The weather had taken a turn for the worse.
Rain ran from the sky and drove it's self into the ground, creating large, heavy puddles of water on the uneven ground that made up Sharkshead Isle. The sky could not be seen tonight, masked by a blanket of thick clouds.
Upon the roof of the Sharkshead hospital stood William Breaker, a villian by trade, but a good man at heart. Looking out at the fog covered sea, he thought about the difficult task that had been laid before him by the disaperance of the man he called brother, John Sebastian.
He was to rebuild an organisation, a criminal syndicate known as The Corporation. It's very existance was bearly tollerated by Recluse and the Arachnos.
He had ran a syndicate once before, The Von-Warbrook Family. For a time they ran high, each crime they commited felt as if they were giving Statesman and the rest of the heroes the finger, saying "Look at us, we are untouchable!". However that was not the case. Gunshots, shouts of desperation...then the explosion. He remembered vividly how it ended.
He refused to let it happen again.
An unnatural storm twisted above an old building somewhere outside of the War Walls. Inside this rotting construct brooded Efranof, sitting on the window ledge holding out a bucket to try and collect the water.
As he grumbled about there being no running water, the thought occurred to him, what has become of his life? He was once a noble warrior, a bodyguard to kings, a general in great armies. Now he is here, in the shambles of an abandoned shack haplessly trying to collect water to help with his hangover.
He looked to the bucket, barely holding half a cup of water. Impatiently he dropped it, picked up a rugged old bag filled with his various equipments and leaped into the air, the ruins behind him falling apart. Looking around at the wreckages and wastes, he began loathing the world, then loathing the Rikti, making him change direction towards the Rikti War Zone.
I am the Blaster, I have filled the role of Tank, Controller and Defender
Sometimes all at once.
Union EU player! Pip pip, tally ho, top hats and tea etc etc
Samantha Huntington hurled the sheet from her bed and sat bolt upright, listening carefully to the sounds within the house. The familiar faint hum of the generator powering the five-storey high cylindrical computer core hidden in the basement could be barely heard, as well as faint footsteps in the hallway outside - a cursory search with her mind's eye revealed that it was one of Helena's avatars. She was too warm. Again. Sleep was always hard for her, and only got harder as the days got hotter.
Blearily she rubbed her eyes. She had a couple of hours before she needed to head down to kitchen too start cooking breakfast for everyone - assuming Mum didn't beat her there again - so she might as well...
SLAM!
A mind ripped through her psychic defences like they weren't there, and she recoiled in horror as an agonising pressure built up in her skull. The only other time she'd felt something like this was when Sister Psyche tested her, and even that hadn't...
Morning, Sam.
The all-too familiar voice made her quake with fear.
Andrew.
Oh, yes. You don't expect that anyone else would come to you this way, do you?
She tried - really tried - to rebuild her barriers, to force him from her mind, but he had reserves of energy that she couldn't comprehend, and she was still muddled from lack of sleep. No, Andrew, you're the only person in the world who'd talk to me like this. What do you want?
His presence in her mind grew, swelling like gorging tick, and the revulsion she felt as he sifted through her memories made her gag.
I just want to say sorry, Sammy. To you, and your friends, and Richard, and that little red-head he's so enamoured of. He doesn't believe me, though. Doesn't believe that I've realised the truth. I know what fate has in store for me now, and I embrace it. I welcome my destiny, and I thank Richard for giving it to me. It's just a pity that he doesn't see it himself.
Andrew's presence withdrew from her mind, and she collapsed back onto the bed, sobbing, gasping for breath, terrified beyond reason, as his last thought played over and over.
"Y-you... you're not better, Andrew. You're not above mankind. You're not God." The tears streamed down her face. "And neither is Richard."
The wisdom of Shadowe: Ghostraptor: The Shadowe is wise ...; FFM: Shadowe is no longer wise.
; Techbot_Alpha: Also, what Shadowe said. It seems he is still somewhat wise 
; Bull Throttle: Shadowe was unwise in this instance...; Rock_Powerfist: in this instance Shadowe is wise.; Techbot_Alpha: Shadowe is very wise *nods*; Zortel: *Quotable line about Shadowe being wise goes here.*
Tracey Lee, also known as Holly Steel had a rough night to say the least. After hearing news her partner was going to be away for a while she overreacted, the two hardly seen each other enough as it was. Holly was starting to feel the strain of the relationship, she was told he'd be home by 3am. By the time Sean got home she had fell asleep, her clumsy mechanical legs sprawled out, her arms under the pillow and her head delved into it like she was trying to hide her mascara stained face. Sean undoubtedly fell asleep soon after.
A few hours had passed, it wasn't light behind the window nor was it dark, Holly woke up blearily eyed glancing at Sean as he lay bare chested, fast asleep. She sat up on the side of her bed looking out the murky window, rubbing her tear stained eyes whilst trying to be quiet with her steel legs, which weighed more than a sandbag each. The usual gunfire, hoodlums shouting and constant building work in Kings Row was silent, for once.
The Goth styled red-head took the time to reflect, something she rarely done, thinking about where she started and where she had made it to so far cheered her up. The thought made her feel a little bit proud. She had kicked a serious drugs habit, she was saving people even if she didn't acknowledge it on a daily basis, she had a bit of money now, her own flat, and above all a loving Boyfriend, it hurt her like hell when he was away, probably why she took the news so badly. Glancing at her modified Paragon Protectors helmet she smiled to herself, turning back to the window her smile turned to a sigh. Holly was still new to being what some might label her a 'Hero', at times she sure as hell didn't feel like one.
As quiet as she could she clambered between the covers of her tatty double bed. Taking off her clothes she pressed her body against Seans affectionately, putting her arm over him. It wasn't long before she fell back to sleep.
Jennifer Sula sat on the edge of Aerie Plaza, staring into the darkness. Her body wanted to sleep, but her mind didn't dare. The nightmares had lessened in the last few days, but they could still be there, waiting, whenever she tried to sleep.
She heard footsteps on the concrete behind her, and looked around. Officer Hugo Alvarez was making his way toward her. "What are you doing out at this time, Sula?"
"Could ask you the same, Alvarez." Jennifer motioned him to sit. "Bit late to be still in uniform."
"Just got off the late shift." Hugo took a seat beside her, stifling a yawn. "Gotta let the damn coffee get out of my system. What's bothering you?"
Jennifer shrugged. "Be more specific?"
"It's like that?" Hugo nodded. "C'mon, let's have it. All of it."
"Where do I start, Hugo?" Jennifer sighed. "This job... this life... one minute, everything's coming up roses, you're learning new things, stopping the big crimes, really making a difference... and then something comes along to remind you that the bad guys, the real bad guys, haven't played their hands yet, and they're holding all the aces.
"I got one friend who's been missing so long, some of the guys think he must have... really gone rogue on us. I've got another friend who was murdered, when he was just doing his job - just like that. Now there's this... this plague, whatever you wanna call it, that's gonna kill half the rest of us..."
Hugo looked down. "Having superpowers not all it's cracked up to be?"
