Order And Chaos: A Superpower RP (Started, Closed)

[Fury Is Me.]

Lina gave a friendly smile. So far so good. I wonder what he can do, though. Oh, crap, he's asking me a question.. Lina napped back into reality just in time to catch the gist of Marcus' question. In a joking tone, she said to him,"Who, me? Well, I can lift your entire room up.". Lina chuckled a bit and flexed her right arm. "I'm super strong! That, and i can do this thing with my sword that would make your socks fly off!" Lina was very proud of that last sentence that she didn't even realize the sexual innuendo she just made.

 

[Baldrek]

The training facility that the shooting range was a part of was a lot bigger than what Waldemar had imagined, and he certainly hadn't expected the security checkpoint at the entrance, not that it didn't make sense he just didn't think there would be too much normal security in a building filled with superheroes. Anyway, despite the large training area located here, Waldemar was mostly interested in the shooting ranges at the far end of the area, where it seemed like a few supers were already busy practicing their skills, some with firearms, some with devices of their own make, and a few seemed to be using innate abilities.

Walking past the range towards what seemed like a rental booth for weapons, Waldemar presented his room key and his passport as identification. "Hello there, I'd like to borrow a weapon for some training." He told the employee behind the counter, a middle aged man clad in a Seraphim staff uniform.

"Certainly, sir. Any particular one you had in mind?" The clerk replied as he looked over his passport and key before looking him up on a computer behind the counter to make sure that he was authorized. "Not really. In fact, I was hoping you would be able to help me a little when it came to selecting a firearm." Waldemar told him as he got his passport and key back, apparently there were no problems with his clearance. "Well, I'd recommend a familiar firearm, sir. Or one that is close to one you are familiar with."

Waldemar thought for a moment, before he had acquired his ability he didn't really have much of an interest in weapons, but there were two firearms that he did have some experience with, even if that had been well over twenty years ago now. "That would be a AG3 and a Glock 17 then." He started out, but added. "But I think I'd much rather like a long-range rifle instead of the AG3."

The clerk, not immediately recognizing the name of the first weapon, checked his computer again, but it didn't take long for him to nod in acknowledgment. "So a Heckler and Koch G3? Yeah, that's kinda aged now, might not do you much good, sir. But let's see..." He kept on typing at this keyboard for another couple of seconds before speaking again. "You could give the new Heckler and Koch a try, sir. The HK417 marksman variant is a similar, but much newer automatic rifle, it has the same cartridge size, so its feel should be somewhat similar."

Waldemar nodded, he hadn't even heard of this rifle before so it would be a good test of his abilities. "That sounds good." The clerk nodded back and walked through a door at the back of the booth, most likely a storage room for all the weapons Seraphim had available for use here at the range. Moments later he was back and placed the requested weapons on the counter, the rifle seemed a lot more sleek than the old one that Waldemar had used years and years ago, but the pistol looked just as he remembered. "Here you go, sir. Remember to take the weapons back here once you're done with them. And will that be all?"

"Yes, that will be all." Waldemar replied as he picked up the weapons. "Good, there's a button you can use to ask for ammunition over at the range, have a pleasant day." The clerk finished and got back to his duties, typing on the computer as Waldemar headed back over to the range.

Picking out an unoccupied range, Waldemar put down the weapons on the small counter in front of him and donned the ear protection provided before he pressed the button for more ammunition, which was soon delivered by another Seraphim employee. Figuring that he'd first see how badly he'd do without his powers, he picked up the rifle, slotted in a magazine, turned it from safe to single, cocked the bolt back, took aim, and fired. After having fired the first five shots he noticed that he was a quite shoddy marksman, seemed like he'd have to wait for the power to take hold anyway. As such he removed the magazine, unloaded the chambered bullet, and turned the weapon back to safe as he leaned against the counter, holding the rifle and waiting for his power to take effect.

 

[Lambi]

In no time at all, Justin completed his application. Filling out a personal info sheet isn't all that hard if you have to do it consecutively, something Justin groaned about. He eventually got over the act of repetitiveness as he waited for someone to call for him. He soon remembered his last bout with obtaining an occupation, and realized just how grueling the waiting process could be. It was suspenseful, tiring, boring, and it easily waned on one's patience. A certain patience that Justin wasn't known for having. He sighed, groaned, tapped his feet, made several back-and-forth glances to his cellphone, and tried to read something. He watched as employees walked in-and-out of the area, his heart accelerating every time somebody would glance in his direction.

Eventually, one employee did actually come for him. Apparently Becky was back from lunch, something Justin took note of as she asked him to follow her towards one of the executive elevators. One ride later, the young worker brought the employee-to-be to a stop at a really important looking door. She opened it, led him inside, and closed it after him. As he made a remark about the office's swanky design, he brought his attention to the only other inhabitant in the room. An aged man with graying features insisted Justin come to his desk. He did so and sat in one of the chairs, placing both of his bags in the other. The elderly gentleman preferred to stand and held a hand outstretched as he introduced himself.

"Ah, so you're Mr. Adelbert." He replied in confirmation, giving the man's hand a hearty shake.

"Indeed I am. And you must be Mister Case. Justin Case. A peculiar name, I must say. Parents had a sense of humor?" Christopher chuckled before he sat down himself after the handshake.

