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silvieon's avatar

cakesauce's Wife

Omnipresent Phantom

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          ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■
          mil this is war¹ mille this is war² millenn x ████████ █ █ ██████████████████
          milleTHIS IS WAR xTHIS IS WAR
          new millennium l o a d i n g . . . mille l o a d i n g . . . mille l o a d i n g . . . mille

          awesome ▬▬ CREATORS: SiLENT xx m a s q u e and KiD IC4RUS
          awesome ▬▬ INSPIRATION: Teen Titans, Code Lyoko, Xiaolin Showdown, nostalgia
          awesome ▬▬ GRAPHICS: SiLENT xx m a s q u e
          awesome ▬▬ CODING: KiD IC4RUS
          awesome ▬▬ STATUS: no longer accepting apps - IC opened

          Hello! Welcome to ×「 NEW MILLENNIUM━ ◟☆!, the child of myself, SiLENT xx m a s q u e, and my friend KiD IC4RUS. I'm not really sure what I'm talking about at this point, but this RP pretty much spawned from nothing; all we were sure about was that we wanted something that would take us down memory lane, as children of the new millennium! Because if people can be 90's kids, then why can't we be children of the new millennium? So we took our three favorite shows growing up and threw them together into what you see here right now. So enjoy! (:

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          User ImagexxUser ImagexxUser Image ____________________
silvieon's avatar

cakesauce's Wife

Omnipresent Phantom

________User Image
                                        mille ████ ████████████████████████████████ █████

                                        new x millennium it's the moment of truth and the moment to lie x new millennium it's the moment of truth and the moment to die x
                                        mille THE MOMENT TO FIGHT ,xTHE MOMENT TO FIGHT
                                        mille ⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

                                        Once upon a time…

                                        Not even fifty years ago were there superhumans. They used to be everywhere. More often than not, you knew someone who was superhuman, were personally friends with someone who was superhuman. They possessed powers ranging anywhere from useful powers like dowsing to silly powers like cape manipulation.

                                        Naturally, where there’s power, there’s a government chasing after it.

                                        The United States government moved to round up all of the superhumans within their jurisdiction, no matter what their power was. At first, it was only adult humans who had to join in the service of the government – voluntarily, of course. For the good of the country, of course. But then it soon came to pass that there were not enough adult superhuman recruits and a draft was issued for any and all superhumans over the age of eighteen to submit themselves. When that still wasn’t enough, the government took in every superhuman they could find. Even children, with their mandate that it was now required for parents to hand their children over to the government for training if they found their child to have superpowers. Those few parents found lying about their child’s status were sent to jail. Superhumans became property of the government – and solely the government. If a superhuman was found to have gone underground and concealed their status from the government, they were harshly reprimanded. There was no choice. There was no other option but to submit to everything the government gave them because the public knew just how harshly they would be punished if they were found hiding a superhuman.

                                        It became common to see superhumans everywhere – doing everything. They became the police force, security guards, military. Tools for the United States government to use against foreign nations in the event of something going wrong. Toys for the United States government to play with. Scapegoats for the United States government for when everything began to fall apart. In short, superhumans became everything the public needed, but wouldn’t actively acknowledge, the slaves who made the Land of the Free run.

                                        But at some point, you just have to say enough is enough, and know that something good will turn out of it, right?

                                        That was what the superhumans had thought when they decided to fight back for the first time in their history. They finally said that enough was enough. Together, a group of superhumans plotted together in secret, and one day, finally, after communicating for months with other superhumans from around the country, made a conscious attack on the government who had been keeping them for so long. Originally, the goal had been to overwhelm the government enough to the point that they could finally get them to listen to what the superhumans had to say about their own treatment. That was the goal for some of them, anyways.

                                        But for the others – those not so interested in peace – the goal was to hurt those who had hurt them. In the same way – or worse, if they had the powers to manage such a feat. It was those others who turned the small rebellion into a massacre, killing not only government officials, but also innocents just caught in the crossfire on accident.

                                        They made sure that no one was spared.

                                        However, not everyone had joined into this rebellion, and those superhumans who hadn’t were now used to take down the rebellion that had sprung up. The rebellion leaders were all killed in turn, an example made of each of them to the rest of the superhumans. The US President and his Cabinet had already been thinking about some way to dispose of the auxiliary superhumans. Perhaps it hadn’t been such a good idea to draft every superhuman they could find.

                                        So they vilified the superhumans – all of the superhumans. The President used those who had started the rebellion as an example, claiming that all of the superhumans would be the same, killers who would stop at nothing to take over the government. Then the public would be enslaved. And the government just couldn’t have people like that working for them, so obviously, the solution here was clear.

                                        The President dishonorably discharged every single superhuman they had, turning them literally out onto the streets of Washington DC. Even the children.

                                        Without sympathy, the public attacked.

                                        Anyone they could find to be superhuman, the public attacked, no matter their age. The public was vicious, decimating the numbers of the superhumans. To survive, the remaining superhumans were forced to go into hiding. Those left changed their names; some even changed their appearances as dramatically as they possibly could to avoid being recognized. Anything to save themselves from the wrath of the incensed public.

                                        And it worked. The public gradually began to forget about superhumans when they realized that they weren’t as prevalent and that they’d taken care of most of the superhumans.

                                        However, what the government hadn’t been totally honest about was the fact that not every superhuman was turned out. Those superhumans who were deemed so powerful that they would be useful – turncoat or not – were kept around and forced into submission. They were kept around as spies, as secret police.

                                        And with that, the story of the superhumans ends. More of them than can be counted, now hiding, unable to even show themselves for who they really are. A select few indentured into the service of the government. And more still outside of the realms of either as independent heroes. Or villains.

silvieon's avatar

cakesauce's Wife

Omnipresent Phantom

________User Image
                                        mille ████ ████████████████████████████████ █████

                                        new x millennium it's the moment of truth and the moment to lie x new millennium it's the moment of truth and the moment to die x
                                        mille THE MOMENT TO FIGHT ,xTHE MOMENT TO FIGHT
                                        mille ⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

                                        The year 2000, the new millennium. Many saw it as a new dawn. Some – the pragmatic ones – dismissed it as nothing special, thinking that it would just be another year like all the rest. There was no widespread panic, no crazy theories about the end of the world. None of that.


                                        The day January 1, 2000 was an uneventful day for most. The months following it were equally uneventful. Time passed. Daily lives were lived. It was in the fall of 2000 that things began to go awry.

                                        One fireman – one of those superhumans who had hidden themselves away after the Underground debacle years ago – ran into a burning building to save a pair of children trapped inside on the third floor. He’d done this hundreds of times and always came out unscathed. He was able to manipulate fire, although he was careful not to make it too obvious and only used it to push the fire and clear the way safely.

                                        However, on October 18th, 2000, the brave firefighter didn’t make it out.

                                        A man who had been so certain of his powers and yet, for some reason, they weren’t there when he needed them most.

                                        His other superhuman friends were baffled. His powers had been consistent. In fact, he’d just shown them off yesterday while they were out having a casual drink, albeit with a little bit of difficulty, but they had attributed that to the drink. They probably could’ve been right, if it hadn’t been for the fact that other cases similar to the firefighter’s continued to pop up.

                                        Superhumans, whose powers had always been reliable, suddenly caught without them. It became a situation serious enough to warrant governmental attention – especially considering the fact that many of their own superhumans were starting to exhibit the same kind of power loss. The President decided to put some of his best scientists on the job to discover what was happening to his superhumans’ powers. Powers blinking out during crucial jobs was not okay. Especially when it blew their cover and cost him an agent.

                                        In an effort to spare lives – and time – the President began toying with the idea of maybe dropping every superhuman operative they had. After a month of toying with the idea, he finally decided to release all of the superhumans they had at their disposal – except for those who were actually useful without their powers. The reason?

                                        Because his scientists had discovered that it was the new millennium, that is, it was the turn of the century that brought about this mass power loss among all of the superhumans. Some sort of rare planetary alignment that nulled out whatever it was that had given people powers in the first place. A lot of science that the President didn’t understand – and didn’t need to understand. What was most important was that his superhumans were no longer useful. Except – of course – for those who were actually useful for reasons other than their powers. It was these people who remained employed by the government.

                                        Everyone else – a full year after the turn of the new millennium – was forced to figure out where they could fit in into a society that had already forsaken them fifteen years ago. And between the prejudiced, anti-superhuman society and the independent villains who were on the loose out there, it was going to be tough readjusting.

