((CRAP! I COULD BE A FREAKIN TROLL AND I QUIT! TWO FREAKING NEW THREADS THAT I COULD DO AND I--))
((*smashes face into keys*))
(OOC: Yeah i got to the end and realized "Wow this is Soviet to a T"...maybe I can encourage him not to quit? 
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((Almost, but the equation is simple. Forums = yay, forums do not = over $100 a year.))
(( 
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[ QUOTE ]
Their little argument was cut short, however, but gunshots from a passing car towards some gangbangers across the street.
"Oh god another hit," Mo said, grimacing.
But it didn't stop there. The car screeched to a halt and several well dressed men in fedoras stepped out of the vehicle and began literally shooting everything in sight.
[/ QUOTE ]
The gunshots woke Tyler from his perch on a nearby fire escape. How he had gotten up so high on the fire escape with his broken ankle was a mystery to him. His mouth tasted of stale liqour and blood. Last thing he remembered was fighting against them dyne users. This was his turf if anyone was going to push drugs it would be him.
Tyler reached for his little magic flask that he always stored in his coat pocket. It was gone. Tyler checked the back of his pants for his wallet. It was also missing.
"Great, what else can go wrong?" Tyler said while attempting to stand up. That's when the pain is his broken ankle reached his brain. Collasping back on to the fire escape, Tyler sighed.
Tyler started to crawl to the stairs on the fire escape. If he was going to get his flask and his wallet back he would have to find who took it and that meant getting down eight stories of fire escape on his hands and knees.
The Consigliere patted the money in the bag. He hefted a random stack of bills, grinned ever so slightly, and tossed it to one of his Capo. The man caught it in both hands and began rifling through the individual bills.
"I told you it's all there," Jimmy Cox said in an irritated tone, "Why do we have to go through this every time?"
"To keep you honest," the Consigliere said simply. He glanced back to the Capo, who nodded. "Very well," he said. A flick of his wrist was all it took for all the Family men in the room to file out.
"Wait a second!" Jimmy protested, "What about the 'dyne?!"
The Consigliere stopped, and several of the Family dropped their hands to their guns. It was an unmistakeble signal that Jimmy wasn't going to get his way today.
"The Family feels that, in the future, superadine will play a less significant role in the course of events as they pertain to the Edge. Anticipating this future, we are shifting our focus to more profitable, long-term localities. The Skulls would be wise to adapt to this coming future as quickly, and painlessly," it was clearly a threat, "As possible."
"But I can't go back to my boss with nothing! What am I supposed to do?!"
"You're the Gravedigger," the Consigliere spat with the utmost contempt, "I'm sure you can figure it out."
And the Family were gone.
"[censored]!" Jimmy said, kicking over a barrel. It made quite a racket in the empty warehouse.
Shannon Rain, or Fang Strike as he was better known around "The Edge", lifted the leather jacket from the chair. He gave the tiny apartment one long look before throwing the jacket on. His hands slipped out of the sleeves, his snake tattoos were peeking out. He looked directly at the mirror, his reflection smiled back at him. Ever since he was thirteen, and the first time he had shed his skin, the green scales were always there.
Shannon never cursed his condition like so many others. He knew his body had mutated, gaining several attributes and aspects of snakekind. His parents had pleaded with him to use his new abilities for the good of others, he had promised them that one day he would find a way too. He smiled big at the memory, showing his fangs.
Shannon splashed some water on his face, the scales gleaming in the faint light. He turned around to head out, the gunshots ringing out from the streets below. The crimson serpent emblazeoned on the back of his jacket was the last thing that left the apartment.
(( Shannon Rain, leader of a small gang called "The Edge Serpents" ))
"Ey! Get that dynamite over here!" one of the Family members ransacking the city block called.
As if on cue, almost a dozen sticks of dynamite came flying from the car in different directions.
None of them hit the ground, however.
Bin, seeming to not have moved, was suddenly carrying them all.
"DAMMIT BIN! You promised you wouldn't do that anymore!" Mo screamed.
"Sorry," he said, throwing the, now extinguished, sticks of dynamite back at the Family car, causing some severe dents.
"Hey how long do you think til..." Bin was cut off.
They were here.
The blaring Rock music was a dead giveaway.
Riding a convertible with the most pimped out soundsystem possible for residents of the Edge, came the self-proclaimed 'Premiere Street Gang' of The Edge: 'Over the Edge'. Of course, the car contained the ENTIRE 'Over the Edge' gang, with their absolutely on-the-nose names to boot: Bruiser, Strings, Needle, and Bonehead.
