capes within METROPOLIS . . . Z E F I R ~

[Troubled Monster]

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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx A D A M XXX⇝ XXXE A S T
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L o c a t i o n | | Bangkok xxxxx M o o d | | xxxxxxxxxx W i t h | | Alson, Olai, Niko, Stone xxxxx L o o k b o o k | | Casual


If he could, Adam wanted to orchestrate a new beginning between himself and the characteristically buoyant Ermolai. Though it was true Adam lacked a certain paternal instinct—he was much more suited for destruction than nurture—he was quite the creator, and with creation came birth, for them specifically, rebirth. Pulling, stretching those mental spider webs, God it was like he didn’t even need to think about it anymore, Adam reached into Olai, wrapped him up in a cozy warm ball of thick liquid where he could float suspended by comfort.

“Because I want you here Olai. Isn’t that enough.” His disembodied voice, the only thing save the pooling yellow globular home surrounding the displaced former member of Zefir, circled around and tickled Olai’s chin with promises yet to come, the implications of which not quite good not quite bad.

“You looked for new beginnings when you had your heart broken—ran off to get lost in the world, to find yourself. Did you?”

A sharp crack roared above Olai’s fetal form drawing attention to the breaking shell around the yoke. “I have a theory about people.” The white shell crumbled expelling the yoke and with it Olai from the safe warm insides of its protective skeleton. In one swift catapulting dive, they free-fell over a canyon, took a suicidal plunge. Melting pterodactyls careened past, tumbling and flourishing through the thinly spread air as parts of their pancake colored skin dissolved into a speedily dropping syrup. With a splash and an impact, the egg and Olai mixture landed on the sizzling surface of a greased up giant frying pan.

“We can try to change ourselves, seek out rebirths, but ultimately we always end up exactly who we are. Out of the fire and into the frying pan.” A tongue click echoed against the rocky canyon walls. “Ooh, looks like your whites are burning.”

The glorious smell of bacon and eggs wafted down the hallway and into the comfortable Bangkok bedroom. Sunlight’s steady streams snuck into cracks left unchecked by cheap blinds and caressed the bright walls.

“Olai, Olai baby, I made breakfast.” A soft kiss against his temple, Kline. The bed was soft, the morning gentle. “I know how to wake you up.” Pressure shifted on the mattress as two thighs straddled Olai’s stomach. A warm wet tongue traveled up Olai’s sternum, dipping into the valley between his two pecks, and journeyed up his throat until it met his lips with a kiss. “Mmm” Kline’s mouth sucked Olai’s bottom lip into its moist hot heat, the remnants of orange juice sticking to his tongue. Teeth, teasing and blunt, pulled at the lip and stretched it out before letting go. “You need to brush your teeth.” Another kiss. Suddenly a mischievous smirk made a home on Kline’s handsome face. He thrust the comforter off and threw Olai’s legs apart to get comfortable in between. Fingertips traced the pathways of Olai’s ribs and feathered down to the jutting bones of his hips. “I’m going to take you hard baby. I’m going to ruin you for everyone else.”

A hand pushed down on Olai’s collarbone as Kline’s hips molded onto his body, claiming. Time passed with excitement, a short bust of high-powered energy and lightening bolts of hot indescribable waves. “You’re going to be addicted to me.” Kline’s familiar voice distorted getting deeper, richer, and duller in different areas. “I’m going to become your drug.”

There in the cozy bedroom in the shadow of the morning, coated in the tangy scents of breakfast, on top of and connected to Olai, Adam moved and set an unforgiving pace. No self-supplied mask, no tailored suit or tightfitting t-shirt, just the imposing tattooed body in its most basic form.

“You like bad boys?” The close-lipped smile of Oscar Wilde on Adam’s hand circled around Olai’s throat. “You like adventure?” A personalized rush of adrenaline shot out from Adam and into Olai. “Please” His tone was so mocking. “I bet you think there’s nothing better than soaring through the skies. You have no idea what to chase.” A strong arm pushed Olai into a sitting position so that Adam could hug him close to his chest. The insistent thum thrum thrum of Adam’s heart pounded against Olai’s with inhuman speed. “Feel that.” Two full lips pressed underneath the younger man’s earlobe. “You’re doing that to me. You’re making my heart beat out of my chest.” Finger’s splayed out onto Olai’s jaw as Adam’s teeth sunk into the tender flesh on the side of Olai’s neck with determination.

“Get ready for the fireworks.” Pressure built and built, smoking and steaming like champagne behind a cork. Up up up, faster and faster, until the cork was launched high into the air and golden explosions broke through the ceiling and blossomed like fiery daffodils in the infinite night sky.

“Adam, what are you doing?”

Adam turned around himself, Olai’s limp form swinging slightly over his shoulder.

“Playing”

Stone scoffed. “Like a cat with a rat you are.”

“More like a dog with a bone.”

The distance they’d traveled in such a short time was remarkable. Unsurprisingly Adam didn’t have time to waste on inefficiency, every vehicle was planned and scheduled ahead of time. Having his entourage of three, Alson, Niko, and Stone, actually made things run smoothly. Booked under and alias of an alias, was a splendid glass rooftop penthouse overlooking the busy streets of Bangkok. Adam liked cities; there were so many opportunities.

