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                      The man in the cell was such a very nice man, if not a little kooky. An actual carriage coming for them? He’d have better luck getting away with setting the library on fire and getting away with it. Which means that he wouldn’t have any luck at all. Get it, because he already got caught for it once? Even though he hadn’t really done it. Or had he? (Dundundundun.) There was a mystery that needed to be solved . Maybe the nice man – well, Heist he had said, and that was weird, because such a nice suit with such a cool name? Suspicious, Zale thought with shifty eyes that ended with him seeing double – could help him out. Though he let out a huge gasp when he questioned Zale’s identity. “Why I never!” Though he wasn’t entirely sure why he said that, well, he thought it sounded quite positively proper. And he wanted to be proper when faced with a gentleman like Heist. He righted his back and sat straight for once in the life that he was able to remember clearly – which mean the previous five or so hours.

                      “Say, when we go out, would you like a spot of tea, nancy boy?” He happened to say a few moments, for some reason appearing quite capable of speaking normally for once before the jail went to hell. Quite literally, if the screams were to go by in the distance. Meanwhile, Zale was humming pleasantly and making knitting motions with his hands. It was quite handy to know how to knit even if he had never done it properly. And then he realized that oh, that was the string from the skirt that he had on. Which had now been reduced to a mini. He … did not know what to make of the predicament. Oh well, they were going out of fashion anyways, the voice from Sarah Kelly said in the back of his mind, who had been a very nice girl before he had accidentally caused her to fall near the stairs and break her spine. Really such a pity. He had just been about to ask her about those good churros, too.

                      And then suddenly there was someone down there that was melting the bars.

                      … Zale should have been more surprised. But nope. He had seen everything. Floating man in an invisible vehicle? Meh. Seen it.

                      But then he realized that when the bars were melted, it meant that he was officially able to break out of jail with the strange people. Strangers that were stealing him away from the hideous cell with stain marks on the walls and rusted old metal that creaked even when it was being burned.

                      Zale shed a single tear.

                      “Goodbye, jail cell. It was nice to know you.” He was very reluctant to leave. It had been his home for half an hour! ‘twas longer than most others, you know. And now he would never be able to say that he’d had the full experience. So many people had told him that it was quite the show to see someone drop the soap, though he couldn’t really find out why watching soap fall was so interesting. He’d done it before and it was more annoying than anything else.

                      But then in a flash, there was something that he was seeing at the corner of his eye. Something very exciting. And when he turned, Zale stared. For a moment various cellmates that were watching enviously could swear that there were sparkles in the background.

                      A man claiming to rescue them, melting the bars, and an invisible vehicle as he seemed to claim.

                      Zale was quite skeptic until he slammed head first into the vehicle. Then he decided that Heist had been telling the truth.

                      He smiled with all the innocence of a rescued damsel in distress (though he’d been quite happy in there and the checklist that he’d done was all for naught, boo.) and curtsied to the newcomer.

                      He turned to Heist. “You we’right! A prince! A real lif’prince! I feel lik’I’m in Disney right no’…” And he believed him and watched with interest as the man looked for his keys. Invisible keys. (Seen it.)

                      And then suddenly, he was sitting in a vehicle and he was told that he was going to be fed to a so called Sentinel.

                      “Not su’if bad, I’v’always though’that being swallowed wou’be pretty coo’…” Because then you could say that your arm was in an animal and you could use it to tear it from the inside. Though he had no certainty that Sentinel was an animal. It could be a robot. Could robot even eat things?

                      “You wer’my only hope. Y’are now m’hero.” He bowed as deeply as one could while seated.

                      Then he blinked.

                      “Ooh, can I driv’?” Before anyone could protest to the idea, Zale climbed into the front seat and sat on Hellfire’s lap, taking control of the vehicle.

                      And then he ran over an old lady.

                      “I’v’been wantin’ to do tha’all day!” He said with glee. His checklist was growing shorter. He would need new dreams. It was slightly depressing, that thought. His dreams were his dreams. He needed his dreams. He would go insane if he didn’t.


                      He’d met his hero prince.

                      That should count for something right.

                      Then he spotted a button.

                      A large, red button that held his attention.

                      It was beautiful, calling out to him with enticing words, whispering in his ear about how much it wished to have its body pushed, pressed and grinded against the metal of the headbord. Zale drooled.

                      “What does thi’button do?” He muttered more to himself, and licked his thumb before pressing it to the large, red button.

                      Behind them, the jail exploded, and Zale’s mouth dropped.

                      “THE JAIL!”

                      It was unbelievable.

                      He’d ended his own dream without remorse.

                      “Now I’ll never be a convict…” He lamented to himself and sighed.

                      “…let’s go TP someone’s hous’!”

satan in lace's avatar

Shameless Tipper

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              pulvis sidereus pulvis( : IFYOU'RENOTALLOWEDTOSTOPx.
              ps: everything is but the dust of x. x. x.
              the starscontinue moving FOR WARD! llike thisI want you to remember you're ×not a l o n e
              pulvis sidereus pulvis sidereusI cannot pretend to be someone weakx.I cannot pretend to be someone weakx.I cannot pretend to be someone weak
              everything is ▇▇▇ ▇▇▇ ▇▇▇ I SMILED AS I TOLD YOU STRAIGHT
              of the stars⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯
              pulvis sidereus ██ 向かい風の中 spica caelum. x. ██ ありのままに downtown. x. ██ 生きること payback time.