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                                        At around the same time, a demon was rumored to reside at the top of Seiten Inc.’s tower, like a cheesy video game boss waiting to be owned, and y’know, it wasn’t really a bad guess.

                                        But it was really only Hellfire.

                                        “I got it, Vise!” the dark-cloaked villain cheered, whirling around in his swivel chair. Vise, used to his boss’s outbursts, looked up at the manic man and waited for an explanation. Hellfire had been in the tower for the entire week, which was rare.

                                        “The D-Code. It’s done.”
                                        “Are you going to launch it?”
                                        “Yes, today! It’s Independence Day. What could be a better time?”

                                        Vise, of course, knew Hellfire could only mean that in the stupidest of ways. He watched his master’s black glove reach for the ENTER key.

                                        “Happy birthday, America!”
                                        And the fireworks cackled in the background.

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                                        “A new form of terrorism has hit Washington called the X-Virus, which seems to be possessing inanimate objects are being and attacking citizens. Safety measures are currently being made by the City Council and United States Government to deal with the issue, but the amount of study and resources that will need to be put into the project is indefinite.. “

                                        The news stations were ablaze with the X-Virus. It was an unknown strain of techno-germ with little information about it. The government knew it wasn’t biological warfare because people couldn’t catch it as far as they knew, but the germ was rampant in the nonliving. The origin was pinpointed to be the Octagon, where the X-Virus infected the entire system within seconds and shut it down.

                                        “It is unknown if the Underground is responsible, but many already specula- “


                                        “Sandy, the TV…”
                                        “I know.” As the Underground leader, it was hard to not be offended.”

                                        Sandy removed her fist from the screen and adjusted her scuffed glove, otherwise calm. As if she didn’t have enough problems already – the city was surely going to blame the X-Virus on the local rebellion. Though, the funny thing was that both of them were on the same side. In the corner of her eye, she could see a dented vending machine at the back of her office.

                                        If she indeed had ordered the creation of the X-Virus, would she and her subordinates have been attacked by it?

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                                        The amount of study and resources, while indefinite, was able to start on the computer. While the X-Virus did shut down the Octagon’s computer, it was quickly replaced and so were other pieces of federal technology as quickly as possible. They brought in a machine prototype previously hidden in a government warehouse, designed to “virtualize” people into digital space. The tests showed the machine was successful, albeit giving the digital person an “avatar” form, but on the other hand, it did bring the subjects back. There was simply no use for it until the new millennium.

                                        That’s because, this time in all of digital space, there were actually enemies present. Discovering that the X-Virus was able to be combated online, the government organized a separate operatives sector for virtualizing people from reality to physically keep it at bay. Mostly superhumans were delegated for the job, and hey, their powers somehow worked online! Although they’d been blinking out in the real world, they were fully restored and functional in the virus’s territory. But there’s one more catch: the virus is only vulnerable when there’s a “code gray”, which means a possessed inanimate object on the loose.

                                        A few cases were reported since then with berserk street posts, fine china, and toilets everywhere (you get it – inanimate objects, dummy) and the government realized that, once defeated, they would be tamed, but keep the powers given to them should the owner of the object ever need it. There hasn’t yet been a solution to that problem, but whatever the government defeats, the government takes in.

                                        What they really needed was a killcode. They’re working on it right now, but so far, no luck.

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                                        So between all of these opposing factions - the government, the Underground, the unaffiliated, independent superhumans - who is the real set of heroes here?

                                        Allow me to explain.

                                        The government is obviously not the hero. They forced out and vilified superhumans in the first place. One would think that the Underground would be the heroes, right? Because they were against the government from the start. But in those fifteen years, the Underground has changed. The equality they once sought has turned into vengeance. All of the claims the government made all those years ago about the Underground seeking to control the government? While untruthful before, it has become the actual goal for the Underground. So does that make the unaffiliated superhumans the heroes? Depends, since it was one of those unaffiliated who unleashed the virus.

                                        However, that doesn't mean that all of those in the government are evil. After all, there are a few of those in the government who are willing to help fight the virus personally. True, they were assigned to stall the virus so that the scientists could create a kill code. But they were also doing so because they actually cared and, in fact, recruited a bunch of other people (although the government had done a bit of their own recruiting for them by recalling some of their old, retired agents) who were willing to help their cause.

                                        It's this group of mismatched people who are our heroes here. Let's hope that they can actually save the world, with their failing powers and lack of coordination.

                                        Because this is the new millennium.

                                        And it's going to be unforgiving.

silvieon's avatar

cakesauce's Wife

Omnipresent Phantom

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                                        mille ████ ████████████████████████████████ █████

                                        new x millennium it's the moment of truth and the moment to lie x new millennium it's the moment of truth and the moment to die x
                                        mille THE MOMENT TO FIGHT ,xTHE MOMENT TO FIGHT
                                        mille ⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

                                        So let's make this short.

                                        ; In general, don't be a complete dickhead, don't be rude, and for god's sake - although I don't usually have this problem - don't break the ToS.
                                        ; I'm going to say this. You can go ahead and steal whatever you want. Yep. Whatever you want. I just want to make sure that you know that I and my friends are always standing by, ready to report you. And will, if you steal anything from here.
                                        ; I'm super lax on posting limits? To be honest, just write, okay? Write however much you think is necessary; I don't care how much you think that is. I know we're all adv.lit in here, but honestly, if you write a novella, we aren't going to read it. Least of all me. At this point, I'm not even going to skim it; I'm just going to see how many times I have to hit my page down button to get past it and make a game out of it.
                                        ; I honestly trust you all a great deal, so. I'm pretty certain that you won't break this rule, but don't give me a perfect character. Under any circumstances. You will be hurt if you do.
                                        ; Also, you have to be completely okay with our crazy antics in here to join.
                                        ; That said, crazy antics ahoy.
                                        ; Am I missing anything?

                                        ; Kid here! :D I am going to talk about alienation and dedication. Let me get this through your skull: once you join you are like FAMILY.
                                        ; At least, to me. It doesn't matter if you don't have Skype, MSN, or whatever I will still try to get you over here because I don't want you to be ignored.
                                        ; OBVIOUS FAVORITISM SUCKS. Sure I could've known someone before you and like their characters but keep in mind I aim to pay attention to everyone.
                                        ; Eeeeveryone. So don't be afraid to speak up and give inputs and s**t. You're welcome.
                                        ; Now, dedication. When you join this RP, I expect you to actually post. You don't need to write a lot, just actually post. I don't want this to die.
                                        ; If you don't post, we will kick you. No offense, but we don't appreciate FUNSUCKERS that leave everyone hanging when they've got posts to make.
                                        ; Consider dropping early if you're thinking about it. Thank you and have a nice day!

silvieon's avatar

cakesauce's Wife

Omnipresent Phantom

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                                        mille ████ ████████████████████████████████ █████

                                        new x millennium it's the moment of truth and the moment to lie x new millennium it's the moment of truth and the moment to die x
                                        mille THE MOMENT TO FIGHT ,xTHE MOMENT TO FIGHT
                                        mille ⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯
                                        OPERATION: REWINDING TOWN: PART 2
                                        MILLE CITY WIDE, SATURDAY
                                        mille ▬▬ CASSANDRA & SPARI, NUCLEUS & FROGGER, DATABYTE & HERO, RAVE & SPECULUM,
                                        mille ▬▬ ■ CRYO & HEIST, SYNAPSE & EXILE, KOBRA & TALOS, PARADOX & EXERCITUS,
                                        mille ▬▬ ■ AMORPHOUS & RAMPANT, CLEAR & POLYMNIA

                                        WARNING, WARNING, WARNING.

                                        Known Information: The lava lamps have the ability to suck you up like a vacuum, leaving you trapped inside with the
                                        Known Information: floaty bits. Reports indicate that the influx of lava lamps is due to a time anomaly. Potentially
                                        Known Information: dangerous. Avoid approaching the anomaly until further information is known.

                                        Objective: GENERAL: Get the lava lamps under control and avoid dying.
                                        Objective: GOVERNMENT: Track down the time anomaly.

                                        Notes: If you haven't guessed it yet, the time anomaly is Alternate!Rhys. That is, a Rhys who came
                                        Notes: into the New Mille universe through some timestreams unfortunately crossing. Neutralizing Alt!Rhys
                                        Notes: will shrink the lava lamps back down, although the will still keep their ability to suck things up like a
                                        Notes: vacuum. Alt!Rhys has taken real Rhys' place. Proceed with caution, guys, and try not to break too
                                        Notes: many of those lava lamps, either. They might be useful. FEEL FREE TO CONTINUE FROM WHERE
                                        Notes: YOU LEFT OFF.

