To Melt Or Not To Melt?

[cuirass317]

This is a private roleplay between me and Artiee. You can look but don't touch.

[cuirass317]

It's been three years since he's been living in this four corner apartment. Time was precious and this was one of these times where he took his time and wrote as his heart dictated him to do. The mysterious senses and thinking of a writer was something that set him or her apart from others. It's the uniqueness of their soul to see beyond what was visible to the naked eye.

Cuirass Styx was a former Lieutenant from the army's spec ops team. He's done missions too sensitive even for the conventional special operations commandos. His group was a different breed altogether. Well, that was before he knew his power.

Several knocks on his door were heard and he knew who was behind the door blocking him from the outside world. Johnny Vince was one of the higher class collectors from the Mafia in Muse City. He collected Cuirass' rent without delay and with lots of attitude. Of course, whenever he came near the former soldier's residence, his head and tail bows down in respect. He could remember the first time he tried to tough talk the former commando. The experience was inhuman and completely atrocious. Well, that's what Muse City was all about.

Cuirass shoved the money up the collector's mouth and kicked him back to the outside. Johnny knew his antics were top of the line and he would do best to not disturb him at all. Even his superiors were wary of the writer that was Cuirass Styx. Besides, they had a big deal coming up a few blocks away.

"Finally, peace and quiet." Cuirass muttered to himself as he looked at the clock on his TV. It was time.

[Retired Artiee]

❶ ❷ ❸ ❹ ❺ ❻ ❼ ❽ ❾

₪[Pandora Lovett]₪

with

◈[Comedy and Tragedy]◈

All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players.
- William Shakespeare

☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒

"Can’t we just skip out now? I’m bored to tears.”
"But… but if we do that, Pan would get in so much trouble…”
"Guys, guys. Just a minute or two more. Calm down, okay? Be quiet before someone hears you.”

The last class before the weekend- theater- and Comedy and Tragedy were having a field day disclaiming whatever the teacher said. “It was 1603, not 1703.” “He completely butchered that poor playwright’s name…” “Hello? Wake up teach, that play wasn’t even considered worth the peasants.” Oh the drudgery of it all. At least the class didn’t mind the whispering anymore. They just assumed she was haunted by ghosts and just happened to like to talk back. The class was right about one thing too, they were spirits, but she certainly did not like to talk to the pair.

“No, not Shakespeare you buffoon, Moliere wrote that play and I’ll be damned if I let you give false credit to that bald nincompoop!”
Couple more seconds. Just a couple more seconds… Her fingers were tapping rapidly against the tabletop, waiting for the teacher to say it… Having the pair of them there really broke any chance of concentrating over the lesson anyway.

“You’re free to go!” The teacher didn’t need to utter it twice. Pandora stood up, swung her tan backpack onto her right shoulder, and quickly headed out the door. It was bright outside, but nice. The weather had turned cool as of late, but she still didn’t need to carry around a jacket. Although to be truthful, the only supplies she needed to create an outfit were pinned to the outside of her bag. Comedy and Tragedy were two muses of the dramatic art, who happened to find her when she was a little kid. They could transform into about anything, although they much preferred the floating mask approach that so often scared the pants off civilians. ("If I told you guys once, I told you a million times! You can’t go around as floating masks, it’s creepy!”)

But despite their eagerness to freak out the folk in Muse, they still proved to be valuable friends. Comedy had a healing laugh, which he often liked to say ‘laughter cures all’ about it. Tragedy on the other hand, had something like paralyzing tears where a foe would be forced into submission by a great flood of depression. She had only seen him do that once, while Comedy had never used his own special trick. But Pandora was fine with that, the masks were even more annoying when they were trying to regain some of their spiritual strength back that tethered them to this world.

“We’re out already so activate your power, do it, do it, do it! You can get there faster that way, I know you can!”
“She shouldn’t do it here, what if she gets caught?!”
“Don’t get your ribbons bent out of shape, Tragedy, Pan won’t get caught, she’s a super duper hero!”

A group of students were passing her, but still managing to give her dirty looks without breaking a stride. She didn’t understand why they were so angry. It wasn’t like the woman had ever spoken to them once in her life. “They always look so mad at you…” the weeping mask of theater stated from her backpack. “They’ll never like you, it’s so sad!” The little pin wailed and a boy passing her turned to gave her the strangest look. In doing so he managed to walk right into a trashcan on the side of the street and actually tumbled in.