He’d placed Olai on a bed a few minutes ago. Olai was not asleep, just off him Adam’s fabrication—he should be waking up out of it rather soon.

With a touch a penitence Adam waited adjacent from the younger super, with fast paced fingers typing on his very very very protected iPhone. He scowled and adjusted his shirt, pinching the collar between two fingers so it clung less to his skin. Ottorino was awake and he was demanding ice cream.

[XxBoltxofxThexYewxX]

“Never seen a bluer sky. Yeah, I can feel it reaching out, and moving closer. There’s something about blue….”

Tink tink tink…..tink tink tink….

Kellen’s eyes stared blankly just over the right shoulder of a white coat, crisp from being cleaned. Words were coming at him, but understanding them was much like watching a television show in a foreign language with subtitles that were, also, in a foreign language. He didn’t blink, no motion coming from his body whatsoever. The rhythmic cadence of his heart resounded throughout his bones, his very being, as those hazel eyes continued to stare intently towards that predictable sound.

Tink tink tink…..tink tink tink….

Kellen hadn’t slept in approximately two days, coerced to change clothes and bathe only by, he might have easily been convinced, Jacques’ uncanny ability to be persuasive. His friend – the only friend that really counted at this time of his life – had been at the hospital with him every one of those days, talking to doctors and, even a checked-out Kellen could tell, combing through countless citizen minds in search of information. It had been Jacques who’d managed to stuff food at him to consume, Jacques who had kept his emotional outbursts under control, and that Parisian who had provided him the comfort he needed when nothing could be done but cry. Sleep, however, no matter how much Jacques mentioned it, wasn’t something that Kellen could be convinced of.

“Kel, you look like s**t. You sound like s**t. And you’ve shocked every nurse that’s come through that room who gets close to you…you need some rest.” It was a tone that, for all its bluntness, was Jacques’ way of teasing.

“I’ll sleep when Ottorino is back.”

“…How do you expect to get him if you have no energy? You’re exhausted.”

It panged inside of him like some kind of knife. Jacques had hit a bullseye, and Kellen knew it. With all of his emotional surges the past day, there was no way he’d be able to keep going for much longer without some rest. But, even as he thought it, he turned his gaze towards the window furthest away from them and lifted a hand. With a sharp snap of his fingers, a bright flash of light accompanied a strike of lightning that shattered the window. Jacques rolled his eyes.

“Have your cigarette, J. They’ll come repair that soon enough.”

Two days later, and it was that tink tink tink…..tink tink tink…. of the repair man that was drilling into Kellen’s conscious, masking the informative words of the doctor before him. Who, at this point, sighed with a defeated look on his face. Glancing in the direction of Jacques, the doctor shook his head before exiting the room, sliding his clipboard into a space on the wall for it.

Then, a voice that couldn’t help but speak over the other irrelevance. It broke through his stupor and filled his mind with such a gentle but imposing force that Kellen was forced to shift, his dazed spell broken.

‘Kel, they want to use a new drug on your parents that’s just been released. The doctor says it’s been tested and is coming as a recommendation from him and the rest of the staff. He says without…they might die. Three days in life support and their condition hasn’t moved for better or worse, but he feels the first change we notice will not be one we like.’

‘Alright, give them the drugs then.’

Silence, however brief, as the dialogue was processed. This was still very new for both of them, Jacques especially. Seeing Kellen in such a despondent state was so far from his usual behavior that, even given the current situation, still took some re-adjusting to.

‘I cannot tell the doctor what to do for your parents. You have to. Get your mind out of that window and focus next time.’

‘…Anything on my son?’

‘..Nothing, and I’m sorry about it.’

An audible sigh came from Kellen’s lips as his head turned towards the two beds in the room, containing his mother and father. Tubes and lights, beeps bags – a jumble of things that were keeping them alive at that point were all that Kellen could see. They weren’t alive to him, it hurt too much to even have that much hope. As each day aged by the hour, he saw no sign of change within them, heard nothing about his son, and slipped between moods of anger, sadness, depression, rage, and complete and utter apathy. His body and mind had no idea how to feel, what to do at this point. How does someone cope with losing both of their parents and their son? And he couldn’t even see his son’s body.

From some distance, church bells clang melodiously seven times, and Kellen’s shifted towards Jacques.

“Alright, then. It’s time we go to the Suits, then. If I’m going to destroy this city, I suppose its best they know.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The political leaders of Metropolis had wasted no time in setting forth a number of rules, mandates, and ordinances that they felt necessary to protect the people of the city. Cracking down on the freedom superheroes and their villain counterparts had, this was the plan.

“These overpowered bullies need to be shown that we, the common people, will not sit back idly while they continue to flaunt their power over us!” Was the backing statement of the movement, spoken by one fearless politician named Boliver Hendrickson, up country transplant who relocated to Metropolis in order to “quell the super threat.” In conjunction with other prominent members of the political house within the city, he’d managed to become the leader of a table of people known as the Suits. Simple by name, simple by dress, their influences managed to quickly spread through the House until they became the deciding factor for almost every political move made within the city.

