Trouble Brewing (RP Blog)


Jordan was elbows deep in his second stack of pancakes when his former case worker, Rhonda Banks, coughed and fidgeted uncomfortably and shifted a stack of files to avoid a drizzle of syrup as it overflowed Jordan’s plate. The cautious reminder that Rhonda sat across from him seemed to startle Jordan fearing that this had somehow been a set up and that the invisible threat he had been running from for months had caught up with him and were ready to close in. With the jerky, frightened motions of someone suffering from intense paranoia, Jordan glanced around quickly, his eyes wide and frightened and his nostrils flared. When no threat presented itself, he turned back to his pancakes and shoveled more frantically into his mouth.

“Its been awhile since your last meal, Jordy?” Rhonda asked from her vantage point. Her voice was shaky and her own eyes seemed to mirror his own, full of anxiety riddled fear. Except that her gaze wasn’t focused on anything but him.

Jordan closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose as a wave of bitter memories washed over him from his time in the foster system. It spoiled the appetite that came from days of not eating properly, a symptom of his current homelessness. “Don’t call me that Rhonda,” Jordan responded, aches and pains accompanying the words. “I’m not a kid anymore. I’m out of the system. I’m not your problem anymore,” he pushed the unfinished pancakes aside. The promise of an all you can eat dinner at the local diner was the only thing that had brought him here tonight and now that his hunger had been sated, he was eager to get back out in the streets and into the comfortable cover of night’s shadows. But the surge of emotions that Rhonda’s old nickname had brought back made him curious as to why his old case worker had come looking for him in the Dallas gutters. “What is it you wanted from me? Checking up on failed projects?”

Rhonda winced. That comment had been harsh and unfair. It wasn’t her fault he had never been taken in by a family and it hadn’t been her fault that some of the homes he had been placed in were cesspools of violence, drugs, and corruption using kids for running drugs or picking up a quick paycheck or worse. The foster care system was poorly funded and sparsely staffed. They tried to keep the system clean of lowlifes that sought to take advantage of it, but they weren’t the police and the system was mired in bureaucratic bullshit. Rhonda had done her best. Jordan knew it, but right now he didn’t care. She had reminded him of a time in his life better left forgotten and he wanted to punish her for it.

Realizing that she wasn’t going to get an apology from Jordan, Rhonda blinked the tears from her eyes and continued. “Its about the Miller’s,” she started and Jordan’s head whipped around to face her.

“Are they in some kind of trouble?” Jordan asked.

“I-I don’t know,” Rhonda stammered trying to find the words that would allow her to voice her concerns. “Something seems wrong…”

Jordan’s eyes narrowed. “What does that even mean? Are they hurting kids?” Jordan said in disbelief. His brief time with the Millers had been one of the only bright spots in a childhood that was filled with torment and the thought that they had set off some kind of red flags for Rhonda seemed impossible to him.

“N-no. At least I d-don’t think so,” she said, though the doubt in her face was unmistakable. “They just seem off. They only have one boy with them now and he doesn’t seem quite right either.”

“You’re not making any sense and I don’t have time for this,” Jordan said in exasperation, sliding across his booth as he got ready to walk out.

Rhonda’s hand shot across the table and grabbed his wrist. Her eyes were wide with panic again and her grip was vice-like and immediately cut off the circulation to his hand. “The boy’s like you Jordan, he’s special, and something is wrong. It’s in their eyes Jordan, please, you have to help them!”

Jordan wrenched his hand free of Rhonda’s grip, his breath came rapidly and his eyes widened again in panic. Somehow, Rhonda had known about his abilities. That had been a shock to him of his own, but to find out that he hadn’t been her only mutant foster case had been another shock. The paranoia welled up in him again and the whites of his eyes showed clearly all the way around his irises as his eyes widened. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to be gone. “I don’t know what you talking about,” he almost shouted. Patrons gasped and waitresses dropped trays of plates that shattered against the floor as they were startled by the outburst. Everyone was watching them now. “Just leave me alone Rhonda,” Jordan said as he fled the restaurant and its bewildered guests.

Jordan didn’t stop running until he was miles away from the eatery and panting breathlessly, his stomach complaining about the sudden exertion so quickly after being stuffed full. With the distance and exhaustion came a certain mental clarity he had lacked in the moment. His paranoia had been set aflame by the very real and very sudden panic he saw in Rhonda as she relayed her concerns to him. Looking back he was filled with trepidation and concern for the Millers, the last family he had stayed with before he legally became an adult and was discharged from the foster system. The memories of the Millers were stark in contrast to the memories of life before them and they basked him in sudden feelings of warmth, safety, happiness, and regret that he only had a meager few years to spend with a pair of people that seemed to care for him when no one else did. Maybe the situation was in fact worth looking in on, but it would have to wait until the next morning. For now, Jordan was content to collapse into the tent that had become his current home and was asleep in seconds, dreams haunted by pancake fueled paranoia.

To Be Continued! Stay tuned for more!