Justin let out a bit of a chuckle at Adelbert's quip. It wasn't the first time somebody's made that connection with his name. And considering the fact he'd be working with a new group of people by the end of the day, it wasn't gonna be the last. Justin's chuckle ended with a sigh of slight irritation.
"Yeah, I guess you could say that." He replied, trying to keep a smile on for his employer.

A sly smirk came across Christopher's face. "Heh, don't worry about it. Right here, you can prefer to get called by your alias if you prefer to do so." Watching Justin, Christopher got the impression that he was playing it safe as if he was afraid of offending him. "Kid, just be yourself. I've seen many like you before who think that just because I'm the head of Seraphim you need to be polite and not say anything wrong."

Justin let another sigh at Christopher's sayings. He silently remarked on how "being himself" usually got him fired. But, at least now he wouldn't have any trouble speaking his mind.
"Well if that's the case...then I imagined you'd be a little younger. I mean, not too young, just...none of the gray hair and whatnot." He replied shortly.

Christopher gave another small chuckle. "I've heard that one before. I've been in this business ever since my father passed it onto me. You might say the years are getting to me, but I'm by no means someone who is to be taken lightly. This is my organization, and I'm responsible for all the heroes that come to apply here." He cleared his throat a little. "Now, I'm sure that you have questions for me, so if you'd like to ask, go right ahead."

As Christopher talked, Justin couldn't help but let off small nods, showing that he was, indeed, paying attention and showing interest in the man's words. It was that feeling of authority that emitted from Christopher, that held Justin from saying something stupid. As he finished his spiel, Justin spoke up, the one thing in concerns with this job stuck out in his mind.

"What's your pay rate? Is like a weekly paycheck, or a monthly salary? I'm not trying to sound like a merc, I do plan on riding this out the whole way through, and I'm just curious." He asked. Money was the whole reason he applied for this position, and he wasn't afraid to let his employer know. That, and he really was curious.

"Don't worry about it. We have some mercenary type heroes here. So long as you help us, we help you." Christopher emphasized his words by pointing from Justin to himself, and then back from him to Justin. "And pay you. It's also more of how well your missions go. I'm not saying you wouldn't get payed if the mission wasn't a success. But you would get payed less. As for when you get payed, it's on a weekly paycheck. Anything you need from our staff is free, whether you need something repaired, room service or other kinds of service. However, it still falls onto you to pay for anything outside of our reach, such as anything you would buy outside of the building, for example." He stopped for the moment, allowing Justin to take in what he'd said.

Justin took in the man's words. A "weekly paycheck" was just the words he were looking for, but then the other perks grabbed his attention even further. He grinned once repairs were mentioned (it led him to think that he could work on his project without even leaving the workplace), but the grin formed into a grimace once Christopher mentioned 'room service'.

"Wait...people live here? You got some sort of apartment running here too?" He asked quizzically, not thinking that place like this would have living accommodations.

Christopher gave a chuckle to Justin's enthusiasm. "Yes, this is a safe haven for heroes who would prefer to live here. It's better for everyone, really. Makes it so I can contact everyone easily. Once we're done here, I'll have one of our staff members follow you to a small apartment that'll be ready for you to move in and rearrange however you want. Aside from how the rooms themselves are arranged." He gave another chuckle before he continued.

"There'll be a cellphone in the apartment for you to use, specifically for Seraphim business. You don't need to answer it to receive missions, but I ask that you keep it near yourself at all times. Should you be away for something like a shower, or sleep, it'll flash and give beeps every half minute. There's also a remote where you can call upon our staff to help you, aside from our scientists and engineers, which you'll have to go to yourself to ask for their help, if you so desire."

"Whoa...I had no idea. From the outside, you wouldn't think people stayed here." Justin said in wonder, grinning to himself as he realized he'd had a second cellphone for business purposes. But he also thought about the living. He had no plans on staying here all day, with his classes coming up in a few hours, and he was quite sure his father was expecting him to come home. He put a hand to his chin in thought.

"This is pretty cool. Unexpected...but cool. I wonder how far NYIT is from this place..." He began to pull out his phone, but decided against it. The sun hadn't set completely yet, so he knew there was still some time left before he had to leave. He looked back up to Christopher, giving him his regained attention.

"So, when do I get to see my room?" He asked, trying to stay cool, but his excitedness showing nonetheless.

"As soon as you step out from the office, one of our staff members will show you to the apartment. You'll then be handed a key to it. I can see that you need to think about this for a moment. From the info I got, you seem to live with your father, and you're in school. Don't worry about that, we'll take care of it for you. Or you can. Your call. The apartment is yours, though, if you want it. If you need to discuss things with your father, I can understand that." It was nice to be able to talk to such an enthusiastic young man, Christopher thought.

Christopher's words gave indication to Justin that the interview was ending. He did remark on talking things over with his father, but the option of a second home made him feel important. He rose to his feet, giving the elder another handshake. If this was going to be a full time job, the thought of rearranging his classes stuck out in his mind, even giving the thought of dropping some classes.

"I think I'll be fine as long as I don't drop the good ones." He thought as he shook. "If anything, I'd probably have to discuss more with my grade and financial advisors than I would with my dad. Shaping my schedule is no easy task." He said with a short chuckle.

