Ethan went ahead and exploded the Grenade but directed 100% of it at the Knight. Before catching the V in air and throwing it right back at him. Ethan sidestepped casually as he dodged the attack. He was still using Radar sense so he could see everything before it transpired. He could see the mans heartbeat. He could see that he was starting to excite. He levitated into the air to safety before sending those 20 shards of glass hurtling at him close to the speed of sound. Ethan folded his arms and watched in the air.
Clinging to the edges of her coat to shield herself from the frigid wind, Anya marched briskly down the sidewalk. As per her father's orders, she was to make it to a "meeting" he couldn't attend because he was "busy." Although far from the brightest child, even by Gothic City slums standards, she knew it meant a number of things. First, it involved one or more of his drug habits. Second, he was watching the t.v. And third, he was probably in some sort of debt, since that was always the case when he didn't go himself. Usually he sent her mother, but she was sick, so Anya had to go herself.
"Where does he get the money for this stuff anyway? Maybe if he spent more time feeding us or doing...something productive, we could have lights, and heating, and..." The rumbling of her stomach cut her own words short and she paused, letting out a sigh. "...And food. God, I'm starving."
The entire walk she spent grumbling to herself about the cold and her parents, clenching the tattered coat ever closer. Still, she never could shake the shivery cold feeling running up and down her spine, culminating in a severe ache in her brain. She tried her best to ignore it, but it only got worse as she went on.
She stopped at an intersection squinting her nearsighted eyes at the street sign. But her eyes saw only a plain white sign. "There's nothing on it!" she moaned. "Someone needs to fix this goddamned city. Our half too."
"Hey. You Julien's kid?" a voice whispered out from the alley behind her. He remained in the dark, but she could see his pale face and grisly features as clear as day. Though nervous, she presented herself in as poised a manner as she could, fighting through fear and the persisting pains. If you don't want to be a target, don't make yourself look like a target. "Yeah, that's me." She moved toward him, but tried to remain out of the alley and in the light. As if that would make any difference if he tried something. No one else around anyway.
"C'mon, girl! Not in the light," he hissed, and, nervous as she was, she had not the courage to disobey.
"Y'know, yer dad din't have the money to pay me, an' we have this little arrangement where, when he ain't got the cash, y'all pay me in other ways. But see, yer mom's sick, an' I ain't tryin' to catch nothin'. So uhh..." All the while he was inching closer, and when he lashed out the feeling that had been bothering her all night kicked into overdrive. The man himself seemed to be moving at a snail's pace, and Anya, surprised herself at what she was seeing and unsure of what exactly was going on, just barely bounded forward, propelling herself off of his back, performing a perfect somersault and landed gracefully on her feet.
"Woah! d'jou see that!?" Torn between her fear and excitement, like she just had to tell someone, she nearly forgot he just tried to make a move on her. "Yeah, that's real impressive," he sneered, reaching into his coat pocket. "I can't wait to getchu HOME with me!" And when he removed it, he was holding a shining...some type of gun. A pistol. Shiny. Really really...shiny. For a moment Anya lost her focus, but the clicking of the moving parts snapped her back to reality. He squeezed, she moved, fast. Still acting purely on instinct, she slashed his wrist, knocking the weapon from his hand, a deafening shot ringing out as it fell. For her it was much worse and she nearly keeled over from the shock to her senses. He took that moment and pounced, pinning her arms. She struggled only briefly before forcing her foot up between them and shoving. Hard. But even as hard as she could, she never expected to send him all the way across the street and crashing against a truck like he did.
She didn't even check to see if he still lived or not. The alarm was already too much for her ears, and he just tried to...get her. "Oh no. Daddy won't be happy." Shaking her head in disbelief, she ran off as fast as she could, but not headed for home. Upon learning what she did, he'd be angry. And she was angry at him as it was, sending her out there like that. She would go...somewhere...she wasn't quite sure yet. Just...Not there.
