points on the skyline and navigate in a vaguely southward direction until the familiar safety of M-Town swallowed her up. She just had to avoid dying before then… Robbie recovered quicker than she would have liked. He came bursting out of the shop, hurling curses and lightning at her in equal measure. “Vai!”The shout morphed into something more of a growl as his shoulders seemed to pop in opposite directions of his kneecaps. The electricity joined the ozone smell of snow already on the air. Everything felt charged, crackling, ready to explode – the air, the street lights, the little savage’s nerves. The snap of energy at her heels made her jump and cartwheel again just to keep from slipping over as she ran. The hand that touched the ground came up wet, so cold it was practically white and the grime from the street stood out in stark contrast to her skin. Somewhere in the background she registered civilians screaming, yelping, running for cover. The humans were only really an incidental presence to her. She raised the nine milometer in her other hand. The safety was already off. Whenever Vai scavenged such weapons from police it was the first thing she checked and then rarely bothered with at all after, once it officially joined her collection. A previous incarnation of Vertigo might have simply walked back towards Prism, firing until she either got lucky or got herself killed. The current incarnation was heavily invested in surviving though. That made her even more dangerous when cornered, but her guilt went a long way, and she knew not to underestimate Prism either. With a cold, wet palm she was clumsy. It took two attempts to pull the slide back and chamber a round. “What is your life now Vai?” Still shouting, Robbie’s facial features twitched both with a jolt of energy and a fury reminiscent of his former life. She heard him and hesitated. That alone was testament to how much she’d changed. She’d always thought it for the better but this jagged, walking fragment of the past was making doubt in that seem possible… No. She was better off. She had to be! “I have family now!” She yelled to convince herself as much as Robbie; hypnotic eyes wet with frustration. There was virtually nothing on Garokk’s green earth that could make Vertigo cry. Even when she’d been dragged back to the Savage Lands for one awful week, suffered being beaten, waterboarded, humped and treated to bamboo splinters jammed under her toenails… even then the clone had remained more like an angry dog than a person, snarling and biting the whole way. But her place among Outland warriors meant more to her than any injury. Forced to compare the Marauders to the Brotherhood, in her muddled head it was genuinely upsetting. “What’s makin’ you wake up each mornin’? I wanna know what falls out of your pockets when I hoist your body up by your ankles!” “I have Brothers.” Her cursed voice cracked a fraction. “I carry all they give for me!” It was metaphorically true, but also literally. If anyone were to rifle through the myriad pockets in her clothes or bag, they’d find a decent chunk of the worthless ephemera Vai hoarded like treasure. Crayons, knives, candy, jewellery, even a tiny plushie doll and an old Christmas bauble. Gifts casually tossed Vai’s way, either through genuine affection or a need to keep her complaint. Vai herself had never learned to distinguish between the two. “They will not like for you to kill me! They maybe hunt one who does.” Maybe not all of them actually cared that much… But some did, she was sure. A smirk crept across Robbie’s lips, and another warning shot fired her way. Vai squawked and had to flip herself backwards. She practically felt the tingle in her feet as residual static danced across the icy ground. Her aura lashed out in front of her as she fired her own warning shot in response. It hit close enough to threaten Prism with an impromptu ballistic pedicure. “We could have been as this a time back!” She shouted, even more audibly upset. The Brotherhood had shown her what the Marauders could have been – showed her everything she and all the others had been missing out on; for over fifteen years in her case. “I and you, we should have been as Brothers.” She pointed between them emphatically with the loaded gun. “Greycrow makes to go without all! I am called when I do not want so by Skrull-Payen and make it more bad! And now you come to take me from a true family as I was not family of you…?” She was trying to fathom his logic, but didn’t mean for her mangled words to actually come out as a question. Somewhere in the distance a police siren was starting to pierce the falling snow… [size0]*Skrull-Payen = Skrull-Filth |
| |
![]() |
|
| Prism | May 2 2017, 04:55 AM Post #8 |
![]()
Classier than Rhinestone
|
