#201 Edited by Shanana (53023 posts) - - Show Bio

@feral_nova:

Zoe’s explanation of her ordeal with Daemon, angered Ziccarra; but she managed to suppress those feelings internally. Pulling up two chairs; she sat across from Zoe, folding her left leg behind her right; whilst placing her hands on her knees.

“It tis complicated” She started, watching the young Quiver take a seat on the floor Indian-style. Ziccarra gave her a quick scold; which prompted the young teen to exit, but not before pleading her case. “Awww man, I wanna hear the story!” She protested, walking back over towards Morningstar and Charlie.

“Not too long after your death, I gave birth to my…second child; Isadora. I kept her away from the elements that made myself, and her father infamous; but fate found her. Shortly, after the invasion of Venezuela I disappeared off the grid; with me gone the Cardinals underwent a civil war and Kane emerged as the victor. The Cardinals split into two different sections: The Cult of Cardinals, and The Sect of Cardinals”.

Ziccarra cleared her throat before continuing her explanation, “My family devised a plan…” She said, looking down at her cerise painted toes. “My mother and father, wanted bits and pieces of their personalities within their children. So they brainwashed us” She said, looking away from Zoe.

“Catalina (Read Cata Lina) is the child of both mine and Kane; she is supposed to be the reincarnation of my mother; but she is nothing like her” Ziccarra explained in shame. “Kane is my brother”

Z entered a brief moment of stasis, the thought of conceiving a child with her own brother sickened her. Letting loose a deep sigh, she began to speak again before being interrupted by Charlie.

“Sorry, to interrupt; but I found this Daemon guy…he’s located in North Africa” He said, spinning in his chair. Z’s bottom lip curled in anger. “Alright…I’m going” she said, making a disgusted face before, pushing away from Zoe.

#202 Edited by Feral Nova (46639 posts) - - Show Bio

@shanana:

Zoe sat silently across from Ziccarra, listening intently at her story, which was complex and... totally not what she was expecting. She felt her heart drop to her stomach, everything that happened in the past with the former Queen of the Cardinal's made sense... her family was crazy as hell. Cardinal Civil war, brainwashing, attempting reincarnation through incest... it was... all so much. Her heart felt heavy for the raven haired Liafador. Kane, the crazed man that attacked her back in the building, that was Z's brother. Her mind was busy trying to process this, and before she could open her mouth to reply, Charlie jumped in. He knew where Daemon was? Wait... they were looking for Daemon? Her heart skipped a beat with fear as memories of her death quickly flashed in her mind.

But she was brought back as she heard Z's voice. "Wait, YOU'RE going?" The teen quickly stood up, pushing the chair away without realizing it. "No!" She balled her hands in a fist. "Not without me." Zoe could feel her chest slowly tighten with anxiety. "I need to go after him, I need to show him that I'm back and that I'm not afraid of him. Plus... you're gonna need the fire power." She couldn't hold back the smirk caused by her bad pun she just let loose.

#203 Posted by Shanana (53023 posts) - - Show Bio

@feral_nova: Going to put my response in the hills thread.

#204 Posted by _Titan (3364 posts) - - Show Bio

America was a land of opportunity for most, but a place of nothing but restriction for Benjamin T. Baxter. Even with Andres help in detering the government the price on his head only 'accidently' leaked out of some files and into the underground. The most reliable place on the planet he could think of to keep a low key profile was Solace City. Renting a boat house with some funds he couldn't recollect how he had, Benjamin drives into the harbor and ties down his home, entering the city with a back pack and an inconspicuous cap on his head heading towards the farmers market.

#205 Posted by Shanana (53023 posts) - - Show Bio

@ben_baxter:

The stringent east Indonesian culture exhibit its heavy influence on the Solace City culture; 3 island was a very popular island from commerce; many merchants looking for a hot buck traveled to the Island to barter off goods. The Malagan Marquess stood out like a sore thumb, walking the busy streets in a black skirt and shoes with a white jersey halter top.

