Mission Street

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Mission Street

Post by Vandal on 3/11/2012, 8:03 pm





“Team, sound off.” Reaper ordered, staggering up. Each of his squad mates that were alive began to call out to him. “Dammit. Where’s Roulette?” He asked around. “Where’s Roulette?!” Naturally, Reaper was worried most for the youngest felid agent on her first mission. For the most part they were short three agents, but only Roulette came to mind. He had lost Eidolon, his assault gunner, in the blast, and Banshee was MIA as far as he knew along with Roulette.

“We group up with team two, and team three, figure out what’s going on, and get this bloody show on the road.” Reaper commanded, standing up straight. “Follow my lead, lets move.”

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Re: Mission Street

Post by Tizmael on 3/11/2012, 10:28 pm

Frisk had to shake off the tell-tale signs of being shell shocked. It was difficult though when one jumps out of previously, perfectly good helicopter. The smart mesh that covered her body had protected her from enough, but she could feel the sting of a dirty scrap on her jaw and the grit of crushed concrete in her hair. What a way to start a mission.


The thief looked over to Reaper, blinking at him through the bright blue display glass of her goggles. It quipped up a digital display about his physical state but she ignored it. She had a job to do, even if she wanted to curl up in a ball and hide somewhere dark. Frisk did not like fire, and they were currently surrounded by it.


She listened to Reaper’s orders of course but her own mission was quite different from the rest of theirs. Her legs felt wobbly but she marched with distinct purpose up to her squad leader, not at all intimidated by him but then again she didn’t really need to be. She hadn’t known the man long enough to have him strike the fear of god into her. Thusly; she did not hesitate to put a hand on his shoulder and jerk him downwards towards her level.


“Sir, I’m thinking I should go about blending in, by cover is already blown by being here”


The thief scoffed a bit and released him quickly, Reaper liked his space and she didn’t much care to give him the low down on her methods. She was an outsider amidst outsiders, a temporary merc to supplement their numbers for this particular mission. But she was given orders other than the ones Reaper was sure to direct at her, things she had to do. She couldn’t be seen with the Revenants.

----


"Jack! Hey Jack!"




"Yeah?"

"You wanna go out and get us some Take-out?"


"Yeah. Sure why not?"


"Maybe this time...You won't take three hours?"


"Hey! You hazard the delay when sending me off to China Town at 11 at night"







BOOM!!!!


As Detective Jack Berg raced down the side walk towards the distant burst of fire that rapidly plummeted towards the streets below he recalled thinking one thing.


Take-out was going to have to wait.


-------



The Crane City slums were some of the shadiest places the city had to offer, much like any other city it was the epicenter of crime and poverty. The only thing the slum had going for it was a tightly knit community. The various people who made the slums their homes helped each other out, even the non-metas assisted and worked together as a collaborative effort to make life better in the slums for everyone.


At the head of this effort was a man named Bear. His house was modestly sized, but what spaces the three bedroom one story house did not offer was made up by lack of furniture. Bear didn’t need couches or chairs, hell he only had one bed in his whole house. But the floors throughout the house, even leading into the surprisingly large dining room were covered in air mattresses and sleeping bags.


Bear helped everyone, but the main focus of his paternal nature was people like him. Metahumans. The second class citizens of Crane City. Currently, Bear sat at a solitary desk in his camped kitchen, looking like a giant in a doll house as he hunched over the desk as he went over his bills. The water and heat were high again, but he wasn’t going to complain. Several people were currently staying in his house, homeless or jobless folks who had nowhere to sleep. Some people had homes they couldn’t go back to or just wanted to help after their school or work was done for the day.


That was fine by Bear. The front door to the house was always left open, propped up by a heavy looking rock. The door opened to the large living room, which was empty except for a few mattresses that were bunched together in front of a TV sitting on several upside down plastic crates. The news was currently playing, it was Breaking News. A helicopter had gone down somewhere on Mission Street.


A small grouping of weary looking metahumans sat talking to themselves about the news. Bear simply listened and dreaded the future. Though he would gladly meet it.


----


Somewhere deeper in the slums, more in the warehouse district than in the neighbor hoods. Another group of metas stood huddled around the evening news. The air was cold as the group had housed themselves in a condemned factory, various rooms and areas had be repurposed for sleeping and other such daily necessities. Farther back from the group a tall, lanky man sat on a dusty recliner. His fingers were steepled before his chin, elbows resting on his knees as his golden eyes pierced the dim lighting to stare at the flickering screen. At his side two young girls stood, leaning over him and looking rather worried, one of them even placed a hand on his shoulder though t this he merely smirked. Felix Master was pleased,

The government had sent in people to control them, he’d sent them a welcome in the form of one of his more volatile children.

When the flash of fire and wreckage crashing to the ground flicked back to the anchorman the group of mostly teenagers looked back at him. The mixed emotions held plainly on their faces; ranging from fear to excitement. Yes, his children were ready.

“Masters…What do we do now?”

Felix lowered his hands down till they were set palm to palm, angling his fingers down to the floor as he sat back in his chair and gazed upon them all. A pleased but contained smile etched across his pale face.

“Now my Children. It is time for a revolution”



Last edited by Mame on 3/12/2012, 11:45 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Re: Mission Street

Post by Vandal on 3/11/2012, 10:55 pm

Reaper nodded as bystanders began to gather around. Witnesses. "You do what you have to." He said brushing his shoulder off like it had incriminating evidence on it. "You're still under my orders, we'll keep in radio contact. Be sure to chime in with Prophet for mission updates. We're going to take a more loud approach anyway." Reaper turned to the rest of the team. "C'mon, we're headed down to the police station. See what they gathered on the epidemic. But first we group up with Carpenter and his squad. Lets move it, Revenants!"

Rook was frantically trying to revive Eidolon, but there was no way someone as old as him was going to live through the surgery he was preforming, less the initial explosion. Though Rook knew that the most dangerous part of an explosion wasn't the blast itself, but the debris and shrapnel. "Rook, leave him, he's a goner." Slayer, the second in command ordered. "He's got a heart beat, I can save him!" Rook opposed. Slayer looked at Gamble, he was a tall, well built man, and Slayer nodded. Gamble clamped onto Rook's vest and pulled him away.

"I can save him! Give me a chance!"

Reaper ignored the whole commotion, they didn't need to be on the press the following morning.