Location Profile: M.E.T.A.L. Labs

M.E.T.A.L. Labs - Dallas, TX

Noteworthy Locations

  • Dallas, TX Roleplay OOC: Here

Noteworthy Characters


This location was created to support my character Jordan Drake in a future story. Please stay tuned for further developments on this location.

The Story So Far...

Jordan Drake infiltrated this location on accident thinking it was the safe house for a newly met ally. What he found on the inside was a security force instructed to kill any intruders and a presence that he could not explain.

M.E.T.A.L. Corp, on paper, is a privately held research and development firm experimenting with metallurgic experiments and developing these findings into improving and creating technology.

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Life on the Lam (RPG Blog)

OOC: Hey everyone, this is kind of a supplemental post to an old RPG that i had going that eventually fell apart due to some people going missing. This takes place after that old RP and is the starting point of a new RP that I hope to start up.

Jordan perched precariously on the edge of the 15 story office building in downtown Dallas on a crisp early summer morning. The night before had been plagued by thunderstorms, which had made a restless night for Jordan even worse. Life had fallen apart since his misadventures nearly two years ago with the mysterious duo of Dr. Charlie Sententia and Cameron Banks. Even now, so long after the events of that unfortunate night, his face paled and his bones chilled at the memory. Everything had been wrong that night. From Sententia’s gleeful blood lust to Cameron’s strange, almost inhuman composure, and topped off with the death and blood that was spilled all over the sterile white facility that Cameron had brought them too. It had all been a lie, Jordan had discovered over time. Cameron Banks hadn’t been taking Jordan to one of her safe houses but a state of the art research facility for an organization called M.E.T.A.L., or Metallurgic Experimental Technologies for the Advancement of Life. Why she had brought him there he had never discovered. It was possible that Cameron had been created there. He knew that Cameron was something more than human. He had been able to sense the metal inside her body, metal that had caused some kind of mental feedback against his mutant power to control metal through a kind of targeted telekinesis. Truth was, Jordan had had no real knowledge about his powers at all and since he had fled the M.E.T.A.L. facility, Jordan had not really had a chance to look for answers.

Jordan shivered again at the memory and, much as he had done for the past several months, he wondered if it really was the disconnected and discomfiting Cameron who hid the truth for him or the alleged medical professional Charlie Sententia and his alarming enjoyment of visiting harm on others that was bothering him. In the darkest depths of his memories hid another fear. Something in that facility had tried to reach out to him, had tried to communicate with him. Something cold and impartial and completely alien had been able to sense Jordan and Jordan had been able to sense it as well, though he lacked the understanding of what that could mean. Heaving air into his lungs, Jordan fought down the rising tide of anxiety in his chest. That night had marked the beginning of the end for what Jordan had going for him. After they assaulted the compound and the people within, Jordan had never felt right again. He had felt as if he was being tracked and watched, monitored for some reason. It had spooked him and he had fled his apartment, his job, and his education and had taken to living in the streets of Dallas. Moving from rooftop to beneath over passes with little more than a tent and some clothes was not much of a way of life. Sometimes he felt he had escaped from whatever had been watching him only to wake up the next morning to feel as if they were right on top of him. Still, regardless of that pervasive feeling, Jordan had been unable to leave the city. Something held him here in Dallas, like a magnet. It sure as hell wasn’t a family or friends or a life of any sort. Jordan was an orphan and had no surviving family members. He didn’t have time for friends in school as he worked three jobs just to keep a small, practically unfurnished apartment and still afford his tuition. The only connection he had to Dallas was Master Dai Mon, a kung fu instructor that would often trade his teachings with Jordan for menial tasks. Sure the old man might wonder about him if he had gone missing, might even miss him, but the old man surely was used to the comings and goings of his students.

So it was something else keeping him here in Dallas. Jordan shouldered the hiking rucksack he used to transport his camp from place to place and tried to ignore the thought that kept worming its way into his mind; the memory of that feeling, something lurking in the depths of that research center, silent and waiting for him to come back.


Location Profile: Dallas, TX

Dallas, Tx

Dallas is a bustling metroplex set in the state of Texas. It has also been the site of a new surge in Meta Human activity. With lenient gun laws and a population ready to take the laws into their own hands, however, the mixture of Meta Humans to the cities population has begun to stir up a very volatile mixture.

Noteworthy Locations

  • Dallas, TX Roleplay OOC: Here
  • M.E.T.A.L. Labs: Here
  • Dallas Kung Fu Academy: Coming Soon

Noteworthy Characters


This thread has been created as my first roleplay here on the Vine and is the setting I am starting my OC Jordan Drake in. It's a roleplay for young, inexperienced Metahumans who are struggling with understanding and controlling their powers and how they develop over time.

The Story So Far...

