Death in Skyway City

((Open Roleplay: Paragon Police Department's psychic division have been called in to work alongside Forensics on a string of murders. If your character works with the police, they may have called you in too. Even if you’re a passing hero or a brave civilian who wants to help with the investigation, feel free to join in. Same golden rule, no god-modding, basically meaning don't overdo it. Enjoy. Rated 15+))

"You know what they call this part of the city?" said the captain, peering down at Lieutenant Hicks from a high fence. "They call it the land of the lost. Whole damn neighbourhood, torn apart in the first Rikti War, and with this city's dull witted government, it don't look like it'll be getting patched up proper anytime soon. You got the poor and the homeless wandering around with nothing else to depend on but crime. Most of them were mutilated by alien technology, now they call themselves the Lost, terrorizing normal folks with that their psychic powers. But not today Lieutenant Hicks, not today. Know why? 'Cos some idiot been out here and unleashed his own brand of dark justice. Come on up here and see for yourself lieutenant, brace yourself though, its an eye sore."

The young lieutenant threw aside his bright white tie and hurled himself up onto the fence. With a deep breath, he lifted his gaze and slowly took in the landscape, but nothing could have prepared him for what he saw. Under the dark shadow of a long concrete bridge defaced with graffiti, laid a horrific scene of blood and gore. Body after body laid strewn across the sewerage, some were bloated with dirty water, bobbing lifelessly like unstrung puppets. Even from afar it was clear the victims were not just the mutated homeless but ordinary citizens who might have lived ordinary lives. "Like I said, its an eye sore, it's grotesque! There must be over a hundred dead under this bridge. Get your Shield Police people on this asap, call out the local heroes, post a message on the frequencies, just do something and do it quick. We need these bodies moved and examined. Preferably before dawn, which gives you an hour, maybe two. I don't want to see this mess splashed all over the morning papers!"

---

The sense of revulsion emanating from beneath the bridge snagged her attention as she soared along the uppermost raised roadway of Skyway City, dodging cars, busses, trucks and taxis, ignoring the occassional cry of dismay as she barrel-rolled to avoid a motorcyclist.

That sense of horror, dismay, fear, hatred... it was far more than she expected from the inhabitants of this part of the city, and stray thoughts scattered through her mind. This was not par for the course in Skyway. Not by a long shot.

Focusing her will, she blinked out of existence a fraction of a second before a massive eighteen-wheeler would have driven her skull all the way down to her feet, and reappeared, unfazed, at the edge of the incident zone.

"Luminescence of the Fletched Alliance. Who's in charge here?" her voice carried, clear and strong, but it took all of her self-control to avoid broadcasting what she was seeing to everyone for a mile around.

---

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.*

Death. She had caught the sharp, nauseating stench over a mile off, the feeling like a punch to the gut and an instant, chilly migrane.

Kitsune Vixen stood, looking at the bridge. She didn't need to see under it to know what was there. Death was like a dull ache, a grim throb in her mind, grating against her psyche. She rested her palm against her temple, brushing aside the blood red hair, brick red fur catching the first rays of light slightly.
Kitsune Vixen...now in appearance, and not just name. Chiron Doctor, Field Empath, Heroine and Psionic.

So, much though she wanted to turn, run, slam the door to her room and dive under the sheets, curling up and quivering and wishing it would all go away, she knew she couldn't.
Instead she made her way to the two figures on the fence, noting the PPD insignias and ranks.
"Captain?" she said quietly. "What happened?"

---

At the corner of my eye I caught the sight of a woman flitting through the air like an insect caught in traffic. She was dancing around cars and lorries like a feathered ballerina just narrowly escaping death by collision. She disappeared and reappeared in my face, so suddenly I almost fell off my perch. She brought no wind with her yet I was blown away by her magnificence. She radiated a kind of beauty, one which a man like me shall never know. My plain white tie seemed to glow with excitement and a sadness washed over me, this woman was superb way beyond my league.

"Luminescence of the Fletched Alliance" she said, her angelic voice carrying a weight of authority. "Who's in charge here?" Now technically, the Captain was the highest ranking officer on the scene but my heart, which was now beating so fast I feared it might burst, kept telling me to step up and be the knight in shining armour. Ah screw it.