                            When she saw the male fall to the ground because of her kick, Spica simpered in delight, taking pleasure to see the redhead stagger. " Y'little b***h, " he spoke, well snarled to be more precise, which did little to ease her dislike for the other. She ignored the insult, however, and surveyed her surroundings. It was obvious that she was the only real authoritative figure around in the abyss of the chaos. Despite the opposition having more numbers, Spica (and of course Ryder) already knew that the only real threat to them here was each other. It made her question why the other was even part of such a weak gang though only briefly. ' Since when did villains need a reason to just cause destruction? They're all just excuses anyways. ' Spica knew it was not the case with Rampant at least; he was just a wild animal on the loose in the city from what she saw from his behavior.

                            For now anyways, she'll be chaining this beast down soon.

                            Her thought was interrupted once again by the brute (though she was begrudgingly thankful that he had brought her back to reality) and her smirk faltered upon hearing his words. " Missed ya? S'the other way 'round, ain't it? Didn't think you'd come lookin' for me. " " Tch, " she rolled her eyes at him before she retorted. " Who would miss you? I just came to put a leash on the person who was raging through town and coincidentally, it just happened to be you. " Though she scowled at his statement since there was some truth to it. Even if she wanted to deny it, she had been itching to fight the male and settle things once and for all. She wasn't going to tell him that though, Spica had seen enough of that damn cocky grin of his.

                            Running her hand through her hair, she returned the smug look at Ryder. " Heh, now we're talking. " She was ready to attack the other when two figures emerged, or rather she had not notice them until they spoke up, from what seemed to be the shadows. Spica reluctantly turned to face a girl not that much younger from her and Que who had finally caught up with her. She raised a brow at her and judged them stared quizzically at the duo, mainly at Que. It was clear to anyone that she wasn't pleased with her partner. " What are you doing dragging a civilian into this? " her voice alarmingly low as her stare turned into a glare. " Now go tell your 'friend' to back off and let us government agents handle it-- " Spica hissed before she was cut off by the female.

                            " Your girlfriend is pretty strong, huh? And a looker, too! I'm jealous. "

                            ' Yeah I'm his girlfriend so leave the rest to us--wait a minute, girlfriend what?! ' She stared at her in disbelief and horror. How in the name of God did this girl manage to mistake her for Que's girlfriend was something she could not understand. " Hold the ******** up, I am NOT his girlfriend. He'll need to take me to the beach at night or some s**t first if that was going to happen. Secondly, help who now?! " Spica gave her and Que an exasperated look. Was this really the people she had to work with at the given situation? Better yet, how did her superiors expect them to solve the problem if her partner was some idiot sprouting about forming lines and some third-party who wasn't helping their current circumstance. Okay, that was a lie, she at least managed to bring down one of the gang members.

                            It had seem that Que had successfully lowered not only everyone's but also her own guard as well for her reaction was delayed to Ryder's statement that served as a warning to his upcoming kick. ' ********-- ' Sensing the surprise attack one moment too slow, she could only produce a shield that broke on the impact. Broken shards of glass in the air, Spica kept her footing with trouble as she was pushed back a few inches getting a few cuts in the process. She glared at the redhead, wiping blood oozing from a cut on her face. The b*****d was asking for it alright.

                            " Oi, Que. Go arrest the other criminals with her now. This punk is mine. " She commanded him, simmering with rage as she dashed towards the other without another thought. Her hand positioned to jab him in the middle of his shoulders, Spica aimed to immobilize at least one of his arms.
monsieur sushi's avatar

Tipsy Grabber

SUSHIsebastian & cillian;

                'Wow, creep much.'

                Seriously, what kind of teacher caresses their students faces with a friggin' meter stick? Exactly. Mr. Ckdflkasdsfas or whatever wasn't really helping Sebastian's suspicion. And what kind of a name was Ckdflkasdsfas anyway. Like, what kind of mother would name their child based on keyboard smashing? No wonder the guy acted like something was perpetually lodged up his arse.

                This Ckdflkasdsfas guy continued to glare at Sebastian. What a weirdo. Well two can play this game, Mr. Ckdflkasdsfas. Bring it oooonn.

                It wasn't even ten seconds into the Ultimate Staring Contest of the Century until a certain white-haired girl waltzed into the room. Sebastian could already feel his jaw drop from the sheer oddness of the situation. 'Lori?' Obviously this wasn't the right reaction because said white-haired girl (who looked way too much like Lori. Awks) began to list down reasons why Sebastian was a terrible, terrible human being. She wasn't too far off either.

                "JhsdjkKDFJA?" Oh. Well. He was pretty sure that was supposed to be 'what are you talking about?' Too bad his tongue didn't want to cooperate. Hopefully she didn't think he was some sort of perv. A quick read of her mind told him that no she didn't think he was a pervert. However, the word CREEP stood out amongst her thoughts. Ouch. Way to make a fool of yourself Sebastian. I hope you're proud of yourself.

