Archangel
Ice Breaker
And thus did the Archangel descend from Heaven itself...
Posts: 478
|
Post by Archangel on Nov 8, 2005 20:55:15 GMT -6
The year is 2076. Much has changed since the early part of the century, and the world is an altogether different place.
Nuclear war, World War III, broke out over 50 years ago. This war, however, was not as tame as the last. Whereas only 2 nuclear bombs were dropped on Japan in World War II, 63 neutron bombs were dropped worldwide in the four years of this terrible war. Nuclear fallout, horrible death counts, and horrific battles all characterized this most terrible war. Now, however, it is starting to fade into the past. The sites of the neutron bomb drops are becoming almost habitable again, and the world has moved on, advancing and becoming prosperous once again. However, for those that live close to the numerous Ground Zeros around the world, things have not been very good.
Radiation fallout from the neutron bombs has created birth defects in those downwind of the bomb drops. For the first 15 years, the defects were mostly small, and nearly always fatal. However, something has changed. Anyone who is exposed to the lingering radiation for just the right amount of time in just the right period of pregnancy or menstruation for a female or just the right period before sex for a male may possibly give birth to a healthy baby. However, when this healthy baby reaches puberty, the genes in him or her start to radically change. These children transform into mutants, creatures with unexpected gene configurations and unexpected powers. Some merely look different or act different from normal humans. But some…some are like gods themselves, with powers beyond human comprehension.
In the US, things went very badly for these new mutants. The government ruled that mutants, while intelligent and definitely human-like, were not in fact human beings, and therefore did not possess human rights. Like the time before, when the slave trade flourished, they were considered to be like black men; inferior to normal humans enough so that slavery was not just a good idea, it was right. Mutants became slaves as soon as they were discovered to be of different DNA, forced to wear electric shock collars and bought and sold in the open market to any human with enough money to afford a slave. For years, the mutants did as their human masters told them, obeying orders or getting horrible electrical shocks, and the world moved peacefully.
However, a few years ago, there was a breaking point that was reached. Some of the mutants in the US, led by one named Lupus, decided that their lot as slaves was not what they deserved. There was more to life than serving their human masters, and they were superior forms of the human race; THEY should control the humans, not the other way around. Preaching this rhetoric, Lupus gained numerous secret followers, and one day, they revolted against their masters. There was chaos and anarchy as these powerful creatures, able to do intensely different and exceedingly potent operations with their natural gifts, fought their human masters.
The Rebellion has died down now, but is not dead yet. They live in secret, in hiding, with human supporters and in the Underground. They prey upon normal humans, kidnapping, murdering, and forming plots to take over their old masters. They have yet to succeed, but they have gotten very close. And there is another plan coming, one that will destroy all of humankind’s governments and leave the world for the mutants to rule as they see fit. The US government knows it has to stop these rebels from destroying the world in their fit of power. And so, under direct jurisdiction of the CIA and FCP, the most secret governmental organization ever created, the law has been abridged to create a new branch of security: the Mutant Hunter Task Force, or MHTF. The MHTF is comprised entirely of mutants, who have been legally emancipated and given governmental weaponry and status as a top-echelon police force. Their job is to hunt down the rebels and destroy them, before the rebels destroy the humans they once served.
The line between good and evil is blurry and unfocused. Are the rebels, who fight for their freedom but prey upon the innocent and the helpless, truly evil? Is the MHTF, whose goal is to protect the race of man but whose actions oppress and murder mutants and keep the balance of power tipped towards the humans, truly good? Which will you be? A rebel, or a Task Force member? Or perhaps you will be a slave, held without freedoms (but perhaps not against your will…) by a human being, forced to do his or her bidding and fighting any who oppose your master? It’s up to you; the choice is yours.
Note: Lupus is NOT a playable character, neither is the leader of the MHTF. And if you want to be human, you can, but I’d prefer you try to be mutant.
Profile:
Name: (real full name) Code Name: (If any) Age: (Can be no more than 35) Sex: Allegiance: (Either MHTF, Rebels, or human master) Appearance: (If a costume, then explain) Skills: (Don’t get carried away. Keep it reasonable) History: (Just a little bit) Other:
My Profile
Name: Jackson Birne Code Name: Spectre Age: 16 Sex: Male
Allegiance: A Human Master, named Sir Edgar Wellington
Appearance: Jackson is a black youth, with a stocky, fairly average body, not especially well-muscled but strong enough as it is. His hair is curly, dark black, cut fairly short, and nicely frames his face. His eyes are a deep earthy brown, and his smile is straight-toothed and white. He usually wears a long white robe, not a nightgown type, but not a toga either, just a simple white robe tied around his waist with an ordinary yellow rope. The white robe offsets his dark black color nicely, giving him an almost holy look. And of course, around his neck he wears one of the infamous electro-shock collars, not bulky but still deadly lethal.