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Re: Mission Street

Post by Fishing4Infinity on 3/12/2012, 12:57 am

Chloe stood on top of a ladder, leaning at a very dangerous angle, trying to wedge a large book into the shelf. "Almost.." her tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrated hard on trying to remained balanced. "MISS HALL!" A loud, 'eep!' escaped her lips and the book fell from her grasp, landing on top of the head librarians noggin'. The pudgy old man screamed a good amount of swear words before glaring up at Chloe. "Miss Hall," he said sternly. "I requisitioned you to set up this new section over 2 hours ago!" he gripped at her. "Yessir, I'm sorry sir. It's just that this ladder is-" she climbed down the ladder to pick up the fallen book, pushing her glasses up at the same time. "well, old." The mans face turned red, " Are you saying I'm old? Are you accusing me of wearing a toupee?!" he said pointing to his obvious hair piece. "Oh no sir! I was just saying, that the ladder is-"

"Get back to work, Miss Hall!" and he stormed off. Chloe sighed and headed back up the ladder. After about thirty minutes, she had nearly finished and was just about to place the last book on the top shelf when it happened. A loud BOOM sounded and the ground shook, knocking the poor girl off balance. "Oh fu-" she screamed and tried to regain her balance, swaying dangerously back and forth on unstable device. Just when she thought she had it, the shock wave hit. The ladder tilted forward into the shelves, knocking them over and starting a domino like effect. BANG, BANG, BANG. One by one, they toppled over and sent books in all sorts of directions. Chloe managed to scramble out of the way before the last one fell on top of her. She stood there, clutching her chest from the shock of what happened. Sensing a presence behind her, she spun around and saw the head librarian staring, pale faced, at the mess of the place. His eyes turned to Chloe and just before he could say anything, she spun around on her heal, grabbed her belongings and ran out of the library. "Consider this my resignation!" she screamed as the door closed behind her and she ran down the street, not realizing she was running towards the smoke in the distance..



Casey flicked his thumb, emitting a tiny spark thus igniting the tip of the cigarette he held clenched between his lips. He had manged to bum one off of one of the others who resided in the house of Bear, but these weren't like the ones he started inhaling in school. No, these fuckers had no filters. He held his own though and blew smoke out of the open window. He was watching the TV from the back of the room so that his smoking wouldn't bother the others and so he could listen to the small groups conversing as well.

"Casey?"

"Gah!" Casey spat the cigarette out the window when he heard his sister from behind him. Wasn't she just sitting in front of the TV a moment ago? "Yo, Karmy." he waved his hand hand around to clear the smoke out away and turned around to her. "What have I told you about doing that? It's not not nice to suddenly appear behind people." he normally wasn't that stern with his little sister but this helicopter incident had him on edge.

"I'm sorry, Cathey." Karmy stuck out her bottom lip and looked up at Casey with hurt puppy dog eyes. Casey smirked. She had grown out of her childhood lisp a year ago, but she would say his name like that from time to time. And the look paired with that lisp, got him every time. "Goddamn you know my one true weakness" he joked and hoisted her up onto his shoulders. "Come on, let's got see what the grown ups are doing."


Last edited by Fishing4Infinity on 3/13/2012, 10:36 pm; edited 4 times in total

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Re: Mission Street

Post by Guest on 3/12/2012, 7:05 pm

Chewing gum silently on his bed while wearing large skull printed headphones over his, Russell Griffin lazily stared up at the ceiling. His hands folded over his chest as he bobbed his head listening to the loud reckless music booming into his ears.

“Russell!” A firm feminine voice hollered behind the wooden door. The brunette didn’t hear his mother called him, so he began to flicker his eyes slowly. He felt his strength loosen as he closed his amber eyes to rest.

I took a walk around the world to ease my troubled min, I left my body lying somewhere in the sands of time.

“Russell!” She shouted again, but his time she struck the door with heavy knocks and he heard her. He quickly lifted himself to look at the door and pulled off his headphones.

“...I need you to get something for me!” 


The shaggy haired boy sighed lifting himself off the bed, the bitter taste of mint began to grow weary in his mouth now. “I’m coming.” He muttered getting on his feet, and straightening out his ripped shirt. He hated doing errands for his mom, all he wanted to do was spend his day napping, but she just had to ruin it. Damn it. He thought glumly as he came upon the door to see his mother holding a broomstick. Her dark brown hair tightly tied in a bun as always. She bore a light blue button shirt with a white apron that covered her black folded jeans. It was the same outfit she'd wear every day, but it suited her. He admitted.

"What do you want me to get?

“I need you to go to the store and get me some supplies. Here.” The olive skinned woman handed her son a torn piece of paper with scribbled writing over it. It was a list.

“Okay.” The teenager replied nonchalantly as he scratched the back of his head as his mother gave a grin to her son.

“Now go and don’t get into any trouble!”




“Alright. I won’t!” Russell responded before running out the door leaving his mother behind. Thin strands of her dark hair fell over her light eyes as she watched her grown son leave. Where did the years go? She thought to herself as she began to walk away to the opposite direction with the broom tightly in her grip. After jogging most of block to get to the store there was a loud crash a couple of streets ahead of him. The tan skinned boy paused smelling a burnt in the air as if there were a fire. I got to see this! He thought excitedly, he looked up ahead and saw the dark smoke leaving a trail. He then began to sprint to the incident.

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Re: Mission Street

Post by redeagle321 on 3/12/2012, 8:32 pm

Blackout never liked cities- too much noise, too many people, and they were all to damn close together. Like a predatory bird, he had been perched atop a nearby building watching the helicopter come in. So, needless to say, he had a front row seat when some... THING knocked it right out of the sky. Great, that was the sign of a night getting a helluva lot worse. Blackout peeled apart the scene visually as he watched all the survivors pull themselves out. He'd go down himself, but odds were that whoever had the chopper blown away was probably nearby, so the less accurate numbers the oposing party had about who was out and about the better.