Based out of a formidable structure that had once served as the city's armory, the Alaric Foundation building presented an ominous sight: it resembled a fortress or prison far more than it did the halfway house that it was, at least on paper. The fact that it was located in a particularly rough section of town (even by Gothic City standards) did little to increase its appeal. Nonetheless, it provided an invaluable service to the city: taking in troubled youths and doing all it could to help them rise above their past and become productive members of society. It also had achieved a bit of fame (or notoriety, depending on who you asked) for being the only such facility willing to rehabilitate delinquent youths with low-level metahuman abilities.
Gunther Beremud, founder, owner, and proprietor of the Alaric Foundation, sat in his office at his simple but well-made desk, steepling his fingers as he regarded the boy seated across from him. Dressed in jeans, sneakers, and tee-shirt, the youth stared sullenly back at him. After several moments of uncomfortable silence, Gunther leaned back in his executive chair and spoke. "Well Evan, I have to say that I'm pleased to finally meet you; after perusing your file so many times, I feel as if I know you already." He retrieved the file in question from his desk drawer and tossed it casually onto the desk. The boy made no move to touch it. "You've acquired quite a record in your...17 years, is it? Robbery, burglary, grand theft auto, assault, resisting arrest...whatever other flaws you might possess, you certainly are not lazy."
When the lad continued to glare defiantly, Gunther rose, and clasped his hands behind him as he gazed out the window. "Ah yes, the 'tough' routine. Not very original, I'm afraid. Let me guess: you have no intention of sacrificing your 'street cred' to turn into a functional member of society, do you? No, don't answer, anything you have to say is something I've heard before, I assure you. Regrettably, rehabilitation is only possible when the individual in question is willing to at least make the attempt. Fortunately, there is another option"
He turned back to young Evan, and grinned in a not-entirely friendly manner at the look of confusion the boy now bore. "Your record tells me that, aside from an utter disdain for conventional authority, there is a great deal of potential in you. The crimes you committed are ones that require no small amount of skill, skill that I can put to far better use than you can imagine, dear boy."
"So," he said, once again seating himself behind his desk and assuming a businesslike manner, "the choice I offer you is this: you can either be put into my 'conventional' program, which if you somehow manage to succeed in will ensure you an inglorious life of serving food to or weeding the gardens of the kinds of people that put you in this place, or I can put you into my 'special' program, where you will refine your existing skills in my service, and become part of the aristocracy of this city's underworld." His gaze bore into the young delinquent, who was obviously thrown entirely off-balance by the offer. "Which will it be, then?"
@amaranth_strix: Really? I mean, I wasn't sure about it itself, so much as what I was saying with it. Sorta like a mini-origintro. But my writing.
And thanks! Couldn't have placed it without your city. Very descriptive, with the disparities between rich and poor.
@pyrogram: He purposely barely dodged the explosions and the V, the kick wasn't meant to hit him, it was only so he could get close to him and make his opponent throw the shredded glass at him. He dodged the attack by jumping out of the way with a double front flip and shot multiple heat sensitive missiles at him. He knew that his opponent would somehow dodge them but it would buy him some time to get close to him. He gets on top of the building by using the launch line from his escrima sticks and quickly jumps to where his opponent was flying and attempts a Superman punch to the man's face.
@darkknightdetective: ( Nice post dude )
Ethan caught all of the missiles in the air and dropped them to the ground, he cut eye contact with the Knight for a split second and felt a punch connect with his face, he luckily managed to absorb most of the impact with his power before flying backwards and holding the man still with telekinesis in mid-air.
Ethan stays put with his arms folded..He knew the Knight could do 10x better than this. He was only toying with Ethan. Ethan levitated backwards a little to give himself some space, the man still stationed in the air as Ethan kept him there. Ethan did not know how he would escape, but he would. Ethan flicked his finger and the man went up-side-down.
"Are you the Gothic Knight?" He asked, he was a little scared how the man would get out of his telekinetic hold, not many were able to.
A crow landed down on the upper wooden slat of the park bench, making eye contact and whispering her information about a 'gathering'. That there is something bigger that she may be involved with in the quick future.
@rumbleman_exe (OoC) Post limit. @wildvine
"Birds are known to lie." She replied. "Go get your boss. I don't deal with familiars." She raised her demon hand, red eye outward, seeking any traps, or threats that might be present. Talking animals were often used as a form of distraction.