Her vibrant smile briefly snagged the attention of a few street vendors. The Chief Operating Officer of Liafador International, was key in the survival of this Island. Her subsidiaries bought most of the goods; these people sold, allowing for wide ranging trade options across Indonesia.

Her eye’s fixed on a man who like her stood out, in the festive crowd. “That is a nice boat you have there” She said, pointing to his means for transportation. “But, will you not discover some difficulties when traveling with a heavy load?” She asked, really just trying to pick up his nationality.

#206 Edited by _Titan (3364 posts) - - Show Bio

@shanana said:

@ben_baxter:

The stringent east Indonesian culture exhibit its heavy influence on the Solace City culture; 3 island was a very popular island from commerce; many merchants looking for a hot buck traveled to the Island to barter off goods. The Malagan Marquess stood out like a sore thumb, walking the busy streets in a black skirt and shoes with a white jersey halter top.

Her vibrant smile briefly snagged the attention of a few street vendors. The Chief Operating Officer of Liafador International, was key in the survival of this Island. Her subsidiaries bought most of the goods; these people sold, allowing for wide ranging trade options across Indonesia.

Her eye’s fixed on a man who like her stood out, in the festive crowd. “That is a nice boat you have there” She said, pointing to his means for transportation. “But, will you not discover some difficulties when traveling with a heavy load?” She asked, really just trying to pick up his nationality.

" *I don't have any money on hand. Will you trade some fruits and vegetables for these salmon?* I'm willing to negotiate " The Indo shop owner shook his hand and head no with a dismissive permanence, Ben took the hint and understood, slinging the bag back over his shoulder to move on when he meets eyes with an approahing woman who's height was almost symbolic of her stature among the shorter crowd obvious, from the clothes that signified wealth and disctinct beauty, to her well toned figure. Smiling he approaches the dock and her looking at the boat, "Thank you. I rarely keep much on hand. I don't normally socialize nowadays...but this City is one that gets the acception, I like to visit often as possible." Pushing bag over his shoulder and smiling he extends a light hand "Ben."

#207 Edited by Shanana (53023 posts) - - Show Bio

@ben_baxter:

“Ziccarra” She replied with a pulsating smile. “You seem really out of place here, how often do you visit?” She took a conversational stance, leaning on the support beam of a vendor’s stand. She placed folded her legs out in front of her; whilst pinning both of her soft hands behind her. “Is that salmon behind you? I can pay you 150 for them?” She said, finding what she came to the market for.

“I planned on making salmon croquettes for an office gathering, I have not been able to find the right size salmon. What do you say?”

#208 Posted by _Titan (3364 posts) - - Show Bio

@shanana: I see your post in my notifs but not on the page, did you delete it to do it overr or is ita bug?

#209 Posted by Shanana (53023 posts) - - Show Bio

@ben_baxter:

“Ziccarra” She replied with a pulsating smile. “You seem really out of place here, how often do you visit?” She took a conversational stance, leaning on the support beam of a vendor’s stand. She placed folded her legs out in front of her; whilst pinning both of her soft hands behind her. “Is that salmon behind you? I can pay you 150 for them?” She said, finding what she came to the market for.

“I planned on making salmon croquettes for an office gathering, I have not been able to find the right size salmon. What do you say?”

#212 Edited by Shanana (53023 posts) - - Show Bio
#213 Edited by Brahma_Bull (253 posts) - - Show Bio

@shanana:

Ominously obscured by the infrastructurally cast shadows of looming architectonic structures, the predatory Brahma Bull mutely prowled, pulsating, vermillion eyes of wrathful indignation being his only source of palpable luminosity. Honoring the recently issued affirmation to Faatina that he would 'break' the newly christened goddess, Ziccarra, the Titanic Terrorist quietly stalks his victim, protectively adorned in a Type lV ballistic vest and with him, a plethora of military-grade firearms and explosives. And though a confessed, fanatic adherent to putting his opponents through torturous physical manhandling, a deceptive intellectual, the Brahma Ball attributes value to the preparatory necessities of a methodical strategy.