                Luckily (or unluckily, he couldn't really decide), Cillian decided that having this many classroom disruptions in the span of five minutes was way too much and so he gladly slammed the meter stick down on Sebastian's desk. "Close," he said, nodding at Ariadne though his eyes didn't leave Sebastian's even for a millisecond. "Unfortunately, it was a bloodless revolution. I suppose that would be a D for you."

                Sebastian immediately forgot about the strange Lori look-alike and focused in on Mr. Ckdflkasdsfas instead. What the hell was up with this guy acting like he was some lame supreme overlord?

                Cillian calmly removed his gaze from the scarf-wearing not-hispter (Sebatian's way too mainstream to be hipster). "Now stop staring at this pathetic boy and sit down," he sneered. "Preferably away from him. Hurry up before I fail you."

                The implied 'I would gladly fail you' hung in the air rather threateningly.

                Sebastian crossed his arms. "Is this how you normally talk to your students?"


                What, seriously? How does this guy even have a job!?

                "And you still have a job . . . how . . . ?"

                Cillian stared at Sebastian as if he grew 4893274094792 heads. Two would be an understatement in this case. Fortunately for Mr. Eriksen over here, Cillian heard the noticeable click-clack of a keyboard. Yep. That means he's onto you Marc.

                The not-really-a-qualified-substitute-or-teacher glided through the room, his meter stick tapping every desk he passed until he stopped in front of a seat occupied by a certain hipster. That's Marc in case you're too stupid or inebriated to understand.

                Cillian slammed the laptop's lid down without a moment's hesitation. He looked a little too happy while he was doing so. "Looks like we have our first F of he year," he stated, not exactly managing to keep his smugness controlled. "How unfortunate." He didn't sound very sorry. In fact, he went as far as to take the laptop with him. It would spent the next twenty minutes sitting on Mr. Ckdflkasdsfas's desk while everyone stared at him dubiously.

                "Does anybody else want an F?" He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he leaned back onto the teacher's desk. "No? All right then. Let's continue!"

                Sebastian was way too busy staring at Ariadne to really pay attention to what Cillian was saying. It was probably just a bunch of bull about European history anyway. You can't exactly lie to a telepath. In any case, he was doing a piss poor job of hiding his interest in the Lori look-alike. There was no way Sebastian could let this one go. I mean, if the love-struck eyes and awkward side glances meant anything . . .

                "--and that's how Mary and William of Orange became the King and Queen of England. Did you get all that? No? I know for once that Mr. Eriksen over here definitely wasn't paying attention. Busy staring at your girlfriend?"

                "Wait, wait what?"

                Cillian rolled his eyes. "My point exactly. Anyone else have a question?" Someone raised their hand but once again, Cillian prompty ignored them. "No? Good. Pop quiz tomorrow. Oh and did I mention that it's 90% of your grade?"

                Well s**t.

                "Moving on! Who can tell me what they know about the Declaration of the Hague?" He scanned the room for a victim volunteer. Cillian sighed. "You with the blue hair then," he impatiently gazed at Antony. "What is the Declaration of the Hague?"
monsieur sushi's avatar

Tipsy Grabber

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                    After Rhys' rather rude awakening (honestly, the last time someone did that to him was when Rhian thought it was funny . . . well, she still does BUT WHATEVER THAT WASN'T THE POINT OKAY MOVING ALONG), he spent a couple of minutes furiously shaking his hair to get it less wet. It wasn't really working. Now his clothes were all soaked too! He'd have to pop back into his closet to pick a not-soaked bow tie because wet bow ties were so not groovy.

                    I'd re-cap everything that happened here, but that's too much work so have this really shitty explanation:

                    A bunch of other wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff happened and suddenly, Rhys found himself snacking on a nice fish finger and oooh look, they have custard too! He was way too busy savouring the flavour to notice the others giving him really odd looks. Fish fingers & custard >>>>>> humanity. Always.

                    "You're silly," Rhys commented off-handedly. He proceeded to lick the custard off his fingers before continuing. "Sit, sit! Well come on! These fish fingers won't wait for you forever!" The professor motioned for the ultimate ginger Lee to sit down and enjoy his food. I mean, who doesn't like fish fingers & custard? Un-groovy people, that's who.

                    "Do you have apples? I'm having a cravi-- wait, never mind! I just decided that apples are rubbish. Do you like apples?" He tilted his head to the side. A strangely inquiring expression appeared on his face, as if this was the most important question of the century. "Ah, well. Sorry to say this, mate. But apples are rubbish." The time traveller shrugged without a single care in the world. Losers can go have their apples.

                    An extremely awkward minute passed within the room while Rhys busied himself with finishing up his food. Fortunately, he was way too pre-occupied with his thoughts to really pay attention to Lee's scathing glare.

                    "By the way, do you have a bow tie? A red one? Preferably a red one, yes. I find the colour red awfully productive. Don't you find it productive? I find it very productive," he nodded his assent, not exactly noticing how everyone else didn't seem to know what the hell he was saying. "It's all right if you don't! I suppose I'll just have to leave for a few minutes. Is that fine? That's fine, right? Orr . . . not . . ." Something told him leaving right now wasn't the best option. Rhys nervously tapped a beat. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.