At first the Family members started laughing when they saw them, until Bruiser went to work: their somewhat dented car was suddenly upside down and a good deal more compact than would be recomended for a motor vehicle.
"OVA DA EDGE IZ HEEEEEEEEEEYAAAAAA BEETCHES!" Bonehead screamed in his best Gene Simmons impersonation.
Sasha darted to a bit of cover offered by a few squelchy, mouldering boxes stacked near the foundation of the building, and was about to begin her daily round of scrounging when she heared the gunshots, and huddled in on herself behind her meager cover.
I'm small, they can't see me... I'm small, they can't see me...
She could dimly remember, past the pain of the lab, a warm voice singing her to sleep. Her mother, she thought... but she never knew for sure. Most of her memories centered around the doctors and researchers... heartless men and women who tormented her in mind and body until they discarded her as an unfit and failed experiment. She even still had the mark they branded on the inside of her right wrist. The fine pelt of fur that covered her body didn't even cover it... a horrid reminder...
She'd come to accept, and even to appreciate the feline nature of her body now... the fur helped keep her warm as she huddled on the stoop of the Serpents' apartment building at night. Her ears, usually covered by a cap, were sensitive, and had often helped warn her of dangers she might not otherwise have heared. The tail was just annoying though. It got in the way, tripping her, knocking things over, betraying her mood. Damn thing...
She huddled, holding her knees, too far away from the building she used as shelter to hide in familiar holes, and kept her eyes tightly shut, shivering in fear...
-@Wenchette
----
[Insert long list of alts and only ONE level 50 after alll this time]
Shannon walked down the hallway towards the stairwell. A couple peeked their heads out of the door, frightened. He gave them a reassuring glance. They were a kind couple, ever since he could remember, they had been nice. His family had owned the apartment complex, and since they left it to him. He now used as a makeshift homebase for his "gang". There weren't that many members, it was mostly his childhood friends. Most of the tenants had moved out but there was still some that stayed.
Shannon descended the stairs to the entrance of the apartment building. He opened the door slowly, listening for the gunshots. He flipped his greenish-brown hair out of his eyes before exiting the building. He stood in the entranceway, staring out onto the street. His infrared-receptors picked out the many heat signatures on the street. He waited, like a coiled snake he waited.
Sasha's sensitive nose picked out Shannon's scent. He was kind to her, when it seemed the world was devoid of light. A crook? Probably. Almost everyone here was in one way or another. If they were going to survive, they had to do what it took.
She edged away from the boxes, and scampered as quick as she could across the street to the stoop where he stood, and touched his calf timidly with an almost invisible hand, mewing quietly.
-@Wenchette
----
[Insert long list of alts and only ONE level 50 after alll this time]
Shannon's forked tongue flicked from his mouth, tasting the air. His eyes briefly fell to Sasha. He tried to reassure her with his eyes. He still waited poised for movement. His hand pushed open the door slightly for Sasha to enter the building. The corner of his lip curled inot a half smile, his white fang showing in the light.
Sasha purred very... very quietly, rubbing her cheek briefly against his leg... her more feline tendancies came out strongly when she was frightened... and scuttled inside.
She moved a little too fast and ran into the wall, but she crawled to the door, and kept watch just in case ther was anything she could do to help, if it became neccessary.
-@Wenchette
----
[Insert long list of alts and only ONE level 50 after alll this time]
Jimmy stalked around the warehouse, stomping and cursing. There was no way he could go back to the Skulls without the 'dyne that he was supposed to pick up. They'd feed him to the trolls, or worse.
Someone was going to have to die for this. That's just the way it was, Jimmy was smart enough to realize that.
He heard the sound of gunshots, and it gave him an idea.
Jimmy went into the alley, found a homeless man, and beat him unconscious. Then he dragged the man into the warehouse, stole his clothes, and dressed him in the Skulls uniform. Then he drew his gun and waited. As soon as he heard another eruption of gunfire he shot. Two in the chest, one in the head.
Family-style.
Then he dropped the gun on the dead man's chest. So what if they traced it back to Jimmy Cox? Jimmy Cox was dead. He pulled the cash from his wallet and dropped that on the dead man too. There wasn't enough of his face left to identify anyway. Except maybe by his teeth...
Like anyone in the Edge was gonna call the cops!