"My leader is currently involved in a world changing operation dear madame, he is currently in the past. Several miles above sea level, trying to undermine a great tragedy. I on the other hand carry a proposition tied to my corvid leg."
The crow picked out the paper with its beak
Sensing no dangers, she removed the tiny note from the birds leg. Her lips move as she reads silently. "I don't know how much your master knows of me." She looked away. She had never been a part of something before. She was a lone magic slinger. Maybe it was time to try something new. "Tell your master I will give your fellowship a try."
"Thank you ca, caw! ca, caw!" the bird took off as yet another corvid took its place as the previous one flew off into the sky carrying the note. Vanishing from sight as the new one engages in a new conversation "He's met one of your friends in a bar, something about liberating the lunar rabbits or something like that. Ca, caw!" as the bird started to jitter its wings "Nice to meet you by the way, call me Slim. Ca, caw!"
@wildvine: The crow leaped a bit to get a better distance for eye contact "You may simply call him Sam, he's egalitarian and would prefer to be treated as a friend."
@pyrogram:[pushing the team forward, making new connections]
There aren't many ways to escape a telekinetic hold, one is to wait until the telekinetic that is holding you gets a headache and drops you which in this case it is not going to happen, the second one is to distract your enemy, and the third one is to resist the hold with all of your strenght and hit the arrogant son of a b!cth that put you at arm's lenght. Of course he isn't at arm's lenght so he was going to have to improvise. "So you've heard of me? Then you know what I'm going to do to you when I free myself". That should startle him, but that isn't going to make him free me. He still had three Vs left so with all of his strenght and speed he threw them aiming at his ribs, leg, and elbow. All hits which will hurt but not too much.
Alex offered her hand to the polite crow, so they could speak face to face. Her studies of magic said any enchanted beast who acted with courtesy, was to be treated with courtesy. To act otherwise was to invite a curse into your life, and Alex felt she was cursed enough already. "I will treat him as a friend. Unless he gives me reason not to, Sir Crow. Now, is there anything else I need to know?"
"Please forgive my assumption, Sir Crow. Slim, rather." She sat back thoughtfully. She had been scouted? So much for staying under radar... "If you refer to my cures Slim, it will end with my death. Till then I must bear it. Or risk it falling to a dark user. When do I meet this group?"
Of course the first place she thought to go, after the ordeal with the drug dealer left her too upset to return home, was the home of Bethany Stevenson, her best friend since sixth grade. Bethany's family actually did pretty well for themselves. They lived on the other side of town, outside the area Anya's family would travel even if she went missing for a whole month. There, she knew she'd find a place for the night, and she knew Bethany's parents weren't home that weekend, though she couldn't remember why. But that wasn't the really important forgotten detail.
"C'mon, Anya. You gotta do it. It's a costume party."
"Since when did underwear become a costume!? Come on, Bethany. Do you at least have anything else for me? This? I look like I belong on the street corner!"
"No can do, lady." The blonde she-devil standing across the bedroom chided, shrugging her shoulders. "The only way you can stay is if you're in costume. You know my parties. No exceptions for any reason. Once the loopholing starts, it never stops. And try to go easy on the outfit. That was what I was gonna wear, if not this. Nice touch, by the way, with the ears and tail."
"Eh? You didn't give me ears and a tai—!" Almost dismissing the comment, the double take she did just then looked enough to cause whiplash. Ears and tail like an animal!? No way! This sorry excuse for a costume is bad enough without 'em! And it doesn't even match. Again, Bethany only smirked and shrugged, then headed for the door. "I'm gonna be downstairs. Need anything, gimme a yell. And I mean a loud one. I'm kickin' this party into high gear!" And without further protests, she ran out the door and down the steps, shutting the door behind her.
"People don't even say that still. You come straight out of a bad teen movie." Anya grumbled, her eyes still focused on the ears. Without a second thought she pinched and gave a jerk, intending to toss the ears to the bedside. What she got instead was a massive ache, in both the ear and her neck, and she actually managed to pull herself to the floor, hitting with a loud thud. At first she sat there, completely befuddled. She yanked the tail twice. Nothing. Then, glancing around to make sure she was still completely alone, she reached her hand down and felt back there. Her cheeks went from rose-red to Michael Jackson white, and her entire body ran cold just then. There was no wrap-around, nothing hooking to the back of the costume, no point from which to detach.