                                        GHOST WRITER

                                        [size=12][color=#644E43]⋟ [b][color=#1A1C42]OPERATION[/color]:[/b][/color] [b][color=#9E2E47]NAME HERE[/color][/b][/size]
                                        [color=white]MILLE[/color] [color=#1A1C42]▼[/color]LOCATION, MILITARY TIME OF MISSION
                                        [color=white]mille[/color] [color=#1A1C42]▬▬[/color] [color=#9E2E47]■[/color] Full names of those participating.

                                        text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text text btw the objective should be in here.

silvieon's avatar

cakesauce's Wife

Omnipresent Phantom

silvieon's avatar

cakesauce's Wife

Omnipresent Phantom

Brethil24's avatar

Romantic Cleric

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EMPTYSPACESINMYCODE░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ! ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ! ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ!
                A security camera for Marty’s Fan Mart probably didn’t seem like a likely place for Jaden to be hanging out in, even if she was currently indulging in people watching, her current favorite hobby. After all, there had to be something more exciting in D.C. than watching a couple debate about which fan would best match the drapes in their house for over two hours. It was practically impossible for there not to be. But the thing was, after years of being cut off from almost all human interaction (aside from conversations with her father) Jaden craved mundane little things like this. Walking down an actual aisle, talking face to face with actual people, being able to actually pick things up and touch them. Even if she wasn't able to do such things herself, Jaden couldn’t help but find it soothing, watching the endless variations in how people went about their daily lives. Plus no one would think to look for her here in this store, right? She was just taking a slight break, hiding somewhere safe before she resumed her search for her dad. Surely there was nothing wrong with that.

                Still, Jaden couldn’t help shifting uncomfortably at the thought. It had been one month, three weeks and four days (with a margin of error of about six hours) since the attack on her dad’s lab. She’d been reading an article about wolverines when her father had burst into the room, looking even more disheveled than he normally did. The doors locked themselves automatically, but it didn’t take long for a loud, insistant banging to start up, the fortified steel doors buckling slightly under the pressure. Jaden had asked her father what was going on, why he looked so worried, but he merely shook his head and spat out a series of instructions as he tore down the security features that protected the computer that housed her from outside threat. Enter the internet, stay on the move and most importantly, don’t let any one know who you are. The image of her dad staring into the computer’s camera, mouth tight as his hands paused in their typing to hover uncertainly over the enter key remained burnt into her memory, amazingly clear. Her dad then swallowed, spoke to her one last time and pressed the key, ejecting her from her home just as the doors burst open.

                “Don’t worry Jay-bird, I’ll find you soon. I love you.”

                The first few days had been disorientating as she struggled to make her way the turbulent streams of data without loosing too much of her consciousness. She had some practice traveling through computer networks before, but they were all small private ones her dad had set up to test her capabilities; he insisted it was far too dangerous for her to try on the actual internet. By the time Jaden finally found her bearings and was able to retrace her steps back to her home computer, the connection was gone, almost like it’d never existed. That was worrisome enough, but then the days turned into weeks without any contact. A careful search of recent newspapers didn’t mention a Maxwell Gravenstein in any of their articles. And now that she thought about it, Jaden didn’t really know much about what her dad did when he wasn't at home. He’d always been pretty secretive about work, though Jaden had tried many, many times to find out more. It had to be a pretty good job though. How else could he afford all the tech that filled the basement where her computer was housed?

                Jaden sighed, turning her attention away from the visuals to sift loosely through the data that streamed by the camera, carrying data that was probably important to someone, though she could care less. Truthfully the past few weeks had been kind of… liberating, once she got the hang of it. For the first time in years she was watching people, real people, and while Jaden knew better than to try and contact any of them, it felt good, pretending that she was there. That she was sitting outside of an ice cream parlor instead of in its cameras. Or in this case looking at a fan store through a display window instead of through a lens.

                Still, as much fun as it was exploring the outside world, Jaden had a dad to be rescuing. Maybe once this was over, he’d realize that she was capable of handling herself, give her a little more freedom. ‘That or get even more protective, like the time he caught me chatting on that forum for the Discovery Channel. It wasn’t like I was telling people anything!’ Jaden huffed, preparing to dive back into the data streams. And then everything… shivered. It was almost like a gust of wind was rushing by (but that’s impossible, right?), and Jaden paused, uncertain. And then all hell broke loose.

                Most security cameras didn’t have audio on them, but even Jaden could tell that a lot of the patrons in the store were screaming right now. Glancing at the display in front of her, Jaden latched onto a passing stream to try and find a better vantage point. Hopping from camera to camera, Jaden finally stopped in one that allowed her to see the back of the store where she spotted a ceiling fan slash at a young woman and narrowly miss. Jaden enlarged the visual, frowning at the poor video quality as she tried to get a better look. Could this be… that X-virus thing she’d heard about? There was a lot of info floating around the mysterious, but most of it was so absurd Jaden thought that it was just a bunch of rumors, stuff blown out of proportion by a bunch of scared people. But then here it was, an inanimate object with weird powers currently terrorizing the populace. Weird.

                Jaden glanced at the video again, hesitating as she watched another blade barely miss its target. Dad would want her getting out of here; it wasn’t safe, and if the rumors were true, the authorities would be coming to put a stop to this soon. It wasn’t like there was much she could do anyways, stuck in the digital world like this. But then the fan actually hit someone and blood splattered against the floor and Jaden pressed up against the video, eyes wide. People were getting hurt! They, they were actually getting hurt, and what if the good guys didn’t get here on time they could actually die! And, and-!

                Face suddenly steely with determination, Jaden grabbed the video feed and established a link to it. Good, that should let her roam around the store and still be able to see what was going on. Taking the equivalent of a deep breath, Jaden plunged back into the data streams, this time zipping around the store’s electronics to see if she could find something useful she could take control of, maybe some way to shut off the fan’s power source. ‘Sorry Dad…but I’m not just going to sit around while people are getting hurt!’

                ▇▇▇ ▇▇▇ ▇▇▇ someday my heart will be error free
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                                    ; I WAS BORN OF THE WOMB OF A POISONOUS MAN
                                    x x x x x
                                    ────but i RISE up above it,────
                                    H IGHUP ──── a b o v e x i t x & x s e e . . .

                                    ██ PAXTON ( MOXIE ) METCALF ██
                                    THE HUMAN : BATTERY ⋙⋙ THE HUMAN : BATTERY ⋙⋙ THE HUMAN : BATTERY ⋙⋙ THE HUMAN : BATTERY ⋙⋙

                                    User Image

                                    xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx UN♦DERGROUND ! ► ► AG♦ENT ! ► ► MO♦XIE ! ► ►

                            ╔══════════════════════ ►►

                            Alright! We’re gonna seriously whip this group into shape on this one! The raven-haired super thought, body itching to get the mission on with.

                            The Underground was seriously looking worse for wear, at least in his eyes, and he’d decided to change all that. Never one to sit idly by, Paxton had been sifting through countless files for hours on end—all in the hopes that something would stick out and prove useful to the Underground. Their ranks were meager, and the base of operations had seen better days—or at least he hoped it had anyways. So as soon as he joined up with Sandy, he’d set to work racking his brain for any and all ideas that could shape the organization up. A sly smirk twitched on his lips as he reminisced—maybe he really was just another FBI agent that couldn’t shake the Feds from his system? He’d seen the underground and balked at the lack of rigidity that had accompanied his entire life. The freedom was nice, but something stopped him from being comfortable going on seriously dangerous missions with a ragtag group of capable—yet dystrophic “heroes.” As he tailed Sandy, head bent low as she furiously dug, his blue eyes were reflected in the dimly lit screen he found in his palm. It was a GPS of sorts, and according to the text floating on the screen, they were just about in position—directly under the Detention Facility where their most valuable asset—Codename: Turing—was being kept. As they finally filed into position, Paxton could barely contain his excitement—his first mission since he’d been so tastelessly discharged from the FBI. As the trio climbed upwards through the floor, Paxton was the first to leap out of the hole—rushing passed Sandy in a bout of energy. As he shot out of the hole and felt his patent-leather clad feet click lightly against the ground, he surveyed his surroundings with a sharp and quick eye. Only one deterrent stood to blow the group’s cover—a frightened old janitor standing with a mop bucket, the handle quaking in his unsteady palms. Coolly, Paxton strode over, hands in his pockets, until he was face to face with the speechless man.