With explosive vehemence, the Guerrilla Goliath violently rams his gargantuan shoulder into the lower spine of a structurally weathered building, the resultant impact inciting the formation of architecturally disruptive cracks as he continues with escalating bestiality, forcing the infrastructure off its structurally bound foundation, and plummeting towards the concrete road. Frenetically falling into an approximated building, the resultant fall and subsequent collision of both structures erupting an airborne cloud of concrete dust amid the incipient civilian casualties and panic, the perfect sensory distraction for a 'hero'. Optimistic that one as altruistic as Ziccarra may initially occupy herself in the assisting of injured civilians, the Brahma Bull strategically proceeds.

Though scoffing at the Malagan's supposed divinity, the anarchistic terrorist had meticulously taken into account the potential physical augmentation she may have acquired. Averting direct physical confrontation with Ziccarra for the time being, protected by his gas mask, the Brahma Bull deploys an innovative handheld bomb, releasing an experimental version of the psychological chemical agent, 3-Quinuclidinyl Benzilate (QNB), an odorless agent that he hopes the goddess will unknowingly inhale, its only physical indicator, released white smoke that was however, strategically veiled by the dust cloud in the air.

The effects of the agent, blurred vision, an initial increase in heart rate, drying of the mouth and skin, decreased bladder functionality, subtle muscular weakening, ataxia, slurred speech, short-term memory loss, poor judgement and insight, disturbance in one's consciousness, hallucinations, and episodes of irrational fear. Unaware of such an assault's success on one of divine physiology, the Brahma Bull emerges, "You have been judged, religion-less dog. And I have been delivered as your executioner as an act of providence", he sadistically grinned.

#214 Posted by Shanana (53023 posts) - - Show Bio

Oh geeze...

#215 Posted by _Titan (3364 posts) - - Show Bio

@shanana: ( lol I think Dre posting here fixed it. )

@shanana said:

@ben_baxter:

“Ziccarra” She replied with a pulsating smile. “You seem really out of place here, how often do you visit?” She took a conversational stance, leaning on the support beam of a vendor’s stand. She placed folded her legs out in front of her; whilst pinning both of her soft hands behind her. “Is that salmon behind you? I can pay you 150 for them?” She said, finding what she came to the market for.

“I planned on making salmon croquettes for an office gathering, I have not been able to find the right size salmon. What do you say?”

"Thats a pretty name. I come in about once a month. Still, more than my usual. I suppose I'm in the middle of an adjustment period. " Without speaking he pulls off the bag of fish and hands it to her with trust, "I'll take 75. The truth is their I catch that many in a half an hour and I;m sick of the smell, the less I have the better."

Rubbing his stubbled chin of dark blondeish brown hair Ben pulls a chair out of an abandoned chess table of a kind old couple who gave him some fruit every once in a while and offers Ziccarra a seat "You know I'm a fisherman, what do you do for a living?"

#216 Posted by _Titan (3364 posts) - - Show Bio

@shanana:

Ominously obscured by the infrastructurally cast shadows of looming architectonic structures, the predatory Brahma Bull mutely prowled, pulsating, vermillion eyes of wrathful indignation being his only source of palpable luminosity. Honoring the recently issued affirmation to Faatina that he would 'break' the newly christened goddess, Ziccarra, the Titanic Terrorist quietly stalks his victim, protectively adorned in a Type lV ballistic vest and with him, a plethora of military-grade firearms and explosives. And though a confessed, fanatic adherent to putting his opponents through torturous physical manhandling, a deceptive intellectual, the Brahma Ball attributes value to the preparatory necessities of a methodical strategy.