But a crowd was gathering, and there was no telling if they were all civilians or not. One thing he'd learned over time; everyone is a potential suspect. Besides, the more the crowd thickened the less fluid the team became. Blackout's han found his wireless communicator and he set it to transmit a text to the downed squad; 'Situation? Blackout in area, willing to assist.' He eagerly awaited some sort of reply as he kept his watchful eye on the crowd...
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Re: Mission Street

Post by Vandal on 3/12/2012, 11:05 pm

Invigorated! He had never felt so alive. The crash he had caused was grabbing attention, if he had turned to run, he could have been spotted and taken down, if he showed up with the wrong expression of surprise on his face, he could have been a suspect. Gerald Lloyd crept closer to the bonfire and stuffed his shaking hands into his pockets. They were toasty after releasing so much energy. Felt nice around his crotch. He wasn’t going to start blasting into the crowd he was walking in just yet, he knew how to bide his time, but he was getting anxious. The words “direct hit” kept making it’s way into Gerald’s mind. He was the only one trying his hardest to resist a smile.
Coming in the subway was no way to arrive in a city like Crane. A subway hardly anyone knew about was a different story though. Carpenter turned to his outfit; he rested an arm over his knee, which was propped up on a seat. “Stand clear of the moving doors. All passengers are reminded to take all their belongings with them.” Vandal, their combat engineer mocked a subway announcement. “Alright listen up, Alpha Team got their chopper shot down and they lost a few guys. We’re going to meet up with them at Ground Zero along with Team Charlie. From what I hear, Charlie has already been here scouting the vicinity. Until we all meet up and know what we’re dealing with, we stay together.” Carpenter spoke quickly. His team was use to this. They were use to him.

“Prophet, give me an exact location of Alpha.” Carpenter demanded as he shifted his contact with their informant.
“They’re approaching Mission Street as we speak.” Prophet replied, leaning forward to several monitors. He could have been laying back in his armchair, a hot pocket in one hand, and a G7 Laser Cordless Mouse in the other. But tonight was different. This was stressed to him by the higher ups that this was a very important mission.
“What’s their ETA?”
“By foot?”
“What else are they on?”
“10 minutes, I wager.”

A tremor was felt beneath the feet of all the Revenants of Bravo Team in the train. It was almost unnoticeable, but everyone stopped what they were doing to look at each other. They felt it all right, but no one wanted to admit it.

“Prophet, I’m going to have to call you back.” Carpenter uttered, turning to face the abyss they were riding in. “Vandal, stop the train.” Carpenter ordered. Vandal nodded, “Coming to a stop.” He said slowing the train down. 60 mph. 55mph. 50mph. 45mph. Then, without warning the train jumped off it’s tracks, all the windows in the car shattered as the lights instantly blew into sparks, wind rushing in like a tidal wave. The train fell lopsided and skidded across the tracks, screaming could be heard from every direction, Carpenter’s own throat hurt but couldn’t tell himself if he actually was scratching his lungs with his own shriek.

Finally, everything stopped; Carpenter wasn’t sure if he had been knocked out or if his team mate was just shaking him to see if he was alive. “Sir, are you okay?”

“Redeemer, I’m fine.” Carpenter said, helping himself up.
“That was a meta?”
“Unless this place just so happens to have conveniently timed earthquakes. How’s everyone else.”
“Valkyrie can’t move her right leg, Cannonball’s arm got pulled out of his socket and Specter is dead.”
“Sh*t… Redeemer, fix Cannonball, get Coffin to carry Valkyrie, no one gets left behind. Malice, on me. We’re searching for our troublemaker.”
Her sense began to come to; Roulette opened her eyes and found that the blast had sent her astray from her team. Her communicator was busted. “Dammit, dammit, dammit.” She struggled to get out of her tangled parachute. She checked the back of her head, blood was pooling from her occipital, but it was only a scratch, and her skull hadn’t cracked open. Thank god. She propped up against a brick wall, she was in a rather claustrophobic alley, it was dim, wet, and she had no idea how she was going to regroup with her team.

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Re: Mission Street

Post by Tizmael on 3/14/2012, 12:24 am

((Due to a very busy, tiring day I do not think I can post at the quality I normally do. Which I am not ok with. So please be patient, I promise to post first thing when I wake up tomorrow))

We will now be posting in an order system. This is very important. In order for things not to get too chaotic and for people who can't always get online everyday to have a chance to catch up with posts, we will go in turns. The order thus far is:


Vandal
Mame
Karm
Robin
Red

Each person gets a two day time period in which to post when it is their turn. If they do not post within this time period they will be skipped and get a chance next round to post. This will be uncomfortable for personal interactions with other players if someone get's stuck waiting on a reply so I would suggest not letting that two day time period slip you by. This might seem a little harsh but any post that is put up out of order will be deleted. I would suggest saving all your posts in a document so they do not become lost.


Any players who are joining in later on will simply be placed last in the order.




Last edited by Mame on 3/14/2012, 5:07 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Re: Mission Street

Post by Tizmael on 3/14/2012, 4:48 pm

Frisk had disappeared like smoke off a snuffed candle. Even before the civilians arrived, the miscreant had skittered off into the shadows of a nearby alley. She really couldn’t be seen, but of course the cat suit and paper white hair made sneaking that much harder. She liked it this way.


Hard was fun.


The inky black of the city swallowed her up, the luminescence of her goggles flickering off as she ran south towards the slums. Target A would be the easier of the two, just some meta cultist, it would be simple for her to instigate contact and potentially infiltrate the ranks of his little street gang. Felix Masters would want her to prove she was a meta to him, and she had the perfect little boost to make it seem like she very much was one.

---
Jack ran as fast as he could. Damn he had to quit smoking.


He huffed as his heavy shoes pounded the pavement, carrying him closer to Mission Street and the downed helicopter. He shouted at people to clear the area, go to their homes. He didn’t want any one getting hurt by trying to play hero or; heaven forbid, try to swipe parts of the debris from the crash.


As the weary police detective ran, he was constantly checking the area, for civilians or debris that might cause damage or fires. He wasn’t really sure about the protocol for this; Crane City didn’t usually have military choppers falling out of the sky. Jack felt a pang of dread bubble in the pit of his stomach as he caught some struggling figure in an alley, it had been by chance, if he had not turned his head to the left he would have missed the person.


His shoes halted against the pavement with a loud clapping sound, he paused to assess the situation before trotting over towards the alley’s mouth. His hand didn’t even go to his gun, or his badge, it never occurred to him that the individual who was obviously bleeding might be dangerous. Upon seeing the discarded parachute he no longer hesitated, rushing to Roulette with concern plastered over his face.


“Ma’am! Don’t move”


Jack winced at the sound of his own raspy voice, shaking his head as he approached the Revenant gently, making sure not to loom over her as he knelt down a respectable distance from her but close enough to assist her if she required it.


“You might have a concussion. Can you move alright?”