Skills: Spectre wields the power of Intangibility. He can make his whole body, or simply small parts of his body, and anything he's holding or wearing intangible to the touch and unable to be harmed. Bullets pass right through him, enemies fall on their faces when they go to strike him, and he can get into any room anywhere at any time. When he's intangible, he can also fly, at a fairly fast speed (not Superman speed, but fast enough). However, the trick to his intangibility is this: he has to become tangible again for any of his attacks to work, or to pick up or touch anything. So, in other words, he can sneak into a bank, but he has to turn tangible again to grab some money, then turn himself and the money intangible to escape. If he ever wanted to rob a bank... >.> <.<
History: Jackson was 13 when he reached puberty. One day, the same day he had heard his voice start to change, and felt a strange tingling down in his nether regions, he had been sitting innocently in class when he had suddenly dropped his pencil. Unable to pick it up, he had slowly realized that he was in fact intangible, and the pencil had literally passed straight through his fingers. Well, to make a long story short, the teacher found out, and reported him right away. He was fitted with a slave collar, and sold to the highest bidder, an old British knight named Sir Edgar Wellington who had just recently moved to the States and wanted a companion. For 3 years, Jackson had served Sir Edgar, and served him well, doing whatever he was bid. And eventually, he grew to love the old man, loved him like a father figure, loved him like a son loves his dad.
Other: Jackson could, at any time, slip out of his shock collar and roam free in the world of humans. He could easily slip out and join the Rebellion, if he so chose. However, he was taught all his life that mutants should be slaves to their human masters, and when he learned that he was a mutant himself, he easily fell into the role of dutiful slave. He doesn't expect any more out of life than to live it as a servant. However, he happens to serve a kind and benevolent man, whose actions and words show Jackson to be more like a son, and less like a slave. He does whatever Sir Edgar asks of him, but he does it willingly and proudly, not ashamed at being a slave, not ashamed of being subservient.
|
|
Sanity
Ice Breaker
Squids
Posts: 224
|
Post by Sanity on Nov 9, 2005 22:55:04 GMT -6
Name: Rurik Tikhonovich Kotov. Code Name: Riot Age: 29 Sex: Male Allegiance: MHTF Sergeant. Appearance: Rurik is a very, very Russian man. His heritage is very apparent in not only his name but hid body. He stands at an impressive 6’5, with large muscular arms, shoulders and chest. He has short, short dark black hair cut into a buzz cut and a lingering shadow of facial hair about his face. His skin is tough looking, bulging with veins and rippling with muscle, having the feeling of worn leather. His facial expressions are sharp and cunning, with piercing blue eyes. He is built from head to toe, body sinewy and tough, built like a wrestler. In most cases you can find him in normal MHTF uniform. Black, titanium toed combat boots adorn his feet and ankles, with his grey high impact polyester pants tucked into them to keep out of the way. Then a standard black vinyl belt with a silver clasping buckle. He then has a tight black spandex like long sleeve shirt with a grey collared shirt over it, tucked into the grey pants. Over that he has a slim black Kevlar vest, with various pockets and hooks for items. He then wears simple black tactical gloves. Around his upper thighs and connecting to his belt is a dual upper thigh gun holster system. Secured tightly to his body, and made of simple vinyl, it can hold either two large semi-automatic pistols, or two small SMG’s or automatic pistols. Around the back, on his right hip is a large sheath holding a large black military knife. And on his chest are two pistol holsters connected to his vest. He then has hooks for grenades and extra clip holsters on his belt. Upon his head is a black baseball styled cap, with MHTF in bold stone grey letters on it. In his grey cargo pants, cargo pockets are something not so uniform. Each pocket host a large brass knuckle, he takes out when away from those in charge. Upon his right shoulder is a circular black patch with his serial number, and identification. But if an upper officer asks for it he must produce his silver metal badge from his upper shirt pocket.
Skills: Rage- When he gets pissed, really pissed which happens rather often-it affects all around him. He gets an unnatural boost of adrenaline, but his head stays cool, but those around him become angered and confused, turning into a blind rage. Part of his ‘skills’ is the fact that he is super strong and durable, able to take large hits and strikes for long periods of time. The more angry he gets the more unorganized and confused his enemies become. He has been known to turn his enemies against each other in a blind rage. Brutality- As his anger grows, so does his performance and brutality. He is merciless and almost unstoppable if someone has made the mistake of wounding him or enraging him. The more angry he gets the stronger, more durable, and quicker he gets. His reflexes improve and his fighting technique becomes more deadly. Supreme Logic- His mind is vastly more logical then the average human brain. He thinks much faster and is an impossibly fast learner. He makes strategies, all in his head and forms out logical equations on the fly. This makes him a perfect commander, and one of your best friends if your in particularly sticky situation.
History: Born in Russia, he moved to the states with his parents when he was 7. Growing up as a minority was tough on him, and he was well known around the play ground as one to pick a fight. While going through puberty he found himself completely mesmerized by game such as chess, and battleship, all of which he was impressively skilled at. But as his military/computer like brain developed so did his aggression towards kids who picked on him. He was turned in as a mutant when a fellow student tried to cheat during a game of chess, and was sent to the hospital by a 14 yr old boy. He lived as a slave for sometime, killing or attempting to kill almost all of his masters. When the government came to him, as the rebellion grew stronger his logical mind took over. If this rebellion continued innocent lives would be lost. Freedom for slaves was a far off, near impossible goal, and at this time the war would only escalate to perhaps another world war. In his mind, the rebels are idiot heroes, and must be stopped. Other: He trains to a compulsive level, always found in the gym lifting weights, and thrusting his body into punching bags.
|
|
|
Post by Vahalior on Nov 10, 2005 5:26:02 GMT -6
Name: (Lost) Code Name: Scourge Age: 20 Sex: Male Allegiance: Human masters (Hes a government project effectively) Appearance: Scourge staggers like a drunken man, his eyes sunken and buried behind the scratched lenses of his gas mask. He is extremely thin, the tendons that hold his muscles to his bones sticking out through his skin, little muscle mass is actually visible. His veins are black and stick through his pale, greying skin along his arms and neck. He generally carries a large air pump upon his back that literally forces air into his ragged lungs.