With explosive vehemence, the Guerrilla Goliath violently rams his gargantuan shoulder into the lower spine of a structurally weathered building, the resultant impact inciting the formation of architecturally disruptive cracks as he continues with escalating bestiality, forcing the infrastructure off its structurally bound foundation, and plummeting towards the concrete road. Frenetically falling into an approximated building, the resultant fall and subsequent collision of both structures erupting an airborne cloud of concrete dust amid the incipient civilian casualties and panic, the perfect sensory distraction for a 'hero'. Optimistic that one as altruistic as Ziccarra may initially occupy herself in the assisting of injured civilians, the Brahma Bull strategically proceeds.

Though scoffing at the Malagan's supposed divinity, the anarchistic terrorist had meticulously taken into account the potential physical augmentation she may have acquired. Averting direct physical confrontation with Ziccarra for the time being, protected by his gas mask, the Brahma Bull deploys an innovative handheld bomb, releasing an experimental version of the psychological chemical agent, 3-Quinuclidinyl Benzilate (QNB), an odorless agent that he hopes the goddess will unknowingly inhale, its only physical indicator, released white smoke that was however, strategically veiled by the dust cloud in the air.

The effects of the agent, blurred vision, an initial increase in heart rate, drying of the mouth and skin, decreased bladder functionality, subtle muscular weakening, ataxia, slurred speech, short-term memory loss, poor judgement and insight, disturbance in one's consciousness, hallucinations, and episodes of irrational fear. Unaware of such an assault's success on one of divine physiology, the Brahma Bull emerges, "You have been judged, religion-less dog. And I have been delivered as your executioner as an act of providence", he sadistically grinned.

Wanna jump in on this. Cool or nah?

#217 Posted by Shanana (53023 posts) - - Show Bio
#218 Posted by _Titan (3364 posts) - - Show Bio

@shanana: If he;s down merge dem shiiiz

#219 Posted by _Higgins_ (2990 posts) - - Show Bio

Ohhhhh snap! Bull verses the Big Green!

#220 Posted by Connoisseur (6579 posts) - - Show Bio
#221 Edited by _Titan (3364 posts) - - Show Bio

I'll read your post in a half hour apparently Dre

#222 Posted by _Titan (3364 posts) - - Show Bio
#223 Posted by Shanana (53023 posts) - - Show Bio

Should I try my post in here

#224 Posted by _Titan (3364 posts) - - Show Bio
#225 Posted by PowerPlug (1348 posts) - - Show Bio

Shanana Legend #2

The Goddess

This was the hush result of several months of planning. Ran had made reservations at the city's most prestige restaurant and the Cardinal queen was invited out of respectful business terms. Now he just waited for his plan to be set in action.

"Please take a seat" he would request.

The alien wore a special tailored suit and tie for the occasion. The off black suit had to have enough pockets for an assortment of weapons to be carried and to not give away the armor he was wearing underneath. This wasn't a dispute he was confident he could win, but backing out wasn't surely an option.

@shanana:

#226 Posted by Shanana (53023 posts) - - Show Bio
#228 Posted by Amora (509 posts) - - Show Bio

#229 Posted by Shanana (53023 posts) - - Show Bio

@amora said:

X_X Not you too.

#230 Edited by _Avatar_ (985 posts) - - Show Bio

@amora: Why you gotta make me remember Teen Titans? I miss that show so much v-v lol

#231 Posted by Shanana (53023 posts) - - Show Bio

@powerplug:

The Cardinal Goddess walked through the doors of La Fina, flanked to her left and right by; her loyal body guards. Since entering a partnership with CNN; and buying the local broadcast stations, Ziccarra had been experiencing a grace period; despite being attacked by numerous enemies.

“You wish to meet with me, for what reasons?” She said, removing her gloves; taking a seat across from him.