                    He began to fidget in his seat, crossing his legs moment and leaning forward the next. Rhys was, unsurprisingly, not accustomed to having to sit still for too long. Where were the others anyway? He was itching to get out of here. Maybe scout a few stores that sold a fez. He had a strange want for fezzes right now . . .

                    "What?" He slapped both hands to his cheeks and made a face. "What are you all staring at? Do I have leftover custard on my face? Ooh, how embarrassing! It's not the first time that's happened. I seem to recall Queen Victoria kicking me out of Scotland once for my 'terrible manners'. I don't see how I could possibly have terrible manners!" Rhys scoffed. "But she knighted me in the end. Did you know that? I'm actually Sir Rhys of Cardiff! Unfortunately, my superiors won't let me call myself Sir Rhys of Cardiff in class."

                    He hooked a finger around his collar and jerked it awkwardly to the side. Was it just him or was everyone staring at him now?

                    "A-anyway!" Rhys blundered on with a giant smile. He made a vague gesture towards the now empty wine glass on the desk. "What were you saying before all this?"

                    For someone who just got tased, Rhys was being awfully chatty. Then again, there's never a time when Rhys won't be chatty. Trust me.
golden dewdrop's avatar

Sex Symbol

          provisional's use only, dnt pro pro

          User Imagepro
          proUser Image
          provisonalcode name: heist provisonal's use only real name: caine provisonal's use only power: ability mimicry
          provision ⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯
          provisional's use only. provisional's oops, i guess i shot ya. my finger's on the trigger i had a bullet with your name on it
          provisional's use only. provisional's use only. stealing is a crime. click, click i'm a sex pistol. my love should be illegal. real deal baby, i'm no counterfeit

                                        You know, there are just some things that you better let be, and this moss-coloured hair guy was just one of them. That kind of lucid crazy isn’t the type of crazy he really wanted to be with often. Excluding Hellfire he was one type of lucid crazy, but he was a best friend crazy that could be tolerated. With new guy mixed to the batch, well let’s just say that Caine felt like the only sane one in the group – not that it really meant anything, just the only one with a head screwed pretty tight. Think before action. Sounds like a good plan, works about 60% of the time. Sometimes it screws up – well, like earlier. That was the reason why he landed in jail in the first place.

                                        Riding in an invisible car wasn’t really his thing, who was smart enough to invent an invisible car anyways when you could see the people inside it? Wait… Caine turned to Hellfire and face palmed, oh right. Clearing his throat, Caine returned to his thoughts. What a terrible friend he was to almost call his best friend stupid. If Hellfire didn’t appear, he would’ve been stuck there for ages –perhaps even years, maybe. An invisible carriage was better than no carriage. Hellfire was his hero after all, and Caine expressed it by wrapping an arm around his friend’s neck, with a girlish kick of the foot and a kiss planted right on Hellfire’s cheek. “My hero ~” the dark-haired man commented with a content smile. Of course, Hellfire was driving, best not do something crazy – ah, never mind. Plant head took the wheel.

                                        And, they just ran over an old lady – that wasn’t good. “Whoa, big man in the front seat-giving-my-best-friend-a-lap-dance, please watch where you’re driving that thing ~” That smile appeared again as Caine whipped out his cellphone and began dialing 9-1-1. With all the charm he could put on as he does with a client, he began to send help for the lady. If she wasn’t dead yet, that was. “Hello? 9-1-1? Near the jail, woman is down – you probably have witnesses about to call it, or already have but she’s been involved in a hit and run, send help immediately.” End call, and that call took about only 15 seconds of his life which wasn’t enough to put a trace or even get an exact location on where they were. But just incase, Caine dropped it down onto the road, allowing it to get crushed and run over by the vehicle. Good-bye cellphone, it was a pity. Oh well, a gift from a client. He pays for it anyways. Hopefully she’d be okay – not like it was his fault or anything. The robber leered towards frog-haired who just pushed the button. Yep. Crazy he didn’t want to be around.

                                        “I want to go shopping.” Heist finally expressed, still irritated by the fact that his suit was ruined. It needed to be replaced and he needed some sort of stress reliever. “I need to get a new suit…” he was up for anything, now that he was out of jail and everything but… Seriously, our criminal needed to look good while doing it. Not like a dirty laundry pile. Nope, he needed to look classy. “Or at least drop by my apartment to pick something up.” There needed to be a certain grace to criminal activities, big or minor. It was just natural that if you were going to do something, you’d look good doing it even if it was robbing a bank – i.e, earlier that day. He wasn’t going to go through the entire day looking like a turkey.

                                        ooc: shortest and most crack you'll ever get from me. my bad.

                                        provisional's use only. biatch MISSION: HEIST
chaochu 's avatar

3,150 Points
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                                Well. It appeared she'd pushed a few buttons.

                                "-- I think y'should go back, an' stop sticking your skinny a** into stuff that ain't got anything t'do with you,"

                                Picking her ear at her ear exaggeratedly to show she wasn't listening for the first part of the redhead's statement, Snow was mostly unfazed. Irritation flared momentarily in her stomach, but it only caused a cocky grin to flicker at her lips.