"Go ahead and do that. Make sure to pick up the cell phone first before you do. If you need to attend school, we don't mind that. You'd just need to make sure you don't get a mission during the middle of class." Christopher chuckled before he followed Justin to the door. "I hope you will enjoy your stay in Seraphim. Welcome aboard." The young man exited the office, and Christopher was left alone again. "So busy, so busy. Well, I'd better take care of these next applicants."

 

[Captainguy42]

As he approached the main roads, Red Coyote activated his SPD's. At first, light began to shine all around him, an aura of all colors dances around him as the drones ran a test-pattern. A second later the aura turned completely white, as they finally finished compensating for background noise, and then began their projection. All around him the white light transformed, it blocked his view of the world around him except for a few large windows left for him inside of the newly created hologram. From the outside, anyone looking at him would see a New York Fire-truck, roaring along the road and blasting it's siren's and lights. Looking close of course one could notice obvious flaws, for instance, it was completely hollow, anyone looking inside the windows would see the great big empty space inside for him to ride around in, and how when the siren loops, about a minute in, some asshole mutters somethings into the mic.

But this was not a disguise meant to withstand close scrutiny, it was meant to be seen out the corner of someones rear-window or heard from far away. Because this disguise was not merely a disguise, it was a magical geasse, ingrained in the minds of all proper thinking men and women, it's power was magical and transcendent, it's power was to do that which mortal's thought impossible: Get New Yorkers to move the out of his way. And it did it's job, as he entered the main street, drivers began slowing down and pulling over to make more than enough space for him. He glided through the streets and some drivers who got a close look realized the farce, but a second later Red was already too far away. The point wasn't to truly be covert, he just didn't want to deal with traffic today, and besides today he was looking for trouble. So with the way cleared for the foreseeable future, Red turned his thoughts to trying to piece last night together.

Alright, just finished moving into the new lair. Wanted to relax, went into the city, had a few drinks, invited some people over. So at some point it was about 40 random people partying inside of an abandoned textile factory. Then he invited a few up to the loft, where they all downed several shots of tequila. Then I went to bed with that blonde 9 out of ten from out of town, no wait she was with her boy-friend, and her friend went home early, and the firecrotch was a complete ice-*****. I banged someone last night, I found a thong under my desk. Could that have been mine? No. Mine has lace. So who's left? The Shore Girl. So I screwed a girl, from the Jersey shore, who was willing to do a complete stranger in the loft of an abandoned and condemned textile factory.

Oh dear god.

As he came out of the tunnel her veered wildly into the side-streets, "BOB bring the Drones back from Broadway, find me an STD clinic!" A woman screamed as she saw the truck barreling towards her. Only to pass right through it, as Red Coyote drived by her. Farther into the city he disabled the hologram and pulled into an alleyway just a few blocks away fro the Fulton Avenue clinic. Parking the bike, he grabbed his gun's and ascended up a nearby fire-escape to get a better view.


__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Jerry was running late and the line inside the STD clinic was now at a stand still. He was supposed to be at work an hour ago but he really needed to see these test results. If it wasn't for his wife at home he would've just had them mailed but he was too scared of her finding the letter in the mail before he got it. Christ, my wife confronting me about getting the clap over breakfast with the kids, forget about explaining too her how I got it. He just wanted to see the test results, and if he was positive, grab his meds, and be done with this whole business. But someone at the front of the line was making a commotion. They were screaming their head off about not wanting make an appointment, Jerry wondered why he hadn't been thrown out yet. He craned out to investigate and then he saw, the man had a gun, and a mask, he was holding the clinic up!

A red-helmeted gunman with some sort of jolly roger on his back leveled his pistol at the window and was screaming, "Look just grab all pills for every kind of crotch-rot and unmentionable infection you've got, put them in a bag, and have someone bring them out, NOW! Or bodies are going to drop you vapid eyed lard tub of woman!"

Jerry panicked, he was about to turn and run out the exit when heard a gun-shot. Ear's still ringing, he turned to see gun-man yelling at the crowd inside the clinic, " STAY!" another gunshot "That's right! None of you get to go anywhere 'til Red get his meds! If any of you go for the door so help me I will kill each any every one of you. And if any of even THINK! of calling 911! Or Seraphim! I would much appreciate it if you tell them to send some eye-candy."

 

[Lambi]

After interviewing another hero who wished to join them, Christopher got word from one of his scanners that there was trouble in one of the clinics west of New York. Supposedly, someone was in need of some pills and couldn't get them. "Thanks for that. I'll contact a few of the heroes we have and send them towards this idiot."

He picked up his phone, dialing the numbers for Arlana, Spectre and Waldemar. The phones, or ear-piece in Arlana's case, were automatically answered. "I've got a mission for you three, Arlana, Spectre and Waldemar. West of the city in the Bronx there's a man causing trouble in one of the clinics. I want you three to go and take care of him without any casualties, including him." He hung up for Arlana, then continued talking to Spectre and Waldemar. "A car will be provided so that you two, Spectre and Waldemar, can get there since you don't have any powers of transportation. The driver will know the location." With that, he hung up, the mission given to them all.