Skills: Goo: A strange black goo is produced in Scourges lungs which he must continually cough and hack to remove. While it makes eating difficult, and sleeping for any length of time extremely dangerous it does have a slightly more offensive use. When thrown, this viscous material sticks to the skin, and is somewhat acidic, causing chemical burns. Not dangerous, but painful.
Breath of Infection: It is believed that a man with a tenth of Scourges infections would be dead within minutes. By opening the valves on his gas mask, Scourge can breath the full dose upon someone. Death is almost guaranteed. Don't breathe too deeply around this cheerful soul.
Scream: Scourge can look deep inside himself and see what he once was, all that he has become, and all that he has lost. This sense of deep loss causes him to fall to his knees and scream in pure anguish and sorrow. Most humans nearby are extremely unsettled by this (friend or foe) and it can sap moral and literally rob the strength from peoples muscles. If only on a psychological level.
History: Scourge really is tragic, even by mutant standards. His mutation itself is relatively benign, and how it was detected isn't exactly clear. His immune system is extremely complicated, making it so even the most lethal of diseases can't actually kill him. As it would be hard to sell him as a 'mutant', he possesses no visible powers, the government instead decided to utilize him in their biological weapons program. Scourge was then injected with only the most lethal and experimental of bacteria and virus, a large gas mask slapped upon his face and attatched to his skull so it could never be removed, and his breath was then 'harvested' so the infectious agents could be refined and used against whomever annoyed the government. All the strain took considerable toll on Scourges immune system, and now it stands on the brink of being completly overwhelmed. All movement has ceased and he simply lies atop a slab like bed, breathing rapid, pulse racing and sweat dribbling across his semi-naked form. Nutrients and water must be continually injected into his form to keep him alive. If only his immune system could get a few seconds of release to re-align itself against the new threat, maybe he could at least move once again.....
Other: *Social interaction with mutants is difficult enough, much as they claim to accept everyone, Scourge is extremely difficult to accept by even the most ardant and fanatical of the resistance members. Social interactions with humans are nigh impossible, save for the most golden hearted, or ones who believe they can exploit Scourge to their own ends in someway.
|
|
Archangel
Ice Breaker
And thus did the Archangel descend from Heaven itself...
Posts: 478
|
Post by Archangel on Nov 12, 2005 17:01:34 GMT -6
(OOC: Note to anyone joined or planning on joining....I forgot to include a "Weapons" section of the template. If you find your character needs weapons to fight, which many mutants don't, then feel free to add a Weapons section to the template. Sorry about that. And yes, anybody else can join at any time.)
IC: "Jackson! Oh Jackson, my boy! Please join me in the study."
Spectre sighed and shut off his music. He had been listening to some light Chopin, while laying down on his bed. Reaching over to the intercom system, he pressed the reply button and spoke.
"Coming right down, sir."
Closing his eyes, Spectre let go with his mind. It was odd. For many mutants, their power came as an act of will. For Jackson, normality was what strained his willpower. To keep himself solid, tangible, and able to touch and interact with things required concentration. Not a lot of concentration, but enough. As soon as he relaxed his mind, let go of the concentration, his body instantly reverted back to its natural configuration. As intangible as a ghost.
Spectre looked down at himself, as always mildly amused at himself and what he became when he changed. He still looked...solid. He wasn't ghostly, he wasn't pale or wispy, didn't even have an aura of white around him. He simply looked like a 16 year old black boy wearing white robes and little else. But should he touch anything.... Just for the fun of it, he reached out and touched the wall beside him. His hand instantly passed through the material of the wall. It didn't even feel like there was a wall there. It just felt like more air, in front of more air, behind more air. He passed his hand back and forth through the wall, watching it enter one side and come out the other, a gleeful smile on his face. It had been three whole years that he had had these powers, and while he was by no means a master, he still delighted in using them. Even if they were an everyday part of his life, a part of him, the childlike and innocent part of him, found continual wonder in his powers. And maybe even a little awe.
Sighing, Spectre turned. He couldn't feel the floor, obviously, but hovered over it as if he were resting his weight on it. It felt so good, to fly while in weightless form. There was a feeling of zero gravity about it, a kind of anti-physics that made him excited and intrigued. Sir Edgar was teaching him about physics, and it quite interested the boy. He knew that what he did defied all the old physics, even Einstein's theories and revelations. What all the mutants did, it defied logic, and was a strong case for the inadequacy of physics to explain the real world. But enough on physics. Sir Edgar awaited.
Calmly, the boy crossed his arms in front of him in a very monk-like pose, and began drifting down through the floor. It was always interesting when his eyes passed through some material. It was amazingly dark in the stuff "in between", but sometimes enough light leaked in to make looking around useful. He had poked his head through the floor many, many times, just to see what he could find there, and to test out his powers. It was always interesting, even if a little dark, and the fact that nothing could hurt him made it even better. Passing down through the floors, he made his way to the study, easily walking through walls and bookcases, furniture and locked doors. Locked doors did nothing for Spectre. He had been into every nook and cranny of Sir Edgar's large mansion, and knew it all very very well. Finally, he arrived at the study, to find his master seated in a plush velvet armchair, relaxing back on the headrest, a fire roaring at his feet. Jackson floated closer to the old man, and spoke.
"Sir? What is it you need?"
