EXADHOS

[Archangel]

OOC: Sorry I took so long! It started simple, and then it turned into a raging, word-hungry beast, and it swelled to the point of no return. "No return" meaning if I go back and edit stuff out, it'll take another few hours. O.o Without further ado, and hoping not to overload anyone's useless-shit-o-meter, here's my post.

Real Name: Thomas (Tom) Henderson

Alias: N/A

Sex: Male

Age: 34

Normal Appearance: Tom’s physique is not particularly attractive, but instead reflects the rough work and hard life of a carpenter. A large man, he stands at about 6’3”, although a few inches are cut off by the typical slouch of a man without pride, and he weighs a good 235 pounds. Most of that, however, is not fat. His arms are thickly muscled, with the kind of undefined bulk that signifies hard work without sculpting. His body is the same, to a lesser degree, with a little more fat and a little less strength. His hands are rough and calloused, rimmed with nicks and hard bumps, and yet they’re still nimble and quick, able to cut perfect designs or carve the slightest bit of wood. His eyes are a friendly brown, large and set back in a face that’s plain, pleasant, and yet not very happy. A mop of brown hair, not long enough to get in the way but not short by any means, lays limp and unstyled on his head. He usually doesn’t bother with more than a t-shirt and jeans, or maybe khaki work pants, as it really isn’t practical to wear anything else. If this wasn’t Texas, he might have even worn a long shirt…but even the coldest day in Texas feels warm to a man from Massachusetts. Most of his “work” clothes are dirt-stained, primer-and-paint-stained, and/or ripped, and his footwear is the only kind practical: steel-toe boots, pockmarked and old, but heavy-duty. For his off times, he does have nicer clothes, but not many. Good t-shirts, maybe a button-up, and nicer long pants.

Costumed Appearance: Tom has no superhero alias, and doesn't wear a costume.

Morality: Good, as completely as any normal man can be good.

Stats: Tom's abilities don't allow him a concrete set of stats. He ranges a lot, and as such is hard to pin down. As I have it set, even at his strongest he only has 35 points.

Strength- Ranges from 1 to 10
Endurance- Ranges from 1 to 10
Speed- 1
Agility- 3
Intelligence- 1
Physical Combat- 5 to 9
Ranged Combat- 1

Genetic Abilitiy: (I took Sonic's words to heart. No "Signature Abilities", just an overview)

Tom has the ability to affect and manipulate density and weight. Yes, they are separate: the word "dense" is defined as "having the component parts closely compacted together; crowded or compact", whereas "weight" is defined as "the amount or quantity of heaviness or mass; amount a thing weighs." Something that is dense is not necessarily heavy, and vice versa. His abilities can go from making something physically more or less dense, by compacting the molecules of it, to making something physically more or less weighty, in other words extremely light or unimaginably heavy. He can use his abilities on only one item at a time, anything from his own body to any object he knows of well enough to focus on it, but he can change that one object drastically. The range can be enormous, but an example of what he can do would be to make his body’s weight less than the buoyancy of the air, letting him literally levitate, or making his bones and flesh so incredibly dense that he is literally diamond-hard. He can make a wooden screen door denser than steel and too heavy to move, or he can make the density of one stair on a staircase so low that someone who stepped on it would fall right through it. He can walk through walls, stop bullets with one finger, become completely immovable, snap steel girders, and turn concrete into clay.

Weaknesses: Strangely enough, with all those strengths, he still has sizeable weaknesses. He has no ranged combat skill (unless you count "throwing rocks and then drastically increasing their weight over the heads of the enemy" as a legitimate combat skill), which means that he has to fight up close. But while he does have a measure of supernatural strength, it really only stems from the fact that he can punch with the force of a concrete block if he wanted. He can't heave a car unless he makes it light first, and he can't bend steel unless it has a lower density.

He can only use his abilities on one object at a time, and even those objects are limited in size. Anything larger than a compact car is just not possible to change, and even something that big would take a MASSIVE amount of energy from him. Overuse of his power results in general weakness to the point of exhaustion, and so he rarely goes too far. Usually he uses his abilities on a small part of an object, instead of the whole thing (a stair instead of a staircase, the tires of a car instead of the car itself). Also, while his density/weight powers act instantaneously, he cannot keep an object in a drastically different weight or density for long periods of time. Most of his power goes in flickers (he would flicker super dense if someone was shooting at him, and then change back to normal as soon as the ammunition clip was finished). This makes him vulnerable to sneak-attacks, sniper fire, long-range attacks not easily anticipated, and basically anything he can't see coming. If he can't see it, or if it's too fast, then he'll be hit when his body has only the strength and endurance of a normal human.

History:

Tom wasn't always aware of his powers, and he certainly never wanted them. He was a normal kid, and a normal man, with a fairly normal life. He spent his younger days being raised by the Hendersons in Massachusetts, a married couple with a highly advanced knowledge of the super-modern, ultra-sophisticated book called the “Bible” along with cutting-edge child-rearing techniques (such as "if you don't clean your room, you won't get dessert for a week" and "we really should wash your best shirt, you know Sunday's mass is important for Father Reed"). How could he not have grown into a moral young man? He went to church every week, scrubbed his teeth every night, never dated a girl that looked "loose" (that word always being uttered in a scornful whisper), and kept his grades up. He was in Glee Club, to his shame, and took lessons in martial arts (boxing, judo, and tae kwon do) after school, to his honor.

When he graduated high school, he originally went off to college, attending Wentworth Institute of Technology in downtown Boston to become an architect. He was always good with his hands, though, and decided that a desk job designing buildings he'd never touch just wasn't for him. He left school in his 3rd year, became an apprentice to a carpenter of sorts, and became a master in the art of shaping wood. He jumped from medium to medium, doing everything from basic house framing to intricate furniture design and anything in between. He liked the feeling of a saw in his hands, a board on his bench, and nails in a jar by his head.

While at school, he had met a beautiful young woman named Janine, and their relationship had continued long after he left college. They were married, and had a baby girl, before his talents truly began to develop. Unlike most genetics, he didn't exhibit any signs until well past puberty, in his twenties. The strange feelings inside of him, provoked and inflamed by the emotions of marriage and having a child, accelerated day by day. He began to have accidents, his powers flaring and causing random objects to become overly heavy, or making his body suddenly denser. His emotional and mental stability slipped as he became confused and even frightened of himself, and his marriage suffered. After several years of wedded bliss, Janine filed for divorce when their daughter, Mary, was 6 years old. She cited "irreconcilable differences". He moved away from Boston, his home, and went to Fort Quesada, mainly in an attempt to try and start over. When the divorce had first been filed, some things had been said that probably shouldn't have been, and his relationship with his ex-wife was now not friendly.

He lives now in the south end of FQ, working as a tradesman and contractor for areas south of the city. His small, modest home even includes a workshop, where he fashions beautiful furniture that he very rarely can bring himself to part with. He lives alone, and has no relatives or romantic interests in his life besides his parents, in Massachusetts still, and his little Mary, 9 years old now and living in Boston with her mother. His "crime fighting" is basically circumstantial, if he sees something he can fix, and he mostly uses his abilities sparingly, only if others need him. Very rarely will he even use it for his own good. Mainly he just hides it, trying to live as if he has no abilities, trying to forget how he destroyed his own life.

Other: There are only two people who know of his abilities. One is his best friend, Joseph Lanster, who moved down to FQ with him in a show of unquestionable loyalty. Joe is himself a genetic, and because the two have been friends since elementary school, Tom knew about it first and foremost. Joe discovered his own abilities in high school, and he's been Tom's biggest support in dealing with his powers. Joe currently works for another construction firm right outside the city.

The other person who knows is his daughter, Mary. Over the years of confusion and heartache in his new family, Tom had slipped too many times to count. Janine, by that time, had become distant enough (and close-minded enough) to be completely oblivious. Mary, however, was not. She watched the amazing things her father could do, and, being too young to understand their significance, had fostered a growing amazement and awe for her father. She never told him what she saw, and even now Tom has no clue she knows, but the memories stayed with her, and even a 9-year-old can put two and two together.



IC: Sometimes, a beer or two in a local bar while the game is on just really hits the spot. Even if you had to have that beer alone.

Tom sat by himself at a small table, nursing a lager and wondering how Mary was doing. Joe wasn’t able to come, it had been one hell of a week and he just wanted some extra sleep. Normally, Tom would have echoed that sentiment. But the truth was, trying to keep the Dodson Building deadline had destroyed his calm, and nothing helped calm him down more than a couple beers. And so there he sat, sipping and watching, and half-heartedly considering calling Mary.

When the waitress came back around, he asked for a third, and sighed when she turned away. He had flicked his eyes towards the bar, and had seen her again. Dropping his gaze to his beer, he felt the thoughts of his daughter slip away as he considered what he had seen.

The face was familiar by now. Too familiar. A strikingly platinum blonde, with blonde eyebrows (that PROVED she was real), she was elfin in size and fairly ample in endowments. Her nails were demurely done, her face was expertly made-up, and her hair was coiffed in a way to suggest both negligent beauty and well-planned maintenance. She wore clothes that showed her to be fairly well off, showing the curves without putting them on display, and she was always smiling. Always.

In other words, she was stunningly gorgeous.

And she had been staring at him for weeks now.

It wasn’t always here. It seemed that she was there when he went shopping at the local supermarket, walking down the bread aisle while he walked up it. She always happened to be waiting for the restroom every time he went to the mall. She had smiled at him twice at this very bar. She even appeared to work right down the street from his office. Sometimes she was with a man who looked exactly like her brother might have looked, and sometimes she was with two female friends who dressed just like her and appeared to want a “girls night out” every week. And it didn’t matter where he was, or where he went, she was always staring at him. She would toss him a smile, and sometimes flip her hair and return to talking with her “brother”, in such an attractive and winning way.