 

[Baldrek]

Waldemar had just finished his little training session over at the range, getting a better feel for when his ability started to take effect, for now it seemed like it worked gradually within the scope of half an hour before peaking. Having just entered the elevator again after handing his borrowed weapons back to the booth clerk, his Seraphim cellphone suddenly flared to life. 'Huh... That was quick, haven't even been here a day yet...' Waldemar thought as he withdrew the phone from his pocket just as a message from Christopher started playing.

"I've got a mission for you three, Arlana, Spectre and Waldemar. West of the city in the Bronx there's a man causing trouble in one of the clinics. I want you three to go and take care of him without any casualties, including him. A car will be provided so that you two, Spectre and Waldemar, can get there since you don't have any powers of transportation."

Waldemar pocketed the phone again as the message stopped playing and hit the button leading to the floor where his apartment was located, he hoped that the people he had phoned earlier had gotten together the gear he had asked for, or this would be a really tough first mission.



A few moments later Waldemar had changed into his new gear, the olive green fatigues and balaclava made him feel like he was back at basic training again for a moment, but it would do its job he reckoned, and the bullet resistant armor on top seemed to fit him like a glove as well. Tossing on the equipment harness he noticed that the magazine pouches were still empty however, and realized that he had yet to ask for a weapon to be issued to him. Grabbing the apartments phone he called down to the Seraphim receptionist and issued another order for weapons and ammunition to be delivered to the car that he and this 'Specter' fellow would be riding. Shortly thereafter he slung the backpack with his medical supplies over his shoulder and hurried over to the express elevator leading down into the buildings ground floor, he just hoped that he hadn't used too much time.



Waldemar was astonished that there was already a Seraphim employee waiting for him when he reached the car outside the building, it hadn't take him more than five, maybe ten minutes tops, since he called for the weapons to be delivered and yet they had beaten him to it. "Here are the weapons you requested, Doctor Abel." The female employee said as she gestured to the open metal suitcase next to her, containing both of the weapons he had used up at the range earlier. A 20 inch marksman variant of the HK417, a simple Glock 17 pistol, and enough ammunition to fill his pouches, with some to spare.

"Thanks." Waldemar uttered as he stocked up and grabbed the guns, he'd keep the rifle in his hands until the situation was over, he didn't know what to expect and he most certainly didn't want his power to cut off in the middle of an encounter. Feeling how much more weighty his harness had now become, Waldemar stood next to the car as he waited for the other team member to arrive, this 'Specter'. He wondered what kind of person he was to warrant such an alias? Well, he would probably find out soon enough.

 

[PrinceOfShapeir]

Arlana's earpiece buzzed mid-flight as she flew between the towers of steel and concrete, momentarily causing her to lose focus and drop a good hundred feet in altitude. "Bale's bones!" She clapped her hands over her ears to drown out the sound of wind whistling so she could listen.

"I am on my way. Should I engage upon arrival or wait until the other two arrive?" She was a good ways away, probably further from it than the Seraphim base, but she didn't have to deal with traffic or with winding roads, a straight line path was sufficient.

"Hold back when you get there, Arlana. Keep an eye on the situation and do not intervene until you have backup unless you deem it necessary to preserve lives."

"I understand." She adjusted the earpiece, switching to a support frequency. "I need directions to this clinic."

"Yes, Ms. Dehannsen." The person on the other end seemed to know what she was talking about without needing to provide details. "Continue at your present vector and speed for twenty-one minutes. From atop the Rolendas Company's building you should be able to see the clinic."

"Thank you." She began beating her wings, gaining speed. Twenty-one minutes was far too long, no telling what could happen in that time.

 

[RatRace123]

Werewolf was rushing through the city, swinging along on a line from his left arm. Within a second, the tendril's grip was loosened from the building it was latched onto, small pieces of rubble chipped off from the building's side as the tendril receded back into Werewolf's arm. For a moment, Werewolf was flying through the air without support.

As he came closer and closer to a nearby building, he pulled his right arm back and extended his arm blade. When the building was within his reach he thrust his blade into the solid structure and started sliding down the building's side. His rate of descent kept slowing as the line the blade cut through grew in length. Eventually Werewolf stopped and was left hanging some twenty stories above the ground. He pressed his other hand and feet against the side of the building and looked around at the skyline before him.

He looked upward and shot a tendril up to the roof of the skyscraper. From the higher vantage point, Werewolf was able to get a better sense of where he was; somewhere in the South Bronx he figured. Positioning himself towards his destination in Manhattan, Werewolf leapt from the building and started swinging.

He found himself swinging close to the street level, passing by the Fulton Avenue clinic; his mind was only half focused on his swinging, the other half concerned itself with HEART.

They've always stayed out of the city; what the hell's changed? Were they able to get a base up right under Seraphim's watch? Shit; maybe they cut a deal with Seraphim... would they do that just to get me, do I pose that much of a threat?

He thought to himself as he landed with an audible 'THUP' onto a nearby rooftop.

Nah, that can't be it. Even the self righteous bastards at Seraphim wouldn't work with HEART. There must be something else going...

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of screams and gunfire.
"That's right! None of you get to go anywhere 'til Red get his meds!"

Werewolf crept over to the edge of the building and crouched down to get a better view of the situation across the street.

 

[Arcanist]

"I'm super strong! That, and I can do this thing with my sword that would make your socks fly off!"