“Heh, heh! Poor boy. Never seen a college freshman or something. We’re hot stuff, we are.” Pan internally groaned.

Boys or even men, never turned to look at her in the manner Comedy was suggesting. What hot stuff was a 5’4” eighteen year old who talked to her ‘ghost’ pals and never spoke up in class? Not to mention whenever people got close enough to look into her eyes, they were always spooked by the way her left eye was brown and the right one was blue. Wasn’t natural, they thought. But there was hardly anything natural about her to begin with.

For instance, she had two fathers as parents. No mother to speak of. As far as she knew, neither of the two gay men had ever laid a finger on a woman too, so she really didn’t want to get into a discussion on how she was born. Somehow finding out one of them gave to birth to her? Not on her to do list. But what was, was- "Pan, you better hurry up, or you’re going to be late to the rehearsal! I knew we should have skipped out earlier, why oh why did we not, Pan, why oh why not!”

"People can hear you!” the woman stressed, picking up her speed a little bit. She knew that Tragedy really didn’t know the time so he probably was wrong about being late, but she couldn’t help being a bit fearful of missing it. Making the director upset again, for the third time that week… Oh she could hardly stand it! "I’ll just manipulate time a little bit, no fear.”

But her heart was pounding loudly as she ran along the sidewalk, barely focusing on who she bumped on the way, so long as she got to the theater quickly.

[cuirass317]

Cuirass slowly crept up back into the window of his apartment. People at Muse City didn't really care about someone's house getting boarded through the window. It was something they just saw everyday. Odds are the people that see you entering through the window have probably done it more than thrice in their life. It was perfect camouflage. Clean, perfect and casual, just the way he liked people to think he was.

He took off his tactical suit that covered the entirety of his body up to his neck. He had a mask with trident goggles that glowed in the dark whenever he wanted to. It was a little aesthetic on his part. It added the frightening factor of his appearance. No one really knew much of his alter ego. In fact, he didn't even bother making a name for it. That was the newspaper does its work.

After stripping off his last piece of equipment and stashing it neatly underneath that secret container underneath his bed, he was finally ready to sleep. He lay down on his bed until the sun came up again. He woke up to the ring of his telephone. With groggy spirits and his reflexes in check, he grabbed the electronic piece of equipment.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Styx! Is this a bad time? I was in high hopes of seeing you today at the theater. Remember? You said you wanted to see theater firsthand." said the familiar voice of the playwright.

"Oh, yeah. I'll be right over. Just give me a few minutes though, gotta shave and you know, the works. You better have a good cup of coffee too, very... Stimulating."

He was seen walking down the street as people stared and glared him down. It wasn't such a rare sight to see former 1st Lieutenant Cuirass Styx out of his apartment. The treat was that whenever he actually came out, he had a very smooth and clean shave and wore a brown trench coat and a hat. It was like seeing a respectable detective in the crime ridden streets of Muse City.

He arrived at the theater just in time. The playwright greeted him with a smile and a cup of coffee. While he wasn't a popular writer in all of the world, he was a bit known for his screen name: E. Horus. It was often found that his books, although military oriented and action packed were a good pass time for the fond playwrights and actors and theatrical performers. He simply took the time off to see what his audience was like. What world do they move in? How do they see the world?

"Have you heard the latest news? Some Meltdown character has entered the stage of Muse City. I must say, this fellow is a bit frightening." said the playwright.

"Oh I think he's good. Hostiles often get frightened by sudden appearances of characters that take the guts out of their men and throw it at their faces. It's shock and awe at its best." he smiled.

[Retired Artiee]

❶ ❷ ❸ ❹ ❺ ❻ ❼ ❽ ❾

₪[Pandora Lovett]₪

with

◈[Comedy and Tragedy]◈

All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players.
- William Shakespeare

☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒

‘Oh no! I really am going to be late! Why does that teacher keep us in there for that long? The director’s going to kill me!’
"The director’s going to be pissed.”
"He’s going to fire Pan!”

Sometimes it disturbed Pandora when the pair of theater spirits read her mind like that. But after years and years of being subjugated to their endless chatter- it was easier to accept now than in the past. It was just one of those things that grew easier in time, while people and plays never did get better. But plays did get to be more exciting.