Needless to say, Tom was extremely suspicious.

She was alone tonight, and so was he. She looked lonely, and hell, so did he. She was smiling at him, and he looked away quickly, as if embarrassed. If he had written an invitation, it couldn’t have been clearer. But he was fairly sure she didn’t know what he was inviting her over for.

She picked up her drink and sauntered over, and as she sat down, he wondered if her feet could even touch the floor. She looked like she could fit in the palm of his hand! The drink was half gone, and she smelled like she had about 2 more in her, which of course was the perfect level of drunkenness for a midnight fling. It was documented. Tom was sure that some medical scientist had measured the perfect level of inebriation for a drunken fuck. Someone, somewhere, who was probably very, very happy with himself.

He shook his head, bringing him back to the present. She had leaned in, that perfect smile in that perfect face shining out at him. Perfectly. He kept up the façade, blushing a little (that part wasn’t hard) and looking down (that one was a little harder). When she spoke, the sound came out clear as a bell, tinkling and happy and completely unslurred.

”How’s it going? You know, we see each other all the time, and I don’t think we’ve ever met. I’m Cassandra.”

She reached out her hand, and he ignored it like he ignored the sun in his eyes. Looking too close was probably dangerous, and possibly blinding, and so he didn’t.

”Mike.” When in doubt, play idiotic. It works better than playing stupid, and much better than playing smart.

”Well, Mike, it’s nice to meet you. You live right down the street, don’t you? In that charming old building?”

Who uses the word “charming” without sarcasm? ”Yep, that’s me.”

”I thought so! And weren’t you down at Shaw’s the other day?” The smile didn’t slip, but the eyes did. Those not-quite-so-“charming” eyes.

”Yeah.” The risk was almost worth it, just to watch her face change as he spoke in single syllables. She was pouting now, and he could see that that was the least dangerous emotion in her right now.

”Listen, if you don’t want to talk, that’s fine. I just have seen you staring, and I wanted to say hi….”

Who was the one staring, Cassandra? He sighed, and figured it was time to move on. He hoped she felt the same.

”Alright, really, what do you want?”

She prickled at the change to multiple syllables. ”I just wanted…”

”I don’t pretend to know what you really want, but you’re fooling me about as much as I’m fooling you. Can we just cut the bullshit?”

Those pretty eyes turned colder than ice. ”Sure, ‘Mike’. Consider the bullshit cut. We know who you are, what you are, and possibly even why you are. Don’t give me shit about being ‘normal’ either.”

Tom’s brows practically met in the middle, and, unlike the woman’s, his own eyes began to move up the temperature scale. ”Honestly, ‘Cassandra’, what the hell do you care?”

”We care because we need to care, Tom. And we’re not going to stop caring until we’ve done all we can for you.”

”You make it sound like it’s a fatal illness.”

Her petite shoulders shrugged. ”We’ve all got a fatal illness. Most people call it ‘life’, and no one survives. The deal is as such: you show up tomorrow on the Gulf, at the latitude and longitude on this paper. Rent a boat, swim, I don’t care. If you come, we can help you. If you don’t show…well, we don’t offer anything twice, except breath mints.” The smile she gave was colder than a shark’s, and twice as deadly.

Tom took the scrap of paper, and she leaned in to give him a “friendly” kiss on the cheek. He pulled away. Her full lips once more in a pout, she didn’t last long before her cruel smile burst out again. ”You up for a trip to my room, big boy? Bet I could teach you a few things.” After about three seconds of cold silence, she shrugged and stood up, still smiling. ”Your loss. Enjoy the game, Tom.”

As she left, he didn’t even have to try not to watch her ass.

Three minutes later, he chugged the last of his bottle, paid his bill, and made for the door. He planned on calling Janine and Mary as soon as he got home.

A small scrap of paper fell from his hand onto the floor. It was unopened, unread, and completely unmissed.

OOC2: So there it is. I'll be joining other real people after this. Let's just leave this as a set up for later, mmkay? Sorry again for the length!

[mica]

A tall boy stood at the entrance of a room, waiting for permission to enter. His cheeks blushed at the sounds coming from the room, mixed with nervousness from being called here. He had short blonde hair with brown eyes, a charming face. He wore a formal dark green uniform, a white shirt with a red tie. His pants were the same color as his jacket, and his shoes were black and polished. He held a suitcase in his hands, while he kept standing in front of the door. For the past five minutes he'd be standing there listening to moans and grunts, and kept wondering why he was called here. Another minute had passed and there was silence. Before the boy had anymore time to think, the door had opened in a slow eerie manner.

"Come in." It was a female voice, welcoming his presence. The room was large and dim, lighted by a few candles. "It's Edward, isn't it?" She asked with a glint in her eyes.

"Y-yes." He stammered in reply, taking a few steps inside. He saw the prestigious Jaina Richards, naked. Edward felt his jaw drop, swallowing a very nervous breath. Jaina smiled wickedly at the speechless boy, offering him to come closer to her as the door somehow closed on its own.

Edward didn't know what to think, he was a fan of her for sure but, he had thought this was all a prank. But right now, before him, was Jaina Richards. Naked.

"Don't be shy." She spoke gently, sitting up on the bed and turning her back to him while she teased him with a glance. He kept blushing furiously while his hands dropped the suitcase he held. He looked down slowly, and bent to pick it up. Before Edward knew it, her face was right in front of him, looking at him with those lustful eyes. He felt a bulging in his pants, while his cheeks hadn't ceased it's blush.

"Oh, my, you are so cute." She chuckled devilishly, leaning down to face him. Her hands teased his neck, while he shuddered in what appeared to be, pleasure. He felt her fingers on his pants, while she worked magic on unbuttoning his shirt. Was Jaina Richards really like this? Was this why her sensual slow music was so incredible? He began to wonder, letting his guard down to release an adorable moan. "Are you wondering why I asked for you?"

"How innocent." Jaina spoke amused, taking her hands off him to slowly walk towards her bed. Crouching on it, her backside facing Edward with the divine sight of her ass. He gasped, clutching his fists while he felt his erection ache. Edward bravely walked forward, while Jaina smiled and turned around to give him a good view of her breasts. Edward was embarrassed above all, and sat at the very corner of her large bed unsure if he could face her.

His expression held all the answers she wanted, while she crawled to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her breasts mashed up on his back, making Edwards body twitch. "Well, that's because you looked adorable when I gave you my autograph, yes that's right.. Edward.." Her breath was burning over his ear, "I remember.."

"Aa..ah!" Edward moaned softly, savoring the feeling of her lips on his neck and her hands on his groin. "You know, Edward... don't you wonder what happened to the previous guy in here?" She grinned, licking his neck.

"What...?"

Edward didn't know what to think, whether to be awed or petrified at the sight of a naked woman with a large Scythe in her hand. The dim lights made her look like she was glowing, as her eyes felt like it was piercing through his chest. Edward snapped back into reality when her face held a sadistic expression. A smile that made him shudder in fear, a devilish grin that paralyzed him. No, was he going to die?!

"S-stop! W-what did I do to you!" He yelled, jumping out of the bed and started to back up. His back met the wall, while he slid down on to meet the floor. Jaina looked down towards him with a malicious smile. Which was probably the last thing Edward Courier had ever seen, with the tip of a curved side cutting his heart in half, blood splurging out on the walls, Jaina and the floor.

"What a strange boy." Jaina said as she watched him scream for the last time as he bled profusely to death. Licking the fresh blood on her finger. "Mmmm.." She giggled in delight, enjoying the aroma of the blood. She sat beside his lifeless body, toying with the blood as if she were a little girl playing in the water.

"Will your thirst for blood ever end? It's starting to get troublesome." A male voice interrupted her 'playtime'. The candles in the room were quickly blown away, as the figure opened the curtains to reveal the dark sky.

"Should you really be talking to me like that..?" Jaina smiled, getting up on her feet while blood dripped down from her body.

The shady figure turned back towards her, with no face, no real form. But she could feel his cocky smirk. She saw through her blue eyes, a face he once held. "Oh, stop your complaining. It's not like you are the one that cleans it up.. but it's just so much fun killing innocent little boys." Jaina smiled happily, walking towards Lakas. "Do you also enjoy walking around naked?"

Jaina knew his eyes were on her, and he was the only one that dared leave their 'room'. Lakas was also the only Summon that could talk to her casually, it was a strange relationship between both of them. "Oh my, are you jealous with the things I do?" She chuckled, teasing him mercilessly. He wrapped his cold arms around her waist, burying his lips on her neck. It was only her that knew her Summons had features, it was only her that knew they had faces, identities.

"I'm just sulking that I didn't get to finish doing you." Lakas grinned widely over her ear, licking it. "Oh, mm.." Jaina closed her eyes with a smile. "Do we even have time..?"

"Make time." He spoke strongly, wasting no time to fondle her breasts. "Look, they're still hard from earlier.." Lakas squeezed them in pure delight. Her nipples were promptly erect, having his hands on them. Jaina wasn't sure if it was the thrills of having a different life form fuck her, or maybe the fact that he had the guts to even touch her. The Summons arms embraced her tightly, but not gently, something even she was used to. It had been too long since she even felt the emotion of affection, why would she expect it from her slave?

The relationship between Jaina and Lakas was a rough and possibly unstable one, it was just yet one of those deals that required cooperation. They were using each other and both knew it well, but it was unlike Jaina to pass such an experience that exceeds a normal human being. After all, since she was never human, what reason would 'Reaper' settle for a lower class of slaves.