                            "I-I-I...Wh-what are you? S-superhumans?” The man whimpered.

                            "Bingo." He replied casually, lifting a hand to the man’s forehead, and placing two digits firmly against him.

                            As he pressed, he concentrated on the energy the man had, and promptly sapped it out—taking care to make sure the man didn’t hit his head as he tumbled to the ground, unconscious.

                            "Ha... What is it about maintenance dudes? They like, barely ever have more energy than it takes to get out of bed in the morning in `em." Paxton remarked, stepping back into place alongside Cillian and Sandy.

                            With one swift motion, he flipped two sets of shades from his pocket and tossed one to the other man donning a suit. Nonchalantly he flipped his own pair open and placed them over his gleaming blue eyes, adjusting the lapel of his dark-grey pinstripe suit out of habit.

                            "Alright Sandy, this shouldn’t take long—we’ll go in, bust Princess out and rendez’vous right back here in no time." He stated, refreshing the memories of his partners of the plan though he was sure they didn’t necessarily need it, "If you hear sings of a struggle—well that’s to be expected too."

                            Flashing a grin to his leader, he jutted a quick thumb’s up in her direction and swiveled on his heel, promptly making his way to the stairs, expecting his partner to be well in tow.

                            At the head of the stairs, a gleaming white hall went on for about 10-20 feet and Paxton paused at the corner, leaning against the wall to peek around the corner. Stopping to face Cillian, he padded his breast pocket to make certain he had his badge with him.

                            "You got your badge? You don’t need to say anything." He asked, instructing his partner lest he mess anything up.

                            For some reason, his pale-blonde partner struck him as familiar. He’d said he hadn’t any experience with the FBI, but Paxton could have sworn that both his powers and his appearance matched some vague descriptions he’d heard of earlier… Maybe he was a vagrant that gave the good old government some trouble in the past? Shrugging it off, Paxton nodded to Cillian to show that he was ready, and turned back to lead the charge into the facility. Strolling up to the front desk with the typical stoic look all the officers held, he flashed his badge when the attendant looked up from his computer.

                            "I’m Agent Metcalf and this is Agent Reid we’re here to speak to one of the inmates." He explained curtly, used to the whole routine.

                            The attendant nodded and waved a hand to signal their passage, and went back to his work—which Paxton found quite amusing. He’d always thought that security detail was a little too lax—even when he was an FBI agent himself. But it was of no great concern to him, if anything—it just made his job easier. Briskly walking further into the facility, he noticed a map of the grounds pinned to a wall and jerked his head towards it, making sure his partner saw and knew where it was. It’d more than likely be located on every floor in the exact same place—which was helpful because they needed to know where Max was being held. As the pair shuffled into the elevator, Paxton couldn’t help but feel like this mission was far too easy for its own good. Why was it so easy to infiltrate a government Detention Center? Ah well, he was sure it’d get more interesting once they had to fight off guns. Superhumans or not, bullets hurt, and so it’d be interesting to go up against an entire facility full of them—but the challenge would be well met, for Paxton was confident in both his own and Cillian’s skills. Once the doors closed behind him with a ding, he let his guard down entirely, and began to jog in place, making his movements as powerful and explosive as possible. He felt the familiar surge of energy ripple through his veins and grinned, power welling in his chest.

                            "Alright, ha… So when we get to the floor… where Max is… ha.. being held, you go out and check the hall. Take out any guards… that are there, but do it ha… quietly." He spoke in gasps and breaths, the movement impeding his speech.

                            He was sure Cillian would understand anyways, so he didn’t really pay it any mind. Feeling good about how much charge he just built up, he rested his feet on the ground, panting a little as his heart rate slowly returned to normal.

                            "Hey by the way...Do I know you from somewhere?" He asked off-handedly, masked gaze meeting only another pair of black shades.

                            ╚══════════════════════ ►►

                                    i x w a s x h u n g x f r o m x t h e x t r e e s x m a d e x o f x t o n g u e s x o f x t h e x w e a kxxx

                                    THE BR↳ANCHES►► xxx xxx xxx THE♦♦BONES xxx xxx xxx OFTHE♦♦LIARS xxx xxx xxx AND♦♦THIEVES
                                    THE BR↳ANCHES►► xxx xxx xxx THE♦♦BONES xxx xxx xxx OFTHE♦♦LIARS xxx xxx xxx AND♦♦THIEVES
                                    THE BR↳ANCHES►► xxx xxx xxx THE♦♦BONES xxx xxx xxx OFTHE♦♦LIARS xxx xxx xxx AND♦♦THIEVES

                                    ────& RISE up above it,────
                                    H IGHUP ──── a b o v e x i t x & x s e e . . .
                                    x x x x x
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                              Cillian silently trudged along the tunnel next to Paxton, his face carefully arranged with an impartial stare at the blond named Sandy. The Underground was… interesting, to say the least. He feigned disinterest in their activities a couple of times in the past before he finally agreed on taking this particular job. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but boredom wasn’t the primary reason for his abrupt interest despite saying so. It was more of curiosity than anything else.

                              The thief watched as Paxton brushed past Sandy and jumped out of the newly dug entrance. Cillian curtly waited for the only female in the group to exit the tunnel before following the pair, his eyes narrowing to accommodate the sudden flood of light that entered his vision. He brushed invisible dirt off his suit jacket with apparent disdain.

                              A lone janitor greeted them with distinct surprise (and fear) in both words and expression. He could barely suppress the smirk threatening to emerge on his face as Paxton calmly walked towards the old man. ’Wrong place, wrong time. How unfortunate,’ he thought with morbid amusement. Cillian merely tilted his head to the side, lips twitching upwards to signal his approval at the dark-haired man’s actions.

                              Paxton threw him a pair of shades which Cillian promptly caught with one hand. He lazily flicked his pair open and slid them onto his face, eyebrows quirking at their now extremely clichéd FBI get-up while he adjusted his tie. The Underground agent reiterated their plans to which he absently hummed his acknowledgment. Cillian gave Sandy a small nod before trailing after his partner, heels clicking mutely on the tiled floor. He shoved both hands in his pockets and assumed a casual pace that caused him to lag an inch or two behind the other man. His eyes curiously surveyed his surroundings. The detention facility had such a sterile atmosphere that it reminded him of a hospital. If it weren’t for the obvious signs directing its readers to various cell sites, Cillian would’ve mistaken it for one. He mentally flinched at the thought of being stuck within a detention facility. Fortunately, lady luck continued to favor him on his many heists.

                              Cillian settled his cool gaze on Paxton’s back. It was common knowledge to him that the raven-haired one used to belong to the FBI. Perhaps that was the reason why he looked at Cillian oddly, as if he knew something but couldn’t quite place what it was. The thief shrugged it off, focusing instead on his surroundings. It wouldn’t do to have his mind wander around during such a critical breakout.

                              As they drew closer and closer to the front desk, his fingers began to twitch inside his pockets with growing anticipation. He half-expected a security guard to stop them in the middle of the corridor despite it being clearly devoid of all people. Cillian supposed it was just him being a little too cautious. Years and years of avoiding security cameras and generally staying close to the shadows made him paranoid of simply striding into such a (supposedly) heavily guarded facility. In Cillian’s opinion, however, the place was far too empty. Surely a detention center such as this wouldn’t be this lax on security? Whatever. Their loss.

                              His thoughts were interrupted as Paxton stopped before a corner and swiveled around to ask about his badge. Cillian nodded in acquiesce, a hand withdrawing the said badge from his suit jacket’s inside pocket to show him. Once again, he noted the odd calculating look his partner gave him. Cillian wouldn’t be surprised if Paxton could peg him as the thief the FBI had been chasing for years on end after the small mishap with a government agent’s bank account. A wry smile graced his lips for a split second before disappearing as he followed after the other man.

                              He schooled his features into a slightly less frigid expression, making sure to appear a bit more purposeful than he normally did. He followed after his partner’s actions, flashing his badge briefly and nodding at the attendant when the man’s gaze quickly fell on him. Unsurprisingly, they got through without a hassle. Even Paxton looked amused at how dismissive the attendant seemed. Cillian figured it didn’t matter that the security lacked in more than a single aspect. Less worrisome for them.

                              At his companion’s gesture towards the map, he nodded once more—preferring to communicate through actions rather than words. He had never been much of a verbal person anyway.