"Pour me a drink, son. You and I need to talk."
As he solidified himself and walked over to the nearby drinks tray, he wondered why the older man hadn't gotten it for himself. He usually did. Sir Edgar was not one to waste Jackson's considerable powers on simple menial labor. Pouring the old man a gin and tonic, on the rocks, just like he always had, he turned and handed the drink to Sir Edgar, smiling. Then, he walked over beside the man's chair, waiting for him to talk patiently and submissively. And, after taking a couple sips, the old man did.
"My boy, my good, intelligent boy. You have been my companion for a little over three years now, haven't you?" Spectre nodded. "And you know that I have been a kind master to you, a lenient and thoughtful master, correct? I have tutored you at a level beyond most sixteen year olds, giving you intelligence and wisdom. I have helped you train your powers to great skill, have I not? And now, now my boy, you are like a son to me, more truly than my own son, who has been so cold to me all these years. Do you understand what I mean, Jackson?"
The boy had nodded to everything the man had said most eagerly, intent on impressing him and honoring him for what he'd done. But now, he stopped nodding, and a look of perplexed confusion crossed his face. "Sir...I'm...I'm not sure if I follow you."
The old man sighed and took a sip of his drink. Then, softly, he spoke again. "My boy. My dear, sweet Jackson. What I am about to do...is something that is not so good. But I do it in the name of good. There are people out there, people and mutants, who need to be protected. People...that need help, that cannot help themselves. I feel the need to help them. But, alas, I am old, and though I am rich, I am far too old to be of much use. You, however, are not old. And you are powerful. Do you understand me now?"
Spectre still shook his head. "Noo....."
"Sit down, my boy. What I am about to ask you to do...may ruin your life forever. You may die. But I ask you this in the name of honor, of glory, and of your good heart. I ask you this, because I know that you will do it. Sit down, so that I may explain...." Jackson sat down.
*****************************************************************
It was two hours later. The sun had set long ago, and the grounds were whispering with the wind of the night. Spectre floated over the light snow, his weightless and incoporeal form easily drifting over the inch or so of white powder. More flowed down into his face and onto his body, but of course the flakes passed right through and hit the ground, as if nothing was there to stop him. He felt the cold, even in his intangible form he felt the cold (although nowhere as keen as his corporeal form would feel it), and had worn a heavy woolen cape over his body to protect himself from the chill. Across his back was slung a backpack, filled with military rations and canned food, easily carried when weightless and enough to last him a long time. In a pouch at his belt was a stack of money, more money than he had ever thought he would see at one time, and his collar had a built-in cellular, in case he needed more. And in his eyes, there burned a roaring and unending flame, the flame of the fanatic, the flame of the zealot. His master, his father, had given him a task to perform. And now...now he must do it. For the good of mankind, for the glory of all humans and mutants alike, and for his own honor...he must do it. He passed silently into the night, not needing to sleep just yet, prepared for what must surely come ahead.
(RP has started)
|
|
|
Post by Kaisar on Nov 13, 2005 3:09:51 GMT -6
Name: Katrina Abbas Code Name: Wild Kat Age: 20 Sex: Female Allegiance: Human Master, Ex- Thief Alec Abbas Appearance: Kat looks for the most part perfectly human with her long black lightly curled hair, olive complexion and lithe build. Her eyes are a stunning emerald green not unlike a cats. She however possesses a few cattish characteristics ranging from the tail which is the same length as her body and covered in thick black fur. Her ears are also cat like though a little larger then they should be and covered in a short downy fur that feels silky to the touch. She stands at 5’10” and wears a black trench coat over black slacks and a white fitted t-shirt on her feet she wear a pair of soft shin high leather boots and on her hands she wears a set of fingerless gloves, across her head she wears a bandanna. Weapons: A belt of ten throwing knives well balanced and sharpened edges, a retracting staff that regresses to the size of her forearm and extends to her height and three sets of three throwing stars. Skills: A Cat’s Grace:- (Passive) Thanks to her feline mutation Kat experiences enhanced speed, agility balance and dexterity making her move faster then normal people and dodge attacks with greater ease. Primal Instinct:- (Passive) Kat’s natural instincts towards others is intone with her feline senses, she can smell strong emotions such as fear, hate, arousal and even sickness. Based on her inner judgment of there Kat can most of the time guess whether people are being honest in what they say or lying. She also can tell sometimes when she’s being watched or approached from her blind sides giving her an edge when fighting. Night Vision:- (Passive) Kat can see better in the dark then most people making night appear as easy to see in as in dawn light. Cat’s Hearing:- (Passive) Her hearing is as sharp as any cat’s meaning she can hear things from further off and because of her feline ears can move them to focus better on one sound or direction. Tiger Claws:- When attacking her finger nails grow an inch ling with an edge perfect for ripping and rendering flesh. They are the only natural weapons Kat has as a last resort should her tools ever become lost or taken. This ability activates on instinct and need her fingernails which look perfectly human until then grow an end in a sharp strong edge that won’t break under pressure. Should a nail be torn out it is replaced by the nail beneath it. History: Kat was rescued from a house fire when she was young by the Ex-Thief. Her family had been killed in the blaze leaving her a respective orphan. When it was discovered she was a mutant she was registered but left in the care of her rescuer who gave her a name and a home. Because if her lightning reflexes, agility and uncanny skill in moving and sneaking the once thief taught Kat the skills of the trade and set her to work ‘lifting’ objects from certain parties. Other: A set of lock picks and three universal key cards that open all but the most complex of electronic locks. Her shock collar is while always locked disguised to look like a black choker and set to a single frequency controlled only by Alec though he doesn’t use it.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Kat flew across the roof like a shadow ignoring the snow that fell about her. On any other night she would have been at home standing on the roof and gazing endlessly at the sky as the soft snow fell but tonight she had to get home. She had finished her job and carried the prizes of her latest job. The black bandana normally around her forehead was now covering the lower part of her face. She stared ahead watching as a gab between the buildings drew closer. The edge approached and Kat kept moving she hit the edge and leapt from it landing on the roof of the next building. Kat felt her footing slip under the loose snow. She slid down the slopped roof and went over the edge. Not bothering to try and grab hold Kat twisted in mid air and landed on the ground with ease. She smirked her tail lashing as she stood up and glanced about. Her eyes fell on a boy who seemed to be staring at her and on impulse Kat saluted him and then dashed off into the shadows intent on her path home. Alec would skin her alive if she wasn’t back before midnight.