                                "Ouch. That cuts deep. Doesn't really matter what you say, man. You're outta luck, and outnumbered." She gestured to herself and the government members. Having heard every last insult in the book after five years of being a 'hero', Snow wasn't about to let the moron get to her. She was a hotheaded girl by nature, but she transferred that emotion into power. "And any business where innocent people might get hurt is my business, so don't waste your breath, I'm not goin' anywhere."

                                " Hold the ******** up, I am NOT his girlfriend. He'll need to take me to the beach at night or some s**t first if that was going to happen. Secondly, help who now?! "

                                Shrugging easily, Snow directed her attention elsewhere. "Sure, whatever. Nice to meet ya. But since we both have the same intentions, may as well help each other out, eh?"

                                When the two proceeded to begin fighting again, Snow was ready to jump in and finish things off when the blonde's voice rose up over the area, practically ordering that she and Que take care of the other criminals. While Snow was the only one who wanted to be calling the shots over her own person, she could respect the fact that this girl wanted to be the one to take the redhead down. Rivalry between them was a highly suggested factor. Snow believed in teamwork, in working as a group. But she understood where the other female came from, so just this once, she relented.

                                "Alright! I'll round up those guys that tried to escape and put them in a pile with the other ones," she said to Que, referring to the men that were already unconscious. "Make sure nobody else tries to leave, alright?"

                                Saluting him jokingly, Snow turned on her heel to get the job done.

                                "Hey, Blondie! Don't let him win!"
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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                            Things had become quite the mess, hadn't they?

                            At least, they certainly had for the trio - and in particular, the main person of his interest, the woman who was itching to fight him. Her reaction to the Hero Girl's comments were truly comical, and he couldn't help the bark of laughter that escaped him. When even allies fought, even amongst themselves, how good could things get? Well, it seemed like such a random mish-mash of opinions, that was it was likely only to be expected. His gang may have been on the 'other' side of the law, but there was a reason why it was called organized crime. Putting it simply, they were much more capable of cooperating than these few looked. At the barest minimum, the woman shouldn't known that she could not rely on anyone's but her own strength - the price of not doing so was clearly evident.

                            "So this is what th'government's become after all this time, huh?! Whatta ********' riot,"

                            Ryder's grin was a devilish one, relishing the surprise on Spica's face as she tried her best to minimize the damage with some sort of shield that could only break under the impact at best. She glared at him, blazing daggers, something that certainly would've affected anyone else. As it was though, Ryder was not just anyone else.

                            "Oi, Que. Go arrest the other criminals with her now. This punk is mine. "

                            "Yours? Cocky ain't we? But - tha's good," The young man smirked, exaggeratedly shaking out the lingering effects of his punch from his hand. "Wouldn't be fun otherwise," Fun indeed - the other two would be lucky if they caught all the other people, fleeing the scene like insects.

                            She rushed towards him just then, hand raised in a very stupid looking fashion, as far as he was concerned. But, just because she was sticking her hand out so stupidly, didn't mean that Ryder was so foolish as to underestimate her. The anger that seemed to seep from her very expression was not something he was unfamiliar with. Despite coming to the split-second conclusion that it would not be advantageous to let her connect a blow, Ryder didn't shy from it. Instead, he recklessly planted his feet, shifting the weight of his body to one side in the slightest of motions.

                            He didn't know what the hell it was she was doing - how she did what she did.

                            The moment her palm made that slightly askew contact, Ryder felt the strangest sensation through his left arm. Pain and a numbness, like suddenly the control in that arm had shut down, no longer heeding his commands. A sacrifice only someone like he would make in the heat of battle to get another shot. Even with grit teeth, in that exact moment when the contact was made, he'd lunged with his right hand to grab at her - there was not enough hesitation or surprise to stop the instinctive reaction despite the loss of his other arm's use. He had her now though, he was quite sure of it, what with the way he'd gripped her by the arm.

                            In the next second, Ryder relentlessly yanked Spica nearer, eyes connecting, their noses almost touching with the sheer force of the motion - and his forehead connected with hers with a resounding crack. Immediately afterward he backed off, and after that close proximity, a space was created between them.

                            "... Not bad," Ryder remarked, giving his head a shake - like an animal shedding water from it's coat, not someone who'd just cleanly headbutted a woman. "Hella better than last time" Of course, last time he'd stepped in to keep his 'buddies' from being hauled away and locked up. "... 'the ******** y'do?" Not that he really expected an answer. A quick assessment told him was left arm was pretty much out of commission - they'd both taken damage, but likely he was the only one facing such an (debilitating type of) issue; his arm hung limp at his side, with only that slight prickling feeling to signal it was still a part of him. A want to know just how she'd done that lurked in the back of his mind, only forced out by the anticipation of a good challenge. Ryder took a few steps to one side as if seeking out the next best moment to leap to attack, flexing the fingers from his good hand, curling them into a fist, the grin yet to leave his face.