The world erupted with a miniature burst of chaos in what was up until this point a fairly quiet night. The commotion from the two wasn’t ignored by those passing by; there were unintelligible shouts and screams as the onlookers registered what was happening and fled with their better judgement. Robbie’s eyes narrowed as he looked out just below the ledge of his jagged eye brows. The former attack-dog, not nearly domesticated yet, had picked up the scent and any remnant strings of rational thought were cut short. The tiny dancer in front of him weaved and bobbed away from anything potentially threatening; however impressive, irked the crystalline mutant who hoped for a chance maim to slow his target. Though he closed the gap between the two quickly with elongated strides, there was still a lackadaisical way that he kept distance. Characteristic to Robbie, but undeniably planned, he missed opportunities of vantage and skipped along a fifteen to twenty foot radius. When Vai stopped, Robbie mirrored - a waver in his decision shown by one foot skittering along hoping the other would follow. A quick crack against the night air was let out instinctively with a brief flash in his right hand. The two were past the point of hidden hands, all cards lie before them. Seeing her raise the handheld yet again flashed familiar images behind Robbie’s eyes, similar to deja vu but more like a rewound video tape, the images were seared into his mind. These were the moments before the Marauders took to the stage, a team of artists whose chosen medium was conflict and the subject a different target each dispatch. The mutant knew what Vertigo was capable of with the tool in her hand. Instead of grooming a fear of death, it comforted him knowing that he wouldn’t be dragged along as her plaything. Robbie was aware that if he was not able to finish this off with a cherry on top, he’d be dropped off somewhere particularly unsavory. A heavy mass of a feeling began to sink in his stomach as he came to the realization that he likely wouldn’t be given the opportunity at another shot. At least if Vertigo was anywhere near thinking straight. Family? Brothers? These words sounded more foreign than english on her tongue. There was a time that the Marauders were the extent of all their relationship needs. And that, that was a pathetic morsel of a healthy social dynamic. Any remnant of a smirk or amusement was wiped from his face as a bullet laid into the concrete at his feet. Intuitive to this sort of stand off, Robbie was aware of the precipice the two teetered on. Vertigo drew the proverbial line in the sand and made something a bit more literal like an ovular, cracked deformation in the earth beneath him. There wasn’t much Robbie desired on the other side. Unless there was a trade of sorts, and he got a chunk of her in the process. “I and you, we should have been as Brothers.” Robbie’s head snaked over his shoulder and a spat scoff followed. There was engineering on the molecular level to blame for the Marauders, and nothing so natural as family even existed within the realm that the Marauders were made to flourish within. No matter the absurdity that was this confessional, he saw something that stung and itched beneath his toes, the middle of his back - all the places that made it impossible to ignore and just nearly unbearable. There was a potential that existed within Vai that Sinister hadn’t tapped into by making her a drone with the rest of them. We could have been this… echoes rattled his mind and shook to find focus. Though it had been dangling at his peripheral, he could no longer push the approaching sirens out of focus. Without notice, Robbie dropped to all fours and closed the distance between the two, launching his light frame into a crawl, and popping up nose to nose in front of ghost conjured from his past. In a singular and swift motion, the barrel of the nine millimeter was pulled down between his eyes. Robbie had no intention of disarming Vai. His cold dead eyes were motionless behind the intermittent flakes that provided some relief from the stillness. “If you’re lyin’” Something bred between a sigh and a huff skirted out of Robbie’s mouth. “It’s best to do what you do to me and know that I’ll make it back to you somehow. With no hesitation…” Without knowing, without avoiding, the barrel of the gun was being ground against his forehead. An unknown combination of the two forces holding the weapon. “I’ll take it all from you.” “If you’re not lyin’...” There was a resistance like Robbie was fighting with himself. He couldn’t believe it and he sure as hell didn’t want to be saying it. Robbie spat and it hurt like acid, just get it out. “<Show me what could>” his voice trailed off as he blanked unsure if he had even landed something intelligible with the first part. Sure as shit those archaic ramblings that plagued him for years would flee now. He cursed himself and the cause herself. Half of him hoped that she would just put a bullet through his head now. Robbie’s fingers peeled off of the barrel one at a time, his face still dead though he was unsure what was to come next. The slightest of inching to the road that stretched before them, his attention flashed briefly to the oncoming sirens. “Sooner rather than later, unless you’re still parked on memory lane.” Entertainment came in all shapes, sizes, and colored uniforms. |
| |
![]() |
|
| Vertigo | May 9 2017, 09:11 PM Post #9 |
![]()
Hypnotic Disorientation/ Cool Hair
|