"The... the er, the captain" I stammered, my stone-cold, death defying nerves betraying me now of all times. I pointed in the Captiain's direction only to see him with a red haired lady. For a fraction of a second my tie shone with excitement and I fell in love all over again, but I promise you, it was only for a second. A hundred dead and suddenly its my lucky day. I guess it takes that many corpses for me to pull a pretty lady. "He looks busy, I'm Lieutenant Hicks of the Shield Police Branch, we could use your help moving these bodies, it's disgusting, I know, and believe me, I hate to ask." I'd rather be asking you to dinner to be perfectly honest. Then maybe a night at my place, play cops and robbers, maybe some strip poker, show me some of that superpowered body, one piece at a time. Ah! That would be a dream come true. Okay Hicks, stop looking at her chest and concentrate on the job.

---

While respecting Lieutenant Hicks' privacy, it was all but impossible for Sam to avoid following the man's train of thought. Thankfully for her modesty, she'd gone with trousers today, rather than her usual ultra-micro-mini-skirt...

With a smile and a saucy wink, Sam turned to look at the carnage once more, her expression turning ghostly pale, and she almost stumbled. "Help moving the bodies, eh? You sure know how to show a girl a good time, Lieutenant." Her pronunciation, a clear 'lef-tenant', betrayed her British nationality as much as anything else, despite years of aclimating herself to Amercians.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, her skin began to glow, growing brighter by the second, as she concentrated in reducing a fraction of the telekinetic barrier she held under her skin, and a stream of radiation trickled forth. Ostentatiously, she raised a hand, and four of the nearest corpses rose from the ground, blood dripping from them to pool on the floor like a macabre rainfall.

"Wh-where would you like them, sugar?" she murmured, her voice strained with concentration. Even as the bodies moved, Sam knew that the microscopic cameras laced into the threads of her clothes were recording the scene and transmitting it to Huntington Manor, where Helena would begin analysing everything visible and running it through her physics processing software in an attempt to make some sense out of it.

---

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.*

This early in the day, the drive from Talos to Skyway was quick and easy. Jake wasn't naturally an early bird, but there was a big shipment of materials coming in that morning and he wanted to be sure that everything was ready. As he neared the warehouse something caught his eye, decades of habit allowing him to spot certain things without conscious effort. Looked like the cops were interested in something, maybe a white mask too.

Ten years ago, that would have been enough to have him turn away and head far from the area. But he was a respectable business man now, wasn't he? Whatever was going on, it wasn't anything to do with him. He drove on into the yard, got out of his car and took his usual walk around the building, making sure none of the local punks had been messing the place up. Most of them had learnt to stay away by now, after he'd cracked a few heads and told them to spread the word that you stayed off Iron Anderson's place. But you still got a few who were too dumb to get the message.

There were no signs that anybody had been around this night, though. In fact, it occurred to him now that there hadn't seemed to be anybody much around at all as he came in. That, along with the cops, had him thinking maybe something was going down. He didn't need anything messing up his delivery, they were due to start on a big job soon, he needed those materials. It would maybe be better if he found out just what was going on.

As he walked over to where the cops were standing, he began to get a whiff of something bad. Something he never expected to smell in this neighbourhood, crummy as it was. Even then, he was unprepared for the scale of what he saw when it finally came into view. He'd seen his share of dead people, but he hadn't seen anything like this since the war. Even as he took it in, some of the bodies began to rise into the air. Definitely a white mask with the cops.

Jake thought about turning back. If his delivery got delayed by this, he was going to have to do a lot of rearranging. But he knew how the cops worked. He was an ex-con, he had a warehouse near the scene, they'd be knocking on the door sooner-or-later. He might as well get it over with. The nearest cop was looking kind of goggle-eyed at some good looking dame. Jake settled his fedora straight and stepped over to him.

"Officer, my names Jake Anderson, I rent the warehouse back over there. You tell me anything about what's going on here?"

---

However, it turned out that Smith was not a time-travelling Terminator

The tall, indistinguishable figure was entirely obscured by the shadows created by the two skyscrapers either side of him, with barely five feet between them. The light of early morning shone lightly but a few inches away from his worn canvas shoes, but he was almost entirely hidden. Suddenly the figure's head angled up sharply as though drawn by an unseen force, and he hovered slightly into the light.