|
|
Sanity
Ice Breaker
Squids
Posts: 224
|
Post by Sanity on Nov 13, 2005 17:56:38 GMT -6
Rurik shivered, punching the knob for the heater to kick in as he started up his old beaten up jeep. The older engine roared into life before lowering into a pitiful puttering noise. He grunted, his mass taking up most of the space in the vehicle as his right boot slammed down onto the gas pedal and the car slid back from its parking space of the MHTF Base. He thrust the shifter into drive just as his tires were sliding along with the snow towards another parked car, the 4x4 SUV speeding off into the frosty evening. The heat was fuming from the vents with a burning hot rage, quickly filling the freezing compartment as his head lights bounced and danced along the snow strewn road. He was leaving late, had spent most of the day being bitched at by some higher up ass who thought that MHTF was making no progress at all, and was hinting at the possibility that it might be a waste of money. Rurik had spent the rest of the evening pummeling the punching bags in the training center into oblivion. This was his job, this was his way from staying out of slavery, or worse joining the resistance. Mutants deserved freedom, we are human beings just fucked up ones from all of the worlds pointless feuds. This rebellion though was not the way to send a message, this would only lead to more death more wars and more pain. Had we not learned our lesson about the bad effects of wars? It was in some of our faces everyday. “Fuckin dumbasses….” His words seemed to echo about the car, backed up by the loud ripping guitar and banging drums heard from the cars radio. That was all just before he flew around a sharp curve, tossing the wheel like he was riding a mighty bucking stallion. His cheap slick tires flew over the powdery road. His break lights shown out, reflected off individual snow flakes that were drifting through the air. His arms made battle with the wheel, and his eyes widened as his car slid right into a robed boy- well at least he thought he slid into him.
|
|
Archangel
Ice Breaker
And thus did the Archangel descend from Heaven itself...
Posts: 478
|
Post by Archangel on Nov 13, 2005 18:20:28 GMT -6
Spectre hadn't even heard the car before it slid around the corner. But as soon as it came close, he noticed it. The glaring headlights, the pulsing red brakelights behind the vehicle, the frantic face of the driver as he attempted to pull the thing back into his control and not...not... But it was too late. The road was slippery with just enough snow to make it dangerous, and the brakes obviously didn't work real well, and the man just couldn't control the car. It went careening through Spectre, who didn't even flinch, and who watched it go by with a kind of puzzled and amused look on his face. He turned and watched the car spin to a stop 50 yards away, sideways in the road, the nose pointed at the left gutter. He almost felt tempted to laugh at what had just happened. A car had just...run him over! Or would have...if it had been possible.
But suddenly, the gravity of the situation hit him. The man driving might be hurt. He could be choked by his own seatbelt, or knocked unconscious. Quickly, Spectre flew to the car, his weightless form easily covering the distance between himself and the vehicle. He solidified one hand, and grabbed the car door, yanking it open hard. It hadn't hit anything, so it wasn't jammed or anything like that. If he had had physical mass, he probably would have fallen over backwards with the hard jerk. He, however, stayed upright, and made more of his body tangible. He put his arms on the roof of the car, and poked his head into the open door.
"Sir! Sir? Are you ok, sir? Are you hurt? Sir, talk to me. Are you ok?"
|
|
Sanity
Ice Breaker
Squids
Posts: 224
|
Post by Sanity on Nov 13, 2005 20:49:32 GMT -6
Rurik slammed his head hard into the steering wheel as he brought the car to a halt on the slippery road. How the fuck could he hit someone? And at that was it..just a fuckin kid? He could see the headlines “Mutant kills human boy”. He was just about to kick open the side door, his mind was racing his pulse was picking up and his previous rush of anger and adrenaline was tripled. He could feel his veins grow wider, allowing more blood to pass into his muscles as they too began to expand. But then the door flew open and the kid he had just ran into was standing there asking if he was alright. ”What the FUCK? Are you alright? Shit didn’t I hit you?” His hand went to his worn face rubbing at his leathery face and eyes, blinking a few times, he always forgot how many mutants there actually were out there these days.
|
|
Archangel
Ice Breaker
And thus did the Archangel descend from Heaven itself...
Posts: 478
|
Post by Archangel on Nov 13, 2005 21:19:40 GMT -6
"Hit me, sir?" Spectre asked, his eyes confused. Then he remembered, and almost laughed out loud. "Sir...you couldn't hit me if you tried. I'm fine! The question is, are YOU ok? Did you hurt anything in the accident? It looks like you might have hit your head there..."