Jennifer shook her head. "'Fraid not."
They sat in silence for a while, before Alvarez spoke again. "You gonna tell me the rest?"
Jennifer shot him a glance. "Nothing gets past you, huh?"
"Used to be partners, remember? That's how it works." Hugo smiled crookedly. "Talk. You'll feel better."
"Doubt it." Jennifer shrugged. "Anyway, you know the next bit. And no, I'm not going to tell him."
Hugo raised a hand. "I didn't say anything."
Jennifer nodded. "So, this is the part where you say something profound that makes me feel better about it all?"
Alvarez yawned. "Nope."
Jennifer shrugged. "You could make an effort, is all I'm saying."
"I don't have to say a damn thing. I know you, Jen. I know you better than to believe you're considering giving up. Yeah, it's hard, and you and I both know it. It's a long and painful and thankless job, and the fact we stick with it instead of turning away? That's just part of who we are. As long as there's hope, we press on for that one chance. And there's always hope.
"Now go get some damn sleep."
Knights Exemplar: Wolfram, Autumnfox, Starlit Spirit.
Militia: The Portent, Wavekite, Mr. Sandman.
The Cadre: WarpLocke, Zajin.
Numerous others.
Rain pattered against the window of an apartment in High Park, and like many of the other residents in this part of Kings Row there was no one awake inside to hear the gentle, almost soothing sound.
Which probably would have helped the troubled tossing and turn young man who lay on the only bed in the apartment, as the hour of the wolf dragged on the troubled sleep of one Joshua Zicky was about to yield some unpleasant thoughts.
The sky stretched all around him, Josh could simply not believe how high up he was or how vast the horizon seemed. He continued to float surrounded by clouds of brilliant pastel colour, soon the noticed flickering shapes and realised he was not alone. The flickers where at such a distance he could not see them clearly but he knew them to be friends and tried to drift towards them, but for all his effort he never seemed to get closer in fact they had all but disappeared leaving Josh alone in the strange almost surreal sky he found himself in.
All to quickly he felt a familiar sensation as the sky below began to darken, it seemed almost as though some great beast of darkness had come to devour him. Josh curled up and braced himself but nothing happened, as the darkness consumed the sky a new scene seemed to melt in and he found himself in a twisted and blackened forest, a place he knew very well indeed but twisted almost beyond recognition. From the dark lines of blackened trees figures began to emerge, Council Galaxy soldiers, Void Hunters and strangely dressed men that lingered on the edge of his memory. Soon he was completely surrounded by them, their snarling features seeming to through half heard insults at him. More figures soon emerged from the trees, people Josh half recognised as friends, but rather then helping him they joined the sneering crowd. Josh spun around trying to find a way out, but it was too late the men nearest to him had all drawn their long barrelled rifles, which hissed and seem to throw even more shadow on the scene, they took aim and fired, sudden pain barley registered as he felt himself torn apart at the atomic level
And with a startled noise flung himself upwards to see the dim light of his apartment, breathing heavily he took careful time to process what had happened.
Just a bad dream he gasped Yeah thats all
With a sigh he carefully stood up and began walking towards the kitchen
Just
need a drink he mumbled to himself, being careful not to awaken the shutdown robotic form of his room mate Automobilised. He gradually shambled past their stolen Council super computer, reached the fridge and removed half empty bottle of water. Taking a sip he slowly made his way to the window and looked out at the gently falling rain. The thoughts of doubt were soon running around his head, asking him what he was thinking coming to Paragon, trying to be a hero and that he may have made a very very stupid choice in becoming a Peacebringer.
He took another sip of water and lost in thought stared out into the rain as the hour of the wolf dragged by
Gemme Greys sat on her all to familar bunk, inside the ASX49, Sean aka Sha'dower, Stealth Airship which was now hovering somewhere over the streets of Paragon, her Dark red leather outfit was all the colour the room had now, everything else was grey or black, Even the night sky outside felt darker than normal. She sat there stareing out the small window, thinking out loud to herself what she had thought all along.
"Sean's an idoitic fool, he's just always like this, why is that?" she asked herself.
"hmm.. well i guess he alway has been.. hasn't he?" She asked again looking away from the window to the grey wall beside her. "Wasn't he? i mean i know him, i've known him for years, since we were both young.. yet still this, this new him, this idoitic fool, seems to be someone else."
She slowly got up then turned to the window again. "So what happend then, why has he changed so much.. were is the boy, the man, the person i once knew so well, the one who cared so much for others that he would do anything to keep them safe." She bowed her head, looking to the floor below her its hard metal seemed to just hold no answers, nothing was there, where once she would look to see his eyes, nothing.
"Sean.. tell me, what was it you said last night.. it has broken lose.. what is it.. really? your power.. your shadow.. your essance? It's too hard for me to fully understand now, your not there telling me the answer, your now just a faint murmur of a once strong voice.."
Slowly she undid her hair bands letting her pony tail fall out, her eyes droped as she did, the long hours of work finally caught up with her.
"The machine, will it really help him, can he be brought back from what he is now with it, is there anyway to do that really?" She asked, still no answers called out, as she slipped the leather coat from her shoulders, and undid her boots.
"Even now, something tells me it won't.. but yet i work on.. i guess thats what you always did, worked on, never sleeping, never resting till the last job was done." She yawned then continued to undress herself.
"Guess thats what makes you a hero, to be the one who never gives up, to have hope when noone else does."
Slowly Gemme put on her night wear then slipped into the sheets of the bunk, "Well i know one thing, if you don't give up, i won't. Your.. your.." She yawned one last time as her eyes closed down, "..never.. alone"
Storm over Cap Au Diable was now raging in full... Lightning was illuminating the sky more then once. Through it flew a giant bat, even though it had some trouble flying with these winds it almost seemed to have a smile on its face. It entered a macabre house through an open window on the first floor and started to shimmer and transform.
Elizabeth had just fed on a lone sailor at the docks. She looked vivid, and even had some color back on her undead skin. Her hair was wet. She looked up and another lightning bolt struck, followed by a thunderclap. She smiled... this was her kind of night.
Slowly she walked down to the catacombs... along the stairs the candles ignited themselves when she passed them. Entering her bedchaimbers she threw her cloak on her bed. On her writing desk was her diary. She sat down and started to write down the events of the evening. Ending the page with... "Bathory Erzsebet"
She looked at the paperwork left for her by her Dark Templars. "This is not the time for boring administation work. It will have to wait for later." she thought by herself. Tomorrow she will have to travel back to the Liberty Isles. She will do them before leaving.
Elizabeth walked towards the closet and picked out a black nightgown. Taking of her clothes she slipped into it. Then her body started to shimmer again, she turned into an evening mist that slowly creeped through the small openings of her tomb. Inside the mist reformed again. She closed her eyes and fell into the sleep of the undead, still smiling slightly.
- The Italian Job: The Godfather Returns #1151
Beginner - Encounter a renewed age for the Mook and the Family when Emile Marcone escapes from the Zig!