This was, of course, all while being backed by an even more exclusive governing body of people within the Metropolis known as the Chairs.

Normally, Kellen would have wanted to speak with Boliver personally. Present his problem, what it meant for the city, and, basically, to enlist help before the city was under ten feet of water. Jacques had done a phenomenal job of talking Kellen down the entire trip over there. Words of subtle encouragement, while never straying away from the truth and reality of it all; that was the Dasgard way. It was a nice late afternoon, with the sun just starting its downward descent towards the horizon. The weather was pleasantly mild, a steady and gentle breeze blowing. It was a good time for Kellen, given the shitty situation he was in.

This talk was going to go very well.

“We’re here to speak with Boliver Hendrickson, citizen relations liaison.”

Click click click went the noisy keys of a receptionist keyboard at the desk they stood in front of. Jacques stood closest to it, addressing the brunette behind the desk. Kellen, whose eyes had not left the sky outside, stood off to the side a margin.

“Appointment?”

“Uh…no. It’s an emergency, as it involves the safety of Metropolis.”

“Uh huh…okay, right. Building collapsing?”

“Hmm…no.”

“Warehouse district fire?”

“…No, not at all.”

“Ground water contamination?”

And it was already at this point that Jacques patience had begun to wear thin. It took nothing but that slight change in Jacques demeanor to translate to Kellen who felt it mentally from their connection than anything else. His eyes focused and he turned his head, catching the last words of a statement.

“….doesn’t have time to deal with kidnapping issues. That’s a problem for the Metropolis Police Department – Mr. Hendrickson is far too important to deal with the issues of parents being neglectful.”

“Wow, dad, look at the sky! The clouds are moving so fast!”

“s**t.”

“Hmm…have a nice SCRREAAAMMMMMMM”

That computer screen and keyboard, her companions, exploded in a dazzling array of sparks and sounds. The air pressure around all of them dropped dramatically as almost as soon as they had formed, the storm clouds sounded their first menacing roll of thunder. A streak lit up the sky, and a heavier rumble sounded almost immediately. Jacques rolled his eyes at the receptionist.

“You don’t just say stupid s**t like that to the guy who wants to do nothing more than-“

Jacques’ statement was cut short by the sound of shattering panes of class as another massive boom of thunder shook the ground.

"I’m so free….There’s no black and white, in blue.”

- Y.K

[feral ferrett]

He just stood there, his arms crossed over one another.

His muscles, toiled for years and refined from the tireless picking up and running of and with his younger brother, were a trophy of his. He was not remarkably muscular, but so defined that it eluded people who saw him in his baggy, long-sleeved shirt and long, slim jeans. They thought he was scrawny, they were convinced that he was never capable of holding his own against anyone or anything.

Well, he most certainly had proved them all wrong.

To have gained leverage with Adam East so swiftly, in a matter of two years was not only a remarkable feat, but it was a token of his dedication. He was certain that Adam would always praise him and keep him close.

If only he was as observant as his younger brother.

Nikolai Simson watched his employer and idol at work. He possessed no such abilities to warp people's minds, to ensnare them in fabrications of their own, Adam-powered imaginations. Though, he knew how to get his way and this was a step in the right direction.

A creepy grin crawled across his face as Adam merely walked forth, scooping the targeted Ermolai from his feet and tossing him over his shoulder like a wet rag. As they were making their way out, Nikolai lifted a fist, easing out a few seconds of energy to inspect the space and ensure that nothing was left behind.

As East, Stone and Witt exited the way they all had entered, he slammed the dark chasm behind him shut.

The transition from the elevator shaft to their planned, alternate exit of the mall went smoothly, considering Nikolai would have simply knocked anyone who intercepted them into oblivion. Then again, this wasn't the Met - not too many supers were stupid enough to expose themselves in such a cluttered populace.

-

As they reached the nice pad of Adam's dastardly proceedings, Nikolai would fetch a glass of water for himself and Alson. He watched as Stone offered Adam one as well, who was busy utilizing his technology.

The boy squirmed, though he was not fully conscious.

Nikolai stepped closer, his brown boots sinking slightly into the cream, anemone carpeting. He shifted his weight briefly before bringing his arms back into the cross, glass dangling from his right hand's fingers gripping about the rim. He let out a sigh, tucking in his upper lip so that the breath traveled up his long face, past his sharp nose and over his protruding eyebrows. His hair was slicked back, save for a few curls that loved to consider themselves bangs. The gradient of his singed-brown hair was gloriously honey-toned in this fill of light.

"When I return to the Met," he started, staring at Ermolai, just for extra assurance, "I will have the meeting space with The Chairs ready for you. However," this adverse news he had might have set Adam off, because Niko had just as many connections as Adam needed. He was only one person, after all.

"I've been told by Gaines that there has been an influx in the number of known supers. It seems as though they are getting rowdier. I can gather EDGE and SLATE," another, more formidable gang in the Met that wasn't as scatterbrained as Alson's family, "and comb them out, if you'd like?"

Always meeting Adam with a preposition to make sure there were less headaches for him was Niko's forte. He had to remain on the good side of the sociopath to protect not only himself, but his brother.