Marcus, against his better judgment, let himself chuckle that. 'Heh, she doesn't seem to have noticed. That's adorable! Working with her is going to be... interesting.' She shot him a look of confusion at his reaction, so he decided to change the subject.

"Well, I'm Faraday. Or Marcus, whichever you like better." He lowered his goggles over his eyes and extended his hand. "I prefer to demonstrate my power. You might want to stand back." He balled his hand up into a fist, then quickly unclenched it, sparks discharging as he did so. Lightning arced between his fingers, crackling and humming. "I suppose you could say I'm a walking battery, but that's just touching on the surface of my powers."

 

[socialtangent]

After a few more tries at the range, Kurt had decided to retreat to his apartment to take a shower and relax for the rest of today. He made it to the elevator when his Seraphim-issued phone rang. Quickly fishing the device out of his pocket, he held it up to his ear. It was a message from Christopher Adelbert, head of Seraphim and Kurt's new boss.

"I've got a mission for you three, Arlana, Spectre and Waldemar. West of the city in the Bronx there's a man causing trouble in one of the clinics..."

Kurt frowned as he returned the phone to his pocket. Couldn't it have waited until after he got the new gear? It wouldn't hurt to know who exactly he was teamed up with either. In any case, a mission was a mission. If he managed to work for six years with his current getup, he could use it for just a little longer. With no time to spare, he entered the elevator and headed up. When the doors opened, he sprinted down the hallway, entered his apartment, and suited up.

First was the grey t-shirt. Next was the kevlar vest. It was battered and worn from years of use, but it never let him down before. Then was the black leather jacket, which was somewhat of a trademark. Finally, the tactical gloves and plain black neoprene face mask. By his own admission, he looked more ready to play paintball than fight crime, but his current gear was all he could afford on a vigilante's salary.

With his gear on, Kurt ran back to the elevator and headed down to the floor level. He raced past office workers, who didn't seem to be bothered too much by someone nearly bumping into them. Given who they worked for, it probably wasn't all that uncommon. He headed out the front door, where he saw what he was sure was the car. A Seraphim employee and a man dressed in military fatigues stood by the vehicle. Presumably, they were the driver and Waldemar.

"I guess this is the ride?" he asked as he approached them.

 

[Baldrek]

Waldemar had just enough time to wonder about who this 'Specter' he was going to be working with was before who he guessed was the man in question also arrived at the scene.

"I guess this is the ride?" A man clad in what looked like well used paintball gear asked him, not exactly inspiring confidence by the way he looked. However, even though he might be new to Seraphim Waldemar had already ingrained one thing into his mind, that almost everyone else that worked for Seraphim was a meta human as well, so looks could be very, very deceiving.

"That it is." Waldemar replied as he opened one of the doors and got inside the vehicle, holding his rifle firmly in his right hand all the while, he really didn't need to 'reset' his mastery over the weapon now, as he didn't know how long it would take them to arrive where the villain was at. "I'm Waldemar, by the way. But Abel or doctor or any variation between them is fine by me, just be consistent." He told Specter before closing the door shut and waiting for him to get into the car so that they could get going.

Once Specter had entered the car as well he figured that he might as well ask him what kind of abilities he had, knowing your team and all that. "So what kind of powers are you bringing with you, Specter?"

 

[Spoon498]

Atticus stared down at the smoking barrel aimed at the freshly shattered bottle of whiskey. Feeling a sudden pang of sadness and a dryness in his throat as he watched his best friends blood of the last few years pool up and slowly drain through the cracks between the shoddily constructed table. A depressing rain of alcohol dribbled to the floor. Soaking up in dirt and wood till there was nothing left.

He smelled the fresh scent of gunpowder in the air and found that it disgusted him and made him sick to his stomach. He slowly set the revolver down on the table and sighed to himself. Atticus took a moment before he looked back over the empty revolver, the shattered bottle, then the folder from Seraphim.

"Well that simplifies things doesn't it?" He said dryly to himself.

Atticus managed to glance over to the dark corner of the room. There it was... propped against the wall, a monster of flame and masochism contained inside a modest and uninteresting violin case. Even the dust seemed to have to good sense to stay away from it, looking as untouched now as the moment he set it down. His head hurt to look at it and he found himself quickly averting his gaze.

"I can do this" he tried to reaffirm himself unaware his hand was shaking.

With that he grabbed a pen and paper and began writing a note. The note was for Kelsey. A woman he had met in Vegas. The only gamble Atticus made in Vegas was on her, and he had been lucky he made the right call. Atticus was looking for someone to hire to run him supplies to support his life of solitude. It never really occurred to Atticus that Las Vegas of all places might not be the best place to look for a responsible and trustworthy person however Atticus never had much of a reason to mistrust people in general.

When he met Kelsey she immediately struck him as a kind hearted and hard working woman. He was right. He'd come to look forward to her bi-monthly visits. It was a nice to have a conversation with someone every once and a while. Over the course of the last few years he'd gotten to hear her story. She was a stripper by night on the weekends and worked the black jack tables at a casino during the week, supported her eight year old son by herself, and had lived a generally tough life. Yet somehow maintained a cheery disposition. Atticus admired her relentlessness. She fought for her son and didn't let the world or her situation break her. Frankly she inspired him.