#232 Edited by FALLENprophet (6557 posts) - - Show Bio

Date: December 1, 2013

Time: 11:59

Location: Solace City, Nightclub

Cause: TDT Distribution

Officer: James ‘Jay’ Smith

Badge Number: 14

This is your average nightclub in Solace City. You have your bar, your dance area, and of course your V.I.P. Section. In the V.I.P. Section stand three men, two are standing and one is sitting. The one to his left has done this before, multiples times. He checks the area around himself, possibly thinking about the next big job. The one to his right, seems calm and collected, but there’s something not right about him. It would take a trained eye to see, he doesn’t fit in with these men fully. The man sitting down is a well respected man in the underground, he stands at 6’0 and has a beard much like a lumberjack. This man is known as Frank Boyle, commonly referred to as Frankie, by those who work for him.

Frankie begins to speak to his two men, “Remember the plan, boys. We will show the bastard the product, he will then show us his money. Once the trade has happened, attack the bastards as they’re leaving. We walk away with the product and the cash, because I run this damn city and no one, not the police, not the speakers, and especially not some thug who wants to climb up. You got that?” Frank’s voice was loud, it was stern, it represented how he commanded. He was straight forward, because no one would tell him otherwise.

Just as three minutes passed from Frankie’s rant, three other gentlemen walked in. They seemed to be of korean descent. They formed themselves just as Frankie’s crew did, their boss in the middle sitting across from Frank, and two standing across from his men. “Thank you for meeting with us, Mr. Boyle. It’s…”

“Please call me Frank, and the pleasures mine.” Frankie gave his usual smile and then the Korean boss continued to speak.

“..Yes, as I was saying we’re glad you could do business with us, may I see the TDT?”

Frankie’s Left handed man pulled out a briefcase, showing the drugs to the men. The Korean Boss’ eye lit up like the Fourth of July. The henchman quickly closed the case, then held it to his side. “It sure is beautiful and worth every cent.” This time, his henchman opened a case showing $3,250. He then did as his counterpart did and closed the case. He handed the money to Frankie and Frankie’s man handed the drugs to the opposite boss. Each man looked satisfied and Frankie asked, “Alright, is there anything else you want to say, before you leave?” He smiled knowing his plan and their fate.

Frankie’s Right handed man, the one who didn’t quite fit in spoke, everyone was surprised even Frank. They hadn’t discussed him, speaking, it was disrespectful in a way for a henchman to speak at these boss meetings, but he spoke. “Frank Boyle, you’re under arrest.” He took out the two asian thugs, a bullet to the head to the left one and a bullet to the heart to the right one. Just as Frankie’s other thug tried to pull out his weapon, he was shot directly in the hand. He was then high kicked straight to the chest and pushed against the wall, withering in pain. The two bosses scrambled to do something. The rogue thug was actually James Smith, he shot the asian boss in the lower back, he would still be mobile, but that would come with a lot of struggle. Frankie on the other hand began to swing, clocking james right in the jaw. Jay stumbled a bit, but collected himself. His gun was released, leaving only his hands. James looked like your average boxer stance. He swung hitting the drug lord in his jaw, then his lower ribs, then back to his jaw. Frankie was hurt, but he bull rushed James straight into the wall. James was a bit hurt, but no way was he going to let these three months go to waste.

As Frank was running towards Jay again, he was tricked, much like a bull. Running straight into the wall, he was dazed. As he tried to collect himself and fight Mr. Smith, he was met with the steel briefcase, not once, not twice, but three times to be place right on his ass and to end the confrontation.

James grabbed his gun, shot Frankie’s henchman in his kneecap, just for good measure then called for backup.

15 minutes later, James writes in his notepad.

The name is Detective James Smith, Three months, three long months. I was in that shithole. I’ve seen things, no cop...no man should see ever. My duty is to protect and serve, but so many people, I’ve seen….I told myself look at the big picture...Solace City loss one of its prime druglords tonight. I became a cop to protect and serve, but I’m just starting to realize in this department, that the criminals aren’t the only ones who need to be taken down in this city. I see more injustice done on the inside, then the outside. No more….No More...