His brother.

He was the most important thing in his life. Always.

[XxBoltxofxThexYewxX]

“Never seen a bluer sky. Yeah, I can feel it reaching out, and moving closer. There’s something about blue….”

If ever there had been a time to consider suicide, it’d be right about…..now for Kellen.

Eyes still relatively hazy from the flash-bang contraption that his father always spoke so highly of, he found himself sitting in a cell-for-one, cold metal all around him, the bedded surface his backside resting on absolutely no more comfortable than the concrete of the city. The building he was housed in he knew very well, fond memories creeping in and out of his consciousness even as he sat there.

Zefir’s most recent two man escapades had yielded more criminal capital than the entire Met Police Force had been able to bring in – well, those with serious crimes at least. Pickpockets and other misdemeanors were common jobs for the baton wielding brutes to take care of frequently, but these bars around him?

Cold, hard to the touch.

These bars had held some of the cities more dangerous criminals. Incapacitated by Jacques’ mental influence, the Zefir duo had brought many a villain into these walls to be house in these very bars, awaiting trial, sentencing, and transport to the island where Metropolis kept all of its long time visitors of rehabilitation. The Zefir Duo

Those memories quickly grew foul.

He heaved a rather small but heavy sigh, forcing his thoughts to shift from things of the past to his “right now:”

A voice, down the hall, old and coarse from entirely too many cigerettes. She- or maybe a he? Those vocal cords…- it was busy fending off what sounded to be a prank call concerning ordering seventeen large pizzas and one large can of whupas. The poor French inflection on ‘whoop a**’ seemed lost on whoever answered the phone.

A gentle rattling found him, causing him to cast a glance up towards the ceiling. Something was stuck within the ventilation system of his cell, as cool air blew through the vent and circulated throughout the room in a lazy pattern. He could make it out, even in his state, tracing the air that had just been pulled from outside versus that which was stale and old, circulated for too long within the building.

And finally, there was the closest sound that his ears could most notably pick up, which is probably why he chose to ignore it for so long; the shuffling of papers and a creaking chair that, literally, wouldn’t quit. A voice, it came to him from just beyond the bars and somewhere within that mix of papers. Two sentences, one a question and the other a statement.

That crop of brunette hair, boy did it remind him so very fondly of the biggest thing missing in his life at that moment……

“…Brainwashing? Hmph…” It pulled a bit of a chuckle out of him. Boy, did he sound weak. Far too tired to add much more inflection than whatever was left from his chuckle. If he had wanted to lie, it’d have cost too much mental energy. So far removed from the sky above did that do him. “I can’t do that. No control over your mind…at all. Only…”

Another sigh, this one a bit heavier. What was this, day of the reminders?

“Only the sky..”

"I’m so free….There’s no black and white, in blue.”

- Y.K

[XxBoltxofxThexYewxX]

“Never seen a bluer sky. Yeah, I can feel it reaching out, and moving closer. There’s something about blue….”

What a look that was. A look that, Kellen had to admit to himself, hit him significantly harder than he thought it would have coming from someone. Here he was in the villain’s shoes, sitting in their seat, being talked to like he’d just committed some sort of crime…which, well, he had. Had anyone gotten hurt? Had he killed anyone? He suspected not, since homicide cases immediately got elevated to lock-down status in Metropolis, and they bypassed the booking process and went right into transport. The interesting thing had been the amount of response on the scene of his ‘crime,’ though. So many heavily dressed officers, such force….

Well, it was absolutely exhausting to think about the not-so-distant-past. Better to focus on the now, keep himself conscious and as coherent as possible.

Kellen didn’t give much time or thought to the newly come officer as her higher pitched voice sounded in the holding area of the jail house. He, of course, picked up on all that she dictated towards the cop who didn’t trust him – Conan seemed to be his name, - but their dialogue gave Kellen a moment to glance with a bit more scrutiny around his cell this time. The space was well made, designed with the holding of a person normal or superpowered in mind. No window to the outside world, concrete on all surfaces except for the typical barred door, which was metal. The vent overhead was directly linked to the outside world, his only source of the elements he loved so much. Jacques had hit it right on the head, as he always did. Kellen being so dependent on being run by energy in the air and wind made him quite weak without out.

Not quite weak enough to plan for a get-away, if he decided he wanted to, though…what kind of impression would that leave?

“"You know, you really remind me of someone. I just can't put my finger on who…”

The phrase echoed inside of his head briefly, striking some kind of chord within him that consonantly resonated with his morals. Breaking out of jail, putting innocent civilian lives in danger…all of that went against the very thing that made Kellen – that made Zefir – what it had been for so many years. They were superheroes! And superheroes didn’t do things like run away, or hurt innocents.

How hard was it to reason with your moral self when the first thoughts that always came to mind were of your dying parents and missing son.

He was saved from himself by a question posed to him from beyond those bars. The second person had left and he was left, again, with the sounds of shuffling paper and Conan, the cop, who seemed to now be rifling through a very large book. Kellen recognized it squarely, since it’d been one of the biggest books he’d ever seen at home. The book was on the Metropolis Tactical Swat Division, the group that had managed to apprehend him and, they thought, Jacques.