He finished over the last bit of note and reread it
I hope this helps you catch your dreams. You've been a good friend. Thank You. Your Friend, Atticus He was never any good with goodbyes.

And with that he opened the old rusted safe under his bed and took out it's meager contents within. Taking out what he needed to get by and leaving the rest of his savings on the table for Kelsey. Roughly 40,000 dollars in cash.

He hesitated when he reached for the case, taking one last moment to consider what he was about to do. It only took him a few moments before he grabbed the case by the strap he made for it special, and threw it over his back on top of his camelback. He walked outside into the crisp coolness of the night and took the tarp off of the mountain bike he'd been using to explore the nearby area.

If I keep a good pace I'll make it to Interstate 15 by morning

Atticus watched an elf owl he'd spotted in the night flying gracefully in the night air as it flew between himself and the moon, perfectly profiling itself. He wondered how amazing it must feel to be that free. Suddenly the weight of the case on his back seemed to pull him out of his day dream and drag his spirits back down to where he was accustomed to.

With that Atticus sped off into the night, nothing left behind him except the quickly settling dust flung up from his bike.

 

[Terratina.]

Morph strolled the streets of New York, still in the shape of his creator. As time went by and human emotions rose up from the depths of cold instinct, it could not help but feel a fondness for this form. It was a sort of macabre memorial its creator, not to mention discreet and with the retinas and fingers required to pass BioCorp?s biometric scanners. He may have been from the corporation?s service, but BioCorp saw it as just a leave of absence, Felix was too valuable an asset just to be simply discarded. Regardless of that little matter, Morph could easily sneak into the building by moulding itself in a form that could flow through the air vents, a weakness in security shared by many other buildings. Nevertheless, the laboratories beneath the skyscraper were another matter entirely; tightly climate-controlled with a sophisticated closed circuit air conditioning system. The little pipes criss-crossing the walls of the labs had no exit or entrance point, as the air was provided, at great expensive via giant gas cylinders for the perfect sterile conditions. But then again Morph wondered even why it was drawn to BioCorp so much, wondering if it was some assimilated fancy of its creator or that the corporation had tucked away in those private labs creatures like it. Creatures created from the stolen scraps of research the BioCorp could get their hands on; creatures with certain assets Morph could make its own...

As it continued to walk through the crowded streets, a vague sense of direction guiding it to the BioCorp building, Morph came across a bank with a line of people waiting to use the ATM built into its walls. This caused a thought to emerge in Morph?s mind, one about humans. It went a bit like this: the mugger and his victim Morph had recently devoured were part of a giant food chain, though the resource they were competing over wasn?t food, it was money. There was one giant pyramid with the CEOs at the top, the ordinary citizen like the woman in the middle and street trash like the mugger on the bottom. Morph realised that in order to compete with its opposition, it needed this resource, this money and made future plans to track down a bank clerk or whoever had access to the vaults, track them down, devour them, and use their appearance to make a withdrawal. This wouldn?t be robbery, this would be a curious case of embezzlement where the employee would disappear without a trace soon after. Morph felt a twinge of satisfaction with the plan, but that was for another time. Still, it thought some more on the plan, with a successful result, Morph could afford to purchase some shelter. With all the night it had spent resting in the open, no amount of shapeshifting could remove the buildup of dirt on its being and frankly people regarded him with a wide berth, like Morph was just another wandering bum. Not the ideal appearance for a shapeshifting terror.

It turned when it reached the end of the block, the daily commotion of New York in plain sight. Gridlock, drivers filled with road rage, pedestrians clinging to the pavements lest the rush hour traffic run them down on the roads. Through all this, Morph just walked on by, cursing its lack of transportation other than its own two foot. Maybe after the bank raid it would also purchase a car. The temptation of reverting back to its original form to carry itself with swiftness on its tendrils through the street, consuming all that would block its path was getting to Morph; so was the hunger for more and more flesh. Knowing two measly humans wouldn?t satisfy it this time, Morph gave into that temptation. Being killed by Seraphim?s goons were one thing, dying of starvation was another. Besides, this would be an isolated incident, a terror of tendrils from nowhere devours an entire streets worth of people only to disappear and never be seen again. Morph walked on, onto the street, the form of Felix Youngblood dissolving into a creator from the realm of nightmares. Some didn?t see it coming, other did and made a run for their lives. No matter, Morph globbed them up all the same. As the mass of flesh ripped through the street, tendrils grabbed any person with the silly belief that they would survive. Its mouth processed these people like a meat grinder with circular rows of teeth spinning back and forth independently, only stopping to crush and chew.

The only remains of those people was the blood splattered on the pavement and even on the buildings. Empty husks of cars and taxis filled the street. The only eyewitnesses left were those in the safety of the buildings that lined the street, looking in horror through bloodstained windows at this dreadful occurrence. Morph quickly disappeared through a drain on the pavement, quickly making its way away from the scene of the crime to safe place for its bulging body to finish digesting its feast...

 

[socialtangent]

"So what kind of powers are you bringing with you, Specter?"

"Well, it'd take a little while to explain in detail, so think of ghosts. I can mimic some of their properties by channeling energy from the place they call home. Levitation, cloaking, ectoplasm and whatnot. Then there's purple energy beams. Not sure how that fits in with the 'ghost' package, but I can shoot 'em. Oh, and you can call me Kurt. When we're not out in public, at least."