The detective tried not to speak too loudly, but the distant roar of fire and crowd muttering almost washed out his own softly spoken inquiry. He reached into his coat instead and pulled out his badge, placing it on the ground near Roulettes legs for her to see it without him rambling about his authority.

----

“Casey”


The small group in front of the TV looked back towards the opening of the kitchen; a few even looked back at Casey and his sister before returning their gaze to the television. The deep voice that rumbled out from the kitchen had finality to it, a stern sense of dominance without actually hinting at an order. It was a summons to both Casey and the little girl astride his shoulders. Bear wanted to speak to him.


The large man still sat where he had, not even looking up from the bills and calculator he was fiddling with. His grey eyes darted here and there as he equated costs, it seemed like such a bland thing for someone so large to do, even the chair and desk were too small for the massive meta.


Despite the blandness of his actions, Bear’s mind was ticking and whirling over the news he was halfheartedly paying attention to until the anchorman had actually started reporting facts and not idle speculation. It had started, Felix had made his move. And though Bear wanted nothing more than to wrap his hands around the cultists throat at the moment, the only tell of his ire was the soft tapping of his muddy work boots against the linoleum of his kitchen floor.


-----


At one of the many platforms to the train station just a half a mile from the wrecked train, a lanky, well-toned young man stood. His eyes were wide, all his teeth bared in an excited manic smile. God, he loved the carnage.


Archen Smith didn’t stay for long, despite his excitement at the damage he had caused. Running off the platform as he hastily pulled thick black ski gloves on. The palms of his hands were swollen with angry red nodes that seemed to vibrate if he put them to close to one another. He vaulted over a bench as a small grouping of civilians and station employees gathered around the train platform to look at the crumpled form of the train cars.


The young meta flipped out his phone the instant he had gotten into the elevator, pressing the name ‘Thanatos’ on his screen before shoving it against his ear. His teeth chattered as adrenaline pumped through his system. It took two rings before the other line clicked.


“Archen”


The voice was smooth and confident; the sound of a news report could be heard in the background. Archen smirked and began his report, telling the voice it had been a success and the train was derailed.


“I wasn’t able to confirm the non-meta casualties. But I doubt everyone got out unscathed”


“Excellent. Meet Gerald on Mission Street and then come back home. We have plans to get underway.”


Archen felt his palms throb, it reached all the way into his bones and made his joints vibrate. He exited the elevator, forcing a worried expression on his face as he made a show of listening to the voice on his cell, as if the other line was abuzz with worry and fear. The voice on the other line was anything but.


“Oh and Archen?”


“Yes Sir?”


“Make sure you’re not followed home this time”


Click.
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Re: Mission Street

Post by Fishing4Infinity on 3/14/2012, 11:09 pm

"Eep!" Karmy was startled by the noise and nearly fell off Caseys shoulders but she managed to steady herself by grabbing on to her brothers head. "Ow! Karmy, eyes!" he said. "Those are my eyes!" she quickly let go and he took her off his shoulders, rubbing his eyes. "It's alright, let's go see what Big Bear wants."

Casey remembered how they had come to live with Bear. It had been 2 weeks since his parents disappearance and they had been trying to make it out on the streets, but with no such luck. Both had been malnourished and barely been able to use their powers, though Casey had disregarded Karmy from using hers. It was on a late night that Casey had heard a passing rumor that there's was a man bent on helping lost and homeless metahumans. So he sought him out, finding the open door and makig sure this was a safe place for Karmy and him could stay, after asking Bear of course.

Casey crossed the threshhold into the kitchen with Karmy right behind her, her hand clutchig tightly onto his. She was always a little nervous around Bear, Casey just figured because of the size of the man. But Casey trusted him. He had given them a home and food in their bellys, and he was grateful for that. Gratitude and respect is was Casey had for him. "You wanted to see me sir?" he have Karmys had a reassuring squeeze. It had felt a little cold and clammy to him, but he shook it off as her being nervous. For now, he focused on Bears every word.

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Re: Mission Street

Post by Guest on 3/15/2012, 12:47 am

"Whoa." Astonished by the destruction of the helicopter, Russell stood agaped. You don't see this everyday. He thought to himself as he slowed down his quick pace. He felt as if his heart was going to jump out his throat. Russell glanced at the civilians surrounding him from curiosity of the scene. He rose his eyebrow in confusion, What the heck is going on? He thought regaining the reality of it, even if was cool for a helicopter to crash by the town. Something wasn't right. Taking a deep breath of the crisp midnight air, the boy moved froward. He wanted to see more.

Aside of the small group around the television a petite girl sat in the corner by herself. Angie hugged her knees against her chest, resting her chin on them. Her dark curly locks bounced as she looked over at brother and sister being called up by Bear. She watched silently as she fiddled with the edge of her godet skirt. I shouldn't be so nosy. It's none of my business. She thought to herself, tearing her eyes away from the kitchen. It's rude. She added in thought. Her crystal blue eyes looked up at the television to catch up of what was showing.

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Re: Mission Street

Post by redeagle321 on 3/16/2012, 10:43 am

Nothin' but air. Blackout awaited a response from the team, but received none. They were big boys, they could probably handle themselves. Besides, he still had his orders. If they didn't need him here- which, at least to him, seemed somewhat debatable- Then he'd meet up with another member of his team that was in the city prior to him, Seek. He altered the frequency on his comm to speak with her directly.

'Position? There have been altercations'

His text was short and to the point. He didn't care for just waiting about, he wanted to get in touch with someone and figure out the next move...


Talk, Talk, Talk. That was all Chrome had been hearing. Nothing but gab. He had been brooding in Master's hideout, pacing about anxiously like a wolf in cage, hinging on every word in hopes someone might want him to do something. Inevitably, it came ot the point where the teen couldn't take it anymore and he approached him. "You got anything for me to do?" He asked, trying to be as mellow as possible but the impatience was probably so thick on his face you could probably see it a mile away...

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Re: Mission Street

Post by Rinisa on 3/16/2012, 11:32 pm

(I'm assuming the post order allows me to post after Red...? If not I'll gladly edit/delete. )

She loved heights.

Before the helicopter decided to crash itself, Scout had been sitting and staring out the window. One ear was perked to keep up with Reaper's orders, but her eyes scanned the city. Heights made for the perfect view when learning a new place. She was trying to memorize every twist and every turn. She saw the people walking through the streets and tried to remember their faces. She wondered who among them was the enemy. Stupid question, the woman thought, They all are. Mission street was overrun by monsters. Monsters claiming to be human beings just because they had the nerve to look like them.