This wasn’t the time to think of people fright and stage fright though. The grand old Showplace Theater was just ahead, and her hands were on the handle before she could blink again. Pan hastily scrambled into the building, dodging members of the cast and the set crew on her way to the stage. She noticed with a soft smirk, that several of the actors and actresses were still trying to memorize a few more lines before their parts up on the stage. She had already got the script packed away neatly in her mind.

A burst of confidence was enough to bring about someone willing to stomp on it. She just rounded the corner and the stage was in sight… “MISS LOVETT, LATE AGAIN I SEE!” bellowed the round director whose shortness only surpassed her own. He had such a large mouth, with wide eyes, and a short stump of a nose; he readily reminded her of a fat bullfrog. That, and the fact he had no neck, but skinny little arms and legs did not help his case. “You’d be keeping the audience waiting, Miss Lovett. Had this been a show and not a rehearsal, I would have to fire you!” The plump director signed then, and placed his hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Pandora, you have what it takes to be a star! To see a talent like you go to waste? It’d break my heart.”

She did think he looked like a bullfrog, but he was a kind one at that. "Thank you, Mr. Hopps ,sir.” He had a very ironic name she thought. "I’ll try to be earlier next time, sir.” The man nodded once and hopped- er- walked his way over to two men discussing something or another about melt downs and stages. Pandora Lovett was on her own way then, darting past more members of the set and a few of the performers. One such performer however, did not want to be darted around.

“Ouch, you little freak!” An older woman cried, rubbing her arm like the brush of Pan’s nearly broke it. Although this wasn’t a dress rehearsal, she had an outfit on that resembled the whore’s in the play. Short skirt, low tank, and heels that looked more painful to wear than sexy. She even had ridiculously large sunglasses on, despite the fact she was inside and the theater was already pretty dim. “Don’t you look where you are going? I swear you only tried to run me over because I’m more talented than you and you feel threatened that the director will realize he casted you all wrong!”

“She looks talented in bed alright, hubba hubba.”
Pan’s hand clamped down around the pin on her tan backpack, her face a shade of shameful embarrassment. She preferred it when other people ignored her, and the sudden hostility was a little frightening. "I didn’t mean too, Miss April, really. I’m just- just terribly late and I must… be going… To the stage?” Pandora started to edge her way in the direction she needed to go, as some of the members of the theater were beginning to stare.

“Bullshit!” the older actresses screamed, reaching for the girl’s wrist. She wasn’t going to let this go.
Underneath Pan’s hand, Comedy grumbled, “Jealous b***h. Just cause our Panny’s got the lead…”
“What are we going to do if she hits her?!”
“What was that?!” the woman demanded, having overheard the two spirits muffled voices, but unsure from where they came. “Doesn’t matter! I’m turning you into the director right now for being such a reckless nuance…”
"Wait!” Pandora quietly complained, being lead to where she had just come from. "The stage…”

By now almost all the crew and cast had come to gawk; some laughing a little and others frowning. They all had some opinion about the small woman- be it jealousy, distrust, and even a little admiration. However none were out to help the young Lovett as she was pulled to the director, playwright, and another man that several knew by name.

[cuirass317]

As Cuirass took a turn inside the backstage area of the theater, Marcus, the playwright was giving him a tour of what goes on around the area. He was having a good time until he bumped into someone. As luck would have had it, it was a woman. A woman with a little bit of an attitude problem to be precise. He tried to apologized but was greeted by an over reacting response.

"Who do you think you are you..."

The woman's voice trailed off as Cuirass himself glared her down like a drill instructor to his recruits. He stood tall and towered above her like some sort of disciplinary person and sized her up. The woman seemed to freeze in fear and intimidation at the presence of Cuirass.

"Me? What? Finish the sentence." he said with authority.

Her silence from fear seemed to have weakened when Marcus held him back. "You'll have to excuse her, Mr. Styx." he said. However, it seemed that Cuirass himself wouldn't be stopped. He didn't like ungrateful people with attitude problems. His temper was rising and in one fell swoop, it snapped.

"Stand back, Marcus. I'm gonna rip her guts out right now." he said coldly.