Kurt regarded his counterpart. There had to be more to Waldemar than just being a military man, unless he was really, really good at what he did. Or perhaps he just liked dressing as one. "So I figure I might as well ask the same question. What is it that you do, Waldemar?"

 

[Baldrek]

Waldemar nodded at Kurt's explanation as the car set of towards their destination, speeding through the streets of New York on it's way to the Bronx, passing high-rises and glass clad skyscrapers on its way. 'So he can no doubt handle himself then... Probably better than me anyway.' He thought as he straightened out one of the creases around the edge of the balaclava, he found it slightly uncomfortable, but it would be better than his true identity being broadcast everywhere he figured, then who could say if he'd be safe out on the streets again?

"So I figure I might as well ask the same question. What is it that you do, Waldemar?"

"Me? Well, more mundanely I'm a doctor, an anesthesiologist if you want to get technical, emergency medicine and the like. When it comes to powers... I guess I've got better reflexes than a human, barely, and my sight and hearing are better as well." Waldemar began explaining as he looked over the weapon he was holding, knowledge about it and its use slowly seeping into his mind and his grip shifting slightly like he was subconsciously getting used to the way it felt in his hand. "But my most useful offensive power is my ability to master a weapon through contact, which is why I'm holding on to this rifle right now, it's... How should I put it... Being in contact with it makes me understand how to use it and how it is best utilized, if that makes any sense. It... Can be useful, but it does take a while to set in, about 30 minutes or so by my estimates."

As Waldemar finished talking he looked out the window of their vehicle as it continued on its way, he hoped it wouldn't just drop them off in the thick of it, since he didn't have any proper defensive powers he doubted he'd last long in such a situation. Better that they be dropped off a little ways off so that they could approach at their leisure and get an advantage, and he kinda guessed that was the plan too, sounded reasonable to assume it anyway.

 

[Spoon498]

Atticus was in the dark, playing the violin as he had many times before. Dancing in the darkness slowly. Weaving a song through the air with hand and bow, threading the notes into a sorrowful song that blackened the soul and saddened the heart.

Suddenly the tempo changed... everything quickened. The notes became angry, enraged, filled with fury! His whole body tensed up, he pressed the bow hard against the strings, with all his might, but still managed to play with an uncompromising dexterity. Suddenly his arms ignited. Consumed in flames as he continued to play as if possessed. A lighthouse of madness dancing through the endless pitch black nothingness.

The melody continued to play as the rest of Atticus ignited and he fell to his hands and knees wracked with pain. The violin continued to float as if some mysterious force still held it and
was circling around him like a predator. Atticus looked at his hands as the flesh melted off them and screamed an agonizing scream that would make the dead shudder. The vomit inducing stench filling the air as he watched the tips of his fingers peel away to the bone.

Terror filled Atticus tore at his face tearing off chunks of flaming flesh and letting them slosh to the ground, like beads of flaming wax splashing off a candle they bubbled and popped until nothing remained. He felt his eyes melt and suddenly pop, the vitrius fluid running down what was left of his cheeks in what looked like some twisted form of tears, leaving nothing but hollowed out sockets. Somehow, though his nerves should of burn off long ago he felt everything and screamed out into the darkness as his very soul burned within him

BURN!

Atticus bolted up from the back seat of his rental car panting deeply as if he'd just run a marathon. He slowly looked over his body and noticed he was drenched in sweat. Still breathing heavily he reached back and unrolled the window letting to cool breeze into the car to comfort him. He took a moment to think, the vivid dream still seared into his mind.

Atticus got out of the car grabbing the strap on the violin case as he exited, taking it with him. He made his way down to a nearby slowly flowing shallow river off the road. Sitting the case down behind him he made his way onto a large smooth rock that protruded into the river. It was a peaceful scene. The moon was full and the light it gave off was magical as it glistened over the water and reflected the whole tree line. Enjoying the scene for a moment he quickly leaned down and splashed his face with water, refreshing himself taking a deep breath as he came back up.

AAAaaatTTTttiCusssSSSSS

He froze. Completely paralyzed with fear as he heard the voice that sounded like the wind itself speak against his ear in the softest of whispers. His hackles rised as he felt it's breathe wash down the back of his neck. It sounded vaguely like Anna and it made his skin crawl. He smelled the burnt flesh and could feel it coming around on him. Seeing it in his perihelia vision. Something that looked a feminine charred corpse.

Suddenly Atticus turned to meet it and found nothing was there. As His vision focused he found himself staring directly at... It... By some means the violin was now outside of it's case reflecting the moonlight off its perfectly polished black and white finish. He gulped slowly feeling that familiar dryness in his throat suddenly return. His hand began to shake steadily.

BURN

It was much louder this time.

"I've waited to long this time" he said slowly to himself. "I don't have much time."

Atticus quickly returned to his car and sped off. Swerving as he took off. He wouldn't be getting any more sleep that night anyways.