Not any more.

That wasn't the purpose of the mission. Asking any official would tell that the real mission was to "Reclaim the street and stop rioting". What that translated to for her was easy: "Stop those monsters." She had never liked metas. She didn't think it was fair the way things worked out. Why was it fair that she would have to work every day to stay agile and lean, when others were merely born with superspeed? Why was it fair that while she had to get up to reach the TV remote, others could float it over with their mind? Why was it fair for these overpowered things to claim they were being mistreated when they were given some of the best gifts in life? It wasn't.

They were throwing tantrums over what they didn't have instead of reveling in what they did.

Those were her thoughts when the helicopter crashed. She tumbled and rolled out of the mess of iron and flame behind her before standing to attention to Reaper. She adjusted her black gloves and glanced around, taking in her new surroundings. Witnesses, as Reaper said, were slowly approaching. She scowled at them. Monsters. All of them. Monsters.

“We group up with team two, and team three, figure out what’s going on, and get this bloody show on the road.” Reaper commanded, standing up straight. “Follow my lead, lets move.”

"Sir, yes, sir." Scout muttered, falling in line along with her comrades. The brunette took her mind off of her hatred for them in time to focus on the primary goal of the moment: Regrouping.
---
Andrew wiped his eyes, squinted at the sign, and wiped at his eyes again. The words on the sign didn't change.

CLOSED

He groaned and turned away, hands in his jacket pockets. That was the fourth time that week he had come to pick up his textbooks for school, and for the fourth time he caught the manager just as the store was closing. He couldn't help his ridiculous work hours or school hours. He never had the time do anything any more. During the day, he took his few classes at the community college. Afterwards he clocked in at a local cafe as a waiter. At night, he spent his time practicing his healing, sometimes going as long as two or three AM before going to bed. At nine, the process repeated.

He scratched his chin as he walked. I've been healing faster. Maybe it's time I join this big revolution... He knew of two men starting groups on Mission St, his home. His metahuman status was strictly secret, not even his parents knew, but he couldn't deny that he lived on the street that had been taken over by them. It was a slum part of the city, which he didn't particularly mind. The rent was cheap, the food was cheaper, and he never once was jumped. The people of Mission St. really were kind people, and not a one of them ever turned their backs on one another. It was one big dysfunctional family. He wanted to be a part of that.

But doing so meant giving up secrecy, didn't it?

He pulled out his pocket knife and slit a shallow cut across his wrist. Before a drop of blood could hit the pavement, the wound had disappeared. His skin has sewed itself over in a burst of green. He wiped the blade on his sleeve before slipping it back into his pocket. He could heal. If the revolution ever got that messy, he could be a great help. It was a cause worth fighting for. He eyed the place the cut had been only seconds before, and pondered how many other wounds like that he could prevent...

Any further thoughts were disrupted by a sudden crash and burst of flame up ahead.

"Oh sh-!" He gasped, following the trail of smoke. The revolution is starting, with or without me.

And I'd rather it be with me.

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Re: Mission Street

Post by Vandal on 3/17/2012, 1:31 am

Mission Street has been living hell for the last three days. Metahuman uprising took hold of the attention of the US government, and the local authorities were being overthrown. The Revenants, a special group, sent in to investigate what was causing the outbreak soon found themselves crash landing in both of their transportation vehicles. Reaper, the leader of team one, Alpha, continues to pursue to Mission Street, which is only a few blocks away.

The team marched out of the ashes, pushing bystanders out of the way; Slayer in particular shoved a young boy’s face and planted Russell to the ground. This enraged Gerald, but the talk of the Revenants got him more worried than angry. They were converging at Mission Street. He slipped away from the crowd, which was beginning to throw a tantrum at the Revenants after their initial state of shock began to ware off, he opened his phone and called Archen.

“C’mon, c’mon. Pick up.”

Each ring made the delusional teen antsy, his hands were just beginning to cool off, but his state of fear of getting caught and murdered was a feeling that was pushing up against his throat. Archen finally picked up.

“Dude, these guys that I just shot out of the sky, they’re headed to Mission Street!” He said without waiting for an answer, as he cupped his mouth over his hands and stayed close to the walls to avoid getting spotted by the Revenants, who squeezed off several warning shots in the air to break up the protesting crowd. “Lets meet somewhere else. I don’t wanna get caught man. I don’t wanna get caught.

Gerald followed the Revenants, listening in on their militant speaking, he was taking extra measures to make sure he wasn’t caught, but he was still fascinated by them. He wanted to attack them. The rage and the virus residing inside him urged him to, but his instincts refused.


The crowd was dispersing into the city, screams from the fear of getting shot filled the streets. Rook only had one thing in mind. “Permission to speak freely.” Rook engaged in conversation as they made their march to Mission Street. “Permission denied.” Reaper shot back, he knew what was on his mind. The two had a history together, and they were always on the same note. Reaper had guild in his stomach, but he knew he was doing the right thing for their objective. The surgery could have taken half an hour just to stop the bleeding on their fallen teammate, and then they would have had to find a way to transport the hefty comrade out of harms way, leaving at the most two more Revenants aiding one man. It wasn’t worth it. They had a job to do, and they had to see it through.





Roulette was scared. Of course she was, anyone who had to jump out of an out of control helicopter would be, and the shellshock still hasn’t worn off. Looking at Jack’s badge, she had calmed down only a little, but kept her revolver trained on his lungs. She wasn’t sure if he noticed it because of how close he was, and that was the glory of being a quickdraw specialist, she didn’t’ have to look down her iron sight to know where exactly she was shooting, making it a deadly close encounter tactic. She still had this gut sense of fear about trusting this man. He can’t possibly be a metahuman though, the screenings that were happening in Crane City prevented metahumans from getting authoritative jobs such as policemen. She had to think about what was going on, and the fact that Roulette couldn’t think straight bothered her. Gunshots were heard in the distance, screams. She wasn’t sure what to make of that either.

“I can move, but if you lay a finger on me, I’m shooting you.”

She drew his attention to her revolver; she had to prove that she was strong, even though she wanted to trust him. She wasn’t proving this to him as much as she was proving it to herself. Inside, she was still young, lost girl, only scared of strangers, looking for her family. What she had said would be enough to scare someone off, but the way she delivered her message was weak. Her voice cracked, and she was still breathing heavily. In truth, she wanted his help.