- Along Came a... Bug!? #528482
Average - A new race of aliens arrives on Earth. And Vanguard has you investigate them!
- The Court of the Blood Countess: The Rise of the Blood Countess #3805
Advanced - Go back in time and witness the birth of a vampire. Follow her to key moments in her life in order to stop her! A story of intrigue, drama and horror! Blood & Violence... not recommend to solo!
It is always darkest before dawn. The darkness frightens. The darkness is the unknown. The undiscovered. From the darkness fear is born.
A lone figure stood high atop the mighty tower of Arachnos in Grandville. His form was indistinguishable from the darkness that surrounded him, save for his eyes. They burned bright with a violet furore, cutting through the blackness like the last two stars in a cold and empty universe.
Through the darkness he could see fear as if it were a tangible thing. He could see the black tendrils of dread bleeding from the minds of the world. From every mind it came, seeping out from the most primal parts of the psyche. The mass of people in their homes and on the streets, those who lurked in the deeper places of the world, and those dwell high above it, all exuded these serpents of fear. It bubbled up from the cracks in the ground like fissures of black terror. It poured from the edifices of buildings, falling like unholy waterfalls. It snaked across the ground, it's malevolence sending shivers down the spine of all those it touched.
These tendrils, these black worms of fear had a destination. They were being drawn to a focal point high above the island of Grandville. They crawled up the central tower of Arachnos, twisting and fusing. The serpents of fear would reach their destination in him, feeding him, becoming part of him once more.
He was known as the Eternal Knightmare, forged from the very essence of fear itself. He and the black tendrils were simply infinitecimal parts of a greater, infinitely vaster entity that spanned the entirety of creation.
He peered down upon Grandville. This place, this little island city, was the heart of Arachnos and a nexus of fear. It was here that his physical form, the avatar of fear itself, would be empowered. It was here that was strongest. He watched the black tendrils of fear creep towards him through the darkness. In the darkness fear is at its zenith and it is always darkest before dawn.
----- Union's finest underachiever -----
Farewell CITY of HEROES
The First, the Last, the One.
Union: @ominousvoice2059
Michael's eyes snapped open, the bedroom he and his wife shared lit only by the dim glow of the streetlamp outside filtering in under the curtains and the silence punctured only by his wifes breathing and the soft ticking of the clock in the living room.
He knew instinctively something was wrong and it took several seconds for his conscious mind to identify the cause of that unshakeable knowledge; a pricking sensation, like static in the air before a thunderstorm seemed to cover the room and relaxing his mind he sensed that whatever this feeling of wrongness was, it covered an area of several city blocks.
Mmmph Michael felt his wife stir at his side and a few moments later her soft Irish voice broke the silence of the apartment, her accent thick and drowsy from sleep. Michael...what is she broke off and yawned once before continuing what is it?
Im not sure, can you feel that?
Your senses have always been sharper then mine, I dont feel anyth
.what IS that? It feels
Michael felt his wife shudder suddenly as though she was suddenly cold wrong
Figures groaned Michael as he rolled out from under the covers and retrieved his glasses from the nightstand. Remind me to have a long talk with whoever is responsible about considering the needs of others to a good nights sleep. Yawning, he then picked up a small Unity Vigil badge from the top drawer of the nightstand and tapped it once BODICIA do we have any reports of unusual activity within the Founders area? Im sensing some sort of disturbance but it would help if I had an idea who or what is behind it.
Good evening Michael, I am surprised to hear your voice at this hour
You and me both BODICIA, I swear the bad guys these days have no consideration for others
I think that comes with the job description remarked BODICIAs dry, electronic voice. The only report I have is from a patrol car which reported some Circle of Thorns members heading into the hills behind the Founders district earlier this evening.
Figures it would be the circle. I swear some days it seems they are just out to irritate me remarked Michael with his head inside the wardrobe as he fished out some clothes.
I think the correct temporal verb would be nights but that is neither here nor there
BODICIA came a muffled, slightly bemused voice from inside the closet.
Yes Michael?
Please shut up
Do you really have to deal with this hun? I mean cant you just come back to bed and leave it to someone else? asked Moira, now sitting upright in bed and half wrapped in the duvet.
Right now I cant think of anything Id like more but you know me Moira, Ive got the whole
Saving the world thing finished his wife dryly I know, believe me I know
she yawned before stretching and brushing one of her bangs of red hair behind her ear. You need some company?
Not really, go back to bed dear, this shouldnt take too long
Not going to happen, Im coming with you, if nothing else then to explain to these idiots how little I appreciate their little stunts stealing away my husband at an hour of the night that Im fairly certain only exists to stop last night and tomorrow morning from bumping into one another
You sure honey? Its been a while since youve done any magical duelling
Yes so stop trying to change my mind already. Go and stick the kettle on while I get dressed will you? half-ordered Moira as she rolled out of bed and headed for the small ensuite bathroom.
Yes dear
murmured Michael as he moved towards the door connecting the bedroom to the kitchen/living area of their apartment
I really hate it when they do this
What was that?
Nothing dear
..nothing at all
Roleplayer and member of "The Unity Vigil"
Characters: Union (Heroes) -
White Warlock Lv50 Ill/Storm Controller
Black Providence Lv50 MA/SR Scrapper
Starwhisper Lv50 Peacebringer
[u]Posting on Behalf of Britanic;[u]
Somewhere on the northern coast of Columbia, South America...
BRAKABRAKABRAKABRAKABRAKABRAKA.... THWIP. THWIP. THWIP, came the sound of automatic gunfire that tore through the jungle that threatened to engulf the dirt path that wound its way towards the coast. Running just ahead of the hail of bullets was a man who was essentially naked apart from the dark grey hat he clutched to his head, as well as the orange tiger-striped cargo pants he held to his nether regions in a somewhat pointless attempt at modesty.
Jeez, I gotta sort my freakin life out. Most guys who get caught in bed with another guys wife will generally get away with a simple @ss kicking. Me... Well I gotta end up with a freakin private army with enough firepower to turn this jungle into a freakin car park chasing my sorry butt. Next time, I really oughta think a bit harder before sleeping with the local drug barons wife.
BRAKABRAKABRAKABRAKABRAKABRAKA.... THWIP. THWIP. THWIP, came more gunfire just as the man cleared the treeline and bolted across the dangerously open bit of ground that lead to a rickety wharf, where a small somewhat dilapidated tug boat was moored.
As soon as the man got near enough he leapt from the shore onto the boats deck. Once his feet hit the deck he whipped up a machete that was embedded in the side of a boat, and cut the heavy rope that moored the vessel. Then, as bullets started to impact, splinter, and ricochet against the boat, he desperately tried to fire up the engine.
SPLUTTER... SPLUTTER... COUGH... COUGH... SPLUTTER...
Aww, cmon baby dont fail me now. I promise you will get a new lick of paint if you get me out of this one.
SPLUTTER... SPLUTTER.. COUGH... chug... chug... chUG...CHUG...CHUG...CHUG
OH YEAH, I FREAKIN LOVE YOU!!! he shouted, while kissing the boats wheel, as the vessels tired heavily rebuilt motor kicked to life.