The woman froze and opened her mouth. It seemed that fate nor luck wasn't on her side today. Cuirass stepped forward and raised his hand. In a split second, his facial expression turned from cold blooded killer, to stern yet calm. Marcus sighed as he felt Cuirass letting go. The woman on the other hand seemed to have wet herself in fear. He showed no hints of noticing it though. It was enough humiliation for her and it should keep her attitude in check.

[Retired Artiee]

❶ ❷ ❸ ❹ ❺ ❻ ❼ ❽ ❾

₪[Pandora Lovett]₪

with

◈[Comedy and Tragedy]◈

All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players.
- William Shakespeare

☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒

"Jesus!”
"Watch out Pan!”

Miss Hooker (for the lack of a better name) managed to find herself in the way of yet another person. However, they certainly were not as mild-mannered as the girl she was dragging around by the wrist. One sentence that slipped out of her mouth managed to enrage the fellow actually. And while Pan was still attached to the woman being talked down too, she didn’t have the same fearful look. In fact, she was more stunned than fearful- like the sort of alarm that came with a proposal or I’m pregnant declaration. She didn’t recognize the man or anything like that, but she certainly felted threatened by his hand raising up, ready to strike the talkative woman.

Despite the fact the woman was trying to get her in trouble, Pandora still felt it was wrong not to try and help her out of this dangerous situation. But before any desperate measures would have to be taken, the guy relaxed his expression and calmly stared at his victim. She followed his eyes and noted with a hint of disgust why he felt the need to stop. The poor woman was going to need a change of… erm, skirt. And noting that, probably shoes and if she wore panties, as well.

“I’ll be going now,” the eighteen year old muttered, pulling her wrist free from the woman’s grip. It was actually pretty loose now anyway. She had probably been debating on whether it would be safe to flee. Tilting her head over towards the playwright and the frightening male next to him, Pandora quickly offered up a bow of peace, and attempted to leave in utter silence.

Until Comedy went and declared “That’s one scary guy!” loud enough for the small group to hear.
Then feeling left out, Tragedy sputtered, “Shut up, he’s going to hear you!” even if by saying it, he was attracting attention.
Pandora smacked herself in the face for being stupid enough to lift her hand off the trinket the two masks of theater formed. Without her hand muffling their voices, the pair of them freely went about causing confusion. It was often like they prided themselves on making her look like a freak.

But deciding she didn’t want to stick around the game of, ‘where’d that voice come from?’ or ‘grr, did you just mock me woman?!’; the woman quickly fled the scene herself, deciding that not even politeness would stop her from reaching the stage.

“Finally!” a voice declared from the left side of the stage, hidden behind the curtain. “We’ve been waiting for you. After all, we can’t start the show without our beautiful leading lady…” The owner’s voice stepped out, dusting off some invisible dirt that managed to collect on his tight black shirt. He had a delicate smile, like an angel she thought, with perfect white teeth. His dark hair was always a mess though, but that made him just a bit more cuter than he already was. In fact, Pan had one of the largest crushes on the lead male, whose body could have come right out of a fashion magazine. She must have been staring too long into those brown eyes of his, because Duncan Smart was now coughing uncomfortably, and shifting his weight to his other foot.

“Oh, yes!” She squeaked, trying to figure out what to say after he called her a beautiful leading lady. Surely her face was bright red, but the fear that the two ghosts would say something stupid kept her hand clamped around them. “I should… start, shouldn’t I? Which scene?” Knowing that the twenty-six year old didn’t like her still couldn’t stop the way she felt about him. He was one of the few who actually treated her kindly as Pandora. As someone on stage or even as her alter ego… there were many people who thought she was fantastic. At least Duncan saw her as her real self…

“Probably,” the male remarked, trying hard not to laugh. The girl was too nervous, too easy. In fact, she was more fun just to play with and confuse. He wouldn’t be surprised if one day she tried to confess some crazy love for him, but until then, he could ride on her coattails all he wanted to. “Do act three, scene two. The others need more practice.” She nodded like a good little girl and headed for the center of the stage after dropping her bag off by the nearest wall; not even needing a precious script like the others.