                              Cillian let out a yawn as the elevator doors slid shut. It was almost entertaining how they completely differed from each other. While his partner began to jog in place to charge up his ability, Cillian allowed himself to relax, all the tension slowly bled out from him as his shoulders slid downwards. His posture went from serious business to an almost Zen-like calmness. He withdrew a hand from his pocket and experimentally created a thin layer of ice over his fingers to make sure his powers weren’t going to lag when he needed it the most. At the sound of Paxton’s breathless tone, Cillian smirked as he replied, ”Understood.”

                              There was a moment's pause before Paxton spoke up once more with an inquiry about Cillian's peculiar familiarity. He made a sound between amusement and contempt. So he was right to think that his companion vaguely knew about him from the FBI. "Mm..." he started, leaning backwards on the wall with crossed ankles. "Perhaps. I assume you know of the thief that stole the contents of a prominent government agent's bank account...?" He briefly glanced at the other man. "I should hope so. You're looking at him."

                              The elevator doors pinged open. Cillian gave Paxton a thumbs-up and a lop-sided smile before striding through the entryway. The two guards stationed opposite each other in front of the elevator immediately turned their gazes on him, ready to open-fire when Cillian raised both hands in the air in mock surrender. ”Sorry boys, not today,” he said as frost began to form around his hands. The guards didn’t get a chance to respond as Cillian hurriedly grabbed them both by their arms and willed ice to spread across their bodies with frightening speed. In a matter of seconds, the two men were trapped within a block of ice, literally frozen on the spot.

                              Cillian continued down the hall, flexing his neck as ice crept across the entirety of his right arm. An unsuspecting guard that rounded the corner next to Cillian managed to aim his standard-issue rifle at the cryokinetic before finding himself knocked unconscious with a single ice-packed punch in the face thanks to Cillian’s frost enveloped arm. He caught the unwitting man and his rifle before they fell onto the ground. It wouldn’t do to make too much noise now.

                              Another man armed with only his fists and a painful uppercut manages to surprise Cillian from the side. He hissed, reeling backwards from the force of the punch. Cillian waited as the guard rushed forward again to grab onto the man’s exposed face. His body temperature drastically lowered itself enough to the point where his touch burned, causing his attacker to yelp in surprise, the side of his face looking as if he doused himself with liquid nitrogen. ”Godamn degenerates!” Cillian’s mouth quirked into a mocking smile despite the slur against him. They clashed once more with Cillian swiftly sidestepping his jab. He whirled around, a hand going for the man’s neck. The guard collapsed to the floor, hands scrabbling to newly sliced jugular in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. Cillian crouched and slid the dagger into the man’s chest to silence his whimpering.

                              A few moments passed with complete silence. Satisfied that no one else was coming, Cillian straightened up, wiping blood from his face with a grimace. Remembering about the other bodies, he pauses in the hall, pivots, and looks around, admiring his handiwork.

                              Cillian lowered his shades just enough for Paxton to see his gaze. ”All clear.”

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                            Held in his sturdy fingers, lined with the beginning touches of age, were two pictures. The room was dimly lit, and Lawrence White sat forward over the desk stationed between him and the young woman across from him, his arm outstretched. His bright blue eyes held an inscrutable expression, though the one in Maia's own rivaled the cold stare with startling numbness.

                            "Take them."

                            There was no hesitation in her movements. She took the pictures, her hollow gaze lowering to look at the straight faces. Presumably I.D. pictures.

                            "I still have some under my control within the government. This... may be a problem for me."

                            Maia didn't look up at his explanation on how he'd come to acquire the photos. Rather, it seemed that she hadn't even heard him.

                            "You will make it appear as though they died accidentally," he said to her, leaning back in his chair as he observed her. "The incendiary bomb I've given you will start a fire that should spread quickly. It's set for ten minutes. Once it goes off, you'll remain inside to make sure they are unable to leave. " Lawrence picked up his glass of scotch, amber in color, and the ice clinked together as he held it to his lips. "Do you understand, Maia?" The older man found her eyes and held them. Grasped them. Clutched them. Her vision strained against his own, as if unable to wrest something back from him.

                            "... I understand."

                            He took a sip of his drink, then set it back down. "Good. Then, I'll go over what I want to happen in more detail for you - "

                            xoxoxo✕ ✕ ✕ ✕ ✕

                            She'd put it in a place so obvious, so typical, that no one even noticed the black box strapped to the underside of the table she calmly sat at, two books by her elbow. The area was fairly private, located in the back of the library where only one or two others lingered. Once she'd made sure the government targets - a female and a male - were within the vicinity, Maia had readied the bomb immediately. When she shifted her knee, she could feel it brush against her leg. It was a subtle looking creation, and didn't seem to look out of place. All of the wires and explosives were crammed within it.

                            I can't die. I can't die. The words repeated in her head.

                            "Even if you're caught up in it, you'll come out alive."

                            Maia's glazed expression was unchanging as she stared down at a book she'd selected without looking at it, then flipped a page she hadn't read. Turning over her hand, Maia glanced momentarily at her wristwatch. It had been two minutes, and there were eight minutes left until the assassination would take place.

                            "Make sure any witnesses die in the conflagration." Her mind seemed to only have the capacity to replay Lawrence's instructions like a broken record, his voice reaching into every part of her thoughts.

                            She rose slowly, seamlessly, pushing in her chair before stacking the four books that she'd barely even touched into a pile.

                            "If they seem like they would help you, act as if you were in danger."

                            Maia returned the books to the shelves, her fingers running over their firm spines before turning away.

                            "There will be a small explosion, but it's mainly the fire I want to use. It will seem like gang arson, not an organization assassination. The underground should have no knowledge that you and I were involved. Use discretion."

                            The door was next. Until the fire began, she had to make sure the targets weren't able to leave. If she was noticed to be the culprit by anyone else , they would have to die as well. That much was inevitable. Witnesses couldn't be left alive. Lawrence had been very clear that the job would be done as thoroughly and as ambiguously as possible. Once that w--

                            There was a flash of red in her peripheral, and on pure instinct she turned to look at the bright color which flared out against the neutral backdrop. Maia's orange eyes narrowed, and even in her state of mind, she became distracted. Her gaze trailed down from the wild hair, to the curve of a nose and a chin. There was something familiar there that she couldn't quite ignore. A fierce pounding was beginning in the back of her head, and she inhaled a shaky breath. The door. The door. The door. The door. Maia knew she should listen to the instructions. Do as she was told. Standing there, rooted to the spot, didn't seem like a viable option. Red was overtaking her vision - so much red. What had she been doing?

                            "Once you're away from the library, and know you haven't been followed, you will be free of my control. Do you understand?"

                            The door. The door. ... What door?

                            Something inside of Maia snapped. It was like a weight that had been lifted from her shoulders, or a hand that had been choking her had finally let go and allowed her to breathe. For her, it was not a new feeling. In fact, at some point along the line, she'd become used to the feeling. Lawrence had told her many years ago that it was a 'condition'. Maia had even come to accept it. Her thoughts were perpetually foggy and uncertain, reality escaped her at times, and had been that way ever since she was a child. But she couldn't remember a time when she had woken up so forcefully, like something had been torn. It always happened slowly, as if opening her eyes from a long, dark dream.

                            "... What was I - ?"

                            Then she remembered what she'd seen.

                            It can't be... she thought, instantly forgetting about her headache. ...How?

                            The structure of his appearance seemed so familiar, and Maia found herself walking in order to get a closer look. If it was who she thought it was, what would she even do? The last she'd heard of him, the government had fired him. He'd left. Around six years ago. Without saying goodbye. That had been Lawrence's report... but what if he'd been mistaken? As she separated the distance, stopping only a few feet away, the books surrounding them, there really was no questioning it. The face was branded into her among all the blurred memories. Maia could feel her chest twisting doubtfully, and it took her a few moments before she could speak:

                            "Um... You're Ryder, aren't you?"
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                                Standing in the middle of Marty's Fan Mart, the same tune repeatedly playing in her ears, Snow Kallaway had to wonder what exactly she was wasting time there for. If anything, her father should be badgering the landlord to fix their air conditioning, not sending her out to fetch a fan. She didn't really mind, but he'd made no specifications, and she wasn't exactly a fan expert. Something told her the blonde woman with the red name tag wasn't an expert either. Bright blue eyes observed her, obviously annoyed, but Snow pretended not to notice as she squinted at the fantastic variety.

                                One fan was white, and another was off white. There was even a grey one.

                                "Then, what can I help you with?"

                                "Ah, well!" Snow said suddenly, straightening up from her bent position, scratching the back of her neck. "I need a... uhhh, fan..."

                                "... Yes. What kind of fan?"