                            "A handicap makes things more interesting, anyways,"

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

Noble Star

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                      After being reprimanded by the creepy insane *****] teacher, Ariadne rolled her eyes, taking the seat as far away from the scarf kid as possible. Except for the fact that there weren't as many empty seats as she'd hoped and she ended up just a few seats over from him anyways.

                      And he wouldn't stop staring either. Was there something on her face? At least, she hoped there was something on her face because his stare was starting to unnerve her. To the point where she didn't even care what Mr. Pervert (was that gibberish on the board the guy's name?) was saying - not that, under normal circumstances, she'd care - and instead scribbled down a few choice words for Scarf Boy.

                      "STOP STARING. IT'S CREEPY." in big black letters went down into her notebook, which she then turned around into Scarf Boy's direction. It was totally okay that the teacher could catch her. Maybe it'd make the Scarf Boy stop.

                      "Read the paper, stupid," she mouthed, tapping the notebook. Ariadne knew he was still looking in her direction; she wasn't sure if he'd ever stopped, which was a really creepy though, actually.

                      "-- I know for once that Mr. Eriksen over here definitely wasn't paying attention. Busy staring at your girlfriend?"

                      "Not his girlfriend - "

                      "My point exactly. Anyone else have a question?"

                      'Wow, quality teacher.' Ariadne rolled her eyes, gritting her teeth at the both of them. At least the brief teacher interlude made Scarf Boy look away and she could relax into her seat a little bit. Just a tiny bit. Incrementally. But not really because she could feel Scarf Boy staring at her again.

                      "You and I have to talk about the staring thing after class," she scribbled furiously, before ripping the page out of her notebook and wadding it as haphazardly as possible into a ball before lobbing it over at Scarf Boy's head. And, all the while looking at Mr. Pervert as if nothing had just happened. Certainly not her lobbing a wad of paper at someone. No way.

                      ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
                      There had never been time for Antony to go to school. It was always one mission after another, after another, after another for him. School was never an option for him, too busy learning how to kill people after all.

                      So he was determined to make the most of it, no matter what else happened. It was refreshing, being out of the government building everyday like he actually had somewhere to be all the time. Although he really had to wonder if all teachers were like Mr. Caoilfhionn here, putting meter sticks onto their students' faces.

                      'Note, ask Lee if this is acceptable teacher behaviour later,' Antony wrote down with the rest of the mess in his notebook. Because that was taking notes right? At least...he thought he was doing it right, scribbling down whatever Mr. Caoilfhionn was saying as fast as possible. (And no, he didn't understand it all, but hey at least he had it all for later, right?) Until he received an unwelcome kick to the back of his chair.

                      "Hey, wha - " Antony whirled around, hand literally hovering just above Marc's hand, armed with a pen. "It...instinct..." Part of him was reluctant to pull his hand away. His body screamed to follow through and he almost complied, inching just millimeters closer, but... no. 'Lee says not to stab friends. Marc is a friend. So I shouldn't stab Marc.'

                      In the end, that worked, thinking that over and over again as he reluctantly pulled his hand away, murmuring a quiet "thank you" for Marc's advice.

                      Even though he went right back to scribbling as fast as possible because now Mr. Caoilfhionn was talking about oranges. What oranges had to do with the Revolution that was Glorious (wait Glorious Revolution?), Antony wasn't sure. But Marc had said that he was supposed to be writing down whatever the teacher said so...

                      Or, wait, was he paraphrasing that?


                      So consumed with writing every single last piece of information down, Antony didn't even realize that Mr. Caoilfhionn was asking him about...what was it again? In fact, it wasn't until he took a quick sweep of the room that Antony realized he was the one with the blue hair in the room. He even pointed at himself, just to be sure. Mr. Caoilfhionn just nodded impatiently at him.

                      So Antony took a deep breath and started reciting, "The Declaration of His Highness, William Henry, by the Grace of God, Prince of Orange, etc, of the reasons inducing him to appear in arms in the Kingdom of England, for preserving of the Protes­tant Religion, and for restoring of the laws and liberties of Eng­land, Scotland, and Ireland..."
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                      David stared at Mr. Fghflkdsjakhg with wide eyes. A pop quiz worth 90% of their grade? And here he thought he'd be able to ease into the failure. Apparently not. Mr. Fghlfsdlkghal didn't look like the type that'd be okay with his making answers up, unfortunately. Not unless David wanted a meter stick all up in his face. Judging by Sebastian's reactions, it was just as unpleasant as it looked, which was really saying something.

                      'Maybe if I actually studied for once?' he thought absently, only half taking in whatever Antony was rattling off at the moment. 'Nah. Too much work.'

                      "Heyyyy, so will this be on the test?" David asked, not even raising his hand as Antony wound down. Or. When he thought Antony was winding down. "Because I don't think I understood a word he just said. What was that about 'The Declaration of His Highness, William Henry, by the Grace of God, Prince of Orange, etc, of the reasons inducing him to appear in arms in the Kingdom of England, for preserving of the Protes­tant Religion, and for restoring of the laws and liberties of Eng­land, Scotland, and Ireland?' And. All the rest of that. Heyyyyy Mr. Keyboard Smash. Heyyyyyy." He waved his hand as ostentatiously as possible. Maybe if he moved to the front of the room too?