“Okay,” Pandora Lovett declared from the platform. She didn’t flinch or shield her eyes as someone from the lighting crew set a spotlight beam down on her. “Act three, scene two.” Some of the staff decided to grab a seat for the rehearsal. “Let’s begin from the start…”

Act three, scene two was a particularly long part of the show. And with performers still reading out of their books, the scene was made much, much longer. Still, for all the mistakes, the woman’s performance was spotless. It was like she had long prepared for the role, almost lived for it. She made even the slowest parts of the scene seem thrilling. For all her nervousness, the fretting, and the soft-spoken ways… Pandora really shined on stage. Her ability to captivate an audience was second to none, so really, it was obvious why the woman before had been so envious.

But like all performances, it finally came to an end and the shy little creature took the entertaining one’s place. “Mr. Marcus,” the girl gently called from the stage. “Did we capture your imagination right? Or shall we do it again, from the top?” A collective groan sounded from the performers behind her.

[cuirass317]

"Wha? Oh, yes I think you did it very well. A little more polishing on a few parts and I think you might go straight to Broadway. Good work, Miss Lovett." Marcus cheered.

Meanwhile, Cuirass lowered his hand as he watched the young star of the play do her thing. He was captivated by her performance and it was very clear that she had talent. However, he wasn't really into this kind of things but for this occasion, he might very well make an exception. The woman at the back seemed to have recovered from the shock and fear from the former Lieutenant and walked off and haste.

"Uh, Marcus, I think we got a leak here. I don't know where the mop is... Or where that turd went to." he raised his hand.

"What? Oh my, who pissed backstage?! Who?" asked Marcus.

The rest of the actors gathered round and were even taking pictures on their phones. It was a shame that they didn't know who pissed all over the backstage. After a few good minutes of laughing and giggling, they realized that there was a newcomer in their presence. They looked at Cuirass with unbiased looks and then to Marcus, their playwright who wasn't known for his introductory skills.

"Oh! This is Mr. Styx, he's a writer. He claims to know E. Horus, the writer." Marcus said.

"E. Horus?! The guy who wrote The Culling? Wow, It's an honor to meet you sir." said a young man, shaking Cuirass' hand with much fervor.

"Uh, yeah. Likewise." Cuirass smiled.

[Retired Artiee]

❶ ❷ ❸ ❹ ❺ ❻ ❼ ❽ ❾

₪[Pandora Lovett]₪

with

◈[Comedy and Tragedy]◈

All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players.
- William Shakespeare

☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒☒

She didn’t think he had paid the least bit of attention to her performance at all. After a second or two of bothered silence, Pandora nodded and started to head off the stage to fetch a drink of water from the back when she heard the friend of Marcus the playwright, complain. Her blue and brown eyes skeptically watched him, a frown teetering on her lips. He shouldn’t have called the woman a turd. He was the one who scared her half to death! But she wasn’t going to complain. The man had at least scared the woman so much that she left Pan alone after that.

“I don’t think we did so well during act four, scene one. Let’s redo it guys.” After retrieving a fresh bottle of water, she stepped back onto the stage to note that many of her fellows had left the platform. “Guys?” They were now crowding around the playwright and his scary friend, ignoring her for the moment being. Pandora gazed at that uncomfortably, wondering if the newcomer would feel like frightening another one of the cast as he was introduced.

“Uh, yeah. Likewise.” the male stated with a smile, although she had the feeling it was a smile through gritted teeth. She had the certain feeling that he didn’t appreciate the crowd, though Pan could agree that she wouldn’t have liked it either. But really, what was their fixation with the writer? A friend of someone famous? What were these people working for anyway? Didn’t they want to be famous themselves? That was a lot of work, and several needed to work their asses off to ever hope of having those fifteen minutes!

The girl wasn’t going to say that aloud, but she still thought it foolish of her colleagues to be crowding around the man like he was Jesus himself. Pandora Lovett huffed as quietly as she could before going back to the side of the stage to fetch her bag. If no one was going to be serious about rehearsal that day, she might as well try and get in a few minutes of productive work. Besides, by the way the crowd kept harassing Mr. Styx with questions about E. Horus, she’d be twiddling her thumb for hours.

During one of those few times of her life in which she was glad that most people found her invisible, the female Lovett slipped into the back of the stage once again. She hastened into the female dressing room and opened the clutch on her bag. Both of the spirits of theater had an excited expression on their masks, which looked sort of tragically amusing on Tragedy’s.