On the shore a dozen or so heavily armed men continued to fire in a futile effort to stop the boat as it pulled away from shore. Not willing to just thank his lucky stars and make good his escape, the man felt the need to taunt his pursuers one last time...
Gentlemen, you will always remember this as the day you almost caught Big Game!!!
Joey Stahl, aka Melphon, suddenly shot bolt upright in his bed. He grabbed his head and winced, his eyes snapping shut again with the pain.
He could hear all the sounds around him. A gentle drip, drip of the tap in his bathroom. The wind howling and whistling through the small gap in his window frame. His heart pounding with fear inside his chest.
He winced again, collapsing back on to the bed in agony as he heard even more. A car alarm blaring out it's cry for help a few streets away. An explosion somehwere in the distance. Police sirens screaming down a street a couple of blocks away.
He squirmed on the bed, his head pounding with all the various noises of the world. His whole body became wracked with agony as he convulsed, squeezing his head tightly.
Suddenly, the sounds subsided almost as quickly as they had begun. He was back in his room, hearing only the now silent whistle of the wind through his window. He climbed out of bed and stumbled into his living room, pouring himself a large whiskey and collapsed in his chair. He swallowed the drink in one, and finished off a couple more before sitting, staring at the far wall.
This is been happening too often now, he thought. He was going to have to get someone to check it out.
@Crius
Bassai, Canadian Kid, Alruna, Kahi
Mistress Rad, Culpeo, Ms. Demeanor, Celsius
If nothing we do matters, then all that matters is what we do. Let's go to work.
Underthrow sat on the ledge outside his apartment's window, looking out over Talos with a magical fire crackling in the background. He knew he should practice his magic, or at least get some sleep, but something was nagging him in the back of his mind. He wasn't sure if it was the couple next door who were arguing at 4am or if there was a large magical presence nearby.
Whichever it was, he was certain he wasn't going to get any sleep that night. Sighing, he clicked his fingers. A pirate hat and mask popped onto him and a small, solid disc of magic grew beneath his feet. As he rode the disc around the Talos skyline, a small ball of fire floating nearby, he thought of how much he's changed in the last year, from an average guy working 9-5 in an office in Australia to this, a magic wielding hero of Paragon City. He shivered, grumbling to himself, "Hmph, deja vu."
I am the Blaster, I have filled the role of Tank, Controller and Defender
Sometimes all at once.
Union EU player! Pip pip, tally ho, top hats and tea etc etc
Richie Stacker, the Crazy Dragon, tumbled out of bed in a blind panic upon hearing a thunderclap loud enough to awaken all of Galaxy City and beyond, falling off the side and landing on his head.
"AGH! SHAMAN! WHERE!? Ow!"
Still waking up, Richie looked around what he can see of the room, considering he was upside down next to his bed, and after breathing a sigh of relief, stuggled to get himself upright again.
"Richie, don't be a mong, the Pantheon's not comin' after you..."
Soon after getting to his feet, he took one quick look at his alarm clock, which offered nothing useful but the repeated blinking of 00:00. Great... the power got cut at some point.
He then stumbled about in the darkness, trying to make his way to the refridgerator without tripping over anything. As he made his way there, only one thought crossed his mind: What now? He had been feeling far less compelled to make use of his hero license further after the death of Divider and The Couple, who had been making his life hell, as well as those of his sister and his newly-reformed friend, Lily, for the past month. His one major reason for even registering in the first place was the death of Momo Serizawa, who was now alive and well again.
Richie finally reached the fridge, and after a few minutes of half-asleep searching, found the bottle of vodka he'd kept in there for the past week, and promtly opened it and took a swig.
He then made his way, bottle in hand, to his computer and turned it and the monitor connected to it on. As it fired up, he took a few more swigs from the bottle before a few more thoughts ran through his head. Thoughts about the recent death of Terrilyn.
What happened to her? How did she die? Did they find a body? Is she going to get a funeral?
Richie looked out of the window for a moment, watching the rainwater flow erratically down the glass, before turning back to a fully booted computer. He then opened the email client and wrote out a short message addressed to just one person: His sister, Gemma Stacker, with just one line: I'm going home.
Leaving the computer running, Richie drank the last of the bottle, before falling back onto his bed.
I need to get away from this city for a bit, he thought to himself, before finally dozing off.
Sam: "My mind is a swirling miasma of scintillating thoughts and turgid ideas."
Max: "Me too."
Stuff
This is a dream. I know it's a dream. It MUST be a dream.
A cold fist gripped Samantha Huntington's heart as she looked around. Faded, shadowy walls leaned in around her, and everywhere she turned she saw heat, fire, the blazing glory of nuclear fusion, eating away at her flesh. Staring in horror down at her hands she saw her fingers boil from the inside out, wither and fall off. Her hair burst into flame on her scalp, searing her with an agony she wouldn't be able to describe.
And all around, the laughter. Andrew Martin, laughing at her for being a feeble, uncontrolled psychic. Richard, laughing at her for dying by inches due to the radiation poisoning her body. Her mother, laughing at her for never being able to hang onto a man. Kitmarch, laughing at her for thinking they were friends. Joseph, laughing at her for thinking he had loved her. Veskit, laughing at her for thinking she could help the Fletched Alliance be true heroes. Vicky, laughing at her for thinking she could help her brother find true love. Everyone she cared about, everyone she was scared for, everyone who mattered in her life, laughing at her for being a scared little girl who thought she could a lot of good in the world, and didn't want to die before she had the chance.
She turned and saw a new face. A face she recoiled from. A face framed by soft fair hair and a luminous glow, and she shrank away from him as his mouth opened in what she was sure would be the cruelest laugh of all...
A persistent ringing snapped her awake, gasping for breath, the sheets pushed off her naked form, and she shuddered as she lay on her sweat-soaked bed. The brilliant light pulsing from her body provided enough illumination as she scrambled to reach her bedside cabinet and the telephone trilling tunefully on it.
Her voice was gruff and sleepy as she picked up the phone.
"Sa- uhh... Luminescence, here." She paused to listen to the voice on the other end of the line, letting out a heartfelt sigh of relief.
"Oh, God. Hey there, sexy. You have no idea how glad I am that you called..."
The wisdom of Shadowe: Ghostraptor: The Shadowe is wise ...; FFM: Shadowe is no longer wise.
; Techbot_Alpha: Also, what Shadowe said. It seems he is still somewhat wise ; Bull Throttle: Shadowe was unwise in this instance...; Rock_Powerfist: in this instance Shadowe is wise.; Techbot_Alpha: Shadowe is very wise *nods*; Zortel: *Quotable line about Shadowe being wise goes here.*
Cara Trance, the young girl known to the world as the hero Burned Ice, sat huddled on the floor of her bedroom; her back to the corner by the window and her knees hugged to her chest. Her expression was blank as she gazed at her bedroom door; the barely muffled sounds of the argument in the main room of the small apartment she shared with her mom coming through the flimsy wood.