Spectre leaned in, and gently touched the man's head. However, his hand wasn't fully corporeal, only halfway or so. To the confused Russian, it felt like a soft leaf brushing against his head, causing no pain but barely any sensation either. And Spectre's hand kind of disappeared partly into the man's head, almost like one or the other was made of pudding, soft and yielding, but still tangible.
"Come on out of the car, sir, just to see if you're alright." Quickly becoming more tangible, Jackson took Rurik, unclasped his seat belt, and helped him climb out of the car. Spectre wasn't blessed with extraordinary strength...he could never have moved the Russian without assistance. But it seemed like Rurik's legs were working fine, and his arms too. His head seemed like it had been hit, because it looked a little red, but really the man seemed none the worse for wear. In fact, he looked...damn strong. Beefy. Almost...supernaturally so. Spectre discretely eyed his neck, looking for the telltale shock collar. There was none. And yet the man had been driving a car. So he couldn't be a rebel. Rebels wouldn't own cars.
"Ummm, sir...are you a...ummm. Are you a mutant, sir? Because I don't see a collar..." Spectre mumbled. His voice was low and hesitant, as if he was afraid to ask. This man was big, and he didn't want to mess around with him. Of course, out of instinct, he became completely incorporeal again, ghostlike but looking fully solid, in every way a mutant. He waited for the big man's reply. Maybe this was one of the men he had been sent to find. Maybe this could be the one he needed to work with. Or maybe this could be his worst enemy. Time would only tell.
|
|
Anna Molly™
Ice Breaker
My Devil danced with his Demon and the fiddler's tune is far from over.
Posts: 177
|
Post by Anna Molly™ on Nov 13, 2005 23:53:56 GMT -6
(ooc: all done...for now >.>)
Name: Ivie Bane Code Name: Bane Age: 23 Sex: Female Allegiance: Rebel Forces Appearance: At a height of 5'6'', lithe and muscular, Ivie tends to dress in classic military attire. Classic military attire being dark green camouflage army pants, an impossibly tight black tank top which reveals her curves and assets, and a camouflage windbreaker. Complimenting her look is a pair of combat boots. A small silver cross hangs around her neck, her beige complexion seeming to give off a glow with its presence. She dons a sleek black eye patch over her left eye, visible eye bubbly and the purest crimson. If one stared close enough, the circular pupil almost seems to spiral and shift, changing into a soulless thin oval. Ivie sports a black headband, the perfect fix to the untamed yet silky cropped raven with green highlights on her head. Her canines remain hidden until she opens her mouth, something obviously wrong with the pointed teeth making up the upper row of her teeth. They're longer than most human's teeth, pointier and venomous. A forked tongue darts out to catch a scent in the air when her instinct acts up. Down her back is a patchwork of black markings and spirals, the abnormality running down her left arm and right leg as well.
Skills: Parselmouth: Ivie is quite fluent in multiple tongues, the one that comes naturally having to deal with snakes
Agility: Something that comes natural, Ivie is impossible flexible, fluid with a twisted elegance to her movements. She is also able to compress herself, but to a point.
Taste: Partial self-defense, mainly enjoyment, once in close enough proximity, Ivie reaches out, sinking her teeth and a lethal dose of venom into the victim's body. If she willed herself, she could secrete the poison through her pores but its not nearly as effective by touch and more trouble than she'd wish to go through.
Bonecrusher: Though not the strongest of fighters, her minimal connection with nature has a perk. Considering she can NOT transform into a snake, as compensation, when possible, she uses the wilderness around her. It works as a way of binding her victim under a wave of greenery before painstakingly crushing them. When not blessed with being a forest-esque surrounding, she resorts to collapsing one's airway the only way she can...
History: (later...as in the story later >.>)
Other: Has a love for snakes, nature and trouble. Cause life wouldn't be life without it..
(IC post later...)
|
|
|
Post by fallen on Nov 14, 2005 11:38:03 GMT -6
ooc: i hope this isn't too bad, I'm very out of practice
Name: Michael crawly Code Name: quicksilver Age: 17 Sex:male Allegiance: rebels Appearance: Michael has long brown hair and an athletic build, he stands at almost six foot tall, and is almost anerexicly thin. he has sharp features, his hair is thin, his lips are like lines and his nose looks pinched. he has nutty brown skin. Skills: quicksilver: Michael is able to turn himself into a lump of silver liquid, retaining his current form but also changeable, for instance he could turn his forearms to swords, or his fingers to razors. Then he can change himself back to his solid form and the changes stay. he cannot make guns, or any projectile, because he would shoot part of himself
master athlete: due to Michaels elasticity he can pull one part of his body forward are great speed then snap the rest of him back after him. he can also use this to jump to great(ish) heights
History: Michael grew up on the streets till he hit puberty, he then became aware that he was changing, he found himself waking up in his silvery form, and switching back with abnormality's, a rebel group were sweeping the region when they found him half starved on the street, with nothing to loose he explained his problem and they took him in, since the age of fourteen, when he properly learned to use his skills he has been used as an assassin, getting through open windows and beheading people while they sleep Other:-
|
|
Anna Molly™
Ice Breaker
My Devil danced with his Demon and the fiddler's tune is far from over.
Posts: 177
|
Post by Anna Molly™ on Nov 17, 2005 0:27:10 GMT -6
(ooc: Something short..rushed...but chaotic...and far off <.<'' I mean, can't just pop outta nowhere, ya know?)