Looking up to LED screens and monitors, left and right, Prophet saw a one-way text conversation. He reviewed satellites and locations. Blinking beakers, invisible to the naked eye, flashed to indicate Revenant friendlies on the screens above. Prophet decided to send Blackout a text, because he knew everyone else was too busy to check his or her cell phones.

Regroup at Mission Street. Consult either Reaper or Carpenter.

Send.





Team Two, Bravo was still recovering from their crash, scoping both ends of the tunnels of darkness, Carpenter and Malice returned to their squad, finding nothing. “How is everyone?” Carpenter asked his second, Redeemer. “Minor bruises, concussions, scratches, all the rest. We can fight.” Redeemer reported.

“Okay then, put your game faces on, we’re moving out. On the way over, we are stopping any and all hostiles. The perpetrator might still be in the vicinity.” Carpenter ordered. “We regroup with Alpha.”

The Revenants of Bravo dispersed, marking the crash site.

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Re: Mission Street

Post by Tizmael on 3/18/2012, 2:31 pm

Jack looked Roulette square in the eye, his previously soft expression hardened for a moment. He didn’t need to look down to see that she had a gun pointed at him, and him acting outraged or fearful wouldn’t help either of them. He put one palm down a top his knee and reached for his badge to stash it into his jacket. Never once looking away from the injured woman’s’ eyes.


“Ma’am; I am an officer of the Crane City Police department. I swore an oath to protect and serve, and that includes military personal. I am not going to touch you unless you give me permission to do so. But shooting me is not going to help either of us”


He smiled a crooked grin then, looking sheepish though he was not actively feeling such, it was just kinda the way Jack’s face worked. He leaned back from her and looked behind his shoulder towards the street outside of the alley, stained with the luminescent color of the distant fire.


“Now, I’ll give you a second to breath, if you need space I can move over to the sidewalk—But you need help and I honestly would rather it be from me than some civilians. Because I promise you, you’ll just end up at the Police station anyway”


He scratched the back of his head and continued to look back over his shoulder, not wanting to agitate Roulette by staring holes into her forehead. Then the gun shots sounded off and he was rising to his feet, a mix of anxiety and anger boiling in his eyes.


“I know you’re hurt but…Whatever those shots were for, I need to go get civilians out of the crash zone….So if you wouldn’t mind”

---

Archen had been walking idly towards one of the many bus transits before his phone rang, it was that annoying popcorn song he gave to every number on his phone he really didn’t want to talk to. Upon seeing that it was Gerald however, he had little choice.


With a sneer he picked it up and greeted the other meta; until the fool started gibbering about the military creeps heading towards Mission Street. Well, that certainly hadn’t been expected by Archen, but it had been by Masters. The sadistic meta shouted into the phone, one hand still tucked in his pocket as he strolled down the sidewalk in a quieter part of town.


“Did you see if there were any casualties’ man? Cause if not you still got business there. And unless you act like a complete idiot and blow your cover, who’s gonna know who you are?”


Sometimes, Archen wanted to blow Gerald’s brains out. Even with the boosts Masters gave them, releasing all those hormones and sh*t into their bodies to make em tougher, Gerald was still a wuss.


“Stay there man, I’m fifteen minutes away. And don’t act like a fuckin’ spaz!”


With that Archen clicked his phone shut, put it on vibrate and stuffed it into his coat pocket. He chuckled cruelly at the thought that his lack of care for Gerald’s situation might make the other man panic, and if Gerald got shot and killed by these Revenant bastards well…..One less person between him and the boss’s chair.

------

Masters sat in his recliner, long fingers caressing the screen of his cell as he continued to watch the distant group of young, dependent meta’s cry in outrage at the treatment of the civilians. Not really for any real care, he’d instilled in them a tight pack mentality; they were more worried about themselves. They had every right to be worried, they were all young, inexperienced……Easily manipulated.


His golden eyes slashed to the side as Chrome stormed up to him, trying to hide his poorly concealed ire at sitting about. The boy had a chip on his shoulder that was for sure, but Masters appreciated his drive to do instead of talk.


“I do”


He waved his hands and his two female attendants began to move off towards the TV. The younger of the two looked at Chrome and flushed a deep red before looking down at her feet and walking faster to get over to the rest of her fellow metas. Felix lowered his hands to his lap, and suddenly his shoulders were slumping and his head was hanging low. One hand reached up to push back the wild strands of hair that had sprung up from his head, slicking them back into place before looking up to Chrome.


He looked worried.


“My friend, you’re the only one I can trust to do this. I understand how much it pains you to stay on the side lines but there are many types of soldiers and Howard….We are in a war. Soon it won’t matter who is on who’s side between our group and Bear’s. These bastards will come for all of us. Man, woman child. They will gun everyone down, you’re the only one I can trust to stay here and guard those of us who don’t have the strength to protect themselves. “


The man paused for a moment and leaned back, suddenly looking more drawn and yet determined. He stood up and placed a hand on Chrome’s shoulder, giving him a tight smile that looked very much like he was fighting off exhaustion.


“My friend, you’re the only one I can trust to keep our people safe”

-----

Bear did not get up, leaning away from his bills and what not and pushing the too small chair away from his too small desk. He smiled to Casey, though he always seemed to look stern, before looking to the nervous Karm and chuckling at her.


“You still scared of me Baby Girl?”


The large man leaned back all the way, his shoulders shaking as he laughed out a soft rumble from deep in his heavy chest. He liked Casey; the boy was easy going and had a good head on his shoulders. Bear had raised his own siblings when he had been young, he knew the score and felt a kindred connection to the misfits that seemed to collect in his house.


“There’s an orange popsicle in the freezer if you want it Karm”


He thumbed a gesture to the fridge and a stool sitting next to it before looking back to Casey, his expression hardening again as he let out a big sigh.


“We need to talk”


This was so much weight to put on Casey’s shoulders, but Bear needed to explain what was going on. He had an inside source telling him about Masters and his plans. The source being Masters himself. For some reason the other man was determined to get Bear’s approval or alliance. It was not going to happen, Bear cared about his people. Too much to ever get mixed up in dirty, racist bull crap like Masters spewed. Just imagining that hate filled filth being pumped into the brains of the younger meta generation set his gut twisting with angry, aggressive knots.
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Re: Mission Street

Post by Fishing4Infinity on 3/18/2012, 6:47 pm

Karmys face lit up and she looked up at her brother for approval. Casey chuckled and squatted down to her height, "Oh go ahead, Karms. Big Bear and I have to have a chat about some things." he told her, ruffling her hair.