“Free time? I generally spent it…taking care of the city, or I took care of my kid.” He couldn’t even say it without his voice cracking. He cleared it, forging ahead to, hopefully, stop at least himself from dwelling on that thought. “And, for the second time, I cannot do anything with my mind but think with it.” Kellen sat there, back against the wall, studying the reader and his book for a few moments as he either listened or didn't, depending on if there was talk to be listened to. A few things were coming back to him, snip-its of the previous conversation that he had picked up on while being lost inside his own head. It placed the bed-time reading going on into a different light, and it placed his watch guard in a different light as well. His father never led him to believe there were such...liberal cops, in the force. He must have been new.

Then, a back thought. “Mmm…rain sounds wonderful right now. So refreshing when it hits your skin. You don't give it enough credit."

"I’m so free….There’s no black and white, in blue.”

- Y.K

[feral ferrett]

[ j a c q u e s xxxxx g. xxxxx d a g a r d ]





__________________________________________________________





Boy, were best friends good for nothin'.

Jacques glared at Kellen as his emotions ran through him. Breaking the glass was one thing, but... okay, breaking the glass was a really big deal because not only did they have to dread every second of being in that hospital [ lest Kellen go thrashing about and tiring himself out again, ] they also had to listen to the annoying, immutable noises of repairmen. It didn't bother Kellen that much because he had no energy to care, but Jacques was irate.

He was tired, less than Kellen surely, but tired nonetheless.

He lit up that ******** cigarette harder than the rain was pelleting the streets below.

-

Their proceedings were simple enough: go to the Suits, demand help searching for his son and also pardoning for the supers in the Met, and then find Ottorino and ******** Adam East up. Jacques thought it was a pretty solid plan. In fact, he was glad that Kellen was up for it, because even though the guy needed some rest, it was best they got their hands on Tori sooner than later. And, if anything else, Jacques would love to handle Adam on his own while Kellen was busy coddling his tyke.

Of course, there was always a thorn in his side, and Jacques already wasn't having it, not having slept in his own bed for days and eating nothing but government-shoveled food that was supposed to both cure and recuperate the weak and feeble. Hospital food was the worst.

"Just let us talk to him, we've got something more dire than natural disasters - someone's kidnapped--"

And then the b***h cut him off.

He just wanted Kellen to light this b***h on fire or something. But he couldn't because then they'd be in deep s**t.

Lights flew. Jacques didn't expect Kellen to take his thoughts literally.

He swiftly cast layers over the woman, himself and Kellen, in case things got out of hand. He reeled Kellen back as best he could, but it was a preemptive use of his powers because while Kellen made s**t roar outside.

"You don't just say stupid s**t like that to the guy who wants nothing more than--"

Crack. Boom.

Jacques huffed, turning away from the receptionist to address Kellen. However, before he could get out another word, there was a guy, a cop, who was pointing a gun at them both. Jacques could have easily cast the gun away, but it went without mention that if they acted first [ even though Kel already started the fan and s**t was gravitating towards it like bees to a nest of screaming idiots ] they'd be in deep s**t.

Deeper than they already were.

Jacques sent out a pulse of psionic energy that would stun the cops in the vicinity and render them unconscious for the time being. It was a bit much, but it would save them some more time.

He turned back to the receptionist and clenched his jaw. This woman was so daft.

"The only reason I'm keeping you awake is so you can go tell them that we're here and we're talking to them. There's no two ways about it."

Kellen had seen Jacques this stern multiple times. Not in their youth, but since then, things changed and so did they. As the woman got up and scrambled to the doors after making a prompt call, Jacques turned back around and lit up another cigarette.

They waited a bit. He was muttering something under his breath.

"Jacquesjacquesjacques,"

When he noticed Kellen staring at him, Jacques swiftly chirped up.

"You think they're running?"

"No, they're probably shitting their pants and locking up."

Jacques' outline flickered momentarily and there was a chorus of glass chirping against itself as another thunderclap shattered windows below.

"Yeah," Jacques looked at the fancy double-door. "Sounds about right."

"Put your hands above your head, and get on your knees."

"s**t."

Jacques closed his eyes and the glow around himself and the presently invisible receptionist vanished. Kellen's connection was still strong, though the glow vanished a bit slower, extra assurance that Kellen wouldn't act out of the ordinary to make sure they got out of there safely. Much to his chagrin, Jacques had to. He knew how this was going to turn out.

A storm of black rushed past the lone cop, looking as hapless as a wet puppy. However, this fortitude of government officials did not hesitate to shoulder, knee or throttle the butts of their weapons at the Met's renowned saving graces. Zefir had been apprehended and this was a day that would hit the streets harder than Kellen and Jacques were hitting rock-bottom, again.

-

The cell was cool. It wasn't too cramped and they at least gave them personal space. Jacques couldn't ask for anything because, well, he couldn't. His eyes watched this loser cop at the desk, the same one who stalled them long enough to be taken prisoner. He and Kellen held a short conversation, and they had absolutely no clue what they were capable of. Sure, Kellen depended on open air and clouds above way too much, but Jacques just needed enough consciousness to do anything and everything.