It was time to not be there anymore. He walked out of the warehouse. He was no longer Jimmy Cox.
Jimmy Cox was dead.
Tylers crawl down the fire escape had left his hands and knees bloody. Resting against the wall Tyler watched in a stupor as his hands and knee healed. Figuring that he was hole again Tyler steadied himself against the wall as he raised his bulk. With his broken ankle seemingly healed Tyler took stock of what he had on him. Bloodstained jeans, ripped t-shirt, and two one-size-to-small tennis shoes. Of course with Tyler everything was one-size-to-small.
Peering to his left Tyler saw Shannon the Fang, eyeing his surroundings. Tyler wondered if Shannon would ever give him an invitation to the gang again. It didn't really matter but with a back as big as Tyler's it would be nice having some one watch it.
(OOC Tylers nick name is Two Ton Tyler...or TTT(triple t))
Frankie watched from an alley as the smaller gang proceeded to destroy the car full of Family. He didn't interfere; no reason to at the moment. He'd be having enough run-ins with the Family as it was before all was said and done. Might even be butting heads with some of the other gangs as well if Jonah's plan didn't work out the way it was supposed to.
Frankie was a hard looking man. Now 25, he had grown up in the Edge, the gangs and violence nothing more than another aspect of his life. His parents had moved there from Chinatown just before his birth, hoping for a better life. Not that they got one. Frankie wasn't exactly a kind person; oh, he wasn't cruel or psychotic or anything, just not very sentimental. Unlike many of the gangbangers and thugs prowling the streets, Frankie didn't bother to wear any "colors". His usual attire was some loose fitting pants, plain t-shirts and an open hawaiin shirt over top. A rather cold, professional sort in a society that relied heavily on rage and chaos.
Taking a last second or two to simply watch, Frankie finally moved out of the alleyway. He casually stepped over the prone body of a rival gang member, dropping the red-speckled bat beside him as he did.
Mo and Bin watched Frankie step out of the alleyway and ran over to him.
"Run. Now," Bin said, passing him.
Just then, Needle stepped out of the Over the Edge car, his skin becoming covered head to toe with tiny needles.
Even the Family looked panicked, and most of the civilians dove into houses and cars.
Sasha recognised Needle, and squeaked in fear when she saw him, huddling down behind the door, her hand darting out to pull on Shannon's pants-leg to get him to come inside.
-@Wenchette
----
[Insert long list of alts and only ONE level 50 after alll this time]
Shannon's eyes drifted to the pull on his pant leg. He shook his head at Sasha, and returned to watch Needles. He also knew Needles and the rest of the Over the Edge gang. He wasn't about to move from his turf or to hide in it either. He took a step in front of the door, more or less shielding it, and Sasha from anything.
Sasha hissed slightly when he moved, and stabbed his calf with a claw... not enough to do any damage, but enough to make her point...felt.
"Idiot gonna get yerrrself killed, then wherrre will yerrr people be? Ain't no shame in hidin', stupid." she whispered.
-@Wenchette
----
[Insert long list of alts and only ONE level 50 after alll this time]
Shannon's whispered back, his forked tongue flicking from his mouth, "I ain't gonna move from this position. Over the Edge isn't gonna do anythin' truly stupid. And I am not gonna get dusted. To smart for that. Just making sure my presence is felt on this night."
"Feh. Overrrly optomistic ain't gonna keep ya alive, morrron" she grumbled and gathered her feet under her in a comfortable position, ready to run if he needed her help. She watched, her ears bare for the moment to catch the lowest sounds, her nose sniffing the air for hidden dangers.
-@Wenchette
----
[Insert long list of alts and only ONE level 50 after alll this time]
(OOC: It's actually 'Needle', singular. The reason is he talks in third person and has a lisp. It really showed when he'd say "This is Needles' guitar")
Needle exploded in a barrage of...well, needles. Fortunately most of the civilians were behind something, but those that weren't were not covered head to toe in tiny metal needles. Bruiser included. Of course, it was difficult to tell the difference between the actual needs and the numerous body piercings he had already.
What made matters worse for the Family goons caught in the blast was that the needles hit them from the front and were thin enough to not cause serious injury on their own. Of course, they were still plenty painful.
"Let's git outta here!" one of the goons who had hidden behind a garbage can yelled. And so they got up and ran away from the Over the Edge members, carrying the injured members.
They ran, and they ran...until they rounded a corner...
Into a group of Outcast Torchers.
"Checkmate," the lead Torcher, Antonio, said.