Even in the plain day it was difficult to distinguish anything of him; well, at least his build portrayed a man, but it was difficult to say. He wore a thigh-length, hooded coat of the darkest green and was pulled it closely around his form with the hands he hid in his pockets. Not closed, as it had long ago lost it's buttons. Black jeans appeared almost unnoticed beneath the large coat, leading back down to the same worn canvas shoes. His features, in fact almost all of his skin were hidden; his face obscured by an unnatural blanket of darkness created by the hood.

He sighed deeply after his head was angled upwards towards what looked like a nearby hotel. He muttered something inaudible under his breath before his body began to rise high into the air of it's own accord, heading towards a high hotel window.

* * *

Jean Roads, a small, sixteen year-old, brown-haired girl sat nervously on the bed of her hotel room, biting her nails. She had never been a nail-biter, but there was just something in her mind that told her that this was a situation that required nail-biting. Oddly, her features, her clothes, her demeanour, everything about her screamed someone who didn't belong here. This was true, it was an unusual story that had brought her into a room finer furbished than her old house.

Throughout her childhood she was plagued with painful headaches at contradictory moments that appeared to defy diagnosis. Over the years she had been prescribed numerous painkillers, none of which appeared to have any real effect. The headaches would sprout up sporadically, sometimes one in a month, sometimes four in a day and the pain appeared unaffected by her medication. In fact, it was steadily getting worse.

Three months ago, she had a headache that just wouldn't stop. In the end she had to be placed in a comatose state to halt any serious neurological damage; though in truth, she was still feeling the pain even while in the coma. During this time, a professor from the Institute of Psychic Studies, Paragon City came to visit her.

After endless neurological tests to determine her condition, he concluded that she was causing the pain herself, she was automatically suppressing her latent psychic powers. He prescribed a medication to chemically suppress her psychic powers until she could travel to Skyway City where he and his team could better study her condition and attempt to her stop her natural suppression.

As Jean's thoughts wandered to the events that had brought her here, she was suddenly jogged out of them by a knock on the door. "Who-who is it?' She almost whispered, timidly.
"Hi, I'm Mr. Johnson, manager of this hotel and I've come up to make sure your stay is as enjoyable as possible." His voice was kind and inviting, but his confidence was intimidating to Jean in this strange city.

"N-no thanks, I'm fine." She wasn't quite sure what he had asked, or whether this was the right thing to respond to it, she just wanted him to go away.
"Oh." He paused for a moment and sounded like he was walking away, before he stopped and came back to the door. "Ms. Roads? It's my job to make sure that recently checked-in vistiors are as comfortable as possible, and if you don't let me in, I wouldn't be doing my job right now would I?" It was if there was meter labled "Kindness" and he had mechanically turned it all the way up to the edge.

"Oh...alright." She got the feeling he wasn't going to take no for an answer, so she just hoped that he'd be in and out as soon as possible. Carefully, she unlocked the door and opened it. Standing there was the dark, imposing hooded figure, although what was reflected in her eyes was a balding middle-aged man in a bright-red uniform.

He walked in briskly, causing her have to dash out of his path. He looked carefully around the room. "Hm, yes everything looks in order. If you need anything, just call down to-" As he turned round, completing the act that he so very enjoyed, he saw the image he had projected into her mind falter for a second.

"Wait- where did-" He knew she was going to work it out any second and with a subtle raise of his hand, slammed the door shut and met her eyes, pouring psychic force into her mind. As she attempted to cry for help he formed a telekinetic grip around her throat.

Suddenly, and even more surprisingly she fought back psychically against him, and with some considerable force. Getting frustrated he telekinetically pulled him towards and lightly pressed his right index finger onto her forehead. She was unable to scream as he invaded her mind forcefully. Within seconds the system-shock overload had killed her.

Breathing heavily, he surveyed his work. "Too short...too short..." He muttered before levitating her body over to her bed and placing it under the covers as if she was asleep. "There's always next time." He muttered as he exited the room and quickly the hotel.