"Mm, you're right. We don't have time." Lakas grinned, feeling the wetness down on her pussy. The cum dripping down her legs, knowing she was far too ready. He enjoyed teasing her knowing that it held great risk, but it crossed his mind that maybe, she needed them. But they weren't the only souls that could not rest, that had unfinished business to attend to. Jaina could possibly have an unlimited supply of Summons and Lakas would not put it past her to simply replace them whenever she needed.

Jaina frowned, glaring at him in annoyance. "Are you trying to be cruel?"

"My dear, I don't need to try." He mocked her, slipping his arms off her delicate body. Her cheeks were pink from lust, Lakas couldn't help but grin. It was one of the rare times where she showed such an honest emotion, and he liked the fact that he had some control over the master who held his second life in her mere hand. With those thoughts in his head, as he faded back into the darkness. Disappearing from her sight.

Jaina turned her head towards the window, knowing that the sun would rise early.

--

"How about this dress, Ms. Richards?" Smiled a man when he presented her an exquisite scarlet dress. It was a long strapless gown, brilliant diamonds laced over the breast top and down the left side below the chest. The bottom part was layered with different but smooth fabric, flowing down to the floor. It was the fourth dress he presented, and the man dressed in a red scarf, a white shirt, pants and glasses over his head had a twitch on his eye. Jaina knew he was irritated, but it was unlike her to wear anything she disliked. That and she didn't really care if he was annoyed, angry or furious.

"Very well, I'll take that one." Jaina said, crossing her legs while sitting on the large Persian couch. The man sighed in relief, happy that she would actually wear his dress and the fact that he would be out of her sight. The feeling of the latter was also likely mutual.

With a bow, the man quickly left with his staff. Leaving the dress to her maid, while the butler stood beside the couch. "Will there be anything else?" He asked, with a poker face.

"No, that will be all."

It wasn't long before the room was empty, and Jaina was alone. She giggled to herself softly, licking her lips. "We have a party to attend to."

[Kaisar]

Coffee finished cookie devoured, jasmine shut her sketch book and put it back in her bag. A quick glance out the window told her that it was almost dusk. Just enough time to get home and change before she went for her walk. The park would be relatively empty and no one would be around to see her experiments.

There were times when Jasmine had felt guilty about testing the limits of her abilities instead of expanding them but then she figured it was better she dissolved a tree rather then an animal or a person. Of course there were also those brief moments where she wondered if suppressing the desire to inflict pain upon those who she felt deserved it was really such a bad thing.

Her kind of pain could be over in an instant or could last for no more then a week before the body gave in and as she liked to think of it self-destructed to escape. It was moments like that that made Jasmine inwardly cringe. She tried to deny it but part of her liked the pain and torment could inflict with a single touch.

She as standing on a knife’s edge and sooner or later she was going to fall one side or the other. It all depended upon what would trigger her fall. Would she cease caring altogether whether or not she hurt people and instead revel in the carnage or would she go the opposite and fight to protect?

Jasmine wasn’t delusional. Her abilities hurt more then helped. She literally had a touch of death it all depended on whether or not she was willing to let death take its time or bring it about instantly. Hell she could probably bring about a plague of biblical proportions if she really set her mind to it. All she had to do was touch a few unwitting people and they would spread the blight as they moved about their lives, interacting socializing. Then it would break out, many people would die, the city would be quarantined a few might survive but they wouldn’t find a cure. Her blight wasn’t of natural or even artificial origins it originated from the very essence of what she was. Disease, sickness. Death. Everything the human race feared and endured every waking moment of their lives, personified.

Getting to her feet Jasmine picked up her bag and left the coffee shop, walking briskly down the road to her apartment where she fed Lazy and changed into some dark clothing. It didn’t really take her long and then she was back out the door heading for Quesada Park.

The park was huge; it could have been like some kind of miniature nature reserve with its walking tracks and thick forest in places. The park even had its own lake but that was mostly home to the duck, geese and maybe a few swans. It was also home to some of Quesada’s less sociable people. There were a fair number of robberies and rapes reported to have occurred but Jasmine wasn’t worried.

It would have to take someone stronger faster or perhaps in possession of an ability more dangerous then her own to get her into trouble. She had yet to make any such discovery however and that was either due to luck, her lack of social life or a combination of the two.

It was dark out by the time she hit the walking tracks. Her hands—free of their gloves—tucked safely into the pockets of her black jacket while a knitted cap kept her ears warm from the chill of the night air. Jasmine hummed to herself as she walked heading to one of the deeper parts of the park that was heavily wooded and therefore concealed from the eyes of the ordinary passer by. The last thing she needed was for someone to report her. There were people out there who hated ‘mutants’ and would use any excuse possible to have them collard and if possible euthanized. An ability like hers could be just the thing.

“You really shouldn’t be so surprised that there are ignorant assholes out there Jaz,” she murmured to herself. “Close-minded, loud mothered, god-fearing pricks who think that you’re less human then they are just because you can do the sorts of things they can only dream of.”

She snorted and stepped off the path, navigating her way through the dense scrub until the first hint of decay filled the air. It honestly amused her that nobody had found her little play ground yet. It smelled like a mass open grave in the middle of a blistering heat-wave but for some reason nobody had smelt it yet. Possibly because it was too far away from the more used walking tracks. Nothing but a strong wind would probably carry the smell to a living person.

Lifting the front of the scarf she had looped around her neck Jasmine covered the lower part of her face. It wasn’t to stifle the smell that would have been pointless; the material wouldn’t have been enough. It was just in case someone stumbled upon her while she worked.

At last the scrub cleared revealing a small clearing made hard to see from above thanks to the trees that lined the outer edges that canopy was just enough to shut out anything from the casual observed from above. The rest of the clearing however was a different story.

The ground was devoid of grass and there was a ring of small, stained boulders she’d collected and placed around a diseased looking tree. It was small, twisted and stunted with all kinds of nasty things growing off its weeping trunk. The tree had been her first experiment when she’d begun trying to control her power. The blight caused by her touch affected all living things, causing them to sicken and eventually die unless the individual was resilient enough to rid themselves of the sickness. That had only happened maybe once or twice. It was strange though, how the withered tree had remained living after all these years. People and animals were lucky to last more then a few months before it took them.

Naturally Jasmine regretted their deaths, she didn’t like to cause needless pain and suffering but she had come to understand that sometimes these things happened. It didn’t make her feel any less responsible but they did. Then there were the people she had to dispose of. The ones who looked at her with sudden realisation and terror because of what she was. What it meant that she even existed. She regretted their deaths too, but less then the others. It was one of the reasons she didn’t get close to people. Just in case she had to dispose of the evidence.

“You’re not a person you only imitate one,” she told herself, walking around the ringed tree as she thought aloud, occasionally touching a dark stain. It was all that was left of the people she’d ‘disposed of’. Someone might call it murder. Jasmine called it survival. “They wouldn’t accept you if they knew what you could do. They’d cage you and prod and poke you to try and work out just what makes you the way you are.”

She didn’t doubt for a seconde that anyone who knew for even a second what she was and what she could do would run screaming from her. Turning away from the tree she wandered back into the scrub until she found a small plant and easily ripped it up roots and all. Carrying it back. Once there she placed it on the stone and brushed a finger along the top most leaf.

The plant shuddered as she unleashed her most deadly ability and then proceeded to blacken and collapse as a month’s worth of decay suddenly consumed it within a matter of moments. The leaves curled in on themselves and then dripped from the ends of the plants branches until it collapsed into a puddle of decaying plant matter and adding its own stench to the already foul smelling air.

A sharp intake of breath and the sound of someone gagging made her glance over her shoulder. She wasn’t alone anymore.

The man who had come to investigate was about middle aged and dressed in one of those uniforms that marked him as one of those people who looked after the park.

He looked around him with wild eyes that streamed against the stench.

“What the fucking hell is going on here?” he demanded between chocking coughs. “And where the hell is that smell coming from?”

Jasmine inwardly sighed as she turned fully around to approach him. “My play ground if you must know.” She told him.

He blinked for a moment as his mind attempted to comprehend what she’d just said. “Your…” he turned and tried to run but Jasmine was faster. She was always faster. She had him by the back of the neck a hand clamped over his mouth to stop him from screaming as she dragged him effortlessly towards the tree.

“You shouldn’t have come here old man,” she said sadly. “I don’t like to kill people. I don’t like to hurt them either but you leave me no choice. I can’t have someone discovering my little place. It’s all I really have. Decadent and morbid as it appears.”

He tried to fight her but jasmine was just so much stronger then other people. He was sobbing too, crying in terror and despair because they both knew what was coming next. “I’m truly sorry about this.” She whispered then neatly snapped his neck. It was always so easy… and she hated herself for it.

Laying the mans body down on the stones jasmine closed his vacant eyes and then touched his face again. His body seemed to shudder moments before the flesh blackened and sagged from his bones, dripping from his body and through his cloths. The bones were next following the flesh along with the internal organs and everything that had once made the man until only his cloths and another dark stain across the rocks remained. Jasmine touched the clothing and watched them dissolve too, crumbling to dust as they were made of synthetic fibbers.

Her task done she walked around to the opposite side of the tree and sat on the rocks. Hugging her knees to her chest as she stared blankly out into the scrub. It all came down to survival in the end. People had to die so that she could continue to live. But that didn’t make her feel any better about what she had to do.

No, she wasn’t a person, she only pretended to be.

[JaySonic]

Andy awoke to darkness once again and blindly punched his alarm clock.

“Shut up.”