                                There was a momentary pause, and Snow deliberated the question. What kind of fan? Hell if she knew. That's why she'd asked for help looking. "A good one. Preferably... a big one?"

                                "You're going to have to narrow it down, miss."

                                Snow narrowed her eyes, and watched silently as the blonde punk distracted herself with a sleek cellphone, texting rapidly, before returning it to her pocket.

                                "Well, I don't know! That's why I'm asking! They're all the same, aren't they?"

                                "No, they all have different settings." The woman checked her phone again, and Snow felt her eyebrow twitch. Was this going to take all day? She had other matters to attend to. Like settling down with a beer and watching the basketball game. Or reading the latest issue of her favorite comic book. Plus, the elevator-esque music was starting to get on her nerves. "This one is good." The salesperson was patting a round, white fan. "It''s guaranteed to keep you cool."

                                Guaranteed? "Then, I'll take that one!"

                                Using both arms, Snow awkwardly managed to get her arms around the box and pick it up, following the woman back to the counter. Setting the fan to the side, Snow fished out her father's Visa card, handing it over to the blonde girl, who seemed glad to be getting a customer off her hands so quickly. Snow chose to say nothing, and instead rolled herself onto the balls of her feet.

                                "Do you have a Marty's Fan Mart card?"

                                Of course. Because everyone had them. "Marty's Fan... - no, I don't."

                                "I see. Would you like one?" Guessing what answer the blonde wanted, Snow shook her head. Bingo. The teenage girl smiled. "I see. Maybe next time."

                                Snow felt her lips upturn weakly. "Maybe."

                                Tapping her fingers against the counter, Snow watched the receipt print, a little impatient to return home. Her dad was too stubborn to try calling the landlord again, and he was probably attempting to fix it himself. If that happened, the entire apartment might experience problems. It wasn't as if she was any less destructive than her old man when it came to fiddling with things, but he had more practice at breaking stuff than she did. Though, after her time with the hero gang, she'd been catching up. Snow was just smiling at the thought when a whistling sound hit her ears. Furrowing her brow, Snow turned, and nearly jumped out of her socks when a fan blade narrowly missed her nose. Instead, the flying object dug itself into the box containing her freshly bought fan. A crunching noise erupted in the area.

                                "Ah!" Someone shouted, and it took Snow a moment to realize it was her as she placed a hand against her forehead. "My fan! What the hell just happened -"

                                That was not the last cracking sound to be heard. There was a cacophony of them, the sound of chaos, accompanied with frightened screams. Pivoting on her heel, Snow felt her golden eyes snap open, almost not quite believing what she was seeing. It was like a ceiling fan was going ballistic, it's blades narrowly missing innocent citizens, being fired off like bullets. A super human? But, why.... terrorism? The young blonde girl had disappeared from Snow's view. Peering over the counter, Snow saw her curled up in a ball, hugging herself and gasping for air. "Hey, you need to get out of here!" Snow insisted, glancing over her shoulder. People were running frantically towards the doors. "Come with me. Hurry. I'll get you out safely. Let's go!"

                                Snow had to actually round the counter and offer the woman her hand, but she took it, and the brunette led her out. The automatic doors appeared to have jammed from all the use, and people were shoving at the glass, trying to break it but failing. This is bad, Snow thought, pulling a man aside and ducking behind a shelf as a blade flew past and embedded itself into a wall. If they all crowd like that, they'll just get hurt. Whatever it is, it seems mindless. I guess I have no choice, if I wait any longer -

                                There was an ear-piercing shriek, and when Snow looked, she saw a woman had fallen to the floor, blood pouring from an open wound in her stomach. "No!" The hero's eyes hardened, and a glow leaked into her skin, shining through. She started the countdown on her digital watch.

                                "A-A super human?!"

                                "No," Snow grunted, heading towards the door, easily throwing the two people with her over her shoulders. "A super hero."

                                Dropping them off with the rest, Snow rotated just in time. A blade was heading towards the others, and with a sweep of her body, Snow arched her leg with impeccable timing. Her foot collided with the blunt of the weapon, sending it spiraling quite violently into another direction. There was a throb of pain in her heel, but her Hero Up quickly set it aside. "Get to the sides and stay calm!" she yelled, rolling up the sleeves of her leather jacket. "I'm going to break down the door, and then you'll all make a run for it." Not checking to see if they were actually listening, Snow grunted, before barreling towards the door at full speed, creating a hole using the most effective method she knew - headfirst. The glass shattered, metal broke, falling towards the ground, and Snow quickly pushed the doors open, bending the frames so they wouldn't jam shut again.

                                There was no hesitation. People were rushing towards the doors, and Snow managed to stop another oncoming blade, batting it away. It cut into the fabric of her clothes, cutting into the skin, but she could barely feel it. Grabbing one person by the arm, she jerked her chin. "Call an ambulance. Make sure word gets out that a super human is behind this." Planting the thumb of her free hand against her chest, she winked. "Don't worry, a hero is on the job."

                                The man had been looking warily over his shoulder, where blades continued to fly throughout the area. "Who are you?"

                                "No can do! A hero never reveals their true identity."

                                "But I can see your - "

                                "Never mind! Just go!"

                                He left, and Snow exhaled heavily. The injured woman was her first priority. When Snow approached her, she was unconscious and her breathing was strained, eyelids fluttering as if in the middle of a nightmare. Red liquid pooled up at the gash on the woman's stomach, leaking onto the floor. "Oi, get a hold of yourself," Snow said frantically, growing upset by the idea of anyone dying. "Keep breathing - don't die on me. Just wait a little longer, you'll be all right!" Picking her up carefully, Snow managed to avoid the blades and get her outside, laying her down among the ruckus. People had gathered on the street to stare - but not approach - the building. Anyone who tried to go back in would be idiotic, after all.

                                Then again, Snow was pretty idiotic.

                                "Watch her until the ambulance gets here," she said to the first person she saw. Thankfully, the person nodded, speechless, but didn't try to stop her as she headed back towards the building.

                                "What is that little girl doing?"

                                "She's glowing, isn't she? Is this her fault?"

                                "No! She helped us get out!"

                                Tying her long bandanna around her eyes, the one she always kept in her pocket, Snow adjusted the holes to see out from before turning to the small but growing crowd and saluting."Don't worry. This'll be over in eight minutes."

                                At least... hopefully it would be over by then. Because she only had about eight minutes left, and without her powers, there wasn't much she could do. Knowing there was no time to waste, Snow entered the building once again.

                                "Woah!" Barely missing having head hit, Snow ducked rapidly, the blade bounding off the wall. Like a boomerang, it returned to the fan whirring above. In a matter of minutes, they had already caused countless amounts of damage. There were scratches on the walls, destroyed merchandise, and shelves that had fallen over. Fans scattered the cracking tiles. "Then, if I just jump up there and destroy the fan, it should stop, right?" This was the plainest answer, and Snow nodded to herself. But how was she supposed to get past all the blades? Theoretically, with her Hero Up activated, it would be possible to withstand the injuries, but if one managed to penetrate her head... And if she was focusing her energy on healing rather than her strength, that wouldn't be a good option.

                                "If I break all the blades, then it'll have nothing to work with!"

                                With this new goal in mind, Snow actively sought out the danger. Power exploded through her legs as she leaped, catching an oncoming blade with her bare hands. She could feel the pressure digging into her palms, blood trickling down her wrists, but she held it firmly. The inanimate object struggled against her, and with a grunt, Snow snapped it in half, tossing the two pieces to the floor. "What's with that? You're not so tough."

                                About to change her line of focus, the young woman saw something move in her peripheral. "What - ?"

                                The two halves of the blade she'd broken were moving, stretching. Reforming.


                                Before they had a chance to fly away, Snow covered each one with a foot, and soon felt them shifting beneath her.

                                "God dammit!" she shouted, lifting her neck to watch the destruction continue. "Stay put!"

                                Think, Snow Kallaway. Think. Before time runs out. It must have a weakness. It's main power source... the fan itself? Maybe not... that's too easy. A main blade? Can it be turned off from it's main source? But if it's being controlled, then... Damn!
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                                    ; I WAS BORN OF THE WOMB OF A POISONOUS MAN
                                    x x x x x
                                    ────but i RISE up above it,────
                                    H IGHUP ──── a b o v e x i t x & x s e e . . .