---

Bad Voodoo by @Beyond Reach. Arc ID #373659. Level 20-24. Mr. Bocor has fallen victim to a group of hooded vigilantes who have been plaguing Port Oakes, interfering with illegal operations and pacifying villain's powers. He demands that revenge is taken on these miscreants and his powers are returned! You look like just the villain for the job. Challenging.

We were trying to keep the escavation swift and low key but with the morning traffice picking up, our police cars had to be positioned strategically around the area. Uniforms littered the bridge andits nearby streets like ants in a colony. A line of ambulances sped down the stretch of road, weaving through obstacles like a snake chasing prey. The trucks were those designed to house four maybe five patients at a stretch but with a hundred corpses to move, it was gonna be along morning. "Dump 'em in the ambulances Luminescence" I asked the pretty lady, with a touch of guilt stabbing at my conscience. Poor lady, bet she didn't wake up this morning with an appetitie for carrying rotten flesh. I looked over at the red haired lady just as the Captain was leaving, hoping to get her attention. A man walked up to me talking about his warehouse and wanting to know what was going on. I snapped. How the hell did he get past the police line. "Listen pal 'cos I'm only telling you once, get the hell back behind that police line. Aint nothing here o' no business o' your, you here?"

---

Fridan leant back in his chair, his eyes closed as he let the sound of the cities radio chatter wash over him.

"I need somethingthing significant" he mused to himself "to get back onto the publicity radar." He opened his eyes to look at the bank of monitors in front of him, hundreds of them silently showing a wide array of television channels. The electronic augments to his mind allowed him to filter through the information with little difficulty. He picked up the sound of footsteps behind him.

"You already have six action figures, do you really need more?" Cadmia smiled. The robot he'd created to test a new power source, who somehow achieved sentience and named herself his daughter. Fridan had grown used to the idea.

"I've been traveling other worlds for too long." he replied "People forget. They need to trust me..." he trailed off. "Here, on the police band, this could be something." With no visible input, the screens and radio chatter stopped. A broadcast from the PPD internal radio network replayed. Reports of a mass of bodies discovered in Skyway City. "I want a visual down there."

Suddenly, all the screens flicked back on, showing one large image of intersecting highways and buildings. Skyway City from above looked somehow quieter, more subdued than usual. The tiny flying camera fly down to where there seemed to a small flurry of activity.

"There is something I would describe as significant..." Fridan remarked. He watched as several heroes arrived on the scene, recognising Luminescence and Kitsune. "Yes, this is something I could get involved with. Cadmia, I want you to keep all systems running normally, I'm going to be busy for a little while."

"Alright dad" she said, with mock disdain. "have fun with the dead people."

***********

With a small flash of light, Fridan appeared at the scene. Impeccably dressed from head to toe in an expensive looking black suit, long black hair hanging loose, his dark skin glowing blue with the light from his eyes. He turned to the nearest officer, seemingly oblivious to the bodies next to him. "I've come to lend my aid. Might I enquire, who is in charge and what can I do to assist?"

---

Careful to preserve the bodies, sweat beading on her forehead as she wrestled to control them, Sam gently slid them through the air toward the waiting ambulances. She could have done the job a hundred times as fast, without the effort, if she'd dared unleash the full power of her mind - but to do so would bathe the local area with a dose of radiation that would make Chernobyl look like a high school science project.

Just stay with it Sammy, she told herself. Don't think about what they are, or who they were. Just do the job. Her mind wandered, memories of an early morning shower in the arms of her lover a welcome distraction from the horrors before her.

She only vaguely heard Hicks' snapped order to someone - a civilian, no doubt - and allowed a slow pulse of energy to wash through her, easing her muscles.

<Threat index 8.4: Target Fridan in visual range.>

The words pierced her consciousness as they sounded in her head from her earbug, and her head snapped around in surprise, spying the sharply-dressed man with glowing skin, unable to prevent a broad smile crossing her face. She didn't even notice that she was subconsciously still moving bodies as she turned and practically skipped over to him.