                      "Hey. Okay. So. What was that thingy called again? The declaration thing. I already went through the first part of it once. So. Do we have to know it, Mr. Keyboard Smash?" Subtlety and David were not friends.
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                                      For being called a “hero” by both his bvffl and the moss-haired stranger in the backseat, he was oddly satisfied. Not because he’d done something “good”, but because he didn’t mind being called a hero by other villains. It was just like being crowned a level higher on the evil ladder to him. Nonetheless, he wasn’t thinking of their compliments as the Invisible Hellmobile leaped off the edge of the prison, falling onto a lonely road. The abrupt landing lasted briefly, and from there, it was smooth sailing through the streets.

                                      "Ehehehe, that tickles," Hellfire chuckled. He accepted Caine’s kiss with modest enthusiasm, grinning wider as he kept a single hand loosely around the wheel. The other hand draped around Caine’s shoulder; a known sign of bvffl affection between the two. The both of them looked pretty gay for two villains with a weirdo in the back of their invisible car. They probably would have even driven into the sunset, if it weren’t for the fact it was morning and there was someone in the backseat.

                                      He didn’t really care about being sat on—no, Caine raised that tolerance long ago. What he didn't like was noobs touching his inventions. Hellfire struggled with Planthead*, arms turning the wheel stubbornly against the other man, "NO, MINE! Drive your own invisible car! I'LL DESTROY YOU." However, the instant the shatter of bones and a low moan of pain trickled sounded from beneath the vehicle’s wheels, Hellfire released the wheel and bowed his head over the driver's window. Blinking at the mess created as they sped away, he realized an elderly woman had gotten in their way. "Watch where you're going, grandma!" he shouted at her bleeding mass, reeling the window back up with the driver’s controls. Never mind her. Caine was calling the clean up crew anyway. Hellfire turned back to Planthead with new respect.

                                      "Hahahah! I like speed bumps," he laughed wickedly, so preoccupied with the hilarity of the dead old woman that he almost didn’t hear Planthead or Caine’s requests. TPing a house! Hey, that was his idea! Either that or they go to the mall: one of Caine’s favorite destinations. Hellfire stared into Planthead’s back as he drove, as if that somehow shifted his gears of thought. While TPing a house sounded like it’d be awesome, Caine was his bvffl.

                                      "… Let's do both! To the mall first, because we could steal toilet paper from Walmart next door!"

                                      Didn’t he destroy Walmart? Meh, oh well.

                                      "Move over, Planthead! There's a short-cut right over there!" Hellfire wrestled the wheel away, pushing Planthead to Caine’s side while he cut across the intersection, past a red light and down the opposite road. The Invisible Hellmobile was met with an angry choir of honking horns. To drown them out, Hellfire clicked a button on the invisible radio, turning the volume up loud enough to swallow the noise in his own tune.

                                      ”LET’S GO TO THE MALL TODAY!”


                                      Because Hellfire violated all of the traffic violations, the villains were somehow able to make it to the mall without being arrested and parked over the puny people cars. Hellfire, having absolutely no shame, hopped off first from the driver’s side and danced around in the parking lot. "Whoo! Yeah, let’s do thisss!" he hollered to no one in particular, just excited for whatever evil plot Caine had in mind.

                                      He wouldn’t mind getting a disguise either, but he didn’t know what plans Caine had, besides replacing his ruined suit. Anyways, Caine, if you’re planning to pick Hellfire a disguise, it will be an arduous task. Hellfire’s usual outfit was all black with a tacky cloak-cape. A cloak-cape somehow didn’t scream to pedestrians everywhere that he was a superpowered psychopath.

                                      -insert Caine post-

                                      Regardless of what outfit Caine chose, Hellfire drove straight with it through the newly fixed WART (out of all the things to not fix...) store wall, not minding the plaster as he opened the door. Not to worry, Caine. The plaster was avoidable. Hellfire’s just a dumbass. With no hesitation and in spite of the sirens, he charged straight for numbered aisles and dived into the toilet paper section. There was a brief moment of awkward browsing beforehand (because let’s face it, how can anyone just know where something is in a grocery store they don’t normally frequent), but that’s not the point. Hellfire stacked as many as he could in his arms, then hustled back towards the parking lot.

                                      "Your security system sucks! Just like the name of your store!" he screeched obnoxiously at the people below, who were shaking their fists at him. After rocketing into the air with firepower and dumping the toilet paper stacks in the back, he crawled back into the driver’s seat, flooring it into a few other cars and maybe some people. A couple officers chased them down the road, gaining fast. Luckily, Hellfire had something special up his sleeve.

                                      Another remote.

                                      "Heist, I added a new upgrade to the Invisible Hellmobile," he whispered excitedly, then pressed a button.

                                      The trio felt the car rising onto metal legs, the form shifting around them. Sounds of clicking and expanding metal—what was happening?