"There's a tail coming out of my ass!!!" Really, it was the small of her back, but...well, Gothic City public education. No one heard her because of all the noise downstairs, which came in perfectly clear even through the floors. What do I do!? Do I tell someone? Not with all those people out there! I gotta run!
From there, she ran over and jerked on the door, accidentally pulling it right off the hinges. They must have heard that one, because Bethany yelled something from down below, unintelligible through all the other noise simultaneously clouding her ears; and all that became suddenly unbearable without the door serving to stifle at least a little noise. "I can't go out there like that." Facing no other alternative, Anya ran back into the bedroom, placed the door somewhat in its place, and ran to the window. It was a long shot, but she might just make it with only a bruised bottom if she played it right. But as soon as she stepped over the ledge she tripped and fell. The night was full of surprises. Her foot actually managed to catch hold of the window sill, just barely catching her. Even then, she was hanging upside down, four stories up over a concrete driveway.
"Oh, shit! Dammit! I'm sorry, God. Sorry! So sorry! Please, sorry. Don't let me die." Anyone who knew her would have laughed, knowing she was never particularly religious besides the moments she thought she might die. On top of everything, the same pain in her spine and cranium returned from earlier that night. "Oh shit!" She cried out again after her toes began to slip. "Sorry! Sorry! Please please pleeeaaase don't let me die!."
It was inevitable. She knew it was coming. But knowing something is coming doesn't always mean there's anything you can do about it. She took short, quick breaths and waited for it to happen. Little by little it inched closer.
Then she fell.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh—huh?" The next thing she knew, Anya had landed on her feet and hands, completely unharmed by the fall. Bewildered, she remained on all fours, haunches high in the air. That was until a breeze reminded her what she was wearing. The chill sent her scrambling back to the inside, back to the noise. Covering the ears atop her head, she ran around to the front and up the steps and rang the doorbell.Gradually, everything became silent. Moments later Bethany came to the door. "Anya? How'd you get outside? It's just Anya, you guys!" she shouted to the others, who quickly started things up again. "How'd you get out there?" she repeated.
"Nothing! I fell. I'm going to bed now, thank you!" Without waiting for a response, she pushed her way through numerous party-goers and up the many flights of stairs to the guest bedroom on the top floor, making sure to shut the door gently this time. Inside, however, she didn't go to sleep. Not right away, at least. She sat on the bed in her confusion, thinking back on the events of the night, trying to piece something sensible together.
The Daemon Manu growled in her mind, and she mentally clamped down extra hard on it. She took a deep breath to push away it influence. "Slim, there is no pain killer for this. Pain is part of the curse, and you cannot bend, or break the rules of a curse. Witchcraft 101." She replied sadly. But she was touched that complete strangers wanted to help her.
"Well, what if I were to say that they have someone to take the pains of the curse. An individual who wishes to atone by taking the burden of others. Somebody who has experience in taking the pain, considering that it is his line of work. To get hurt and to inflict hurt on others. Targets selected on those who are irreversibly dangerous to the world, a person who is a weapon clad in human skin."
She admired his optimism, but this polite crow obviously didn't understand the nature of her curse. She could understand. It wasn't a run of the mill enchantment. It was possibly the first curse ever created. She shook her head. Trying to stay positive. The Daemon Manu fed on negativity. "I can't share my curse. And I wouldn't if I could. Its my fault I wear this cursed gauntlet, and I will wear the curse alone."
"Well in that case we will respect your options to bear the responsibility, however we do have facilities that you can use. Things that you can apply yourself to experiment with the gauntlet, as a member all I want to see is your progress."
Zaniel had been called by somebody to say an old.."friend"...Had been arrested. He was going to try and get them bailed.
He walked to the Gothic city station and went to the reception.."I am here to bail somebody..Her name is kallik" He said nervously.