Danny, her mom's boyfriend, was drunk again.
She dropped her forehead to her bare knees and put her hands over her ears as she tried to block out the shouts and screams; and the occasional thud of something being thrown against the wall as the two adults fought.
She hated Danny for being like this, and her mom was no better! Things were so much better before her brother, Andy, had gotten sent to the Zig for hanging with some Outcast buddies of his; but since he'd gone and Danny had moved in, things had rapidly gotten worse and worse.
She glanced over at the uniform slung over the back of the ratty armchair near her bed; it's white and blue colours almost glowing in the dim moonlight streaming through the dirty window. Joining the Unity Vigil had seemed like a good idea at the time, but what with all the trouble at home, and now that BODICIA finding out about it, she doubted that would carry on much longer. After all, who'd want someone with her problems in their perfect group?
The sounds of the argument suddenly ended with a sharp slapping sound, followed a second later by the thud of something falling to the floor, and Cara's gaze snapped back towards the door. Heavy footsteps sounded in the hall, approaching her room, and she hugged her knees even tighter to herself as her body started to tremble.
The footsteps stopped outside her door, and with a crash, it was flung open to reveal Danny. He was dressed in his usual grubby jeans and leather jacket, and a bottle of bourbon hung loosely from his left hand. He gazed in to the room, and seeing the hero costume on the armchair, frowned deeply.
"I told you, kid, keep away from them damned capes. Looks like I'm gonna have to tell ya again, don't it?" He growled. Dropping the bottle to the floor, he unbuckled his thick leather belt and pulled it out of the waist of his jeans, then began to wrap it slowly around his fist.
"You gotta learn to listen to what I tell ya, kid... You gotta learn the hard way." He growled again, and took a step into the room.
@FloatingFatMan
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
For once it seems quiet this night in Founders Fall. There is hardly anyone walking the streets and there were no villains around looking to cause trouble. But still a lone figure stand on top of one of the high rises near the Founders Campus of Paragon University.
With the great rage that burns insides him and his unyielding determination keeping him awake every hour of everyday, Eleven stands with his fists tightly clenched watching over Founders Fall with his usual scowling look, making sure that all remains peaceful.
For a moment Elevens mind wanders away from his deep concentration of his surroundings. He thinks back at all the heroes he has met during his time in Paragon City and how they always seem to ask him the same thing.
You never switch off do you?
Do you never calm down? Chill out man!
You must have something else in your life other than fighting?
No! Eleven says to himself.
This is my purpose
My consequence.
Elevens mind drifts back to images of wars he has been forced to fight in. Running along a cliff face of a ravine in Edina where the mightiest of warriors were charging towards each other in an epic battle. Eleven leapt off the cliff diving onto a crowd of other fighters and began to brawl widely at anyone that got near him. Flash forwarding to the end of the battle where two factions of warriors both fighting for Earth, but now rivals to each other, demanding Eleven join their respective groups.
Eleven simply turned away from both groups in disgust and walked back home.
He flashed further back to 1995 and his old home in ruins. His family seemingly annihilated by an extermination squad. Memories of his family before rushing through his mind along with the picture of him on his knees letting out a huge raging war cry. Eleven thinking back on this as he stood on the high rise in Founders clenched his eyes shut as if he was about to uncharacteristically burst into tears.
He saw visions of his team mates. The only small bit of people that could be called friends. Fellow warriors that he could count on in battle, but in full knowledge that he would out live everyone one of them whether they were killed in combat, or died of old age, just like everyone else he met since becoming immortal and everyone he will meet in the future.
The visions kept rushing through Elevens head until all that was left was red rage. He let out a war cry that had bound to wake up some of the locals with its volume. Eleven looked out to the district again, returning to his heavy scowling look. He saw a vision of his time training with his old master in Japan.
Eleven
what do you see at the end of your fists?
Eleven clenched his fists tight again. Scowling even more and gritting his teeth, he answered to himself.
Consequence!
Eleven flung a straight punch into thin air and then returned to his watching stance.
Almost immediately he could hear a disturbance on the streets below. A women was being harassed by Crey agents. Crey were still very much high on Elevens target list and without any hesitation, he jumped off the building towards the troubled citizen.
Landing heavily on the ground, the Crey agents and the women lost their balance from the shockwave of Elevens landing. He did not even give time for the agents to say Oh no its him!. He charged at his foes with his unyielding rage after he heard a booming voice from the skies simply said to Eleven
.
FIGHT!
Credit goes to FrankyT49 for animated avatar
List of toons on Union Handbook
Leon Tasker: "Dunelm Group! What is your profession?"
Dunelm Group: "OOOOORRRAAAAH!"
The clock behind him clicked its way round to 4:05. Had it have been a wall clock or a travel alarm, the tick would have been barely noticeable. But as it was the enormous clock that sat on the side of a tower in Steel Canyon, its tick was a little more audible than most. Dante liked the clock. Its sounds made it all too evident that another moment had passed, another moment that the sleeping millions would never see again. Not that it mattered to him.
He stood on the very edge of the tower, a 200 foot drop below him. Stiff backed and firm of posture, he gazed out over the city that he hated and loved in the same breath. He sensed fear. Not the kind he was used to, not the creeping terror that oozed its way from the Netherworld through his magic. No, this was normal, human fear. In many ways, it was worse as it was caused by intangible worries rather than by murky entities from the Netherworld. The city still feared.
I must do more, he muttered to himself. He pondered recent events in his mind, realising just how much he had missed. The past few weeks had seen him in other places, other dimensions, battling foes few knew of. He guarded the walls of this dimension jealously, aware of the dark forces that encroached upon it. But in holding those forces back, had he forgotten about the smaller things?
You never see how the small things affect people, his wife used to say to him. Perhaps she was right. He should make more effort to interact with others, no matter how much they irritated him. He pondered the people that he had met since returning to the world last summer and for a few seconds, the loneliness that he suppressed overwhelmed him. The weakness lasted a second as his cast iron will crushed the thought. He was about to reprimand himself for the lapse of control when another of his wifes sayings came to him.
It is our weaknesses that make us unique. He had laughed when she said it. He had no time for weakness. But the sorrow of losing her had broken some part of him. He would never have allowed emotion to dictate his actions as they had last summer had it not been for her loss. Was the fear a weakness, he wondered, or was it just there to remind him of his humanity?
The clock ticked round to 4:06 and this time, he let the fear come.
@Dante EU - Union Roleplayer and Altisis Victim
The Militia: Union RP Supergroup - www.themilitia.org.uk
((Delayed post- this would have occurred on Friday morning))
The sun was still somewhere below the Antarctic horizon, but Glitterfrost had been unable to sleep for hours. She walked out across the ice sheets and gazed up at the night sky.
She had come out here to meet a man who shared her powers, hoping to find solutions to her problems. Although he had answered every one of her questions, it hadn't helped. In fact, she probably felt worse now. He was over seventy years old, living alone somewhere near the South Pole and refusing almost all human contact, and she wondered if that was her future. It must be so lonely.