It all happened too fast for Vai to process. One minute there was the gulf of a street between them. The next, Prism was moving like Sabretooth or some other feral on the hunt. But not to disembowel or put out her cursed eyes. He knew not to meet her gaze for too long, his focus was on the gun. Abruptly coming to a halt, a snowflake landed on one of Prism’s eyes and he didn’t even blink. Vertigo watched with horrified fascination as it melted. It was probably the closest he’d ever get to being misty eyed over what they’d been to each other once. Those two lustrous globes buried in a diamanté face, supposedly ‘windows to the soul’, were like a magic mirror – a cold, seemingly impassive surface but it absorbed everything into oblivion but the warped reflection that stared back at her. Behind that, there was a black hole inside him. She refused to feed it her blood but wasn’t sure what to offer in its place. She’d had people beg her for death before. Sometimes it was so good she practically felt the hatred crystallise on her tongue, like sugar it tasted so sweet it was almost addictive. She didn’t hate everyone she killed though, sometimes obedience simply dictated it. Those times, when people looked ready to meet their maker and only let her be the instrument of delivery, it had left her in some post-vomit state; all empty and sour-faced. Previous incarnations of Vertigo had continued to fight even after having limbs ripped off. Every one of her deaths had been violent. She never expected to know the peaceful resignation those others showed when they welcomed the killing blow from another hand. Vai made no move to pull the trigger. But she didn’t pull the gun away from where Robbie had yanked it either. She stayed as frozen as the snow. The slight rise and fall of shoulders, her breath on the air, the twitch of eyes that could send men into comas; they were the only signs of life. “If you’re lyin’” Something bred between a sigh and a huff skirted out of Robbie’s mouth. “It’s best to do what you do to me and know that I’ll make it back to you somehow. With no hesitation…” The threat was easy to believe. He’d found her today, after all. He’d overcome miles and years of separation. Now he knew the city her Brothers were starting to call home and there was no running away without her tribe at her side. It was equally easy to believe Vertigo could take the opportunity to shatter him and scatter his pieces in the Harlem Meer. He’d seen her do far worse. Still she remained motionless. “I’ll take it all from you.” Vai’s face melted into an impossible expression, one nobody among the Marauders had likely seen; save for Greycrow perhaps. Yes, there were physical things she could be robbed of – as SHIELD had proven. Her possessions, her freedom. Her life. But there were things no one could take from her now. It would take the power of Sinister himself or some other vengeful god to undo what had become of the little rogue clone. Prism didn’t understand that. If he didn’t, she would have assumed it to be because he’d not had the same experiences, never handed the same privileges. At her lowest point she’d prayed to every nameless god and the Brotherhood had heard her. Exodus had taken her hand and all-but-vaporised the prison keeping her drugged, gave her clothes and food and family. How long had Prism been left to wander alone? “If you’re not lyin’… <Show me what could>” his voice trailed off. She wasn’t lying. For all her crimes, it was the one sin Vai had never committed in all her lives. Murder was simple, lying was complex. She just didn’t have the capacity for it. What did he want? It sounded like a… like a plea? Fingers that might as well have been ice slowly released her gun, one after the other. The little clone watched, wide-eyed, her former comrade’s head still making no move away from the muzzle. A first police car finally rounded the corner. Prism was an obvious mutant and Vai’s description wasn’t hard to match up with the woman they knew to have massacred at least two stations in the last four years. Officers didn’t venture into the belly of Hell’s Kitchen much, but Eightball’s shop was out on the edge. If the muties’ fight moved just a block or two further they’d be causing harm to the more lawful citizens of the Theatre District. So NYPD had evidently taken the civilian calls seriously. “Sooner rather than later, unless you’re still parked on memory lane.” Still making jokes she didn’t understand, like old times. Where once there would have been a total lack of empathy, now Vertigo felt bad for Robbie. She was the rescue dog facing the stray who’d be put down sooner or later, because he couldn’t stop biting everyone around him. Saying goodbye and obliging him seemed like the most appropriate thing to do. That or… “This is the police. Drop your weapons and get down on the ground!” Vai’s attention flickered from Robbie to the humans and made up her mind, for better or worse. “Drop your weapons!” “No.” She said quietly before sucking in a deep breath. Her hands moved but only to take the gun away from Robbie’s forehead and plug her palms over the crystal formations that used to be his ears. She let out a howl that was strangely melodic, like an opera singer barrelling up the scales until they hit the right note to shatter a glass. The humans doubled over, clutching their heads, and a first shot ricocheted off something to their left. Vai’s hands slid down from Robbie’s ears to his face, more awkwardly in the case of the one still holding a gun. “I am not enemy to you.” Her expression pleaded with him to see sense before setting firm. “These man are. These man I kill. Not you.” Their deaths were a forgone conclusion as far as she was concerned. They didn’t concern her as much as Prism did. “Do you kill with me, like Brother? Or make to kill me? So these men say ‘thanks to you’ and then put you in cage or in ground?” |