"And wait outside the kitchen door till I'm done, please!" he called out to her as she scurried off the the freezer.

Casey turned his attention back to Bear, his features becoming serious. He had known that this was coming. He didn't know exactly what it was, but he knew that it was something he would have to do. It was compensation for everything Bear had done for he and his sister. Whether or not Bear thought it to be true or not, Casey owed him. Big time.

Back straight, shoulders back and jaw clenched, Casey stood like a soldier in line. "So, let's have that talk, sir."


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Re: Mission Street

Post by Guest on 3/18/2012, 11:51 pm

Just as Russell was thrown to the ground, something in him triggered. F*cking Dick. His fist dug into the ground clenching the ruined concrete and causing it to dig in a little deeper by his massive strength. The rotten feeling of hatred and irritation boiled in his guts, he grumbled getting himself right back up on his two feet. The insignias on the troops' uniforms were familiar to him and remembered from the news who they were. "I see." He muttered shaking the dust off his rough hands as he began to help out some people who were also tossed aside. He wasn't going to let this go.Don't get into any trouble!

Sorry, Mom, but I can't keep that promise.

He knew he wasn't stupid enough just to attack them and get shot. He wasn't going to let the anger blind him, but those damn men shoved them as if they were trash. And they weren't trash.They were people too.And it really irritated how the people talked about them, just cause they have an extra gene that gives them abilities doesn't mean they're not human. The thoughts of it made him more angry. Just the way they marched in the streets and threatened anyone made him more annoyed. He brought his hood up and sucked in his bottom lip and began to walk away from the destruction.

Bastards.

---

She cursed to herself silently as she glanced over the kitchen door where Karmy came from. I should really break this habit of being nosy. The young meta moved herself by the eight year old standing by the door waiting for her brother to come out. Angie brushed her curled locks behind her ear and shifted a smile at the ebony haired girl. "Hey." She greeted out of kindness and she brought her hand above her chest and waved at the young girl.

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Re: Mission Street

Post by redeagle321 on 3/19/2012, 9:07 pm

Howard had never really had anyone to look up to- between parents who were too busy and 'friends' that left him the moment his shoes were no longer cool, it seemed like he was sitting in the middle of a world of apathy. He wasn't going to sit and whine and have an angst trip about it, he was made of MUCH sterner stuff then THAT. But he wasn't going to spend his time singing it a ballad either.

He just didn't care.

But this whole metahuman discrimination had hit his world like a bomb- Apathy and uncaring gave way to fear and uncertainty. Then along came Masters, someone who wasn't going to just let his world burn, someone who was going to get up and DO something. For once, Howard had someone he admired, someone that inspired him to get up and do something instead of just plant it in the crowd.

So to hear Master tell him that he was the only one he could trust, howard felt like an old flashlight getting fresh batteries. Did he want to get out there and do something? Yeah. But if Masters and the others needed him here, then here is where he'd be. Besides, he had a disgusting knot in his bowels that said Masters was right- in the end, they'd be hunted like game animals, or experimented on, like that kid that Nightwing found, with his brain so messed up he didn't know his own name.

Chrome looked masters in the eye, his silver pupils locked solidly with determination. "Then count on it. I'll gaurd this place, nobody is getting in hear." For once in his life, he had an honest to god purpose. And like HELL was he going to mess it up!
---
Group at Mission street, eh? Out of the frying pan and into the fire. it wasn't like BLackout was expecting the mother of all catastrophies, but he KNEW that sh*t was about to go down. Sounded like a drag. But then again, he could hear his old CO, one Donovan Roper, telling him to mentally quit being being a bigger girl then his two year old daughter and to get a move on.

Acknowledged, en route to Mission Street.

Send.

As Blackout removed himself from his perch and directed himself to his destination, he got a feeling that the night was about to get longer. Unfortunately for him, his feelings tended to pay off.
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Re: Mission Street

Post by Vandal on 3/23/2012, 5:44 am

She had to think for a minute. Roulette kept taking deep breaths, but rose from where she was standing, after resisting the urge to ask him to help her up. “That’s my team. I have to get back to them.” Roulette explained. “We were separated in the explosion.” She didn’t want to give too much information; Roulette was the one that needed information from the Crane City Police department. Still, if Jack needed any insurance, Roulette tried to opt her team murdering for no reason. “They’re probably just warning shots to break up the crowd.” She nodded to him, giving him the okay to move forward, resting an arm subtly on his shoulder and drawing it back to let him know that for the time being, they were going to be partners.





Sweat dripped from Gerald’s face and soaked his wrapped clothing. He felt alone, in the face of danger. Would he answer that call? He wasn’t sure himself. If you had met Gerald a year back you would have met a man who always looked to a bright tomorrow. Then something happened. Something tipped him over the edge, and he felt an immeasurable amount of anger, and strength. The Metahuman population had been in a decline of economy and state, jobs were harder to find, and they were all becoming desperate. When his family’s house was foreclosed, he had roofed under Masters’. He felt like he was actually living, or at least that’s what Masters told him. And he believed him.

The military force made it to Mission Street, and Gerald had no idea what the hell he was doing. Yet, it felt right. He pressed his back against a brick wall, still out of the vision of the Revenants, Gerald was going to kill them all.

The thought didn’t really help his vomiting.




“Reaper to Carpenter, we made it to location: Ground Zero. It looks like everyone here has been closing shop. Mission Street is huge.”

The announcement to his adjacent squad set a tone of inspiration to their feet.

“Carpenter to Reaper, we’ll arrive there shortly. Evaluate the situation. Identify any and all hostiles.”

Reaper and his crew began scanning the area and finding any clues to metahuman activity.

“Copy that, Carpenter. See you shortly. Over and out.”

Archer had noticed the following metahuman, but decided not to say anything until he upchucked what remained in his stomach. “Activity down that alley. Overwatch, cover me.”




Gerald panicked. They were coming to him, and he couldn’t stop throwing up. He crashed to his knees and looked away, coughing and staggering away from the Revenants.

“Why were you following us?” A voice demanded.

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He kept coughing, wanting to bite off his dangling tongue for some reason.

“Answer me!”

The commotion captured Reaper’s attention.

“What’s going on here?” He asked approaching the situation.
“This man has been following us from the crash site. I say we incapacity and interrogate him.”