Not that loneliness was anything new to her. Even when she was a little child, she had felt shunned even by her own parents, who shuttled her back and forth across continents so that neither would have to look after her for too long. Even The Iceman, her closest companion for ten years, had kept a clear two foot distance between them when they were off stage. And now, although she had found a community that accepted her, a group of people who didn't instinctively move away from her and even one or two people who seemed to want to get closer to her... she was constantly terrified of the pain she could cause if she slipped up, even for one moment.
Perhaps things could be different now, though. She had been offered an option for a normal life. An option that would allow her to be close to another person, for the first time in her life, but at a great cost.
She sighed. It was such a big decision, and not one she felt she could make out here. If she left straight away, she could make it to Macquarie Island in time to get a lift from the Antarctic Division's supply flight. She could be back in Paragon by Saturday night.
The Purple Party Pagan of Paragon
Globals: @Morgana Fiolett / @Genevieve Moore
Altoholic with too many characters to count now I have all these shiny servers...
[u]The Final Hour[u]
"You killed my family! I've been living an unending nightmare of a life, an eternal storm over my skys... rain beats against my brow... and I do not stop! For I know that I will slay YOU and have my peace!" he bellowed through his teeth with a hard British accent, painting his anger with a broken gravitas.
"You have done me wrong, Monster. It was a mistake to kill those people. You've robbed me of everything and now I shall do the same to you! Your life is mine!!" his sword and medieval armour shone in the moonlight, like a mirror of the heavens.
"Have at you!" he cried, leaping into the air with a determined eye for revenge, bringing his broadsword to bare on his opponent.
Hatesman took one step forwards and clutched the man's sword in his hand, in the space of a heartbeat, he wrenched the weapon away, catapulting it through the air like a Catherine Wheel before burying itself into the wall, fracturing the concrete 20 feet in every direction like an intricate spiders web.
With his second hand Hatesman delivered an earth shattering punch square to his opponents face, right between the eyes, hurtling him across the room like a discarded rag doll.
Hatesman was on top of him before he could even blink, contorting his fingers into a claw, he slammed the Knights neck against the wall and ripped away his face cover like it was made of wrapping foil.
"Your quest is at an end." he began, as the Heroes perfect sky blue eyes lit up with an unimaginable pain, his face gradually making its way to a dark shade of purple and his repressed tears making their bid for freedom.
Cheek to cheek Hatesman whispered into his victims ear, "And as you leave this world, I want you to know..."
" My Conscience is Clear"
It takes Chaos to move the world to Action.
April 7th: 4am
Edward sat crouched on a ledge of a building, deep in thought, the hour of the wolf had come around again, this time he was merely looking for guidance from his own self, sometimes the Lord delivered, sometimes he did not, still questions needed to be asked.
"What do I do?" he muttered to himself.
"Do I ignore the law of man and instead administer the law of God, do I administer holy vengeance upon a man willing to beat his own child or do I respect the laws of man and let the police deal with this?"
He had been told how a young heroine had been beaten by her father...this upset him deeply, such things always upset him, unwarranted violence against women was something he shunned even as a villain. There were times when fighting those of the female persuasion was needed but even then he tended to pull his blows just that little bit more than he would if he was a male foe.
Sure the others had told him he wasn't useless but times like this made him feel it, he should have been there for the poor girl, stopped the striking hand but he didn't know...
Right now he had a choice, did he follow the words that Michael had spoken, the reminder that even heroes were bound by the law and any attempt on the life of this...scumbag...would result in prosecution, most likely of Murder one or did he ignore the words and administer a wrathful and violent vengeance upon him, the likes of which this man had never seen.
The choice was hard, how could he risk his existence by going after this man, yes he had sinned but killing him might be a greater sin in the eyes of the law, the first commandment, thou shalt not kill.
Edward smiled to himself, "no...there are better ways to punish than to kill or maim but do I even utilize such a non-lethal punishment?"
The question still remained, to punish by his own hand or to let the law of man punish him, the laws often were flaunted or avoided entirely by those with power, this man did not have that kind of power, he was no Countess Crey.
"Do I even punish him at all, do I instead seek to show him the wrongs of what he did and give himself up to the police, the mercy of the Lord is as infinite as his rage, which does he wish me to use?"
The poor girl, he still didn't know if she needed her father to put right what he had caused in her mind. He would have to stay his hand for now until he knew that the girl wouldn't be needing her father to forcibily help her...well...perhaps there was some way of using some 'friendly' persuasion in getting the father to correct his mistakes...
Badge Earned: Wing Clipper
A real showstopper!
Astoria, a once beautiful town now clouded with a mysterious fog, ridden with ghosts and undead corpses. A tall man materialises through the smoky mist, cloaked in a dark robe. The white collar around his neck marks him as a holy man, a preacher. He walks with a sad and solemn air, barely shifting weight as he drags one foot after the other. As he shuffles by, he absent-mindedly kicks aside the weeks old trash littering the sidewalks; he nearly stumbles trying to avoid the sewerage leaking out from the gutters. It was hard to breath, with the air stinking of rotten flesh, threatening to seize the lungs and heave last nights beef and vegetables. In the far distance, the priest could hear dogs barking, probably stirred by the monsters of the night. As he reached the towns Cathedral, he witnessed the clock-tower strike four o clock.
Once inside, the priest knelt, shut his eyes and began to whisper in prayer. Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom, come! he pressed, as though begging for the heavens to descend. Unseen by the priest, tall shadows start to move beyond the church windows. Your will be done on earth, as it is in heaven. Give us day by day, our daily bread. And forgive us our sins, for we also forgive those who are indebted to us.
A slight noise from outside startled the priest mid-prayer and his eyes shot open in alert. Lord, do not lead us into temptation, but deliver us from evil. As he sounded these last words, he somehow knew what awaited him beyond the safety of hallowed ground. Slowly, he rose to his feet and turned to face the door.
The barking dogs had silenced and nothing more could be heard but the gentle whistling of the wind. As the priest stood, surrounded by his enemies, a slight sense of loneliness washed over him. He considered the Militia or his twelve disciples across the globe, Edward, Rachel, Luther, Gunter, Arnold, Simon and his brother James, Mary and Christina, Nathaniel and even the young prince called Peter. But they neednt be troubled he thought; this was his burden to carry, his daily hour of crisis.
The cathedral doors creaked open and out came the priest. With a great noise the large doors slammed shut behind him. With great effort, he lifted up his head and gazed upon his tormentor. It had the form of a man, except he was enveloped in impenetrable darkness. Around him were dozens of other faceless apparitions.
You look tired came a voice, uttered from deep beneath the darkness. What demon are you? commanded the priest, in a flat yet authoritative tone. Like my father, you are a fallen angel, but you serve the evil one and that makes you a demon. You have come to torment me. Well, you shall fail just like your friends.