No one ever heard from those goons alive again.
"Anotha victory for OVA DA EDGE!" Bonehead yelled to the cowering citizens.
"Piss off!" an old man yelled, throwing a brick at Bonehead, hitting him but not fazing him.
"No appreciation," Mo mused, walking up to Sasha and Shannon with her hands in her jacket pockets, "You ok?"
Non of the needles could pierce Shannon's scales. Many just bounced harmless off. He looked at the approaching pair, his tongue flicking out. He barely acknowledged them, keeping his vision on the gang in the street.
Sasha crept out through the door, and sat on her haunches almost between Shannon's legs. Her ears perked forward a bit, and her tail waved slowly in the air.
"Was behind th' doorrr.. no muss, no fuss. You two?" she picked up a few scattered needles and stashed them in various pockets... she had a blowgun she could use these on... and it wouldn't take much to poison them...
-@Wenchette
----
[Insert long list of alts and only ONE level 50 after alll this time]
(OOC: OK I'm going to start off with an explanation before we dive in. This is an urban drama type RP. Everyone is below the poverty line and/or a member of a gang. There are no heroes, there are no villains. Everyone is just trying to get by. Of course powers are going to play into this RP quite heavily: Much like Tharomar Enterprises, the intention here is to have people on the bottom rung of society discovering their powers and using them to survive. Most powers are perfectly permissable, but not on a grand scale. Flight is the only power I'm a little iffy about: Flight gives the impression of freedom, but the atmosphere here is different.
No high technology either. Everyone is poor, so no mutant cyborgs with laser rifles for hands. Demons and Kheldians are okay, but make it interesting.
I encourage everyone to form gangs or join an existing one. The slums this story takes place in have the following gangs:
Hellions
Skulls
Trolls
Outcasts
Family
It's also permissable to play as a beat cop. In fact I encourage it. The underlying storyline, to bring everyone together towards a common goal is as follows
After the Rikti war, a large portion of Paragon City was left as a lifeless slum. To set an example to the thugs and gangbangers and other such lowlifes living in these slums, the local government chose this particular slum, known as "The Edge", to begin a special 'Urban Renewal' project. Some shadier members of the city council were 'encouraged' to allow the mob to buy up and 'evict' denizens of this area to make room for new housing developments and mini-malls. The plan for this particular corner is to become ritzy, overpriced condos overlooking the beach that gives this area the name 'The Edge'.
However, the denizens are not happy, and are willing to put aside their own differences and fight to protect their homes.
(OOC: So basically the motivation is to protect your home. Family and PPD players are the antagonists, Trolls, Hellions, Outcasts, Skulls, and anyone else are the protagonists defending this area from 'redevelopment'.
As keeping track of RPs can be difficult, here's an incentive: The conflicts are not restricted to one group, you can pick either side and enter at any time. I also encourage new characters for this, as the outcome is more or less unclear for both sides.
Ah, and before I forget, the character limit is 3, and playing both sides is discouraged.)
"So," said a large, bald Family Boss, "How goes th' clearin of 'The Edge'?"
"It goes well, sir," Jim, a skinny young man with glasses and a blue suit, said, "We predict only a few weeks before we clear 'em out. We've already begun work on the Outcasts."
'Good, good," Boss said, "Keep this up, and you'll be a made man."
"AHCHOO!" Mo, a young street performer sneezed loudly.
"Bless you," her friend Bin said, "I think I saw some brain fly out."
"Very funny. Thanks for gettin' me sick [censored]," she retorted.
"Sorry, you know how I like to share," he smiled, hugging his little friend.
"Now I can't sing tonight. How're we gonna eat tomorrow?" she poked him hard in the ribs. Mo was a good deal shorter than Bin. In fact, she was short period. Despite being sixteen, she was often mistaken for a twelve year old, an ugly fact that gave her quite a bad attitude. Bin, on the other hand, was tall, well over six and a half feet, and extremely lanky with straw colored hair.
"Well, I could try singin'!" Bin suggested.
"Last time you sang we got thrown in the slammer for disturbin' the peace."
"Exactly! The slammer feeds ya y'know," Bin laughed.
"Ever the optimist," Mo sighed.
Their little argument was cut short, however, but gunshots from a passing car towards some gangbangers across the street.
"Oh god another hit," Mo said, grimacing.
But it didn't stop there. The car screeched to a halt and several well dressed men in fedoras stepped out of the vehicle and began literally shooting everything in sight.