He lay there for a while thinking of last night’s events. The initial boredom, followed by finding all in one night a cool, new club, a cute girl, and, if he was right, someone else with powers. Not that it was uncommon to hear about others like him. You couldn’t get through the news without hearing about a new push for “mutant” registration or destruction. Ignorant people afraid of what they don’t understand. But he had never personally known one before, and his mind raced with ways to meet him without seeming stalker-ish. He was glad his power was something he could hide, and he laughed at how the people closer to him would react if he ever told them. His father, who was way more understanding and happy go lucky than him, would probably think it was awesome. His mother would half-jokingly threaten to disown him, and then just tell him to be careful with his powers. No super-hero stuff.

“Any-way time to get ready for stupid work.” He rolled out of bed literally, hitting the floor and decided to stretch there for a sec. Then he stood up and proceeded with his morning routine, which was much more mellow then his evening one, and consisted of making himself a bowl of Trix, turning on his TV, tuning to one of the many early morning Judge “insert name here” shows and watching that, while he ate. After finishing he walked over to his drawer of work clothes, old dirty shirts and jeans, and grabbed some at random. Taking some socks out of the drawer under that and the boots next to the drawer, he dressed, grabbed his keys and stepped outside.

He walked around to the small, single door garage left of his house and opened it, beaming with pride as always at what sat inside.

“Hey honey.” It was his pride and joy, a restored ’67 Ford Falcon, dark blue gloss paint with silver trim, white with blue trim leather interior, and an engine that would scare off a mountain lion when it started. It took him two years to save up the money to buy it, and a year and a half to fix it up. He only drove it to work and other places where it would be weird to show up with no car. He kissed the roof and got inside, smiling ear to ear as he started up the engine and pulled out towards Downtown Quesada.


He stopped off at a little coffee shop close to the GPS compound and Quesada Park. It was always nearly empty and according to the guy that ran it Andy was the only regular that wasn’t a local. He first came to this place on a failed date years ago with a girl named Stephanie. It always reminded him of her and his inability to get or keep a woman, but the place looked cool with its plain floors, brick walls, and furniture that no one cleaned, plus they sold huge cookies that he got everyday before work so he kept coming.

He parked and got out, tossing some loose change in his cup holder he didn’t need onto the sidewalk. They always had two of the cookies and a carton of milk waiting for him so he could get in and out quickly, and, after paying, he turned to the door and saw the singer of Breakneck Desperado walk in, folded papers sticking out of his pocket and a determined look on his face. Andy walked past him and since he had time, he sat at a table near the window and ate his second breakfast, listening to the kid order some food while mildly flirting with the cashier. Andy finished his milk as the kid walked back up to the counter, introduced himself to the cashier, still flirting, and inquired about a job. He mentally stored that and left. On an afterthought, he stopped to pick up the one quarter in the group of coins he tossed out so he could have exact change for the soda machines at work, but it along with the other change was gone already.

“Man. People are fast to pick up change nowadays.” He hopped in the car and started it, startling everyone outside, and sped off to work.

[Void]

Nathan woke up at around ten in the morning. Grabbing his white jacket and clothes, he made his way over to the shower, and noticed he had a message on his cell phone.

"Nathan, it's Pam. I'm going to be at the City Square pretty early today. Could you give me a call when you are on your way? Thanks and I'll see you there."

Pam was the secretary from the City to help him with the Art Show planned for tonight. She was in charge of hiring security and helping with the assembly.

After taking a quick shower, Nathan got dressed and filled his pockets. Keys, his small sculpting knives, phone, wallet, and a few sticks of gum and loose change was gathered before heading out the door. On his way out, he dialed Pam's number and opened his car door.

"Pam? It's Nathan, I'm on my way to help with the preparation. How are things going up there so far?"

"It's all going just fine right now Nathan. The Mayor really appreciates you assembling this Art Show. He thinks it will give both you and the city a good and refreshing image."

"Good. I'm glad he thinks so. Anyway, I'll be there in a few minutes."

While driving to the Show's site, he drove by a local coffee shop. Nathan noticed a man about his age wearing a navy overshirt and spiky hair walking down the street holding several sheets of paper.

"Huh... I wonder what he's selling."

Nathan arrived at the outdoor area picked for the Shows site.

"Good morning Pam."

"Good morning Mista Nathan" in her best British accent.

"So, what all do we have left to set up for the nights events?"

Pam continued to explain what all had been done, and what was left to be done.

[Vector]

"Cause every girl's crazy 'bout a sharp dressed man..." Ridiculous southern rock guitar shredded away at the solo for ZZ Top's song as the sounds blared into Jim Mason's ear. Groaning miserably, he rolls himself over and lazily smacks the back of his hand against the large snooze button on the alarm clock sitting by his head. "I don't wanna... but I reallyhave to..." he told himself, forcing his eyes open to look at the red digital numbers glaring him in the face.

09:00

Jim groaned even louder and flailed about on the bed, kicking and tossing the covers, that had somehow found their way onto him overnight, around until they fell right off of the bed. He lay there still and uncovered, a cool, air-conditioned breeze drifting up him from his feet, over his legs, past his boxers, and up his chest to his frowning face, helping to wake him up. "Fucking A-M... I'm actually waking up in the fucking am... in summer." He slides his legs over the side of the bed and place them on the cool floor. Sitting himself up, he reaches up and rubs at his face, finally bringing his hand through his short, pillow-assaulted hair before bringing it back down to his side.

"This is insane. I haven't seen a summer morning in fuckin' years. But... I gotta go look for a new job and since all of those are pretty much taken by high school kids and generally out-of-town college students back during Spring Break... I'm kinda boned. It's going to take me all day to find a place that'll so much as give me a chance about now." Lifting his ass off the bed that still tempted for him to stay, Jim turns the alarm clock completely off before heading to the restroom.

After a quick shower, he emerged to brush his teeth, fix his hair into it's usual spiked-back style, and get dressed in a white t-shirt and faded jeans, slipping on some short socks and his shoes as well before he dropping the "usuals" into his pockets: cell phone in his left, keys in his right, and wallet in his back-right pocket. Then he grabs the cheap, but nice-looking silver and gold watch he always wears and fits it onto his left wrist before grabbing a navy blue unbuttoned shirt and walking out the door with it still in hand.

Jim puts the second shirt on while still on his way to the elevator, noticing that the only people he saw on his way out of the building were the usual grumpy-morning neighbor that seemed to give him a slightly sharp and painful look as he made his way down and out the lobby.

"All right... where to start." He looks down the street and notices the strip of stores including a game store, pizza place, grocery center, and auto parts store among other things. With a shrug and a smirk, he heads off. Going from place to place, he inquires them about jobs and collects applications from each store, noting at least a single employee in each place holding back (or not holding back) a smirk or a laugh at his misfortune, most, if not all, writing him off as a stupid guy that waited way too long before looking for summer employment.

It doesn't take long before Jim's stomach starts growling profanities at him as he exits one store for not eating before leaving. Across the street, he spots a coffee shop and immediately laughs loudly at the hilarious predictability of it. His laughter fades and a more respectful look graces his face as he notices in his tardy way that it is NOT one of the popular über-franchises scattered across every other street corner in the country. Rather, it is a simple, small, and quite-inviting place. A large sign is up in the window that reads "Half-price muffins every Tuesday until noon!"

"Ooh! Muffins!" A wide, toothy grin gleams in Jim's mouth as he folds up the last application and stuffs it into his pocket with the others. His fingers wiggle rapidly in anticipation as he quickly heads across the road, jay-walking despite a stop-light being only a few dozen yards away. He stands outside before entering, admiring the fantastic looking car parked outside while subtly magnetizing a handful of change on the ground, coin-by-coin up his pant leg and into his pockets. He turns away as he opens the door, a friendly bell jingling to announce his entrance and cue for the cute, smallish girl at the counter to smile brightly and welcome him in. He returns the friendly smile as he walks up to her, the idea of hot, buttered muffins almost the singular thing on his mind.

"Hey, what can I get ya' today?" Jim's smile grew a bit on one side to make it into a rather large smirk. Her voice was as cute as her face and he instantly thought of a guess for her age: probably 18 or 19, with only a slight possibility that she'd be 17. Definitely nothing quite out of his macking range, though 17 would certainly be pushing it so he hoped for the best. With all that thought passing through in only a tenth of a second, he answers her perfectly on time. "Yeah, I saw the sign ya' got there," he says, motioning to the window. "And I was hoping to pick up some of those muffins." The smallest chuckle escaped the cashier's throat at his relative vagueness considering he didn't say what kind of muffins he wanted. "Well... we have blueberry, pecan nut, poppy seed, banana nut, and bran. Which would you like?" Jim's grin still shining down at her, he says, "I'll take three each of the blueberry and poppy seed ones. Oh and can I get a nice big orange juice with that, too?" She giggles softly. "All right, I got three blueberry and three poppy seed muffins with a large O.J. That's just gonna' be $8.81 for ya'." Without ever breaking eye contact with the girl, he removes his wallet and pulls out a ten dollar bill. Before handing over the pay, he thinks to search his pockets for the change he collected outside, luckily finding 85 cents amidst the coins to help him out.

After exchanging money and receipt, Jim takes his breakfast over to a small two-person table next to a window and munches away, switching back and forth between looking out the window and glancing to the counter to peek at the same cute cashier. A couple times, he actually caught her look at him at the same time, and while he was ever so slightly embarrassed the first time, he noticed her get shy after the second. God, I gotta start coming here more often.

Finishing his meal, he takes one last big swig of orange juice, punctuating it with a relatively large refreshing, "Ahhhh!" Licking his lips perhaps a bit more than necessary, he tosses his trash and steps back up the counter, the same charming smile seemingly nailed to his face with no intention of leaving. The girl steps back in front of her register and returns a smile once more at Jim.

"Hey, that was really fantastically good. I'm definitely gonna' be coming in here more often now." "Well... I'm glad you liked it," she laughs. "I'm Jim, by the way. Nice to meet ya'." "Oh, I'm Holly. Nice to meet you, too." He could swear that she got cuter by the second. Each and every word and mannerism seemed to just make her look more and more irresistible.