Click.
Click.
Click.
It was a chilly evening. The sky sparkled with dots of white and light blue points of energy. The moon remained cloaked in swirly waves of mist, the pale white orb occasionally poking through a break in the clouds. A howling wind swept the area, sharp breeze whistling past the cracks and crevices of buildings in the warehouse district. The distinct scent of salt and frozen moisture bathed the air; the night's silence periodically interrupted by a foreign clicking and a pair of booted footsteps.
Click.
Bane nodded her head to an invisible beat, fluttering her eyelids as her neck craned to the side. She walked casually from a newly built silvery warehouse, light bouncing off her black and green hair. Her lips glistened under the fluorescent lighting of the streetlamps, countless eyes watching her from the shadowy clearing she was steadily approaching. Whether she noticed -or cared- wasn't certain, her actions denoting nonchalance and no more. A sigh escaped her, Bane moving to put in her earphones.
The clicking stopped.
A malevolent smile graced Bane's face, the woman finally opening her eyes. An ear piercing boom erupted behind her, the cataclysmic explosion taking out a row of warehouses in an unholy roar of orange flame. Her hair plastered to her head from the shockwave, a whimper of bliss came from the heat grazing her neck, she enjoying the increase in temperature. Throwing back her head near ecstatic, she hissed to the heavens, forked tongue detecting the escalating fear in the ether, the stench of humans in the air. She lowered her head to eye her enemies, the dozen dispatched to 'take care' of her.
A snake inched out of Bane's sleeve, hissing a demonic tune in the general direction of the armored people. Bane cooed, lifting the head of her snake to her lips, kissing it affectionately. She whispered what to onlookers sounded a series of hisses and gibberish. "They are not our problem precious...stay and be well." The snake moved back into the comfort and safety of her shirt, winding gently around her waist.
The men watched the mutant woman with a mixture of emotions. She held an exotic appearance, a mixture of Asian and Black, a mutt if one wanted to go so far and dub her. Every move she made held an unspoken grace followed immediately by a spine tingling warning. And then her eyes...or the single eye that was visible. Purely captivating, the group found themselves spellbound from the glowing crimson iris, the blood red beauty of her eye. So enchanted by her stare, they had no time to prepare themselves for the wave of power to their right, the Giant of a silver haired woman sweeping them off their feet, suspending them in mid-air.
"Suckers..." Bane blinked once, twice, tearing up to get the illumination to leave her eye, her pupil to return to something akin to normal. Satisfied after a moment, she pocketed her hands, not daring to look any of her would-be attackers in the eye. Bane walked up to the new arrival, pausing at her shoulder. "You know the drill. Annihilate them and make sure others avoid the area. Indigo retrieved the file and the last thing we need is the media snooping the area. Let's TRY to let the humans think it an isolated incident, hmm?"
"Not trying to make a scene, how shocking," spoke the woman silkily. Her grey eyes beamed towards the dozen frozen before her. "...but obviously someone knew of our arrival or they would not be here. If we can manage to get some bio-hazardous mess in the area, I'm sure the media will stay clear."
"Will twelve hours do?" Bane inquired with furrowed brows, looking over her ponytailed comrade properly. She couldn't help but always be surprised at the silver haired woman's casual everyday appearance.
"Hmm..." The woman glanced upwards in thought. A hand slipped inside her leather coat pocket, pulling out a tarnished gallon sized can. She swished the liquid with a finger, soon sampling the thick silvery liquid. "I would prefer eight hours or less but it will suffice. Now you just head on your merry way..." The woman threw back her head, downing the gallon of molten metal in less than a minute. She let a trail of the liquid slide down her jaw, eyes cruel and silver on the dozen humans. "I'll be rid of them."
"Enjoy," Bane smiled, tone filled with a mixture of disgust and envy. She cringed when the woman returned the grin, glad to turn away from the soon to be bloodbath. Exiting the warehouse district, she slid her eye patch up, hurrying onto her destination...
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Your deaths have been brought to you in part by the snake Goddess aka Medusa bka Bane and company ie me. The Heavy Metal Chic will do for short but in awhile none of this shit will matter much. But questions!" The silver haired woman clapped her hands, grinning broadly from victim to victim.
Seeing none display any emotion or will to partake in her little game, she snapped her fingers in front of the closest one, staring him down viciously. "Come now, one must hold SOME curiosities, yes?" Receiving a glob of spit to her cheek in response, she chuckled. Wiping away the saliva, she leaned up, freezing the man back in position. "Here's one! Is this silver haired bitch really THAT overpowered? Of course not, but it'd quite amazing what other mutants can do. Then the question remains...what can I do?"
The Heavy Metal Chic rolled back her right sleeve, revealing a pale arm to the dozen before her. The veins running through the muscular forearm appeared at first bruised, than grey. She cackled, eyes lighting up at the change overcoming her, her fingers melding together, bone structure changing, entire arm growing cold, near metallic. Raising her arm, the opening of an overly large gun, to the dozen, she grinned demonically. "What can I do...?"
What followed her question were helpless screams, wasted shells pelting the cool obsidian asphalt, and the stomach churning sound of bullets tearing through flesh...