"Haha! A few hours early! We can kick some a** now!”
"I don’t think this is a very good idea… but…”
“They won’t notice.” Pandora stated firmly, retrieving an old looking mask from the depths of her sack. It had the delicate look of porcelain, but like it could withstand a lot of force at the same time.
"Do it. Do it. Do it!”

The girl slipped the mask over her face, feeling the unusual tingle as the mask affixed itself to her skin. The strange sensation didn’t stop there. Suddenly golden ribbon wrapped tightly down her throat, and across her chest, about her waist, on arms and both legs. It was less than a second later as her shirt and jeans were changed into white material, hanging on her frame like a Greek or Roman toga. Comedy and Tragedy didn’t bother to wait a moment longer and quickly transformed out of their pins shape into full-blown floating masks.

They hovered there a moment, waiting for Pandora to sweep her brown hair that had grown past her rump out of her face. “Okay,” the woman stated behind the mask, her voice amplified rather than muffled. “If you see anyone looking my way…”
“Aye, aye Illusion. We’re your men. Well… spirit thingys.” Tragedy bobbed in the air like he was nodding to his partner’s words.
“Alright,” Illusion smirked, though it did little more than shift the emotionless mask a fraction upwards. “Let’s go. I’ve got better things to do than sit around waiting for these people to be productive members of society.”

Illusion dashed from the girl’s dressing room, her hand up and ready to freeze in time anyone unfortunate to come poking around for her citizen ego.

[cuirass317]

It took a few hours to get everyone in the theater back on track. It seemed that the very fact that they knew he was closely related to his pen name made everyone into such a fuss. Was he that good at touching the lives of others? Was he that good a writer?

"If it's not too much of a bother, I'd like to get to know you guys. You know, how you do stuff here, your life in and out of the theater... If it's okay with you though. Horus likes to know his audience, makes him feel attuned to them." Cuirass said.

After a few minutes of interviewing everyone, they were all sharing a discreet yet happy laugh. It didn't take much to get into the good side of Cuirass Styx. Well, at least when you don't start on his bad side. He had little tolerance for most people when they start off at the wrong foot with him. Johnny, the Mafia's collector is one good example.

"I appreciate all that you've given me. I think Horus would love this." Cuirass smiled as Marcus escorted him to the exit.

"Really? He seems quite the eccentric one isn't he?" Marcus asked.

"Eccentric? He's poor you know. Weird would be the right word for him... Although different might sound catchy as well. Thanks for your time, I'll see you around." Cuirass chuckled, waving goodbye to Marcus.

The experience of learning new things about his readers was a writer's treasure. He writes books about war, action, mystery and such. He doesn't do well with love but he does incorporate it with his novels. The Culling was a novel he wrote that closely resembled his missions and his travails as a soldier from the front lines.

He shook his head back to reality as he slipped in a small earpiece and tuned in to the frequency he juiced out of Johnny. It was his police radio of sorts and he knows it inside and out. Muse City always needed some guy to do their dirty work for them and he was one of the guys best suited for the task. He jogged at a steady rate and made his way back to his apartment. It took him less than five minutes to get dressed and listen in on the radio. It seemed that there was some sort of hostage situation in a bank a few blocks away from his apartment. He grinned happily as he got dressed in less than five minutes.

His get up was similar to that of some spec ops guy. He was clad in a black tactical suit that covered his body. The fabric was so complex that he didn't want to know what it was made of. His costume was lumpy in various places and broke the straight lines that mother nature despised so much. It was designed ultimately for stealth and the fabric itself was rough to the tough for maximum light absorption. His head was covered in a black balaclava that was protective in its own sense as it was slightly shock absorbent. Only his eyes were visible underneath it all and it was still covered by his trident goggles that gave him both night vision and thermal imaging. The electric imaging was also a treat as it gave him virtually access to all visions for covert rescues.

He slung his weapon, a collapsible, compact rifle that could be outfitted with a scope for longer shots. However, the weapon was designed specifically for him as it converted his bodily energy into concentrated bursts of nuclear powered shots. With that kind of weapon in his arsenal, it could never fall into the wrong hands. When all was said and done, he was already up on the rooftops and jumping his way across the dimly lit environment as the night slowly wrapped itself around Muse City.

OOC: I'm very sorry this took so long. I've got myself swarmed with waves of stuff. This is one of the times where I'm (hopefully) free from the tides of painful torturing activites that is called by society as homework. Love the avi by the way. 3nodding