"Hey, let me ask you something, Holly," Jim said, taking a step forward and leaning on the counter. It was probably his imagination, but he thought for just the smallest of split seconds, he saw her body tense up and her smile grow. Hell, it had to be his imagination since for the rest of that second, she seemed just the same as before. "Are you guys hiring up here, right now?" Oh, shit. This time he saw it. It barely showed itself, but he saw her mood drop ever so slightly. Agh, can't let this slip like that! C'mon, two birds, one stone. Two birds, one stone. "I-I'm kinda desperately looking for another source of income at the moment and I'd sure love to be up here more often anyway. So... any chance you could fit a new guy into the schedule?"

The situation didn't seem wholly unrepairable as Holly still looked minutely hopeful to Jim. She sighed under her breath and pulled an application out from under the counter, handing it over to him with a smile that seemed less genuine than those that came before it. "Hey, thanks, Holly. I really appreciate it."

He took the application back to the table he had sat at for breakfast and began to fill it out on the spot. He had barely started working on it when a ferociously loud engine turns over outside, causing most everyone to turn towards the source, including Jim. Glancing out the window, he spots the blue Falcon he was admiring before pulling away from the store. He chuckles and goes back to work on the application. Quickly completing it, he returns it to her in just a very short time. He handed it over and said, "Wish me luck, alright?" as he started towards the door. "Right. Good luck," she replied. Still slowly walking backwards towards the door, his eyes locked on her, he called back, "Oh, and feel free to put in a good word for me if you want, alright? I owe ya' for this! Hey, you're too awesome!" He opened the door, hearing her giggle a bit as he exited the store.

A bright grin once again returned to his face from hearing the sound, feeling quite accomplished in his endeavors. "Too bad I can't just rely on that. Definitely have to go get a lot more than this if I want a real chance about now." Jim heads off down the street to grab applications from dozens of more stores before even thinking about calling it a day.

OOC- Woooo! I'm thinking the next post involving myself, Void, and Sonic will most likely be the collab we're about to finish up soon and then I'll get the ball really rolling with this first big threat revealing itself.

[Archangel]

Trouble always knocked on the door when you were stepping bare-ass naked out of the shower.

At least Trouble was decent enough to wait outside while you got dressed.

"Carter, how the hell are ya?" Tom's usual greeting for his boss, the one that led the way through the door of Carter's office every morning, was more of a ritual than anything, and the answer didn't matter at all. Well, it didn't matter as much as pulling up his pants mattered, that is.

Carter shook his head, looking mildly upset. "There's always problems, Tom. Always problems."

"Was it the Dodson Building?" It had been a refurb in an old town further down the coastline, a beautiful old wood building that had rotted from within. His baby, it had been. Carefully, with a master's touch, he had managed to repair the damage, replace what needed to be replaced, and still maintain historical continuity. It wasn't often that such a precision job came through the office, and Tom had been a proud papa when the local historical society had declared the refurbishment a success. The thought that Dodson had a problem caught his words in his throat, and the question had come out hitched.

"No, nothing like that." Carter was quick to reassure him, and Tom managed to finish buckling his belt without breathing a sigh of relief. That was for later. "It's this goddamn art show. In the park."

Everyone in town knew about the art show. Fort Quesada was full of starving artists, unhappy musicians, and general "creative" types who were "down on their luck". That's why woodworking was so fulfilling; it was not only creative, but a day job came neatly attached.

"They've got a bandstand down there, right? And everyone assumed it would hold up. Of course it holds up...people eat lunch and sit around on it every day. Except "people" don't usually include a small chamber orchestra, with TWO cellos, a sound system rig-up for volume, and special VIPs gathering for their opening speeches. They ran a practice about an hour ago, and can you guess what happened?" Carter was thin, balding, and had the most raspy, cigarrette-stained Texas accent this side of the Rio. The way he asked the question made Tom suddenly long for Boston, were things were so much more...satirical. His boss managed to pass his fingers through his thinning hair, the red flush of consternation coloring his already-tanned skin.

"Uhhh..... The first violin was out of tune?"

"Oh, you're a smug sonuvabitch, you know that? No, smartass. Three boards collapsed under the weight. A cello crashed to the ground. The city owes the guy at least a couple thousand, and they need this thing fixed. TODAY." He looked at his watch, nervously chewing his upper lip. "Can you get down there in 30 minutes? I already got Mikey, Pam's calling Joe right now, and I figure you could lead the cavalry. I can't stick around, I've got that meeting down at Ballist's... I know it's your day off, but the city..."

"God, can't you EVER shut that fucking trap? Man, you talk so much shit, I'm surprised your tongue isn't brown. I'll not only be there in 30 minutes, I'll minus 5, get the job done in 15, and add about 20 hours of overtime to my time card. How's that sound?"

Tom's shit-eating grin got him a punch on the shoulder, and it was Carter's turn to sigh in relief.

Tom made it there in 20 minutes, feeling deliciously proud.

****

It hadn't been too bad, despite what the city said. A nice woman named Pam, looking about as frazzled as Carter had been, had shown Tom what the problem was, and he had gotten to work. The worst thing was not that three boards had snapped, but about half of the bandstand floor was weak to begin with, and just patching the hole wasn't enough. Good thing Joe had the wherewithal to realize they were going to need wood, and had brought his truck. He winked at Tom, a big, fat wink that told him Joe was in one of those horrifyingly annoying moods, and they started building some support trusses.

It took the better part of two hours to complete the work-up. It was messy, and ugly as sin, but it worked. Underneath the bandstand, they managed to rig up some steady trusses, anchored into the support posts of the bandstand itself. While Mikey and Tom worked down below, Joe had planed some boards and patched the hole in the bandstand and, with a careful application of paint, made it seem like...a hole had been patched in the bandstand. Not that anyone would care, as long as the thing held up.

Tom scrabbled out from underneath, wiping sweat from his forehead, and helped Mikey out after him. Mikey was their youngest employee, the son of one of the other guys and really green to the whole construction business. But he worked hard, and Tom admired that in a teenager. They looked over their work, or at least Tom checked Joe's work and Joe checked Tom's, and then nodded, smiling.

"Not too bad, man. Just goes to show that even the mentally disabled can do some things right sometimes." Tom was smiling again.

"You know, that's just what your mom said about you last night, right before I did her." Joe's smile was far more triumphant. Tom just shook his head, trying not to comment.

They wandered off to their trucks, letting Pam and the others know that the bandstand was set and to avoid the wet paint on the way. Tom figured he'd stick around anyways, while he was here, and give Carter a call to let him negotiate payment with the city. Pulling out a cigarette, he lit up, leaning against his pick-up and sighing. Joe bummed one and lit too, and they smoked together, watching as the orchestra made their cautious way to their places. The event would be starting soon enough, and their contract required light music from beginning to end.

Tom's eyes were closed, his tanned and rough face looking up to the wide open sky, as the wind brushed his hair and the smoke flowed softly from his nostrils. A voice broke him out of it, though.

"You gonna tell your oldest friend what's wrong, or do I have to beat it out of you? Thing is, you know I could."

Brown eyes opened slowly, and he turned to give Joe a sidelong glance. His friend flexed one bicep, and Tom watched without fascination as the bicep began to bulge, growing larger, thicker, more corded with muscle. It grew obscenely large, the fabric of his shirt protesting, as it seemed that muscles which shouldn't exist on a human's body multiplied and thrived under that tanned skin. Joe's smile was wickedly mischievious.

"I call bullshit, and you know it. You couldn't hurt me if you tried, asshole." The drawl was laconic, and Tom closed his eyes again.

The blow, when it hit, was like a freight train ramming into his shoulder. Joe definitely had not held back, and since Joe had once LIFTED a freight train, that really wasn't a bad comparison.

The only problem was, the freight train hadn't rammed a human. It slammed engine-first into a reinforced concrete wall.

Tom didn't even move as the blow struck home, but it didn't matter. His body was more dense than anything Joe had ever punched through, and that limit was something both had learned over a few years of playful spars. The hugely-muscled arm retracted, and as it regained human proportions, the carpenter shook it hard, groaning.

"Dude, it's so unfair. You have to let me really hit you at least one time. At least ONCE!"

One eye opened, one brown, inscrutable eye, and there was a smile, a real smile for once, in the reply. "Maybe someday, Joe, I won't be able to stop you." He raised the cigarette to his lips and took a long, slow draw. Texas life was certainly changing him. He sighed softly as he let out the smoke, and when he started to speak once again, the smile was gone. "She was there again last night."

"Hot blonde? Nice tits?"

He nodded. "She talked to me."

"Aaaaaand...?"

"She... What is that?"

They both stared, wide-eyed, as the bandstand began to list to one side. The orchestra, absorbed in their rehearsal, hadn't managed to notice, but both men knew the difference between "level" and "not level" from a mile away. And this was certainly "not level".

"Fuckin' Mikey! I told him to secure the right fucking post! Didn't I fuckin'...?" They were both sprinting, but Joe had a distinct advantage, and managed to slide in under the structure at full speed like a baseball player stealing third. By this point, the orchestra had begun to notice, and so had the various others in the park. There was one strangled yell that set off the avalanche of sound, that was all it took, and for a split second there was nothing but cries of fear.