A silence pierced the night momentarily, and then all was shattered as the army of demons began to laugh. Truly, you are the son of Noktil said the demon, for you show stupidity of his highest quality. Suddenly, the surrounding figures start to run in all directions, disappearing into shadow one after the other. Reverend Pious Michael Hunter, we are not here to torment you, but to destroy you.
As quickly as they had gone, the demons returned, and they were everywhere. Crouched down on lampposts, hanging off the dead trees, clasped onto the Cathedral walls, every inch was shadowed. We are Legion the army echoed, for we are plenty
A jolt of pain at the knees woke the priest from his trance; he looked down and saw a demon biting at his leg. He raised an arm and brought it down with great speed and might but the demon had gone, replaced by another, biting at his neck, and another at the elbow, suddenly a blow struck his jaw, connecting with such force that several teeth broke loose, blood spurts into the misty air, his head was already rolling towards the ground but his skin still stayed behind, fluttering like an open parachute. Just as he was about to hit the ground, a blow to the ribs sent him skyward. Suddenly, it dawned on him. The demons were launching consecutive blows, flying at him from all directions. He fell and hit the ground like a rag doll, on the second bounce, a demon collided with his spine, sending him straight into the stone walls of the cathedral. He could feel his head swelling up from internal bleeding. He would need to strike back or risk loosing consciousness, but under the endless assault, no opportunity presented itself.
Something struck him in the stomach and he keeled over in pain, another force struck his broken jaw, then against behind his skull. His head was swimming now and his vision blurry.
Pathetic! cried the tallest demon, standing over the bloody mass of torn flesh and broken bones that was the priest. You so-called prophets are all the same, so keen to throw your lives away. God gives you the gift of words, a little magic to heal wounds, calm the weather and suddenly you think you can change the world. Well heres a reality check for ya, this worlds already ours. Its too late.
Legion the priest managed, choking on his own blood. Are you done slapping me around? Its just that, some of us have to work for a living. I have a sermon in the morn- ahhhhhhhhh!
A streak of pain unlike any other pressed the priest back into the ground, face dug deep into the earth. Why? Why do you persist? There is no longer room in this world for religion, dont you see? You preach until your mouth is dry and the world ignores you. They dont believe in the prophets! Moses, Jesus, Mohammed, theyre nothing but names in a world of science and technology. Even your magic are no more than fairy tales and superstitions. Reverend, you are on the loosing side of an eternal battle. Man understands evil, they believe in it because it is all that they know, it is thier natural state of mind. Reverend, the sooner you realize it, the better; God has forgotten about Man. This is the new dawn, where evil reign supreme and Lucifer wins all souls.
Finally, the priest returns to his feet, just barely able to hold himself together. Whoever you once were, back in heaven, all of you, you made a big mistake siding with the Destroyer. Your argument is flawed. Hear this; a sower went out to sow his seed. And as he sowed, some fell by the wayside; and it was trampled down, and the birds of the air devoured it. Some fell on rocks; and as soon as it sprang up, it withered away because it lacked moisture. And some fell among thorns, and the thorns sprang up with it and chocked it. But others fell on good ground, sprang up, and yielded a crop a hundredfold.
The priest was now renewed in spirit, his time was near. Now the parable is this he continued. The seed is the word of God. Those by the wayside are the ones who hear; but are so consumed with hatred that the devil is allowed to come in and take away the word out of their hearts, lest they should believe and be saved. But the ones on the rock are those who when they hear, receive the word with joy; and these have no root, who believe for a while and in time of temptation fall away. Now the ones that fell among thorns are those who, when they have heard, go out and are chocked with cares, riches, and pleasures of life. Instead of believing with faith, they demand to see evidence, proof of God and Satan and prophets and magic so they bring no fruit to maturity. But the ones that fell on good ground are those who, having heard the word with a noble and good heart, keep it, and bear fruit with patience. Tell me, which one are you?
One after the other, the demons fell to their knees. Sunlight washed over them and the darkness departed from them leaving behind sad and tearful men, women and children, all having been possessed. Now, only the priest could see the evil spirit as it stood cowering in the shadows. Empowered with the Holy Spirit, the priest produced a gleaming sword and directed its point towards the dark spirit, whispering in an unknown language, I am Reverend; I am Saintly; I am Pious Michael Hunter, avatar of the Word of God and I shall go out into the world and I shall prophesy.
(585)
Jean-Luc leaned against the windowframe in the high rise apartment which was not his own. This wasn't his place, and this wasn't his bedroom. He doubted he could even lay claim to the slumbering figure in the bed behind him either. The Creole's head pounded with bourbon and thoughts which chased their way round and round his head. But he was used to this.
This hour was always his, after all. He was nocturnal, always had been, and he was no stranger to this twilight time, this sitting perched upon a lone crag, howling one's lament to the sky, pacing beneath the open sky while all others in the world slept. In the light of the cityscape below, Jean-Luc's silverwhite hair gleamed like quicksilver. He brushed his hand over the two discoloured, greyish depressions over his sternum, and his golden eyes glittering and refracted the light from the streets below.
I bin gone too long.
He had no idea what had possessed him to make a trip to Pocket D, leaving his own club and his own booze to slum it around in a place he hardly knew anymore. Different faces, different heroes, different villains all flowed past him like a sea he didn't know how to navigate anymore. Once again, he was the outsider looking in, but he'd been a lone wolf most of his life, and that wasn't new to him.
And then, someone had recognised him from the Ring circuit and asked for his autograph. And then, someone else recognised him, and the word spread like wildfire: Loup Garou back in Pocket D. He'd downplayed it as much as he could, but more and more people started appearing, more and more familiar faces, talking about commendations and doings in a world Jean-Luc barely knew anymore. The Creole got drunk as only he could get, and then Jay appeared, setting his sense of smell going haywire with scents and colours exploding in his head as was so often the case. Hardly believing his luck and half-afraid he was going to wake up at any minute (or just plain afraid, as he'd never been in this situation Topside before) - one thing led to another as it often does in such situations, and here he was, enclosed by unfamiliar surroundings and scents, trying to make sense of what he was doing and how much he could say, or if he even dared.
Because Jean-Luc had never actually retired. He was still working, harder than ever, just on a track which was nowhere near this side of the law. He was back in the Ring, gathering what information he could when he could get it, adding it to the evergrowing files Ragefang had left him. He knew more about what was going on in the Isles than many people would care to admit. Yakuza Girl had sponsored him in the ring as he had asked, and now and again gave him a tip. He was gathering information and informants, acquaintances and details, allowing people to think he had gone underground, fallen through the cracks, given up on the hero work.
And all the while, he was just tightening the noose, he had his prey in mind, and he'd never forgotten him. All the efforts of the past four months were focussed upon his one goal, the one who wasn't going to get away...the one Jean-Luc had no intention of merely arresting. The next time they met, Jean-Luc wasn't going in as the hero, but as the Ring fighter, and the hunter. It was going to be bloodshed.
"You out dere, Hatesman...I feel you. You don' feel me...but I'm comin' fo' you. Certainment."
Let everyone think him gone for a little while longer...it wounded him to be so fallen in the eyes of many, but it was for the best. What he was about to do, he had to do alone.