                                    ██ PAXTON ( MOXIE ) METCALF ██
                                    THE HUMAN : BATTERY ⋙⋙ THE HUMAN : BATTERY ⋙⋙ THE HUMAN : BATTERY ⋙⋙ THE HUMAN : BATTERY ⋙⋙

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                                    xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx UN♦DERGROUND ! ► ► AG♦ENT ! ► ► MO♦XIE ! ► ►

                            ╔══════════════════════ ►►

                            "Perhaps. I assume you know of the thief that stole the contents of a prominent government agent's bank account…? I should hope so. You're looking at him."

                            Ah, so that was it. Paxton flashed his partner a cool gaze, half-way between smiling and frowning. He was intrigued—he had indeed heard of the icy criminal before—white-collar thieves weren’t his specialty though. Cillian would definitely prove to be more useful to the Underground, and his own personal ambition, than he’d anticipated. Deciding his feelings on the situation with a soft response in the form of a grunt, he smirked at his partner. As the blonde-haired man dashed out of the elevator, Paxton couldn’t help but chuckle as he caught the thumbs-up sign. Shaking his shoulder out to give himself a little room in his jacket, he adjusted his shades with a slick gesture. The human battery stepped in between the doors and leaned casually against the door—preventing it from closing. Smugly, he saluted the guards as they wildly looked from his partner to him and then back. And in a flash, they were frozen. Hot damn. Or well… Cold damn. Mildly impressed, Paxton tipped his chin up at the man that went cruising through the hall, stopping any struggle effortlessly.

                            But this was no time to be awe-struck by his partner’s powers. If anything, it gave him more reason to prove his own powers useful. So he slid a hand back to the elevator control panel and focused his energy into his palm.

                            Hey thanks elevator, I mean—it was YOUR movement that let me do this after all haha... He laughed inside his mind before releasing a blast into the panel, effectively stopping the elevator dead in its tracks.

                            This was taking minimal effort at best, even that blast to the elevator hadn’t taken very much energy. Jutting his hands back into his pockets, Paxton ducked around the frozen bodies as he stepped out into hall… Just in time to see Cillian ruthlessly end the life of a guard with a blade to the chest. Moxie released a low whistle as he surveyed the damage, smile tugging the corners of his lips.

                            ”All clear.”

                            "Excessive force huh? I like your style." He commented, taking care not to dirty his gleaming shoes with the blood pooled onto the floor.

                            With that, he swished passed his partner and tilted his head ever so slightly to peek into the cells as he passed them. Hopefuls were hungrily eying the pair, knuckles white as they clutched the bars that kept them at bay. Ha, there was no way in hell they were here for such losers. Finally, Paxton came upon the cell that housed one of the most valuable assets the Underground could hope to get.

                            "Mornin, Princess. Awfully high up here in this tower huh?" Paxton mused, clicking his tongue as he stopped in front of the bars, eyes hidden but focused on the shaggy-haired man he’d come for, "Today’s your lucky day."

                            Sliding his hand out of his pocket to feel the bars, Paxton trailed his fingers down the length of the metal rods carefully—they were as sturdy as he’d expected them to be. Guess it was a good thing he’d gone for a drive before they’d left for the mission—a really, really, really fast one.

                            "Codname: Moxie here, basically the new guy in the Underground. I’m whipping the little gang into shape, and we need you back." He continued, tone playful, but demanding, "Now before you get your panties f*cking twisted and try to get out of it—don’t even try. We’re willing to do ANYthing to get you back on our side. Sh*t’s gonna go down for real here pretty soon, and we need your tech. ‘Sides, I’ve been needing a sidekick"

                            Paxton laughed under his breath and gripped two of the bars in front of him, ignoring any protest the man might have had for him as he focused on that bubble welling in his chest.

                            "Two enough? Or have they been feeding you well in here?" He teased, never breaking his concentration.

                            Soon, he felt his hands buzzing with energy—which he transferred to the bars. They wobbled ever so slightly, all that motion being transferred to them knocking them loose from their groundings. But damn were they rooted in there! This was no cheap prison with flimsy bars, these things were sturdy as hell! Gritting his teeth together as he strained to push more and more energy into the bars, he got them vibrating so fast they heated up. It burned his hands a little, but he pushed through the pain—feeding off the adrenaline his body rocketed through his system. In a matter of seconds, the bars simply couldn’t take the energy, and they began to shake violently.

                            "Get back!" He hissed through his teeth, and sure enough, the bars snapped with a loud crack, one flying into a nearby wall, and the other cracking into a cloud of shrapnel that scattered amongst the nearby surroundings.

                            Letting out a pent up breath he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding, Paxton stepped back—allowing Max to sidle through the opening he’d made.

                            "Whew alright, you all set here Princess? Cuz, we’ve got company." He questioned, a faint pattering of footsteps tickling his senses from the nearby stairwell.

                            ╚══════════════════════ ►►

                                    i x w a s x h u n g x f r o m x t h e x t r e e s x m a d e x o f x t o n g u e s x o f x t h e x w e a kxxx

                                    THE BR↳ANCHES►► xxx xxx xxx THE♦♦BONES xxx xxx xxx OFTHE♦♦LIARS xxx xxx xxx AND♦♦THIEVES
                                    THE BR↳ANCHES►► xxx xxx xxx THE♦♦BONES xxx xxx xxx OFTHE♦♦LIARS xxx xxx xxx AND♦♦THIEVES
                                    THE BR↳ANCHES►► xxx xxx xxx THE♦♦BONES xxx xxx xxx OFTHE♦♦LIARS xxx xxx xxx AND♦♦THIEVES

                                    ────& RISE up above it,────
                                    H IGHUP ──── a b o v e x i t x & x s e e . . .
                                    x x x x x
silvieon's avatar

cakesauce's Wife

Omnipresent Phantom

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                          This was really frigging ridiculous. He was getting stares from the stupid policemen who decided that "their place" was "here on the front line" instead of "cowardly retreating". Half of them had their guns pointed towards him for God's sake. Then again, Lee couldn't have been the only one miffed about being called for duty.
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                          "What do you mean I'm called out for duty? I don't get called out for duty. I'm exempt from getting called out for duty. You're being ******** ridiculous! You don't 'need' me, you just think that you need me," Lee shouted at his phone, ready to throw it at the next person who dared to walk into his office and interrupt him, "Yeah? Well [********] you too!" and hung up by throwing the phone against the door of his office. (But not against the glass because he'd already made that mistake once. They made him pay for the damn thing, with the paycheck that he didn't give a damn about.)

                          "Your neighbors are complaining about the noise, Damascus. Shut up and go get ready for your assignment already!" said the director, opening his door for as long as it took to pass along the message (and pointedly ignoring the smashed phone on the ground, good guy) before slamming the door shut again. That man was probably the only person around the entire Octagon who was willing to get up in Lee's face. And Lee had to admit, even he wouldn't ******** with that kind of guts. Besides, that was a man who had the power to make things really unpleasant for him (you know, not like everyone else didn't have that power either).

                          "If they have a problem with it, then next time, they better ******** say so to my face!" He huffed, flopping back down into his chair, arms folded over his chest as if that would make a difference towards his new assignment.

                          It was a weird thought, actually leaving the Octagon to go somewhere other than his house. Moreover, for it to be for an assignment. As if the last one wasn't disastrous enough. (No one in the entire Octagon is allowed to even mention it around the director, lest he rupture a vein in his forehead.) Ugh. Whatever. He probably should get going. Didn't want to be late for his shiny new assignment.

                          "Tell the kids to not bother coming; I have places to go," he shouted at his secretary as he pulled his door closed behind him, making sure to lock it (because he'd forgotten once and his secretary had given him hell for that).
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                          And now he was here, standing in front of the bank with his arms folded again.

                          'I'm working with barely evolved monkeys,' he thought bitterly to himself as he flipped off another one of the policewomen pointing her gun at him. He gave her a sardonic smile before walking back to the front door of the bank. Lee rolled his eyes; the feeling of having guns pointed at you would always be unpleasant, but at least if he stood here, they'd be pointed in the right direction.

                          "Give - give me - " Lee managed out, hands fumbling as he tried to wrestle a megaphone from the (understandably) freaked out officer. Who, considering the fact that Lee was still fighting with the guy, was not a superhuman lover. "No, give me the damn megaphone!" When he finally managed to get it out of the guy's hands, he stumbled backwards, because a certain someone had let go right when Lee had tugged. Hard.

                          "a*****e degenerate, trying to steal my megaphone. Serves you right," the officer sneered, walking off to his laughing group of buddies.

                          Really. Really.