"Fri! Sugar, it's been far too damn long since you showed your ugly mug." Holding her arms out for a quick embrace, she waved toward the Captain. "Some guy over there's in charge. I'm on cleanup duty and 'tenant Hicks there is kinda bossing me around. I'm hoping that Dicky will show his face, soon, but I can't promise anything. What I'd really like is some sort of gamma-to-X-ray blocker so that I can really get some work done. Oh, and how's life? You owe me a beer."

---

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.*

Jake headed back to the warehouse, trying to give the cop the benefit of the doubt. It was a nasty business, he must have plenty on his mind. And it really wasn't any of his business. In fact, and Jake gave a rueful grin as he thought it, being chased off like any other rubber-necker was a good thing. Time was, his name would have had the cops in this city swarming all over him, now he was just another face in the crowd. Exactly what he'd been working for.

Still, as more and more cops and ambulances showed up, he started worrying again whether the trucks carrying his materials would be able to get through ok. So long as the cordon stayed whewre it was, it would be fine, but if the moved it out much...

Still, he could worry about that if it happened. His guys would start turning up for work soon, and he had to make sure they got out to the job without hanging around to gawk with the crowd that would inevitably turn up at the police lines.

And if there did end up being a problem getting his delivery in, he supposed he could always go lift a couple of squad cars out of the way.

---

However, it turned out that Smith was not a time-travelling Terminator

Vix watched silently, examining the bodies as, almost ghostlike, they floated into the ambulances. She helped shepherd them in, given Luminescene was somewhat distracted. She also took the time to inspect what was left, to see if there were any wounds that had any sort of origin that might be obvious.

Her ear flicked. The fine fur on her spine tingled slightly, and she got the overall feeling that someone had just poured something slimey and unpleasant all over her, then wshed it off again all in one go.
She moved over to the Lieutenant, her image becoming a lot clearer as she stepped out of the shadows and into the rising sun. Black leather trousers, leg and rump-hugging, with red flameburst patternings rising to the knee; a simple belt with a few pockets, one with a radio; a black tank top, that only just met her belt; fingerless gloves, strapped and a worn, that looked tough enough to give even a Troll jawache if used to punch; and a pair of round glasses, perched on her nose, one eye hidden by her crimson hair.

"Lieutenant?" she asked, the english-american mix in her accent, "Something's up...something else. I think it's close, but given what's happened here I can't be sure..."

---

As you inspect the bodies, one thing became clear. There were no visible wounds or injury anywhere around the bodies, just streams of blood oozing from their eyes, nose, mouth and ears. Most had been dead for weeks, even months. An internal analysis, if possible would give you the extra information of complete brain damage to each victim.

*****

Police officers everywhere nearby where knocking on doors and closing down businesses for general questioning and forensic investigations. As new heroes arrived on the scene, officers were directing them straight to the sewer canals to help pull out corpses. Even paramedics were suited up with wellington boots and waterproof overalls, trojing through the murky waters and dragging out bodies. The ambulances moved quickly and effeciently enough through traffic as several paths to and from three specialist morgues had been cordoned off. Probably causing all kinds of disruptions for motorists, couriers and commuters.

*****

Another young lady shows up on the scene, bright red hair, head to tow in some punk getup. Not my type. She called for my attention and tells me some sh*t about how she just so happens to know of some kinda sh*t happening not too far from where I'm standing. So I looks at her and I says "You what?"

---

Vix frowned. Even without empathic senses, she could tell the Lieutenant wasn't really interested. With a sigh she flipped out her double-side booklet, the one that held both her Hero Registration ID and her Chiron Medical ID.
"Kitsune Vixen, Doctor, field medic," she snapped, making sure that her tone was still polite, but also showed she wasn't here to mess around. "Lieutenant, those bodies haven't been touched. Not physically. Theres just lots and lots of blood. Some of those bodies are weeks old, too."

She paused, glancing at the buildings around them. That feeling, the crawling itch on her spine...
"And something just happened. Something...important. Believe me, I know that sounds like so much Bee-ess, but it's not just a hunch..."

She was quite glad the accelrent of her mutation hadn't given her a tail, let alone nine...right now it would be as on edge as her. Even so, her fur tingled and her ears kept swivelling, as if trying to pin-point a distant sound.