And then, suddenly, it stopped. Joe, on his back under the bandstand, looked like he was benching a hefty weight as he held the surface from tilting any farther. But his task became markedly easier as, pretending to lift one corner, Tom "lightened the load". It was just a single board, that was all he did, but he had spent the whole sprint figuring the mathematics of it, and it turned out that that single board was the focal point for the whole topsy-turvy floor. He lightened it, making it easy to lift, making it weightless. Joe pushed, hard, and he managed to lift the whole thing, tipping it back upright. He hadn't had a chance to get to full strength, and it wasn't easy, even with his friend's help. Tom slid under, his carpenter's belt still on, and went to work with heavy-gauge nails and his hammer. And his own mind. He shored up supports, tightening the wood density to metallic levels until he could prop it, then letting it go and moving onto the next. He managed to lighten a sunken support beam, lifted it easily with one hand, and planted it back in the ground just as strong as it had gone in. His hammering was light as a feather, but the nails slid home as if they were gliding through butter, before the wood solidified around them and held them tight.

In only a couple minutes, the bandstand was level, and everyone was cheering.

He crawled out from underneath, joining Joe, who had been holding up what he could. Tom felt a flush of pride rush over his body. He was suddenly embarrassed by the audience, and tried to move away, tried to push the heroics onto Joe.

"Oh, it's not big deal... No, really, I didn't do... No, it was Joe who held it up... Like a lever, exactly, just the proper application of a little force... No, I'm not a hero! Nothing heroic here... Just a little force, nothing special, kid could do it, nothing big... Talk to Joe, he saved your orchestra...."

He made it back to his truck, plopped himself in his seat, and locked the doors. The people had taken the hint, and considering it's not like anyone would have died, and considering it wasn't anything big or impossible to do normally, it didn't attract much attention after the initial rush. The bandstand was closed off, of course, and the orchestra was forced to relocate. Joe told bullshit lies about how he saved them using his fantastic musculature, which was actually true but he made it seem like a lie, and the schedule for the art show was not changed.

Tom finally managed to catch his breath, and he groaned, covering his face with his hands. Only he had seen what it had been like under there. The work he and Mikey had done had been flawless. He was positive of that. But when he got under there, he had seen what had happened.

Half of the nails had been pulled out of the wood most of the way, leaving the bandstand just simple boards resting on one another without anything to hold them together.

He knew he'd have to talk to Carter, and to Mikey, about the whole thing. But what the hell could he say?

They'd lock him up, call the nice men in white coats, if he tried to tell them the nails were pulled out by something that was definitely not a hammer....

[Void]

The preparations for the Art Show were coming along on time, aside from the Orchestra's stand collapsing a couple of times. The aisles were lined with paintings, and the park was filled with extravagant sculptures for display.

Pam walked over to Nathan, who was simply watching the workers set up paintings here and there. "Nathan? It's almost time to get the show started. Do you have your speech ready?"

"Yea, it's all right here." He poked his own head, but really he had cards in his pockets just in case.

"We're going to start the Public Announcement in a few minutes. If you would, please head to the pedestal in the middle of the park."

"Alright, and thank you Pam. This wouldn't have come together so well without your help." Nathan said in a soft voice and went to prepare his speech for his crowd.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

The sun began to slowly fall beneath the horizon. Lights began illuminating walkways and artwork alike.

A cue for the Orchestra's light music set the mood for the show, and Nathans introduction.

Cars were continuing to arrive as Nathan made his way to the microphone.

"Good evening and thank you for coming to tonight's art show. I am your host and artist, Nathan Ingrid. I have a few people to thank before I get too into this. Pamela Freedman, for getting the workers to setup and repair most of this show's setup. Speaking of repairing, I have to give a big thank you to Tom and Joe, without those two, the Orchestra wouldn't be playing here. Anyway, tonight, feel free to roam and browse my artworks. We have a few free concessions stands behind me. Also, feel free to ask me questions about my artworks, or if you have a special event coming up would like me to paint for a present or something else. the show will run for a couple of hours, but we will not be rushing visitors out. Again, thank you all for coming and enjoy your stay tonight."

Cheering ensued and soon the visitors dispersed on their individual ways. Nathan descended from the pedestal stand the began to wander around his art show watching all of his visitors chat and sight-see.

[Kaisar]

Jasmine came back to herself slowly.

Her mind had been running itself in circles for a long time so it came to her as a shock when she realised it was around sunset. It had begun after the man had to die. She paced and thought and paced some more or sat on the rocks. Time had seen so irrelevant. Moving slowly she winced as her stiff muscles protested the shift. She slid carefully from the rock that had been her seat for who knew how many hours and stretched carefully until her muscles ceased to complain about even the tiniest of twitches.

She looked up at the canopy and felt bemused by the mixtures of gold, red and purple that covered the sky. It was pretty, but bemusement was about all she felt over the hollowness that had crept up on her as she sat there.

Not a person… her thoughts hissed at her.

She sighed and pushed the scarf away from her face and looked around the diseased clearing. It was getting late so she might as well go home; maybe watch a few more movies before going to bed before going to work.

Is that all you’re going to do with your life? You could be so much more if you wanted.

Jasmine stared at her boots then wanted back over to the stones and reached behind them. There concealed behind the boulders was an old battered pack she kept concealed there. Shouldering it she began walking through the trees making her way back to the path. The trees around her were silent but that wasn’t unusual. The animas here knew better then to come near her, or perhaps they feared the taint of the clearing.

What she did begin to hear however the closer she got to the tree line was faint music. Jasmine paused and listened curious about the sound. Why would there be music?

Turning she began to follow the sound, keeping hidden in the trees, when they became less clustered and the under scrub tamer she picked up the speed. Jasmine didn’t need anyone else to see her, she’d spent all day hidden in the little clearing, she couldn’t smell it but she knew her skin and clothing had probably taken on some of the rotting decay of the place.

It was going just on dark when she finally caught sight of the lights. There was a party going on out in the park. Even from here she could see all the people dressed in their fancy getup. Jasmine crept to the tree nearest the party and climbed noiselessly into the branches. Watching from the shelter of the leaves as they laughed and talked. The tree was close enough for her to make out the individual people even the guards in the black suits who were security for the evening. But not so close as to have someone spot her should she move or for anyone to smell her.

Look at them all the very best of society has to offer, all come to rub elbows and talk business like the best of friends while they think of ways to stab each other in the back.

You think yourself a monster but they’re the real deal by comparison you just do what you have to in order to survive. The only difference is if they get exposed for what they are at worst they’ll end up with a slap on the wrist maybe a little jail time. You on the other hand would probably be shot on sight.

There’s nothing wrong with survival, it’s a dog eat dog world. The strong survive the weak die and those simple minded little peons down there are weak. You know they are.

A single handshake or a brush of the skin and glorious death could spread among them.

Jasmine frowned as she watched them, the smug bastards, they were enjoying life but not never in a way she could ever hope to. It was so very, very tempting to do what her thoughts were suggesting she even had a plan in her head of how to go about it but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. They hadn’t done anything to her yet that warranted such action. Jasmine only killed in order to survive; she couldn’t have people aware of what she could do.

But if any of those people became a threat…well that was another story.

Bemused by the sight of the party Jasmine continued to watch as she tried to work out just what this bloody thing was about. She remembered one of her co-workers mentioning something about a big shindig going on in the city but she couldn’t recall who for. That sort of gossip wasn’t her kind of thing.

A small part of her said she should go home but something about the atmosphere of the party made her stay.

[JaySonic]

"Freakin' GPS! I swear to god!" Andy fumed at the red light and tapped his fingers on the drive-shaft. "Of course when I actually have somewhere to BE after work, we get so messed up that I have to stay two extra hours for the first time in a month!" The light turned green and he rocketed forward pushing his car harder than he really liked to. Even if the show was going to last all night, he hated being late to anything. "Man I swear that place runs bullshit like clockwork."

Minutes later Andy skidded into his garage, almost crashing into the door and the back wall on his way in. He jumped out, smacking the garage door switch on the way into his house, then sprinted to his bedroom where he proceeded to strip and take the fastest shower he had ever taken.

The shower calmed him down a little and he took some time to fix his hair in the mirror before he went to his closet, throwing the mirrored doors open and pulling out his "formal" jeans that where always starched, ironed and creased for occasions like this, his white and black Champions, also only worn on formal affairs, a white, long-sleeved tee, and a red, short sleeved, polo treated the same way as the jeans for the same reason. He refused to wear a suit if it wasn't life threatening, and even then he would fight it as much as possible, but he still liked to look good. Unfortunately for Andy though, when he took the polo out of the closet it caught on the door latch, tearing a nice big hole right in the middle of the back.

"DAMN IT!!!" He tossed the new rag in the garbage, and grumbled while he put the rest of his outfit on. He slipped on his ring and a plain, white wristband, then grabbed his goggles and stepped outside, locking his door and stuffing his keys in his pocket.

"Showing up without my car shouldn't be weird at all seeing as it's in the park. But I was also hoping to run straight there and not to another store to buy a new shirt." He turned toward the retail district and put on his goggles. "Ah well. Nothing I can do about it now." He stretched a bit, took a deep breath, and bolted for the metropolis.

------------------------------------------------------------------

[Vector]

Jim Mason steps out of an antique shop on the corner of Fifth Ave. and Orange Way, a whole of six miles and change from where he had begun his job hunt earlier in the day.

He has become desperate and more than a little dense with his choices. The shop he had just left application-less, a very forced smile on his face, was a small time family business run by an elderly couple with help from their now grown-up children. He had made it to a much older and retirement friendly part of the city, once known as "Downtown Ft. Quesada," but now called "Old Ft. Quesada" at best. It was an area he had actually forgotten existed for quite a while.

Feeling exhausted of both energy and most of his usual optimistic hope, Jim lumbers over to a nearby bus stop and collapses himself onto the bench. Sprawling his body out without care, his arms stretch along the top edge of the empty seat while his legs protrude far in front of him lazily. He seems almost like he intentionally wants to get in the way of anyone around him, but Jim doesn't care. He lays his head back, breathing deeply and slowly.