 

[Pm0n3y]

Justin found some solace and a sense of gaping awe in the room he was introduced to. So much awe in fact, that he managed to close the door in the face of the employee that introduced him to the living quarters. The modern look of the place was accentuated by the long window that took up a majority of the main area's (the living room, Justin assumed) southern wall, a window that looked out into the city, and offered front row seats to the Manhattan skyline as the setting sun accentuated against adjacent buildings.

"Holy geez, I feel like a fucking bachelor!" He exclaimed, too giddy for his own good. He managed to dance his way towards the center of the establishment, seating himself on the couch placed there. There was a TV and coffee table ahead of the couch, with a few items adorning the table. Justin reached for the one that resembled a modern day smartphone. He couldn't help but grin as he turned it on. Justin's always showed an affinity for technology, and this time was no different.

He pulled out his cellphone from an opposite pocket, and made bit of comparison between the two. His eyes then perked in surprise as he saw the time on both phones. He hopped to his feet.

"Shit, I don't want to be late for class." He said, grabbing his backpack. He took a look towards the duffel bag, contemplating on taking it with him. "...S'not like i'll need it in class...I'll come back for it." He departed, phones in hand. He beeped in directions to the institute. To his surprise, the location was much closer to Seraphim Tower than it was to his own home. The benefits of this organization was beginning to become staggering.

"Oh, i'll be back. For sure." He said with a smirk as he began towards his destination.

 

[socialtangent]

So that explained why Waldemar was clinging to that rifle. "Well, I hope you've been holding onto that for at least a little while," Kurt said. "We could use the fire support."

It was a few more minutes until the car came to a stop along the curb. "The clinic is just down the street," the driver told them. Kurt looked out the window and spotted their destination. The clinic was a relatively small shop that blended inconspicuously into the neighboring buildings along the avenue. No police presence and no outward sign of any activity. That was discouraging.

"The police probably don't know what's going down yet," Kurt muttered as he thought of a battle plan. If there was anyone still inside, then they were probably dealing with a robbery, or even worse, a hostage situation. There was no way to tell what it looked like in there, so if they barged in, they'd be going in blind. And if they went in blind, innocents could be harmed. Unless...

"Alright, we're gonna need that fire support, Waldemar. If you can take up a position across the street to cover me, I can infiltrate the clinic and try to figure out what's going on in there. Sound good?"

 

[Captainguy42]

"What's taking so long!" Red screamed, as he fired another shot into the ceiling. Behind the desk, the receptionist flinched again, and looked nervously down the hall, " I- I- I-," She repeated to herself, to nervous to actually finish her sentence. She didn't have to, as the desk assistant Mark came back with a small box which he put on the counter. Red Coyote stormed up to the desk and pointed at it with his gun at the box. " What is this?" He demanded.

" It's all the medicine we have left," Said Mark, who trying desperately not to look nervous or break out into a cold sweat.

"You are a clinic, hundreds of people come here everyday, and you are trying to tell me that! is all you have?" Coyote's voice dropped into a low monotone, "Sir, do you want to die today?"

Mark jumped, he started looking for a way out but it was too late, Coyote already had his gun trained on Mark's chest. " I know, normally we have a lot more but I don't know why, today we're almost out, I went in the back, that's all we have! Please believe me I don't want to die." He whimpered as a sheen of moisture began appearing on his fore-head. Coyote played the sound of a growling wolf out of the SPD's speakers, a bit of theatrics to get his displeasure across. "Alright," He said, " I'm feeling merciful today, and frankly who needs that much medication, the only reason someone would steal that much is to be a complete jerk. So here's what we're gonna do instead," Lowing his gun, he motioned Mark to walk over to the other side of the desk.

" You are going to pick up the box, and walk out that door with me, do anything odd, and I'll shoot you." Coyote said, letting the violent edge disappear from his voice. " Odd being anything that isn't what the man in the Coyote head tells you to do." Slowly but surely Mark picked up the medicine, and walked out the door, with Red Coyote just two steps behind him.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


Inside the medicine storage locker Ryan was trying to figure out how he was going to get fifty thousand dollars worth of STD medication out of New York and back an abandoned textile factory in New Jersey. While his hologram kept everyone's attention out front he snuck in the back entrance, then with the use of some more holograms, made it seems like the clinics medicine supplies were bare so that he could have time to plan his next move. In retrospect he was beginning to see how poor his planning had been.

There's no way I can do this in one trip, even then I don't even have a get away driver. Shit there's no way I can take all this with me on my bike.

This was beginning to turn into a matter of credibility for him. He was only just starting as an honest villain, he needed the entire stache to maintain his burgeoning reputation. He'd treat himself and sell the rest to mob doctors and prostitutes for an exorbitant price.. He couldn't merely steal a small portion of it, not only would that be practically worthless, he'd lose face. He had picked out the most expensive medicines and piled them onto a gurney secured them with a blanket. From outside he could begin to hear sirens, he could pick out the NYPD and an ambulance from the sound. He checked the feed from the SPD out front, his hologram was moving out of the building. Shit, looks like I'm playing this next part by ear.

 

[Fury Is Me.]

Lina leaned in real close to Marcus' hand as the fingers crackled with power, which she assumed could fry her if she shook his hand now. She was definitely interested. Lifting herself away from the cracking digits, she gave Marcus another friendly smile. "So you make electricity? Cool! Are you going to work in the science field here or something? Or are you all for the field and ready for action?"