((See Vix's handbook page to clear things up if needsbe))

---

Half-listening to Hicks' conversation, Sam opened her mind, trying to get a feel for what could be making the woman he was talking to so concerned...

And there was nothing. No rage from anything except a group of trolls so hopped up on 'dyne that they'd hate their own mothers, no pleasure except from the bum who'd managed to scrape together enough cash to pay for a bottle of rotgut and a street walker.

Whatever it was, it didn't fit her mental picture of a serial killer.

Which didn't mean the other girl was wrong.

"What do you sense, sugar?" she called out. Hicks might be a cop, and he might know some of the truth, but there was no way he was ready for dealing with something like this.

Reaching out with her thoughts, she sought the mental signature of the woman who had identified her self as Kitsune Vixen - hadn't Dicky met her a time or two? - and projected a simple request: <Show me.>

---

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.*

Vix blinked, but in that moment there was enough time to extend the empathic sense. Being both a psionic and an empath had caused her more than a few major problems in the past, but it had it's uses.

There was no mistaking the dull ache of a death. It was all around, anyway, but thin, slimy, days and weeks old, like the thin, sickly layer that grew on top of old paint, or gone off milk, and felt like it was crawling down your spine.
This feeling...this was new, sharp, like acidic brimstone on the tongue, and like electric-tingling oil down the back that clawed at your ribs and made your heart ache on the off-beats.

<I don't know where. Just that it happened> came the reply, along with an apologetic feeling for the unsettling sensation that was the sense of death.

---

Sam's breakfast had consisted of a bowl of muesli and a tall glass of orange juice. The combination didn't look good as it splashed on the floor at her feet.

Coughing and spitting out the remains, trying to clear the foul taste of vomit from her mouth, she shuddered.

"Th-thanks, sugar."

Shaking herself, trying to keep her head clear, she examined the memory, replaying it over and over in her mind, even as it faded.

<Concern, acceptance, annoyance, SurpriseHelplessFearAnger... Emptiness.>

"Helpless?" she whispered, seeing bloodspots on her arms, and knowing they weren't real, just an afterimage of the emotions she was sensing.

"Why," she asked no one in particular, "would someone feel helpless inside the space of ten seconds?"

---

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.*

((Sorry it's a little late, I can only post from home or my lunch break, and I wasn't at home last night.))

Fridan turned to see Luminesence skipping towards him. He gave her an appraising glance. While he typically had little time or inclination for a relationship with a woman, he had to admit that if he did, she would rate highly on the list.

"Samantha, my dear, it is as always my great pleasure to see you" he said "even under these... terrible circumstances." He accepted her short embrace, while maintaining an air of dignity and composure. "Unfortunately, I do not have a gamma-to-x-ray blocker to hand, but I can at least do my best to help with the task at hand."

He stepped over to nearest bodies and knelt down between them, apparently completely unphased. "We can have a catch up later, I'm sure" He placed a hand on the corpses either side of him and blinked out of sight. After a minute, he reappeared next to another paid of bodies, again placing a hand on each. He continued teleporting bodies to the mourge as the psychics felt the effects of the most recent murder.

---

The dark, hooded figure floated majestically through the open hotel window in the empty next room. Just as he cleared the boundary of the building, he winced painfully, almost losing concentration and falling out of the sky. His head darted around sharply several times, as it had before he found his last victim. The figure floated in the air, clearly focusing hard. After a moment he muttered something about heroes and psychic pressure.

The faceless killer levitated even higher into the clouds, the altitude starting to make the rise considerably more difficult, but in this position he could survey almost all of Skyway City, with no intervening obstacles to stop him. Placing two of his long fingers, protruding from grey fingerless gloves on his temple, his head began to dart about randomly again until it focused on a single neighbourhood in the depths of the city. He sighed. "They've found them. I won't have long."

His eyes turned slowly towards the Yellow Line monorail at the edge of the city. After staring in that direction for several moments he shook his head, and began hovering down towards the southern end of the city, and the Land of the Lost.

* * *

"It worked!" The sewer floor vibrated as the massive hulk of a mutate of The Lost bounded towards the Anathema walking casually along the sewer floor, oddly near the surface. Jets of sunlight shot through grates barely a few feet above it's head. "What!?" The hulk of psychic power was obviously in a very bad mood, swinging his Rikti sword against the concrete walls as he walked along. The mutate was oblivious to this.
"We surfaced them! The bodies he dumped, they're out in the open!"