Jean-Luc turned back toward the bed, sitting down carefully so he didn't wake sleeping form beneath the coverlet, and lay down, his arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling, then turned his head and watched the sleeping human beside him with a conflicted mind.
I'd like to tell you, m'sieu...like to say whole lotta t'ings. But I don' dare. Not yet...mebbe someday. Bon nuit, mon ami.
Jean-Luc closed his eyes and gave up the fight against sleep. Let others play the hero for one more night.
At this hour of the night, Crey's Folly looked like a scene from the Portent's personal hell - a twisted, poisoned industrial ruin, a world fully corrupted by human hands. He'd slipped past Crey's patrols to reach a good vantage point above this supposedly abandoned lab, one of the few left on his list of possible staging areas for whatever viral attack the corporation was planning. There were no signs of life from within the stained brickwork and corroded metal of the outer walls, no light from the windows. Whatever awaited within, the Portent already knew that it would not be what he sought. There was just no way to be sure without checking everywhere.
And when you do find it, what then? The voice of doubt was palpable in the Portent's mind, the voice of fear and hate and anger and pride. Destroy the weapon, turn their scientists over to the authorities you so distrust - to serve their time in prison and return with their secrets to Crey, or to surrender them to the govermment itself? What good will you really do?
The Portent ignored the voice, concentrating on watching the ground below for movement as he rappelled silently toward the lab roof. It continued, mocking.
It won't end until you have the strength to end it. Send them a message - let them know that their lives are forfeit. You know that the Priest was right. They've made their choice, all of them - they chose to kill hundreds, thousands, for greed's sake. They don't deserve to live - and they can't be contained. They're monsters. If you really must insist on trying to protect the weak... there's no other choice. To protect the sheep, you must kill the wolf.
"I do not have the right," the Portent muttered to himself as he made his way across the roof to the broken skylight. "It is not my place to pass that judgement."
Does the physician have no right to judge how to heal? The corruption of the Crey is at their very core, in the choices they have made, just like the Rikti. A cancer that resists treatment must be excised from the body. Crey is that cancer. The corruption goes to the heart - so the heart must be cut out.
The Portent paused. A moment's concentration sent the voice to the back of his mind, silenced for now. The night was only beginning, and doubt was an alien distraction, nothing more.
Knights Exemplar: Wolfram, Autumnfox, Starlit Spirit.
Militia: The Portent, Wavekite, Mr. Sandman.
The Cadre: WarpLocke, Zajin.
Numerous others.
Edward was quitely sitting in his favourite, if very tatty and well worn, armchair. Salvaged from a skip near the abandoned house he had begun to call home.
This place reminded him of his first true home, an abandoned house on the crud-heap that was Darwins Landing on Mercy Island. Sure he had to deal with the occasional Snake intrusion outside his house, mostly dealt with by throwing a potted plant at the head of said snake and yelling at them to scram but he had liked it.
Part of him missed the quiet hissing of the snakes during the night as they talked about an uprising that never came or Stheno, their goddess-come-leader leading them to a victory which never materialized.
The very thought got him questioning himself, was he really any better off now that he was here in Paragon, sure he was fighting the good fight and had made a name for himself as a true hero but was he really doing the city any good.
It seemed like every time he took down a cell of Knives or sweeped the thugs off the streets around his city block, more just turned up. Could anybody ever really hold back the crime tidal wave that constantly washed the streets of Paragon?
He had fought the one known as Lady Sadako in order to protect his friend Jess from any harm but in truth he simply couldn't force the seemingly inevitable duel between the two from happening, sure Sadako owed him but he didn't want to be owed anything, he didn't want to have power over someone, that kind of power can truly corrupt.
He sighed softly, feeling the familar sensation of a warm, tingling glow on his skin he looked up to see Steve, his Shivan, holding out a cup of coffee.
"Thanks Steve, tell me...do you enjoy being here?"
The Shivan nodded it's protoplasmic skull of a head and settled down in the other chair.
"It's just, well, you know, if you wanted to go back to your people in Bloody Bay and go about completing whatever it is Shivans are meant to be doing, you're free to leave..."
The Shivan gurgled, a sound Edward knew was a kind of laugh and reached for a pen and paper, writing on it for a moment before passing it over. Edward slowly glanced over the note.
"I can't go back, not knowing what I know now, my people are doing something, something they don't comprehend, there is a storm coming and I'd rather be by your side, to be mindless is not to be free, to learn and experience is to be free and that freedom you have given me, even if I cannot remember the life these remains once had, I can still make a new one out of it."
Edward Smiled and nodded, "Who would have thought a Shivan would have such insight...I do still need to work on that modification to allow you to speak."
Steve shrugged, perhaps a sign of saying that there was no real rush for it for now.
"I feel so useless though, I'm barely around enough to help the Unity Vigil, it seems like I'm so loose and unneeded cog in a well oiled machine, especially now they have Ben and Freddy, those two have always outclassed me in everything so why am I still there, they don't need me at all. The only people that truly need me are you and my family..."
He looked at the clock, the hour just before dawn would break, "ah the all to familiar hour of the wolf..."
Steve looked as questioningly as a Shivan could.
Edward smiled, "The hour of the wolf is the hour between night and dawn, it is the hour when most people die, it is the hour when the sleepless are haunted by their deepest fear, it's the hour when my kind become more powerful...it's the hour when, if a person is awake, they question the self all the more...don't ask me why this is but it's just the way of the world..."
He sipped his coffee slowly, "right now there is a hero sitting on a window ledge no doubt, wondering the same things I am, wondering wether he really should just give up, retire and do something normal with their life, this will last until dawn breaks, the warm rays of the sun somehow erroding and slowly erasing those doubts until the hero returns home to sleep, forgetting about his self doubts..."
Edward sighed, "but me...I never forget them, even when I was human I never forgot them, a life filled with doubt is a harsh one indeed but you simply put those doubts to the back of your mind when the situation requires it...it's only during this hour of the wolf that I let them resurface...I allow them time to breath, if I kept them bottled down, I think I would have gone completely insane so very long ago"
Edward took another sip of his coffee, "oh how those that sleep have such a blissful state to never be awake during this time, even if they suffer the nightmares inherent within it, they can simply wake up, shrug them off and go about their day, those of us awake...it's much worse.."
Edward slowly stood up, finishing the rest of his coffee, "still...we do what we must because we can...I think it's time to go work this off a little, cold night air and a good workout will do it..."
Steve simply nodded his head while Edward unlocked the front door and slowly stepped out into the night, the sound of ever present sirens filling the air, crime didn't rest but thankfully neither did he...
((basically the idea for this thread is about posting what your character is doing/feeling in topic titled time (the hour of the wolf) are they having their own self doubts, going over things in their mind or simply suffering from a bout of nightmares...the rest is up to you..))
Edit: ((the hour of the wolf is currently 4am-5am due to the clocks going forward an hour and the day is wednesday)).
Badge Earned: Wing Clipper
A real showstopper!