| |
![]() |
|
| Prism | May 10 2017, 09:24 PM Post #10 |
![]()
Classier than Rhinestone
|
And then, within seconds, Prism had given up any sort of vantage. Anything that the mutant held up his sleeve. The stillness of everything around them, including them who were tensed to the point of being a freeze frame, irked Robbie. There was no movement, there was no direction - it was as if everything had been tossed in the air and had reached the high point only to ignore the old hag that was gravity and tell her that her stories were on in the living room. Intent to keep his focus on her finger that motionlessly lie on the trigger, there was a small twitch in the corner of his right eye. For a brief second, realistically an upwards of thirty, he registered the inactivity, the sheer death in her stance as an indicator that she had no intention of leaving him alive. That this whole dramatic second act was for nothing. He still wasn’t sure if it was a ploy to compromise any underlying humanity this new Vai had or his own version of a white flag - a middle finger to death in the form of his own reset. Robbie was well aware that she knew his weaknesses; he had moved past fearing what prison she could put him in again. Lapsing into his spitfire-like downward spiral of logic, he grit his teeth and welcomed it. There were gods among them, they peered and the poked with hands they saw as holy. Though he wasn’t entirely confident in motives and games that came from these earth-dwelling, self-appointed deities, in the past they had given him some kind of purpose. He had tossed Sinister out of that venn diagram long ago when he had seen the absent-minded wrath that came from his loss of interest. With that loss of interest, the few Marauders left lost the purpose he had engineered for them. And with the loss of purpose - a loss of life more real than any corporeal death he could imagine. Robbie saw in Vai that she had been booted up again, respawned but without Sinster’s collar. It was odd and enviable at the same time. This new Vai who stood in front of him looked and acted more like a person than a clone. It made immediately evident all that was missing and wrong dynamic-wise with the Marauders.They could have been even more. Despite all the revelations racing through, Robbie felt strung on by Vai’s refusal to act. Like a headbutt that had been in contact the entire time, he nudged the barrel again showing his growing impatience. Robbie saw the lights behind him and he was sure that at this point Vai could actually see the cruiser. He wasn’t going to stand there and be her shield, let these ingrates do what she couldn’t. It had all happened in such an instant, and Robbie realized that he had grown comfortable resting with a gun against his forehead. Vai pulled back and then clapped against the sides of his head covering what would be ears. Not seeing the officer’s reactions, Robbie could only wonder how thick Vai chose to lay it on. He could feel a dull tremble in his legs, like a roar off in the distance. ”I am not enemy to you…” These words resonated with Robbie more than her other pleas had. It was like a half empty glass sitting on a speaker in a dive bar, he was no willing participant but felt her effect to the core. Vai’s hands moved down from his temporal area, tracing the facets of his jaw. With each bump there was a twitch in his entire head-like growth. There was a comfort exuded and complementing her words, but Robbie wished to violently rip his head from her hands so. It was the back and forth dance that produced this jarring, pseudo-epileptic episode. With Vai’s most poignant, and effective, stance of their altercation it moved Robbie. Literally and figuratively. He spun out of her hands and walked away. The grumblings of someone who hadn’t gotten their way trailed off as he moved further and further. However, in Robbie’s mind he was drawn back to those old times with her words. She had drawn the line that made everything make sense. There was an us, and there was a them. That was what made sense to Robbie. As he reached the two police officers keeled over he looked down in disgust. Red and blue light flashed against Robbie’s face creating brief moments of light and drawn out shadows off even the most miniscule facets making up his face. Appearing like he had moved between flashes, Robbie went from erect and motionless to pulling back the