The Anathema stopped in it's tracks, before slowly turning round. The expression, even on his mutated face was unmistakble. He was in a bad mood, and someone had just told him some really good news, but he was too stubborn to let it change his demeanour. "What? How!?"
"One of the scroungers, he used to be a sewer maintenance guy, he pulled some levers and stuff and boom! Water starts gushing out of the pool he dumped them in, and up onto the surface! Capes are getting involved now."

The Anathema was motionless, as if frozen in time. The Mutate took a couple of seconds to notice and started hovering in and out of his sight, but the giant didn't even blink. "Hello?" Suddenly he shook as if waking up and took in a deep breath. "He's nearby. The *******'s nearby!"
"What, THE guy!?" The Anathema didn't waste time responding, he run to this nearest manhole cover, leapt into the air and smashed it out of the ground, before climbing up himself.

There, at the end of the alleyway was the figure the lucky survivors had seen brutally murdering their brothers. He had a special taste for Anathemas for their psychic powers, but among the Lost he would kill any. Despite the ridiculous stories sprouted up about him in the last couple of weeks, the Anathema showed no fear, only unmitigated fury at the man who had brutally murdered so many of the Lost.

There was another gang of Lost only a hundred feet down the alleyway, if he could grab their attention they could swarm the murderer and kill him right here. As the Anathema turned towards them, thinking that the figure had not noticed him, he was about to call over to them when he was struck hard in the side of the head with the manhole cover, before being hit by a crushing force from above, knocking him straight through the ground.

"The Lost, when you think about it, are so very stupid." He muttered as he floated casually down through the hole he had made with the Anathema's body. As soon as the Mutate caught sight of the ominous figure it fled in terror, but was caught, motionless in the air after it's third step, held by a gravity distortion. However, the Anathema was already climbing slowly to it's feet, gripping it's sword tightly. As soon as it was upright it was struck in the chest with a hunk of rubble the villain had torn straight from the wall with telekinetic force.

In a second it was floating straight above the prone figure of the Anathema, and had lightly pressed it's index finger onto it's forehead. But it would not be as fatal as last time, the mental strength of this creature was far superior to a teenage girl who was not only suppressing her psychic power on her own, but also doing it chemically. It managed a wild swing out with it's alien sword, intending to cleave the figure in two.

For a moment he attempted to hold back the strike with telekinetic force, but to no avail, he could only dash out of the way as fast he could, but was still left with a slash across his chest. Looking down at this then back at the Anathema he shot out his hand, and slowly closed it into a fist, stopping the titan in it's tracks momentarily. He breathed in a deep, pleasurable breath as he sapped psychic power from the Anathema, increasing the rate at which his wound began to heal exponentially.

The creature was clearly on it's last legs, managing a blast of mental force before the last of it's face was destroyed by another hunk of rubble. Just as the hooded figure stopped to gloat over his victory he noticed the gravitational distortion was about to collapse over the Mutate, and so quickly dashed over there, opened a tear in space behind it and telekinetically pushed it through. The other side was a hundred and fifty feet in the air at the other end of the city.

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Bad Voodoo by @Beyond Reach. Arc ID #373659. Level 20-24. Mr. Bocor has fallen victim to a group of hooded vigilantes who have been plaguing Port Oakes, interfering with illegal operations and pacifying villain's powers. He demands that revenge is taken on these miscreants and his powers are returned! You look like just the villain for the job. Challenging.

((may I say that i very much enjoy your style of writing BeyondReach, could really picture this in my mind; might just have to join in on this - but The Walking Shadow doesn't do picking up sewage covered corpses :P))

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Vix winced as Samantha lost her breakfast, a result she herself had managed to prevent due to practice and training. The feelings she sometimes got as a result of psionics and empathy combined were still unpleasant, but at least she could hold onto her lunch.

Her head snapped round, spine tingling and ears flattened. Another death...and ripples, echoes. Some powerful psionics, all of it still clouded by the linger of death. But it definately came from nearby. But...down? Wait. They were in Skyway. What was underneath Skyway, and for that matter most of the city?
Sewers. Miles of sewer tunnels.