Still not a damn place has looked promising. Any place I wanna work at isn't hiring and any place that's hiring... well I'm either not qualified or I just couldn't stand to work there. "Where in the hell could I still check...?" he thinks aloud. A genuine smirk graces his previously worried face as he imagines some odd places he could go to. The first is a popular lingerie store located in downtown. He expects to leave with nothing less than a harsh slap on the cheek or a pained and swelling pair from a swift kick while also leaving with no more than zero applications and no chance of a job. It'd be a fun waste of time, but a waste nonetheless.

Jim opens his eyes and turns to his left as he hears an approaching bus. The destination light on the front read "Quesada Park." As it slowed and screeched to a halt, he had already begun waving off the bus, as he didn't need or want to pay change to be driven somewhere he could reach in seconds if he cared to go. However, the driver, after opening the sliding doors, nods behind Jim, his eyes following those behind the lounging man. Jim sits up in his seat quickly and turns to see the old couple dressed in semi-formal outfits and heading towards the bus after closing up shop early.

"What's going on in the park?" Jim asks the two. The man just smiles sweetly as he does to everyone he meets and as he rounds the bench, he glances at the young man and chuckles softly. "Just what you're sitting on, kiddo."

Jim looks down at the bench around him and sees the words "rid" over "Park," with "ning" below that. "Huh?" he stupidly thinks aloud ad he lifts himself off of the seat and reads it once more. "Nathan Inrid at Quesada Park all Tuesday evening." A large picture of a man appearing to be in his late thirties or early forties with rectangular glasses and a white dress collar was displayed next to the words. The man had a distinctly trimmed goatee around his mouth that Jim would normally associate with business moguls and the kind of celebrities that appear far too often in tabloids and television to appear anything less than perfect. He neither smiled for frowned in his picture, but had stared a hole into the camera that burned with stalwart purpose.

"Guy seems a little full of himself to me if he's having some big shindig in the park like that." Jim shrugs and brushes the whole event off, instead walking himself nonchalantly into a back alley. Onward with the hunt, then... he thinks silently as he brushes his hand against a metal dumpster, his body suddenly making crackling noises like a freshly moistened bowl of Rice Krispies. Starting from that hand, he disappears and shoots off through the air from one metallic object to another, snaking his way up a fire escape and fleeting along anything around him to make his way towards the newer Downtown Fort Quesada.

----------

The trip was at least five miles and left him only a couple of miles away from home at most, but traveling only took a few moments. Jim formed back into his normal human self by the back entrance to a building, the first thing made physical his hand on the gutter drain.

He knew no one was within witnessing distance of his materialization before allowing himself to become visible again. When Jim is in his full electric form, he can sense all electricity around him and conductive items much better than he can normally. He would love to be able to tack a "folded" number to that for his own sake, but could never dream to measure how in tune he becomes. Luckily, he could feel there was nothing more than a mouse or small rat in the concrete back lot he had arrived in, so all was safe.

Fully himself again, Jim casually takes the side path between two buildings to escape out to the front. He looks up to see that it is a business casual sort of clothing store, ripe for both customers that work with people as well as the more preppy members of society that enjoy looking better than everyone else, whether using knock-off brands to do so or otherwise. Jim shrugs and opens the front door, walking right on in to the place.

"Welcome to Lighthouse Clothing! How can I help you today?" Gay. The word lit up in Jim's mind like a neon sign before he could process a more substantial thought. He didn't mean it as offense, even if it was only in his head. Rather, it was a reflex to label this almost stereotypical man with something lacking any doubt at all. The funny thing was that the helpful employee at the counter had neither a painfully girlish stance or voice pattern. Jim had subconsciously stuck him with the tag due to the one-size-too-small pink shirt he wore and the artificially blond bangs that he immediately flipped out of his eyes.

Jim quickly took all the info his brain had come up with and filed it under "Useless Information to Forget ASAP" in his brain, smoothly responding to the man before the front door had even closed yet. "You guys taking applications right now?" "Yeah! We actually are taking them right now 'cause we just had to let an employee go. Here ya go," the clerk said while pulling out a blank application from under the counter, handing it to Jim as he reached the desk. It wasn't a job that Jim would like or enjoy by any stretch of the imagination, but at least it was something, and something is better than nothing.

Borrowing a pen from the young man behind the counter, leans over one end of the counter and starts jotting away at blanks, attempting to get this application filled out since it had more promise in it than the many folded papers in his pocket had.

[JaySonic]

Andy strutted out of the F & F Mens clothing store like a well-dressed idiot, posed a couple of times, then continued to strut down the street towards his destination. The shirt he bought was red and had some black, tribal like designs on the collar and waist, and he had decided to buy himself a black, dress hat on a whim. He winked and pointed at two rather, good looking women walking the opposite direction, who immediately giggled derisively at him and hurried about there business, effectively killing Andy's strut.

"Man, I look this good and still nothing. Jeez, i think girls just have it out for me. There's gotta be a website or something."

He continued to walk in the direction of the park, looking for an alleyway that cut between buildings so that he could break into a run from there without being seen. He never had to worry about being seen after he started running, no one could follow him with the naked eye anyway.

Spotting one and starting to cross the street to walk towards it, he glanced to the left and just happened to spot, for the third time in less than a day, the lead singer Jim, with even more papers sticking out of his pocket, coming out of a clothing store that seemed a little too preppy for him to be shopping there. Andy put two and two together and figured he was still looking for a job. He then realized that he was about six miles from the little coffee shop with the cookies he saw him at earlier.

"Holy crap. That's one determined kid. He must seriously need the money, or he just really wants to work." He thought to himself for a second as Jim walked away from him towards his home if he remembered correctly. He smiled to himself as he hatched a way to approach Jim about last night and help him out at the same time.

"I hope it's only money he needs." He laughed to himself as he crossed the street and caught up to the kid in no time. He put his hand on his shoulder and could have sworn he felt a small shock when he did.

"Hey bro hold up a sec."

[Archangel]

It took a long time before Tom could unlock the doors to the truck and make his way out.

He looked less like a half-hero and more like a paranoid pothead when he managed to emerge. He was still wearing "work" clothes, and so he technically did NOT fit in with the current crowd. But something told him he should stick around a bit, peek at the art exhibitions, have a drink or two. And maybe have a look at the crowd.

See if anyone looked like they pulled out nails with their mind.

He managed to get himself a glass of something. He wasn't sure what he had asked for, but whatever it was, this wasn't it. He sipped, and attempted the "art critic" look, as he wandered between paintings and sculptures, between rich and richer, between scenes and through walls of chatting people. No, the crowd wasn't some hoity-toity bunch altogether...but who else showed up for art shows besides older ladies and gentlemen with disposable incomes and broke-ass art students in berets trying to look intelligent? He stuck out, yes, but it didn't much matter. Because he spent half the evening sneaking glances out the sides of his eyes, looking for suspicious activity.

Tom wasn't what you would call a "superhero". He had abilities, he was a genetic, and if he had displayed those abilities in public people would call him "mutie" or "mutant" or "scum". But he hadn't dressed up in tights in the entirety of his life, and he had no costume, no alias, no secret identity. The trick was that it didn't matter. After he had learned what he could really do, when his marriage was broken and his life changed, he had faced his powers with the calm acceptance that a working man always held. He wasn't a huge comic book fan, but he had always known that people with more abilities than others had more responsibilities too. If he could help people, then he had to help people. Right now, he was the only one in the park, besides the perpetrator, who knew that someone in the crowd had deliberately tried to hurt a lot of people, and would have blamed it all on Tom and his crew. He knew this person was out there, and even if the person was not framing him purposefully, the fact that they had tried to hurt the orchestra told him they were bad people.

And it would be his duty to find them.

But he grumbled to himself even as he searched. Yes, he admitted it, he was scared. He could stop almost any kind of physical attack on himself, yes, and probably any physical attack on someone else. But only if he knew it was coming. And Tom didn't know anything of the sort. He flickered constantly, his skin getting more dense for a few seconds then switching back to normal, a kind of paranoid blink that betrayed to himself how anxious he was. He watched with a keen eye for whoever it might be, but so far, saw nothing but art.

He was over to one side of the park now, and examining a carving done completely out of teak. For the first time in the whole show, he found something that caught his attention. His hands knew the flavor of teak, and he gazed raptly at the detail that Nathan Inrid had put into this simple relief. It was exquisite. He longed to touch it, but he knew he shouldn't, that it wasn't right. But...it just looked so damn pretty. Making sure no one was looking, he reached out and ran his fingertips down the delicate wooden surface....

And as he did so, he caught a whiff of putrefaction waft out from the nearby woods.

He whirled around, distraught, the scent of rotting already gone. There was nothing to see though, nothing but trees in the near distance, spreading back into the park. He couldn't smell anything anymore...a stray breeze maybe? Blowing in the smell of a rotted tree trunk? Or maybe something in that tree nearby, the one with the dark leaves that would be perfect for someone to be crouched in, someone small and dressed darkly and smelling like rotting organisms and death....

"How's it going, Mike? We missed you out on the Gulf."

His heart beat like a drum as he whirled around again, instantly pulling up his sizeable defense. She stood there again, pixie-blonde and dressed deliciously, and he didn't know whether to be more afraid or less. She looked smug, and her eyebrow raised coquettishly, her lips forming a perfect smile.

"What's wrong, baby? A little jumpy?"

"What are you doing here, Cassie?" Ridiculous question, but he was waiting for his heart to slow. His skin, however, continued to flicker, as long as he could hold it.

"The art show, my dear. A cultured lady never misses a gala event such as this!"

The connection between her and the bandstand collapse were beginning to dawn on him, and he played it cautious, trying not to accuse or panic. "Well, we could all do for a little culture..."