~*~Meanwhile~*~
Ivie arrived at her location just in time, though to any who had seen her at the warehouse, it was obvious she'd undergone a major change. Gone were her military clothes and combat boots, the cynicism that seemed to paint her eyes, the customary eye patch over her left eye. In exchange for her normal clothes was a pair of slacks and a plain short sleeve top, a green apron accompanying her work uniform. Her eyes were a marvelous green, the left far lighter than her right. She smiled cheerfully, handing a large steaming cup of the unbearable liquid to a customer, then saying. "Thank you for coming to Starbucks, have a nice evening..."
(ooc:....okay, all done >.>)
|
|
|
Post by Kaisar on Nov 17, 2005 18:33:53 GMT -6
Kat slowed her pace as she neared home and then slowed to a walk with a casual ease she slipped down a side ally and melted into the shadows making scant noise. Her tail coiled quickly about her waist beneath her coat as she removed her face cover and folded it once more into a bandanna tying it across her ears to hide them from the casual onlooker. Once done she reached into a pile of garbage and retrieved the bag of groceries she was meant to have gone and gotten. Slipping back out into the street she made the final trip and walked the two blocks home. Opening the front door she walked in and closed it behind her. She and Alec lived in an apartment block where several other families lived. The people were wary of Kat but not hostile, they left her alone and Kat ignored them. She climbed the three flights of stairs with her burdens and stopped at their home door. Turning the handle she slipped inside and closed it walking so quietly not even a mouse could have heard her coming. The TV was still on but Kat suspected Alec was asleep in his chair. The Ex-Thief was getting on in age being perhaps fifty-six years of age. Moving into the kitchen she put the groceries away and wondered if she should wake him or not. Gazing at the clock it read 11:50 pm she’d cut it close but was here before midnight like he requested. Shaking her head she moved out of the kitchen and sat on the couch uncoiling her tail as she removed her trench coat tossing it onto another chair before lying back on the cushions. ”Cutting it close little cat but… did you get what I sent you for,” a voice enquired from the chair.
Kat smiled and reached inside her shirt slipping a pouch from its hiding place and tossed it to him. Alec caught it and peered into the bag while Kat spoke. “I got the groceries just like you asked though I swear it’s damn difficult to find a twenty-four hour grocery shop this time of night….” Alec chuckled and slipped the pouch into his pocket nodding slowly. ”Well you got everything I see so you’re not completely useless.” Kat rolled her eyes at him, “Master is most kind…” she replied sarcastically and smirked as she ducked a pillow sent flying her way. ”Don’t be pert miss kitty cat… now get some sleep we have stuff to do tomorrow.” “Yes Papa…” she yawned and removed her headband letting her ears free of their confinement, they twitched for a moment and then Kat lay down on the couch closing her eyes against the night and was asleep in a matter of minutes.
Alec rose from his chair and sighed walking past the girl he had spent the better part of 16 years perfecting her already feline grace and skill to make her a more then skilled thief. The Girl had a knack for the job and in truth it made him proud. He had never once lied to her of the fate of her family but how she had taken that information he couldn’t be sure. The Girl had never cried even when he’d rescued her from the building it was like she didn’t know how. Shaking his head at the mystery of his young charge Alec retreated to his own room placing the newly acquired loot in the usual storage place and lay in bed, preparing for a little sleep himself.
|
|
Sanity
Ice Breaker
Squids
Posts: 224
|
Post by Sanity on Nov 23, 2005 19:42:42 GMT -6
Rurik grunted, running a sweaty palm over his forehead, the red swelling was diminishing swiftly- as if the bump was only a minor smack. His hands then went to his jacket, the boy had obviously not seen his uniform because of the worn coat. He smirked then pulling out his badge as he looked over the rather strange kid. ”MHTF kid..now..” He looked over the kid, saw the shock collar and nodded. ”What are you doing out here this late? Don’t tell me your runnin away or nuthin” He rolled his neck a bit, trying tog et rid of any stiffness that would be there.
|
|
Archangel
Ice Breaker
And thus did the Archangel descend from Heaven itself...
Posts: 478
|
Post by Archangel on Nov 23, 2005 20:37:19 GMT -6
A look of shocked and perplexed horror came over Spectre's face.
"Running away, sir? Why would I do that?"
His voice was perfectly innocent, with no hint of sarcasm. He honestly couldn't even conceive of running away. Not from Sir Edgar. He stood for a moment, thinking about it, when suddenly he realized that they were standing in the middle of the road, completely blocking traffic should a car come. But then, what the man had said struck him, and he did a double take. Did this big Russian just say that he was MHTF? Jackson gasped for air as it suddenly came clear to him. This was one of the men he was looking for! But once again, he wondered to himself...I may have been looking for him...but do I really want to find him? Is he a friend, or an enemy? Thinking quickly, the boy considered his options. He could get away safely, right now, and avoid this rebel hunter for as long as possible. Or he could follow him, see where he was going, keep tabs on him, and then talk to him once he found out the truth. Or he could just ignore it all and forget about the man completely, hoping to meet another MHTF member. But that option was not plausible. He couldn't just leave the man completely alone. So, instead, he tried something. He tried the truth.
"Well, sir, actually...I'm on an errand for my master. He sent me out to get to the city. I was wondering if you were heading in that direction, and maybe...could I ask for a ride? If you're not too busy, of course." He spoke with a very sincere, very innocent tone, one that was sure to advance his case to the Russian. He moved his body side to side, as if placing his weight on one foot and then the other, even though in fact he was weightless. If the man said no, he could always follow him at a distance, and watch him more carefully. But if the man said yes, so much the better for him. He would be spared some time flying to the city. So he waited for an answer.
|
|