"Somethings still going on...I think whoever did this is still here, right under our feet!" she called, going to help Luminescence up and trying to get the attention of the other Hero and the PPD Lieutenant.

((Let me know if I jump the gun at all, never quite sure whats too much/too little ^^; ))

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((Thanks for the compliment Infinitron, glad you're enjoying it, and Beyond Reach could always use another hero to contend with :P Maybe your character could drop by after all the corpses are moved

Alpha, I'm not sure how Pious wants to go with this, but this is the very beginning of the RP, so you might not want to locate me too soon I mean, you haven't even gotten any forensics or anything on the killings. Maybe I made a mistake getting too close to the crime scene, but I thought that fleeing town at the first sign of trouble might make it a bit boring :P

Maybe you should change it so you sensed all that you've described except that you have any idea where exactly this happened. You could say that you can sense that it's closer than the last death, but beyond that you have no idea.))

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Bad Voodoo by @Beyond Reach. Arc ID #373659. Level 20-24. Mr. Bocor has fallen victim to a group of hooded vigilantes who have been plaguing Port Oakes, interfering with illegal operations and pacifying villain's powers. He demands that revenge is taken on these miscreants and his powers are returned! You look like just the villain for the job. Challenging.

I hate psychics. Then again, I hate all these supernatural freaks. The dame with the elegant entrance turned out to be soe kinda psychic and even she was suggesting some disturbance nearby. I still wasn't convinced, but a good detective never turns down a lead. I made my way over to the captain and asked permission to borrow a few officers. He gave me three blues and together, we approached the red haired girl. "Alright furball, i'm willing to give you a chance to proove yourself. We got a bunch of dead psychics under a bridge and now you say you got psychic disturbances across town. Point me a direction and I'll follow your lead. But I swear to God, if this turns out to be some kinda wild goose chase, I'll be having a closer look at your heroes license. Now come on."

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Sam straightened, wiping a last spatter of regurgitated breakfast from her chin, leaning heavily on the solid form of Fridan.

"It's not a wild goose chase, lieutenant. She's on to something. Let's see what we can do about playing the stalking horse, shall we?"

Glowing brilliantly, she rose from the floor, hovering on a cushion of radiation, her skin gleaming in the dim light, a bright spot in the darkness, and she closed her eyes, stretching out with her mind, linking her senses to everyone she could reach.

Minds were just computers. Incredibly fast, incredibly complex computers. Her thoughts flowed farther and farther outward, brushing every mind she could touch, not searching for anything, not looking for anyone, just allowing her subconscious to filter through the city's collective awareness, running what amounted to a sophisticated analysis program.

After a few seconds, she felt her thoughts reach the outer limits of the city.

<Murderer> her mind intoned, subconsciously blocking the message from anyone who didn't fit her definition of the term. <Murderer. I'm coming for you. I am the light in the darkness, the day to your night. Fear me, Murderer. Your doom is at hand. I am Luminescence, and I am coming for you.>

Swiftly she locked down her telekinetic barriers, and winced at the temperature spike as her body warmed rapidly.

"I hope he likes a challenge. He's playing my game now."

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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.*

Vix growled quietly, having to will herself to not snarl openly. The Lieutenant was obviously sort of new, and most people who didn't work in both a Hospital and a warzone would be rattled by this much death. Given the circumstances, she still was, and it was giving her temper an edge.

"Lieutenant, I don't need to 'Prove myself'. I know what I'm capable of, and pin-point accuracy when I'm this close to so many dead people is not one of them, ok?"
She winced, slightly, glancing down.
"Sorry...I know this is going bad real fast, and, like I said, all the dead aren't helping. Whoever it is is down, down in the Sewer Network somewhere. Once we get clear of all this, tracking it might be easier. Even if it's not, we can always 'ask' some of the Lost, right?"

She glanced around, dredging up a map of Skyway and trying to remember the nearest Tunnel entrance.
"Oh, and if we're going to work together on this one, let me just make it clear that things like 'Furball' won't make it easier. You think I asked to be this way?" she added, glancing at him as she looked around.

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