Dallas, TX Roleplay - Issue 1: Origins

The night starts off like any other night, except for the death of a young criminal at a Dallas gas station. Jordan Drake had attempted to prevent a robbery but ended up aiding in murder when the gas station attendant killed the would be criminal who was holding an empty gun, thanks to Jordan's ability to manipulate metal, which he used to melt the bullets from the young man's weapon leaving him defenseless against a trigger happy attendant. When the attendant turned the weapon on Jordan, he fled and as he did so, attracted the attention of Dr. Charlie Sententia, recently on the run from the San Francisco Mafia. During a brief conflict between the two Meta Humans, Cameron Banks (or Orwell as she presented herself to the strangers) approached offering help though she looked like she was the one who needed it, bloodied and bruised from what she claims was a scuffle after a failed computer hacking attempt.

As the Police closed in to investigate the disturbance, the three agreed to stick together temporarily and escort Cameron to a safe house. Charlie and Jordan have not heard from her since entering the seemingly vacant warehouse and Jordan has had enough of waiting. After infiltrating the alleged safe house, which turned out to actually be a M.E.T.A.L. research lab, Charlie and Jordan were unable to find the missing Cameron and the soon fled the facility and the shaky and brief alliance quickly ended and the group went in their own directions.

Life on the Lam (RPG Blog)

Jordan has been on the run since fleeing the M.E.T.A.L. lab, unable to escape the feeling that he is being watched and not knowing by who or what. He is homeless, but unwilling to flee the city after discovering that the M.E.T.A.L. lab has something hidden deep within.

Dallas, TX Roleplay - Issue 2: Coming Soon!

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A Day In My Life... (RPG Blog)

Jordan heaved a sigh that bespoke a bone deep weariness as he dumped his pile of books and papers on to a small desk that was tucked away in corner of the un-embellished back office to the small kung-fu studio. Jordan had been working since 5 a.m. that morning and the clock was edging well past midnight already, and he hadn't even started looking at the course work that was due in just a few short days. Fatigue knotted his muscles and made his head ache. Working two jobs to support himself while he paid for his own education at his local Dallas Community College left him with very little time and even less money and the constant stress made his head ache and his heart race with anxiety.

But Jordan had been dealing with stress and anxiety his whole life as an orphan, shuttled between foster home time after time he found the only person he could truly count on was himself. He had been abused and ignored by people who he should have been trusted, both inside and outside the system and it had turned him into a reclusive loner. He had learned at a young age that it was best to shut up and keep out of sight and if that didn't work, at least get in the first shot and put your opponent down hard and fast and don't let him get up. Calloused knuckles and a variety of scars from all manner of fights attested to his life's experiences.

Still, as dark and cold as his life had been it was still graced with the occasional sunny memories. One of those bright moments in life was meeting Master Dai Mon, the owner and operator of the small city Kung Fu studio. Master Dai Mon had taken Jordan in, still as a young adult, and housed him until Jordan could find a place of his own and had encouraged Jordan to go to school and do something with himself. Sure his rent and tuition were responsibilities that wore him down on a daily basis, but after a lifetime of having to share everything, it was nice to be able to have a place of his own. The best part of the old man's involvement in Jordan's life was his training. Master Dai Mon was a Wushu master and had trained under a variety of different styles. In exchange fir Jordan's help around the studio, Master Dai Mon would train him. It was progressing slowly, but the exertion helped keep Jordan's mind sharp and his emotions cool.

This was how he chose to let off his steam now, practicing the simple moves and combinations Master Dai Mon had taught him on a large practice dummy. He practiced until his arms and legs ached from both exertion and the bruises that were forming as he struck the plastic dummy. And then he practiced some more. When he could barely stand to moves his arms and legs from practice, he began cleaning the studio from top to bottom. He swept, scrubbed, and dusted every nook and cranny of the studio and thus ensuring his next lesson with his master. After his task was complete, he sat down in the center of the studio and tried to focus on his breathing, rhythmically drawing in breath and exhaling and tried to clear his mind as he had been instructed to do so many times before. As always, Jordan failed in trying to clear his mind as any tiny thought crept back in to distract him. Giving up in frustration, he turned his attention to the metal rings that adorned his fingers. With much less effort, the metal seemed to almost shimmer and melt before forming a series of tiny spikes first, then a set of metal gauntlets, and then two sets of iron knuckles. Jordan smiled, his control over his apparent mutant ability getting better and better. He practiced his talent some more until the metal practically flowed over and around his hands and fingers like liquid mercury. His ability took focus and willpower and soon he was exhausted from the toll it took on him. His rings reformed and finally he made his way to the desk and to mountain of school work there. By now it was 2:30 a.m. His next shift started at 5 again so it wouldn't do any help to get some sleep.

After two hours of solid school work, Jordan wiped sleep out of his bleary eyes and shoved the assignments aside. His stomach gurgled painfully. His last meal had been the morning before, a simple box of microwavable noodles. He left the studio and locked it up behind him without time to go back to his apartment for breakfast and without any left over money after his monthly bills had been paid. On the curb, Jordan looked around cautiously and focused on a parking meter. Soon, quarter after quarter slipped from the slot and into his pockets until his pants were almost falling off. It may not have been a moral victory for him, but at least he could afford to stop and get some breakfast before he started his daily routine all over again.