hair underneath one’s cap and looking into the wandering eyes of a still nauseous and handicapped police officer on bended knee. A child-like moan escaped the officer’s mouth as his head still shook back and forth looking for a way for gravity to finally let him hit solid ground. Without notice or hesitation, Robbie’s spare index and middle finger intruded past the officer’s eyelids with a slicked squeak and then a sickening squish. With shouts and screams desiring mercy, the eyelids gripped tightly around his fingers. Beneath the skin, red and blue light boiled with a haunting glow. The screams of the officer intensified, the moaning that Vertigo had caused making way for sharper cries. After he had finished, more aptly lost interest, he dropped the police officer to the ground. The thud of his left side of the face left a cold silence in the air. Robbie looked back to Vai as he rose, “I’m not going to kill you this time.” Robbie’s foot nudged the shoulder of the officer at his feet - the bloodied face now letting out only whimpers. “And you sure as hell don’t deserve to die from this trash.” Behind Robbie, the second officer had began to fumble around the general vicinity of his holster. |
| |
![]() |
|
| Vertigo | May 22 2017, 03:55 AM Post #11 |
![]()
Hypnotic Disorientation/ Cool Hair
|
The other Marauder simply pulled away from her with a huff. It should have been anticlimactic but with every step he took towards the police officers, Vai’s heart swelled a little more with joy. This could still be like the old days. Better than the old days, in fact! As Prism seemed to zero in on the closest of the two figures, Vai began to tentatively follow. She kept the second man in her peripheral vision, automatically slipping into the habit of providing cover for her fellow killers. As a human scream began to fill the empty space left by the absence of car siren, the second human tried to raise his weapon. Vai lifted a hand, directing a tsunami of sickness at him. He doubled over, reaching instead for the radio at his shoulder. “Unit *cough-cough* Unit 173 requesting back up… *cough* Officer down… Get a mutie wagon down he-” There was a garbled reply from the radio, muffled by the slump of a imploding in on itself to wretch violently on the tarmac. If Vertigo had been paying attention, she would have heard a confirmation over the channel that an ‘armoured superhuman restraint unit’ was already on its way… Vai turned back to Prism as he drew more screaming from the other man. The red and blue lights refracting around his crystalline structure made him beautiful, like an ice sculpture. Wisps of steam from burning flesh rose from his hand, curling delicately around his arm. Vai paused to watch him, blinking away snowflakes that tried to latch onto green lashes. There were times under Sinister that the little clone had seen beautiful, impossible, amazing things. But how many more wonders had her free life brought her to witness? How much had Robbie missed out on, submersed in the strange vengeful mood he’d shown up in? Vai smiled. Not the vicious grin that usually crossed her features on the battlefield, but a genuinely hopeful smile. Robbie looked back to Vai as he rose, “I’m not going to kill you this time.” His foot nudged the shoulder of the officer at his feet - the bloodied face now letting out only whimpers. “And you sure as hell don’t deserve to die from this trash.” Vai actually laughed. If there was anything they could agree on it was probably that! In a completely fair world – according to her own twisted ethics - she should have allowed Robbie to take the biggest rock he could lift and knelt for him to drop it on her skull with all the force she’d once inflicted upon him… Since she wasn’t prepared for a final death just yet, acts of contrition would have to be tried first. A life for a life was due. But if she could give her old colleague something resembling a new, better life for himself… By her logic that was just as good, then she’d have no guilt about refusing to lay her own head on a sacrificial alter. Behind them, the officer forced to vomit up a dinner of coffee and pretzels had recovered just enough to start fumbling for his weapon again. Luckily for the Marauder pair, his inner ear was still scrambled to hell. The shot he squeezed off went whistling past Vai’s right cheek. The bullet slammed into the brickwork of a building the other side of the street. “Tur ak!” Vertigo flinched then whirled round on the annoying little law-man. Naively, she felt like she and Prism had been in the middle of a ‘moment’ and he was interrupting it! Without even bothering to make a hand gesture, Vai let her aura lash out once more, tipping him over like a physical force had barrelled into him. Vai stomped over, kicked him to face skywards. Her powers were compelling him to throw up again, despite his stomach being emptied, and it made his body convulse violently like a giant fish out of water. His eyes were wet and bloodshot, the tears running down his cheeks tinged pink from all the delicate vessels pushed to bursting point. She brought her boot down onto his throat, since