"Mmmm, yes we could..." She sashayed a little closer, her platforms raising her up a couple inches, just high enough to almost reach his shoulders. She reached out a hand to run down his arm, and he pulled away, still avoiding her touch. He didn't know why, but instinctually he feared her fingers on his skin. "I was hoping you didn't leave after the bandstand incident..."

Her smug look suddenly caused a bolt of anger to shudder down his spine. He managed to keep a poker face, but he knew she saw the rage flash on his face. "So it WAS you..."

Her unbearably confident face morphed into an unbearably confident and innocent face, and she cooed, "What did I do, Tom? Are you blaming me for the accident? Your men very obviously were not doing their job right under there. I'm sure I had nothing to do with it!"

His eyes widened, and he caught the whiff of decay again, and even though it didn't come from her direction, he wondered if it was her he was scenting all along. Very deliberately, even though he never did like to use his abilities, he focused on her feet, making them unable to be lifted, the bottoms seemingly glued to the ground. Who cares, right? She already knew all, it seemed.

"Why don't you just wait here, Cass? I'll be back soon."

He didn't know what he was really going to do, seeing as how he couldn't hold her there forever. He would have to let her feet go soon. He just hoped he could catch it again and glue her once more when she ran. As he turned his back, she tried to step forward, and found herself rooted. To his dismay, she made a half-laughing sound, and though he couldn't see her face, he knew it would be scornful.

"Go ahead, love. I'll just...wait for you. Ta-ta!" Her giggles, while cute, were infuriating.

He marched off through the crowd, and the first person he looked for was Nathan Inrid. If anyone should know what was going on, if anyone should call the authorities, it should be the man for whom the show was about. He felt her slip free for a moment, and turned back, luckily seeing her before she moved away, and re-gluing her to the ground. He wasn't sure how he could do it if she slipped out again and he was out of eyesight. Too many feet around, too big a chance to miss and glue someone else's.

Now...if he only knew what Nathan looked like...

[Vector]

Jim stepped out of the store after handing the clerk his application, giving him his thanks and a wave as he exited the store. He turns and starts down the sidewalk, hoping to find a few more stores to try while on his way home.

His heart skips a short beat as a hand falls on his shoulder. Without meaning to, a tiny static shock ran through him. He forces a grin for the stranger and turns around to face him, hoping the man either didn't feel the shock of surprise or at least thinks nothing of it. The last thing Jim needs right now is someone discovering his genetic abilities. A stranger indeed, Jim had never seen the man before, or at least didn't recognize him from anywhere.

"Uhh... can I help you?" he asks, hoping it's just something minor like wanting to know the time so the income-less young man could move on with his job search, or at least get some grub considering the time.

Andy glanced down at his hand, then, preparing himself for some quick acting, put on a smile and addressed the kid. "Sorry to run up on you like that, but didn't I see you at a coffee shop across town this morning?"

Jim's stomach growls a little at the thought of those delicious muffins he had earlier in the day. He lets out a chuckle at the soft sound, even if he might be the only one to hear it. "Uh, yeah. I had some breakfast there. Why?" His stomach growls again at the mention of breakfast, this time much less audible, but lasting longer than before.

He nodded in mock remembrance. "Yeah, that's right. With the muffins and hitting on the cashier right? That was about five miles from here, and still looking for a job? Pretty determined for a guy your age."

He laughs under his breath and rubs the back of his neck with one hand at the accusation of hitting on the coffee shop clerk. He raises his eyebrows slightly, however and loses his smile when he realizes this guy actually watched him when he was over there and recognizes him now being five miles away. Jim just hopes this creepy guy doesn't notice that all day he's been doing this with no vehicle to get around. Moving one foot back, Jim prepares himself in case he needs to make a quick exit. "What are you, some kind of stalker or something?"

Andy took a step back himself, seeing the kid's concern, and raised his hands in his own defense. "Whoa, nothing like that bro. I just happened to be around, and I overheard some stuff and kept it in memory." He put his hands in his pockets and leaned forward, smirking a little. "You're probably a little desperate for money after that whole fiasco at the end of Breakneck Desperado's performance, huh? Amps are pretty expensive nowadays."

Jim grits his teeth softly, a little worried and rather embarrassed at meeting someone that saw his breakdown on stage the night before. This guy just knows too much about him without Jim having ever seen him before, and the whole ordeal is rather scary. His weight shifts to his back foot, further preparing himself for the off chance that this man could put two, two, and X together to equal "freak."

"Yeah. Show got a little crazy last night, so I got to make enough cash to afford some new amps or we'll be out of gigs and our usual income for just too long."

Andy nodded again in agreement, tilting his hat down to shade his eyes a little. "Well I think I might be able to help you with that problem, Jim. Name's Andrew Stiles, but friends call me Andy." He offers his hand for Jim to shake.

Jim takes a much more noticeable step backwards this time, the forced smile on his face gone. "I don't know who you are or what you're thinking, but I never told you my name, so back off. I don't need help from any weird-ass spying creeps, okay? So just leave me alone and I'll be on my way."

"Okay, okay bro. Let me level with you. I'm not some stalker, and I'm certainly not a spying creep." He shrugged his shoulders, then he started to count off on his fingers. "It's just a whole bunch of coincidences that I know all of this. First, I was at your show last night. All your amps exploded and it wasn't planned cause you got carried out of there unconscious. Then on my way to work, you happened to be at my normal, morning haunt. You had all those papers in your pocket, and I overheard you ask the cashier if they were hiring, introducing yourself in the process, hence your name. Then I see you here six hours later and five miles away, wearing the same clothes with even more papers in both pockets, so you're probably trying to get a job to get some new amps. Your band's just starting out, right?"

He laughed a little, his better judgment deciding to keep out the fact that he knew where he lived too. "Sorry I went all cryptic stranger on you, but how often do you get to do that to someone? So like I said, the name's Andy, and I want to help out. You a little less creeped out now?"

Jim relaxes his appearance and stares this Andrew Stiles square in the eye. "Not in the least, to be honest," he tells him bluntly. Jim knows that on the chance this weirdo really does know too much and tries to blackmail him or something, all it'll take is some precise brain work for Mr. Stiles to lose a decent enough chunk of memory for him to get away scott-free, even if that meant his conscience wouldn't be. "But I'll trust you for at least a little while. I gotta' admit that I could use the help right now." Jim smirks at him, this time wearing an honest grin. "If this is some kinda trap or something, though. If you're scamming me or using me for something... I'll kick ya' ass." Jim punctuates his last words with laughter, of course confident in his own abilities.

Andy laughed that last line off. He didn't know exactly what this kid could do, but he was almost positive he wasn't as strong or fast as he was. But then again, he could be wrong.

"Good, good. Everyone needs a little help sometimes, right?" He reached into his pocket, grabbing his wallet and pulling a small card out with his name, number, and address on it handed it to Jim. He had planned on giving that to Kristin, but this was more important.
"I don't have too much time to talk right now. Got somewhere to be, but you head here about twelve or one o'clock tomorrow and we'll hammer out the details." He stooped to pick up some loose concrete on the ground, wanting to give Jim even more incentive to come.

"Then after that, we can talk about other stuff. Genetic stuff." Andy turned toward the buildings across the street, swung his arm around twice, and chucked the rock clear over them and out of sight. He turned back toward Jim and walked past him headed towards the park again, waving behind his back. "See ya later, kid."

Jim's entire demeanor changed as he heard the words "genetic stuff" and watched Andy Stiles toss a block of concrete straight over a building. His eyes wide and his body on alert, he looked around quickly for any witnesses, thankfully not seeing any signs that someone saw what insane act that man had just done. After a final look at Andrew, mixed with feelings of disbelief and anger, he sped off in the direction of the object that had been thrown moments earlier. Escaping into the back alley of a building, he looks around for any sign of where it landed, but can't find it anywhere. It had to have gone farther than he'd thought. He only hopes no one got hurt from Andrew's carelessness.

Jim glances around once more, making sure the coast is clear and cursing Mr. Stiles before resting one hand onto a fence pole and transforming himself once more, swiftly arriving behind a popular fast-food joint down the street from his apartment. He ate here often, as it sold both typical fast-food Tex-Mex as well as small pan pizzas. After a quick bite to eat with the change he'd collected during the day and his last bit of cash, he figured a nice long night of sleep was in order.

[JaySonic]

After turning a corner Andy peaked back around just in time to see Jim bail in the direction of the rock he just threw. He mentally patted himself on the back.

"I don't think that could have gone any better than it did. Except for..."

He looked back to where he tossed that concrete and sighed, checking around to make sure no one was looking. "I should probably go see where that's gonna land. It'll be coming down in a bit." Seeing the coast was clear he flourished a little for his own amusement and rushed as fast as he dared inside the city to overtake the projectile.

I probably could have picked a safer way to show off my powers to him, but at least now I know for a fact that he'll be there tomorrow. Especially after seeing that.

He slowed down and took a hard right into an alley where he hoped he would be able to see the stone before it came down, skidding to a halt and messing up the ground a little. He was about a mile and a half from where he talked with Jim. Looking up just in time, he sees it fly overhead and keep going out of sight over the building. Running at a normal speed back out of the alley, almost plowing into a guy turning the corner, Andy looks up again to see the rock bounce off the next building and fall, shattering on the sidewalk below.

There were only two people walking together on the other side of the street and they turned toward the source of the noise, looking around to see where it came from, eventually guessing it fell from the old building and going about their business. Andy relaxed at the knowledge that nobody got hurt from his stunt.

"I don't think I'll be doing that anymore. But it did put me closer to the park." Hoping the rest of his night didn't turn out like this he continued on his way to Mr. Inrid's little party.