#233 Edited by Shanana (53023 posts) - - Show Bio

Date: December 1, 2013

Time: 11:59

Location: Solace City, Nightclub

Cause: TDT Distribution

Officer: James ‘Jay’ Smith

Badge Number: 14

This is your average nightclub in Solace City. You have your bar, your dance area, and of course your V.I.P. Section. In the V.I.P. Section stand three men, two are standing and one is sitting. The one to his left has done this before, multiples times. He checks the area around himself, possibly thinking about the next big job. The one to his right, seems calm and collected, but there’s something not right about him. It would take a trained eye to see, he doesn’t fit in with these men fully. The man sitting down is a well respected man in the underground, he stands at 6’0 and has a beard much like a lumberjack. This man is known as Frank Boyle, commonly referred to as Frankie, by those who work for him.

Frankie begins to speak to his two men, “Remember the plan, boys. We will show the bastard the product, he will then show us his money. Once the trade has happened, attack the bastards as they’re leaving. We walk away with the product and the cash, because I run this damn city and no one, not the police, not the speakers, and especially not some thug who wants to climb up. You got that?” Frank’s voice was loud, it was stern, it represented how he commanded. He was straight forward, because no one would tell him otherwise.

Just as three minutes passed from Frankie’s rant, three other gentlemen walked in. They seemed to be of korean descent. They formed themselves just as Frankie’s crew did, their boss in the middle sitting across from Frank, and two standing across from his men. “Thank you for meeting with us, Mr. Boyle. It’s…”

“Please call me Frank, and the pleasures mine.” Frankie gave his usual smile and then the Korean boss continued to speak.

“..Yes, as I was saying we’re glad you could do business with us, may I see the TDT?”

Frankie’s Left handed man pulled out a briefcase, showing the drugs to the men. The Korean Boss’ eye lit up like the Fourth of July. The henchman quickly closed the case, then held it to his side. “It sure is beautiful and worth every cent.” This time, his henchman opened a case showing $3,250. He then did as his counterpart did and closed the case. He handed the money to Frankie and Frankie’s man handed the drugs to the opposite boss. Each man looked satisfied and Frankie asked, “Alright, is there anything else you want to say, before you leave?” He smiled knowing his plan and their fate.

Frankie’s Right handed man, the one who didn’t quite fit in spoke, everyone was surprised even Frank. They hadn’t discussed him, speaking, it was disrespectful in a way for a henchman to speak at these boss meetings, but he spoke. “Frank Boyle, you’re under arrest.” He took out the two asian thugs, a bullet to the head to the left one and a bullet to the heart to the right one. Just as Frankie’s other thug tried to pull out his weapon, he was shot directly in the hand. He was then high kicked straight to the chest and pushed against the wall, withering in pain. The two bosses scrambled to do something. The rogue thug was actually James Smith, he shot the asian boss in the lower back, he would still be mobile, but that would come with a lot of struggle. Frankie on the other hand began to swing, clocking james right in the jaw. Jay stumbled a bit, but collected himself. His gun was released, leaving only his hands. James looked like your average boxer stance. He swung hitting the drug lord in his jaw, then his lower ribs, then back to his jaw. Frankie was hurt, but he bull rushed James straight into the wall. James was a bit hurt, but no way was he going to let these three months go to waste.

As Frank was running towards Jay again, he was tricked, much like a bull. Running straight into the wall, he was dazed. As he tried to collect himself and fight Mr. Smith, he was met with the steel briefcase, not once, not twice, but three times to be place right on his ass and to end the confrontation.

James grabbed his gun, shot Frankie’s henchman in his kneecap, just for good measure then called for backup.

15 minutes later, James writes in his notepad.

The name is Detective James Smith, Three months, three long months. I was in that shithole. I’ve seen things, no cop...no man should see ever. My duty is to protect and serve, but so many people, I’ve seen….I told myself look at the big picture...Solace City loss one of its prime druglords tonight. I became a cop to protect and serve, but I’m just starting to realize in this department, that the criminals aren’t the only ones who need to be taken down in this city. I see more injustice done on the inside, then the outside. No more….No More...