Alright, well, while you're having fun with this loser, make sure you get some rest while you're in here, Kellen.

He thought, a distant voice to Kellen's mind, suggesting his true proximity.

"Alright, it's been nice, but I've got things to do. Don't hate me," he suggested to Conan as a shard of glass shot in his direction, severing a few strands of his hair as it embedded itself into the dry surface just above the rest of the stone wall. Corkboard directly to its left, Jacques intentionally missed the man and used it as a diversion so that when his body was outlined in his signature blue energy, it would turn out to be more of an illusion than he had been practicing for.

His physical appearance turned opaque and in his body's frame were the shards of the same glass everywhere that littered that same receptionist's desk and lobby. The outline hazed out into nothingness and the glass clanged onto the ground of the cell.

Jacques practiced for this trick to work and he was so pleased that not even Kellen had noticed it.

He had to thank Gaspard for this ace up his sleeve.

And maybe go back for another handful of tricks.

[feral ferrett]

`

#87633E

Quite honestly, Alson was over this.

The wait for the boy to wake up was like the most stupid thing in the world. If anything, they could have gotten Alson to pose as Ermolai, in whatever transition of his life he was feeling for the day or some s**t, and go back to the Met to stir s**t up. Of course, this Kline character wouldn't know the ******** difference and neither would the dopes who had not seen him for a handful of years.

It was most important that Alson get back and on his grind. Adam was funneling him dime bags and pistons of his nice little "pharmaceutical drugs," something that Alson was a recovering guinea pig for. It went without mention that the goosebumps on Alson's slender, arms which interfered with the light dressing of hair follicles along forearms was from a bout of withdrawal. He clenched his jaw tight, his already rotting teeth bending in the force. The texture of the enamel running against each ridge was not as bothersome to him as the cravings his body had.

The countless needle marks, the erosion of his kidneys and the dark circles around his eyes were so prominent that even his short sleeved shirt and appearance as a female held little camouflage.

The entire journey, he was paying attention to the immediate vicinity, the company they kept being transported. Never before did Alson believe he would become this important to anyone since his initiation into EDGE. That alone was a bit of a glorified statement because they were all ******** shitheads and he outsold all of them in a matter of months. Adam was no different in the shithead department. His selling business, Alson could say, was not exactly in the same department. Maybe his drug pedalling was, but he had ulterior motives.

Some motives that Alson didn't need to know about, but need to learn how to form. In both magnitude and potential.

Adam traced his lips with his idle fingers, accepting a glass from Nikolai.

The man had been found on the street. In the dirtiest of alleyways. Tired, cuddling a younger boy who scampered off before Alson could catch him. This was the one Adam was told about, the same man who would help them tear down skyscrapers and burst into the center of the earth was in the lowest form he could possibly have been.

And when Alson kicked him to get up, Nikolai had clipped him off the ground and knocked him into a dumpster across the way. Alson had climbed out, completely ********, garbage spilling from the lid as he crawled out, his blonde, spaghetti hair flopping over his feminine face.

He had been called for a number of female roles by Adam. Apparently, people would let in a petite girl sooner than a rat-faced cokehead. It was scientifically proven, Adam insisted.

And when Nikolai had been properly trained and proved himself even better than most others in Adam's enlistment, Niko had been put at the left hand while Alson balanced on the right with Stone, his way smooth in and out of a country without any hiccups. Alson was getting a litle jealous, honestly, but didn't say anything of it because it was never his place to tell Adam who should be considered more significant in these operations.

Hell, he should be lucky that Adam considered working with him after the last funnel from South America to the Met was a disaster. The cartels, the Suits making a big fuss and then the whole ordeal with his company looking a bit suspicious in their doings. Alson had slipped up and lost track of a few pounds in his communications. Thankfully it was the stupidest of his bunch and Adam knew the runt personally. Alson was as professional as it got.

This was the impression from his meeting with Adam in the Everstate Complex, where Adam once stayed for a few months to bring his terrors to the Met.

Alson sipped quaintly from the glass, the rim stained with his thin lip print. Silky blue lipstick rolled onto the glass. As his short nails tapped at the glass, his bony feet poked out from his shoes. He was going to get comfortable because Ermolai, who had been stirring, was probably going to put up such a b***h fit.

He didn't know the boy in the past and he didn't know him now. All he knew was that he was really ******** annoying for making them all wait forever and a year just to wake up.

"Oh, shut up, Nikolai. We'll take care of s**t when we ********' get there, damn."

After all, Adam had played the same trick on Alson and he didn't sweat one drop.

At least, that's what he and Adam had agreed upon.











`

[XxBoltxofxThexYewxX]

“Never seen a bluer sky. Yeah, I can feel it reaching out, and moving closer. There’s something about blue….”

Well holy s**t, Jacques.

After years of mentally communicating with someone, it’s no surprise that you get very used to how that feels. For more years than could be counted on one hand, he had heard Jacques speak with him mentally, and become very proficient at picking up on information from such. Proximity was one of those things, and it was precisely this thing that caused Nathan to raise an eyebrow as he sat in that cell room, contemplating the sixteen different ways he could remove himself from that situation. None of them, sorry to say Jacques, included rest.