Gerald freaked out. He stood up as fast as he could, still coughing up chunks of stomach acid, but the dizziness got to him more than he had expected. He took a swing at Overwatch, but missed by a hair. He collapsed to the ground, still coughing.

“What was that all about?” Reaper asked.

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Re: Mission Street

Post by Tizmael on 3/25/2012, 8:06 pm

Jack looked at Roulette for a long time before his rigid stance lessened and he nodded to her. With her being more amiable he was not going to treat her like a cobra snake in an oven mitt. He nodded and ran his hands through his pepper colored hair before looking her up and down. Nothing seemed to be broken but there was blood, from her head. If she could stand chances are she wasn’t too badly hurt, but he was no doctor and there were medically trained people at the station.


“You can walk on your own? You’ve lost a good amount of blood I can carry….I mean…Give you my shirt or something if you need to stop the bleeding”


As he spoke he slowly walked out to stand on the sidewalk, gazing down the block and only really making out the blazing wreckage and some dim commotion. He had to get down there and fast, if a riot broke out he’d have to protect Roulette on top of any innocent citizens.


“We need to hurry”


----


Archen had arrived a little too late to be of much help to Gerald, not that he actually wanted to help the spaz. But he felt a very real sense of distress at seeing the state of things, not for the sake of his vomiting brother in arms but because Masters was most likely going to be pissed at the loss of Gerald. The blond meta was standing a ways off, across the road watching the military men apprehend Gerald amidst a group of lingering civilians who had been too stupid to flee when the warning shots were fired. He looked just as worried as them, at least until he plucked his phone from his pocket and dialed to Thanatos.


Once again, blood lust rolled off him in palpable waves as a sadistic grin smeared over his pale features. He no longer had to worry about Gerald getting in his way, and as far as he was concerned, they’d struck the first blow, this was nothing compared to the estimated casualties and injuries he was sure the Revenants were suffering.


-----


Masters smiled to Chrome and patted his shoulder a few times before letting it slid down. He crossed his arms and tilted his head for a moment as he gazed at the small groups of people huddled around the TV. The Cult leader thought for a moment before turning back to the eager young meta and nodding over to the group.


“Everyone is important to me and our cause Howard but…You keep an eye on Lilac. She’s very important to the cause; someday she might help us prevent attacks on our people by predicting when they might occur….Not to mention she fancies you”


Felix laughed at this, as a father might, although inside he felt a very real pang of nervous envy. Lilac was important and too meek to deny him anything he asked of her, but her affection for Chrome made it a bit more difficult to control her mind completely. He’d have to be gentle in how he manipulated his little oracles mind.


“Soon your brothers will return home to report and we can begin our next mov—“


Master paused as hi phone buzzed in his jacket pocket, he plucked it out and his expression nearly fell at the name blaring out at him from his screen. He reached out and patted Chrome on the shoulder before turning to walk off towards the derelict office near the back of the warehouse lounge area they had set up in.


“Excuse me Howard. I must take this”

-----

Bear waited till it was just him and Casey in the kitchen before reaching a massive, calloused hand up to rub over his bald head. He looked angry, his grey eyes flashing for a moment before a hard expression etched itself into place.


“This thing that’s happening on TV Casey, it was not an accident”


The Meta turned to the counter at his right and plucked a mug off of a plate; he blew out the small bit of dust in it and flicked the nearby coffee pot to brew. He leaned himself against the counter as a trickle of water began to pour through the already used coffee grounds and filter.


“I don’t know the specifics, don’t know what these people showing up are here for and I sure as hell don’t care. But what I do know is that something big is happening right now, and someone like us….A Superhuman started it”


His massive fists clenched into the bunched sleeves around his elbows as he crossed his arms over his heavy chest, staring hard at Casey before gesturing for him to stop standing so rigidly. What he had to say was important, but he was no General about to give orders to an army, just a man wanting to protect what he held dear.


“I don’t want you getting involved in it. Not on your own at least cause that’s how people wind up dead. But there is a chance we’re not going to be able to stay neutral on this. If these military lookin’ folk decide to start gunning down super humans’ in the street….Casey we might have to fight back….But I want you thinkin’ about yourself and the people who look to you for guidance and safety before you go lookin’ for a fight”
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Re: Mission Street

Post by Fishing4Infinity on 3/26/2012, 9:13 pm

"I would do anything to keep my sister out of harms way." Casey started off with, that being the more obvious of statements. Anyone who had spent more than 5 minutes with the Anderson siblings, knew that Casey was protective of Karmy.

Now Casey wasn't much of a fighter, but he was in control of his powers and, if the need ever presented itself, he had his way of getting the upper hand. And with Mission Streets high population of metahumans, there was a good chance that would happen, soon.

"But I'm with you all the way, sir." Casey relaxed and leaned against the wall. " I need to get us out of here, this city is becoming far too dangerous."

"Do you know who caused the "accident", by chance?"




Karmy sat munching on her Popsicle, not one of those kids who savors the flavor but dives right in. Her innocent mind was wandering, mainly focused on wanting to own a kitty cat soon when the voice startled her. "Hi!" she greeted. "Sorry, I don't think there's anymore popsittles." she assumed that's why she was talking to her. "Want some of mine?" she held out the half eaten treat.


Last edited by Fishing4Infinity on 3/31/2012, 12:26 am; edited 1 time in total

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Re: Mission Street

Post by Tizmael on 3/30/2012, 9:00 pm

((The order system and 2 day ultimatum for posts is now officially lifted. I would appreciate if Robin and Red would post soon however. Anyone else who wants to post, can in the mean time.))
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Re: Mission Street

Post by Guest on 3/30/2012, 11:42 pm

(well karm didn't respond to my post, so yeah. I dunno what to post next.)

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Re: Mission Street

Post by Fishing4Infinity on 3/31/2012, 12:26 am

(holy f*ck I honestly forgot about that... I edited)

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Re: Mission Street

Post by Guest on 3/31/2012, 11:09 am

(It's alright.)
The curly haired girl sheepishly smiled, rejecting the popsicle politely. "I"m good." She brought her hand up, sweeping her wavy bangs from her face. The seventeen year old knew it was to dumb to ask Karmy why Bear might've called them in, but she just wanted to know so badly. The curiosity was gnawing her up from the inside and out. "Karmy..Right?" Angie cocked her head over at the little girl, not minding if she couldn't get anything from her. She always had a soft spot for children.

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Re: Mission Street

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