O_O Damn it I missed you!

#234 Posted by FALLENprophet (6557 posts) - - Show Bio
#235 Posted by _Cain_ (23670 posts) - - Show Bio
#236 Edited by FALLENprophet (6557 posts) - - Show Bio
#237 Edited by _Cain_ (23670 posts) - - Show Bio

@fallenprophet: No Alex I was just trying to give you false hopes XD jk.

Yeah I loved it man, had a real noir kinda feel

#238 Posted by FALLENprophet (6557 posts) - - Show Bio

@_cain_: Well thanks, it's nice to know you and Sha still enjoy my work.

#239 Posted by FALLENprophet (6557 posts) - - Show Bio

A man sits behind a desk, in a closed off room. It's as if all of Solace City is silent, this is his area. This is where he tries to get away from it all, the crime, the undercover jobs, the violence, but he can't. His room is silent, besides the shuffling of paper as he goes through file after file, but yet he can't think. It's as if Solace City is calling out him, not in yells, or shouts. It calls out like a beat.

Tick.

Tick.

He slaps himself once, but it doesn't help. The sound gets louder.

Tick.

Tick.

He wants to ignore, the calls, he simply wants to do the paper work. He wants to research, study, figure this city out once again, but he can't.

Tick.

Tick.

It's too loud, he cannot concentrate. He begins to shake, his hands are no longer steady. The noise is too much, for him. His heart rate has risen. For every tick of the city, it is followed by a beat. Thinking is no longer the problem, now he feels hot, and he feels soon, he will not be able to breathe. He drags his arm across his desk, file after file, fly through the air and hit the wall, ceiling, and ground. He closes his eyes and begins to count to 10, before he gets to seven. It has all stopped, the city is silent, the papers have settled, and his heart rate has gone back to the norm. He opens his drawer, there they are, a notepad and a rundown pencil. He places them both on hid desk, grabbing the pencil and flipping the pad, to the page where he left off. He begins to write.

It's 1:30 AM, I have had four cups of coffee since getting off at Midnight. The city calls to me, as if it were a heart, and my heart calls back. Now someone may say lay off the coffee, James. I do not think that is the reason for it all. My eyes have seen things, that they shouldn't have seen. My brain needs time to recuperate, I think, but there is a drive in my heart that call back to the city.In a world, where aliens live among us, in a world where I've seen fireballs and men fly, in a world where mutant kids can have the power of this world. In this world, I think I have gone a bit mad to be honest. I mean, I'm in control, but I think there's something inside me that wants to get out there, to feel at least somewhat powerful. Some may say that's human nature to feel powerful. I think it's something more than that. I wonder if this how inferior species feel when man walked among them.....maybe that's enough coffee tonight...

James closes the notepad. He sets all of it aside, especially his cup. He begins to massage his closed eyes, he seems very stressed. There is a small tick, he rises from his desk. He grabs, his overcoat, and walks out of the department and on to the streets of Solace City.

#240 Posted by Shanana (53023 posts) - - Show Bio

@fallenprophet: Awesome post, the perspective you give him from a detective's standpoint is pretty boss

#241 Posted by FALLENprophet (6557 posts) - - Show Bio
#242 Edited by FALLENprophet (6557 posts) - - Show Bio

James calms walks the grey sidewalks of Solace City. He does not converse with anyone besides a nod here and there. All he does is observe, he looks for something to be out of order. He is wearing a brown overcoat, his badge around his neck, and of course his weapon. It's his everyday attire for when he is on duty. His usual attire is accompanied, by a notepad and a pencil, and those are what are in his hands. He writes down what he sees. He waits for the even the slightest bit of action. The human nature feeling of wanting to be powerful in a world full of superheroes, that feeling has risen again. It has made the calm and collected detective into a predator. He's seem ready to pounce on even the slightest hint of crime or violence.