“You’re still crazy if you think I’m going to sleep until Ott….what the hell?”

It had not clicked immediately, it had not even clicked as he heard what he thought was Jacques speak from the other side of that wall. As he heard class clanking to the floor next to his cell, he was becoming increasingly more confused, even as his eyes found that piece of glass lodged into the wall of the room, right next to that small and unwelcoming desk that he had become familiar with since his arrival. He decided to blame his lack of realizing this very impressive feat of Jacques on his very, very tired brain, and his very very distant state of being.

Kellen was, as they liked to say, a hot mess.

“…You sly Parisian, J. I’m impressed.” That was what he said aloud, though his mind was a different matter. ”Don’t worry about me, I’m a literal liability right now. Find my kid, J…..who in the hell plays rainfall sounds from a CD?” For, somehow in Kellen’s mind, this fact was just a shocking, if not moreso, as Jacques’ grand disappearance act. It was one of the most prominent things he could hear, and it assaulted his very being. Something about those artificial sounds of pitter patter ---- no, wait, now it’s sea sounds? Nope, just a cheap CD skipping. Back to the rain --- these sounds made him wish he could call down the biggest bolt of lightning ever to just…end that CD player’s life. Immediately.

Unfortunately, for Kellen at that exact moment, he was unable to even able to gather enough energy to sizzle. And he could do that on his worst day usually.

He felt eyes on him, and his hazel hues looked towards the bars that separated him from the great outside. Even in his less-than-stellar mental state, Kellen was able to pick up on a sudden change in this rent-a-cop’s demeanor. With a click the lights in the room went dim, and Kellen sat up a bit straighter on his cot, eyes invisible in the darkness. Now, more than ever, the sounds of artificial rainfall fell all around him but instead of bothering him, he tried to let this empower him.

Concentrate, Kellen….concentrate…

"I’m so free….There’s no black and white, in blue.”

- Y.K

[XxBoltxofxThexYewxX]

ϡ And there it was...

What had started out as a nice evening walk towards the Endless Greens park for Nathan would quickly turn into something…unexpected. The weather had been absolutely delightful for him almost the entire day, which was saying something given that the past week it seemed had been filled with rain, rain, and more rain. “I’m all for the rain, it’s beautiful. Truly, that which gives all life,” he could be heard telling a favorite customer of his just a few days prior, “But, all of this rain isn’t good for the plants that drown if watered too much. This city never controls its sprinkler systems, and so even if it rains, the sprinklers and drip systems still run, the soil becomes overly saturated, and then you have plants that die. Fortunately,” and this next phrase had brought quite the eyebrow raise to his customer. She thought he was being figurative. Even, though, she had her suspicions…”I’ve visited just about every major plant source in the city. They should be safe.”

But, yeah, he was very much enjoying the slightly clouded skies of the city this day. And, even as the sun began to set, he found a very simple beauty in those skies. One that, even as he walked around people, he continued to look at. Some thoughts in the back of his mind were concerning the news he had heard earlier that day about the attack down in the judicial area of town. Dark storm clouds, broken glass, two apprehended suspects – these were very much the sounds of two people Nathan knew pretty well. He also knew them to be on moderately good terms with the law enforcement in town, even with the new rollouts of martial-like law that were coming from the top down. Definitely, if they were the ones that got arrested, they’d have it all sorted out and taken care of.

Zefir, the trio turned duet, had always been something of an interesting thing to Nathan. For him personally, he really had no kind of urge to save the mass of Metropolis life. The little human interaction he found himself having to be a part of everyday showed him that that vast majority of them were all remedial in the worst ways possible and he, truly, wanted nothing to do with that. Then there was the wonderful world of those whom he’d met that’d been very interesting. The feisty woman named Ingrid, the Zefir trio, Jacques’ brother, and a few others; these were relatively decent human beings. Friends, Nathan thought he might be willing to call them even. Rapo’kiri said that this was a good thing, decent acquaints that he could speak with regularly.

There was one more….but he chose to not think on it.

Something that did give him pause, however, were the number of black unmarked vans that were parked outside of this particular precinct he happened to be walking by. Nathan didn’t know much about the affairs of the law, save what he witnessed in person and, occasionally, on the television, but suspicious activity was a thing that he was more than able to pick up on.

His steps slowed a bit as he began crossed the street on a diagonal path, which took him closer to the precinct. He could see a number of guys, heavily suited and armed, beginning to make their way towards the entrance of the building. Something in the back of his mind said S.W.A.T, but something equally as loud said absolutely not. Why would S.W.A.T be swarming their own sanctioned place?

Out of nowhere, WHAM.

Nathan found himself being flung to the ground, tackled by a black armored S.W.A.T, whose face mask did nothing to hide the scowl beneath his features.

“METROPOLIS S.W.A.T TATICAL FORCE. STAY DOWN.”

“…….”

Nathan’s natural instinct was to struggle against such sudden brute force being used against him.

Bad idea.