she only needed his head to stay still. “Eseo tai!” The savage growled and, without ceremony, fired her own gun into his skull. In the echo of the shot, she bent down and snatched his standard issue pistol out of his limp hand. She trotted back to Prism and the first human, completely indifferent to the blood spattered across her shins. There was a distant rumble, like thunder. Which seemed odd given that the snow was still falling. A gun now in each hand, she moved awkwardly to wipe at her nose; it was threatening to run because she hadn’t planned to stay outside for so long. She was just as awkward in beckoning Prism past the car, away from Eightball’s. “Robbie, come with me this night.” She offered. It was a level of amicability the other Vertigo clones would never have shown towards someone who’d thrown a knife at their head less than an hour ago. “Come see my Brothers. They know more words, they give you more great fights for to kill in if you like to stay.” She gave a withering stare to the human still at Prism’s feet. “They are very not like stoopid men here. We are…” The rest of her words were drowned out as the rumbling noise increased. Frowning, Vai realised too late that a restraint unit had been rolling through the streets of Hell’s Kitchen at full pelt. Her mouth gaped open at the sight and she turned to Robbie, not sure if she should stay and fight or turn and run. |
| |
![]() |
|
| Prism | May 25 2017, 03:57 PM Post #12 |
![]()
Classier than Rhinestone
|
Despite two meat sacks that would probably prefer the two dead, tensions seemed to be cooling. Cooling was the only way to adequately describe the process: it was no willing change on Robbie’s part, if anything it was simply energy dissipating into the air around them. Luckily for Robbie this was the first time that real communication was taking place. There was no manic shouts in between attacks, he understood the offer and played hypotheticals in his head despite the gaping holes in the details. There, devil’s danced in Robbie’s head. The world he once knew was reshaped by different laws of physics. Robbie’s eyes locked on Vai, the sounds from the man beneath him, the growing roar from the mutant response team, they were all drown out by the confusion that was a blanket on all other sounds. The smile seemed genuine on her face, but he understood the power of a good disguise. Worse, amusement resulting from a self-deluded sense of winning. Either way, Robbie had built his coffin and he couldn't fault anyone that wanted a nail or two in it. The green haired mutant was no longer a Marauder and quite frankly, it sickened Robbie that he wanted a sliver of the life that Vai had post-Sinister. There was a forward direction. Time once again gripped her life and with that severity came a purpose the little clones did not know as a lackey. With finite-ness came a desperation, and born from desperation was action. Free formed and wild action. Breaking the silence that was the introspective surgery Prism was casually performing in the middle of the street with two wounded officers at their feet (no one ever said the crystalline mutant had a knack for the time-place code), a bullet whizzed within what would be ear shot and caught his former, perhaps now not former but new, teammate off guard. Without hesitation, and almost as if the surprise had been a spark for her reaction, she seamlessly entered into a spin maneuver. And Robbie felt a brief wave of Vai’s unruly power lash out despite her focus on a the wounded little doe who was now the focus of her cruelty. Robbie did not flinch or look away from the officer as Vai took to the man with full force. A brief bit of surprise lingered under the surface, he did not think that she had been so caught off guard or was so distraught being taken away from the two’s moment. However, without thought the officer drew attention to himself and he had to suffer the consequences now. And he sure did, Vai batted him around like an angry kid picking one unlucky ant from the hill. Then as quickly as he had been chosen, Vai made the final squish. As the air cleared from the gunshot like a recoil of the universe, the roar of the reinforcement was nicked at both of their ears and it could not be ignored. ”Robbie come with me this night.” Though she butchered such a name with no verbal gymnastics in the pronunciation, he nodded her way there wasn’t excitement excitement on his face. Robbie was however intrigued to see if there was truth in what she said. Looking down to the officer at his feet, the whimpers that Robbie had drowned out made a brief comeback as the trickled out of his mouth like drool. The sound of the envoy approaching had now progressed to alarming. Robbie’s head snapped up and his shoulder’s tensed. Snapping back to Vai: “Well lead the way,” with a kick in his step he closed the distance between the two, “I’m about out of patience and needin’ a good foot soak.” [End: When Parting is Death, Reunion is Resurrection] |
| |
![]() |
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
| « Previous Topic · Hell's Kitchen · Next Topic » |










7:10 PM Jul 11