                          "This is why I don't do assignments," he mumbled, picking himself up off the ground before dusting off. "Hey, you in there! I'm coming in, so clear out the front door!" Lee shouted, through the megaphone, choosing to ignore the ear - splitting noise the first time he pressed the button that made everyone else cringe. No, he didn't have to shout, but it was more fun that way. When he finished, without pause, he threw the megaphone back in the general direction he'd seen the officer go in (and was pleased to hear an "Ouch!" and string of profanities for his troubles). If he was anything, it was trustworthy.

                          Which was exactly why he barreled through the glass doors a second later, eyes glowing a faint green.

                          Hey. If anyone got hurt, it was their fault and they were collateral damage. He'd given a warning, which made it not his fault.

                          "Where is that dumbass thief who decided to go on a spree throughout DC, because you're giving me a lot. Of ********. Trouble," he gritted out, stomping through the main hallway of the bank with every word. The hostages were lined up against each wall, staring at him (their savior, thank you very much), with wide, scared eyes. Like, you know, the eyes that guinea pigs liked to give. Because that was what they kind of looked like, all huddled together, hiding from him. No big deal or anything. "Don't stare. It's rude."

                          Lee folded his arms, standing in the center of the bank. Everyone was staring at them. Plus the policemen and their guns outside, too, trained at his head, no doubt. They were there, he could feel them. His eyes had their customary, faint green glow that they always had when he was using his powers.

                          "Whoever you are, terrorizing banks like this, get your a** out here before I find it and punt it out the building."

                          See. Warning. Now everything that happened next was just collateral damage.
Artemyes's avatar

Dapper Raider

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_________ c o d e n a m e : яαмραит
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____________________ if i go crazy then will you still call me superman? ____________________________________ if i'm alive and well will you be there, holding my hand?
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                            One Mr. Troy Morison. That, was who he was looking for. Funny though, the 'Mr.' seemed out of place, when put in proper context with the owner of said name. Ryder side-stepped from the path of a harried commuter with practiced ease, as he continued his trek, his mind still on idle thoughts. Maybe it seemed like an out of place term, because he was looking for this man in regards to some more ... shady business, that didn't pertain to having such a formal sounding term. Or, maybe, plain and simply, it was because the guy thought he could skimp on 'payment', and not get in trouble for it. It was not as if finding a person in this day and age was particularly difficult though - and that would be by simple 'human' means, no powers involved.

                            Ryder exhaled a breath, slipping his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He was in no particular hurry; Troy Morison would not elude him, as he may have eluded any other of his 'buddies' the day before. In all honesty, it was something of a practiced routine, that would be dealt with in quick succession when the time came for it. Yesterday, there'd been the slightest of snags in that routine, but that'd been because of some woman, who'd come very close to carting some of their group off after a scuffle downtown. When he'd intervened, she'd been rather furious, and though she'd practically been outnumbered, she had not backed down, shifting things to something of a staring contest between the two of them. That had been unexpected, hadn't it? As he thought back to that scenario, Ryder once again asserted she'd been... like him. A superhuman, that was. He took it upon himself to assume she'd been rather miffed when she'd left, her 'captives' having escaped because of him. It wasn't as if he could've just let her take them away though, right? What would he do after? It'd all become a hassle afterward, that was for sure.

                            As the library came into view, Ryder was reminded of just what it was exactly, that he was doing. Right. There was always that one guy who ended up buying this or that from their gang, and then they either wouldn't be able to pay it off, or they thought they could avoid it. Unfortunately, as illegal as it was, business was business; overdue payments collected interest, and Ryder was the one who'd come calling for it. The young man may not have for his part, have been really involved in the actual substance use, but he had no qualms about gathering fees for it. It was amusing, sometimes. Thus, here he was, and if he was not mistaken, his 'target' would be popping up somewhere around here soon.

                            Really, the library was something of a nondescript building; its architecture seemed strangely appropriate for its use, suffice to say. An old woman holding her grandchild's hand and a tote with books passed him with a lingering look, as they exited the library with their paperback treasures in tow. Ryder paid no mind to the glances he was given; he supposed his sort of appearance was not one so typical of the average library-goer. It was true though; when was the last time he'd to a place like this? Never? With a little shrug to himself, the young man stepped in, resuming his search.

                            Ryder threaded his way through row upon row of books, shelves reaching up to the ceiling. He back-tracked once, when he caught sight of a familiar looking person. At least, that was how he'd been described pretty much, and the person right there matched said description. Ryder came up directly behind him and because of that, the person was left completely unaware.


                            Annd, it worked. A head went up at the sound of the name, and he looked back, seeking out the owner of the voice. Ryder couldn't help but crack a little grin; of course it worked. It was simple instinct, wasn't it? He could see the rather unsuspecting expression upon Troy's face melt away slowly into wariness, as he rounded the chair and set a hand on one of the books. It appeared as if he was doing some sort of research, or studying. Oh well. "Seems like... you bought some stuff from some guys a week ago, but y'didn't manage to pay it all off." That caught a reaction, much more noticeable in the way his gaze widened. It appeared he knew who he was and what he was talking about, after all. His grin widened a slight fraction, as he leaned down a little, fingers seeking out the edges of one of the various sheets of paper on the table. "Yeah, right? See, I'm here for that. You're gonna have t'pay up now, or I get to get that payment in a different way." There was no shred of doubt that it was a threat, despite the rather simplistic tone it was spoken in. "Don't get any ideas either, since if y'call to anyone, things'll just get worse." Troy Morison seemed to grow paler with each word, and he had started to tremble somewhat. Ryder waited an idle moment, before slamming his hand audibly on the tabletop. He was guilty of a little satisfaction in seeing his 'prey' flinch. Well anyways, it was his fault, wasn't it? Why deal with things you weren't going to be able to handle?

                            "L-look, I told your friend that I need, I need.. more time, yeah, so--"

                            Troy Morison got up and tried to bolt. Ryder jumped back in time to avoid the chair as it tipped over and fell back with a thump. "Nah," He said, quick to react, hand snapping out to snag his escapee by the collar and yank him back. Ryder used the momentum to force Troy Morison back enough to have him trip on the very chair he'd been sitting in. He let out a bit of a gasp, but Ryder was ruthless, keeping him down with a rather tight grip near his neck. "Nah, gimme what you've got now, or things'll get worse." This simple threat sounded much more believable, what with the faintest hints of an animalistic expression lingering upon his face. They stared at each other, for a second that seemed to span an eternity. Unlike the spunky girl from the day before though, Troy Morison caved easily, especially underneath the subtly increasing pressure to his windpipe. Boring.

                            "O-okay man, just lay off.. o-okay? I'm.. getting it now,"

                            Unfortunately for Troy Morison, Ryder did not relinquish his demon's hold on him, until he shoved a crumpled wad of bills in his free hand. With a pleased little 'hm', Ryder let go, causing him to fall back and hit his head on the drab carpet with another dull thump. Straightening his frame, he ran his fingers through his hair, before sifting through the currency. And he'd said he didn't have. Huh. An elderly man peered over in their direction from around a corner of one of the bookshelves; he appeared to be one of those who worked at the library. "Is everything alright?" He inquired in innocent fashion, to which Ryder glanced between him and the one on the floor.

                            "Yeah, he just fell," Ryder interjected before anything else could be said, "He'll be more quiet from now on," he promised, stuffing the money into his pocket and nodding to the old man as if he had not just extorted money in a corner of his precious collection of books. It took no more than a moment, for Ryder to slip away behind a bookshelf, while Troy Morison tried to get shakily to his feet with the assistance of the elderly librarian.

                            Stretching out an arm, Ryder could not help but muse that that had been rather easy. With that task accomplished though, there was nothing more to do at the library. He chose a more roundabout path through the maze of shelves, to make his way back to the exit.

                            "Um... You're Ryder, aren't you?"

                            It was his turn to look for the source of the voice which had spoken his name. Unexpectedly though, it was a girl. Her expression spoke as if she was inwardly debating believing something, or not. She certainly seemed to recognize him, though. Unfortunately for her? He didn't. Ryder stared at her, half-heartedly trying to summon any recollection of knowing her, but to little avail. Perhaps, he'd seen her around, somewhere, a long time ago.. or not. As it was, he did not pursue the thread of thought any further, since it seemed to be of little value to him to do so. "I am." Ryder answered eventually, not particularly adverse to giving out his name. ".. Why? Do I know you?" He'd slowed his steps, but just briefly; certainly not slow enough to stop for a long chat.

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i really dont mind what happens now and then, as long as you'll be my friend at the end

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