From that visor-ed face above him, the next thing he saw were the tires of the vehicle closest to him. A fist, heavily gloved but still quite effective, slammed into his jaw, a grunt from him being issued. As the taste of blood filled his mouth, he settled his body and slowly turned his head.

Somewhere in this guys’ mind, he found this control over innocent civilians to be something of a trip. Don’t hurt ununecessary people they said. Minds on the target they said. There was no harm in scaring them a little bit though, eh?

“DON’T ******** MOVE, OR DO YOU WANT TO DIE?”

Bad idea.

As if it were possible, Nathan’s lips parted into a bit of a grin, blood smeared teeth reflecting back at him from that pristine visor above him, green eyes bright. In no less than a few seconds, this guy’s monotone and commanding voice turned into a violent scream as he fell backwards, writhing in agony. White petals had begun to sprout from ever crevice that they could find open from underneath his gear. Even as backup began to run across the street, to see what all the screaming was about, his wails had turned to labored moans as his movements became less and less violent as well. His skin withered and cracked, the air from his lungs coming out in ragged gasps until, with a final expulsion of carbon dioxide and dust, he ceased to breathe.

“WHAT IN THE—----“

The street round him had cracked and splintered as vines reached up from the ground. They latched onto his ankles and snaked their way up his limbs, covering skin and clothing. Past his torso they grew in diameter until, at last, his entire body was covered in vines. Having grown considerably in height, an eight foot tall thorny vined monster was exactly what this second guy had not expected.

A number of those very same vines lashing out to cut through cloth and armor alike to rend his very flesh was even further down the list.

As he fell to the ground, bleeding from several deep gashes, Nathan advanced with a dexterity generally unbefitting some of his bulk and height. As bullets began to fly, the sounds of firing machinery filling the streets, he steeled his exothornyskeleton to stay the projectiles. They lodged into the ever-writhing vines on his body but never managed to break through the layers. He, however, managed to break many things. He sent several guys crashing into their own vehicle with a swing of his arm, another two collapsing onto their knees as two slender vines lashed out, performing a vicious garrote.

A particularly heavy shell hit him square in the abdomen and he stumbled back a step, drawing himself in and calculating. A sharp pain in his chest told him that something had gotten through. Behind slithering vines, his eyes caught sight of his target. He slammed a fist into the ground with a shout, causing concrete to split as a volley of vines tore away from him and in the direction of where the remaining men were posted. They dodged the onslaught with ease, choosing to take this opportunity to flank.

“NOW, WHILE THE b***h IS HINDERED!” One cried, running towards Nathan, gun drawn.

“FIND A WEAKSPOT IN THOSE ******** PLANTS!” Another yelled out, snapping the last bullet into his weapon and, with practiced ease, taking aim.

With a sickening snap, Nathan lashed out with another set of vines, which retracted just as soon as they had extended. Each of the men stopped in their advance, quivering in place. Starting at the top of his head, vines began to peel and fall away, shoulders next, torso third, and finally his legs. Left standing in their wake was one Nathan, wiping the blood from his lip that had made its way there from the earlier delivered punch to his jaw. As he stepped forward, moving through their destruction that had just befell the front of the building, he looked to each of those bodies in turn, white petals protruding from their uniforms, his face stoic and unresponsive.

“Manners is a thing humans really should learn.”

And, as their skin cracked and crumbled, he moved inside of the building.

Getting past the stationed front guard was no problem, for a number of obvious reasons that one could pick from. Probably some shock involved with seeing a man become a vine monster then back to a man. Or, maybe it was because Nathan walked into the station as if nothing had happened, and purposefully walked down the hallway he figured would head to the holding area.

[XxBoltxofxThexYewxX]

ϡ And there it was...

Nathan’s form rounded a corner and his sight was met with the barrel of a gun, a sight that didn’t cause him to falter in his steps until he’d crossed through the threshold into the room, at a comfortable distance from the cop. His eyes, calm and unreadable, looked the cop up and down, registering the communication device in one hand, the gun in another. He picked up on the distraught-like features of the cop, leading Nathan to the conclusion that a lot had already gone on inside of the precinct. He’d managed to not come into contact with anyone since he’d entered the front door….was this the last guy here?

Standing exactly where he was, he opened his mouth to speak. “My name’s not Cameron. It’s Nathan. And those people outside weren’t S.W.A.T, they were something else entirely.”

He brought a hand to his mouth, massaging the jaw that’d been assaulted before. The same hand then traveled town to his torso where, on the left side of his torso, a rip in his shirt and a splash of red hinted towards another injury he’d need to deal with at some point. Now, though, wasn’t the time to worry about such. His eyes moved about the room and he was quick to pick up on the unmoving figure of Kellen within his cell, a pile of glass in an otherwise empty cell, and then the skipping sounds of rainfall and waves upon a beach.

If there had been a moment of confusion upon his features, it was gone. He spoke up again, this time dropping his hand into his pocket, retrieving a few small black specs; seeds.

“Hmm…Kellen’s lost in his own mind right now. We won’t be left alone for much longer, I fear. No report back to whoever is commanding these idiots,” And he motioned towards the direction he came from, “Will send more support when there’s no word from these…can you put the gun down? I’d prefer to not be shot at again.”