                                      The flutter of a flaming rocket was now apparent, as well as the hum of the engine. Just like that, the Invisible Hellmobile made a runway out of the highway, driving into the clouds. The whistle of the invisible wings slicing through wind was audible, even through the glass windows. It would probably be a traumatizing experience for anyone afraid of heights, considering the view below. Besides that, it was the optimum time to /test drive/ the flying component of the Invisible Hellmobile, especially in the aid of throwing toilet paper rolls over the neighborhood. Planthead must have been crowded with all the toilet paper stacks keeping him company in the backseat.

                                      No. It was not a high enough altitude to stop breathing. Just saying.

                                      -insert Zale post here-

                                      * Zale needed a nickname. It will not be lifted until it is replaced with either his real name/codename/something as equally ridiculous.
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                                                                    Que Zero;;

                                                                    Well geez, was there something wrong with being his girlfriend?

                                                                    Like, yeah, Que wasn't dating either of the relatively attractive ladies, but no need to seem offended at the idea. Que had low enough self-esteem as it is. The little lizard shook it off though, turning to the Hero. Spica could handle the ring leader herself, hopefully, so if they could take care of all the extra bad guys, that would give Spica less to worry about. "Okay...we shou-"

                                                                    But Snow had already rattled off a command for him to do before saluting him and running off.


                                                                    = n=

                                                                    Whatever. Que rolled his eyes, then pulled handcuffs from his belt. He was taking orders from a young civilian. Something told him he should be feeling a slight pang in his pride, but since Que didn't actually have any self-pride, it didn't really bother him. Besides, he'd rather take care of the unconscious people than chase down a bunch of cowardly criminals. Que sucked at running anyway. Frogger waddled over to the piles of flesh passed out on the ground. At least the hardest part had been taken care of for him. He bent down, ignoring the yelling from the fight between Spica and the sassy redhead, and quickly cuffed the criminal's hands together. Then he moved on to the next criminal. It was very calming, actually, the process of picking up a cold, bruised and battered lifeless arm and clamping slightly warm metal around someone's wrists. It was slightly warm because Que kept the handcuffs tucked on the inside of his belt. Mmm. Warm metal. = u=

                                                                    Que stood up and dusted his hands off even though there wasn't actually any dust on his hands. With the weaklinks apprehended, all they had to do was clean up the redhead and then call in a police car/ambulance to pick up their catch. Frogger turned to Spica's fight just in time to see the headbutt. Should he jump in to help? The crack of their heads slamming together made Que cringe, but he saw that the redhead had a limp arm. Perfect. "Ahh..." Que wanted to cheer his comrade on but...he was never really good at being a cheerleader, so he didn't say anything. He just kind of stood their like an awkward bystander. Certainly, he would join the fight if need be, but the passionate rivalry between the two was a bit intimidating. Que doubted if his teammate WANTED his help in such a personal fight. Plus, Spica could handle it.

                                                                    Um. Probably.
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                                                  millennium ██████████████████████ .. ██████████████████████
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                                                  millennium i never wanted it to go this far , x never thought it would be so hard
                                                  millenniumx but now i'm left with nothing else
                                                  millennium ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

                                                    Marc stared at the pen hovering over his hand. He was used to Antony's primitive reactions, but he was somewhat disappointed to know that even a little kick jump started his fighting instinct. Instead of feeling threatened, he narrowed his eyes in return, just to remind him what would happen if that pen stabbed his hand. Marc could tranquilize Antony in the middle of class. He could. Whether it was the glare or not, Antony withdrew his hand after some thought and mumbled a 'thank you', then continued his scribbling anyways. Marc huffed, deciding to forget him and continue his own obnoxious noise-making.

                                                    His school rant was getting long. The topic was about the real importance of school--Marc's opinion of it, at least. It was typed in his casual text without proofreading or edits, but he didn't care. It wasn't an essay, so it didn't need to be formal. Marc clicked away on the keyboard, several minutes passing before Caoilfhionn noticed. Ironically, on the paragraph about Caoilfhionn himself, Marc realized a shadow falling over his desk.


                                                    He pulled his hands back, the top of the closing screen just missing his fingertips. Caoilfhionn's smug, grinning face was looking down on him. Marc glared in return.

                                                    "Looks like we have our first F of he year. How unfortunate."

                                                    Marc began to plea his case (plea meaning "pretentiously explain himself" ), but Caoilfhionn didn't seem to be listening. He took the laptop, placing it hostage on his desk. It was Marc's turn to fall back on his "primitive reactions"--Lee says not to kill civilians. Caoilfhionn is a civilian, so I can't kill him. He seethed quietly, arguing he could easily spit in the man's coffee and he'd keel over without any trace of a murder weapon, but after a minute or two, he managed to suppress his anger into dull irritation.

                                                    Caoilfhionn continued his shitty teaching. Marc leaned on the back of his chair, scrutinizing every detail about the man so he could take proper pleasure in hating him. The material he was spouting wouldn't be so bad, if it weren't for the fact he was a horrible teacher. Teachers weren't supposed to call out students or give grades haphazardly like he did. Pop quiz as 90% of their grade? Marc was relieved for a brief moment (a chance to erase that F), before thinking the quiz would probably be about some bullshit they didn't even learn. The second time around, when Caoilfhionn asked the class to answer his question, he didn't bother to raise a hand. It seemed as if this substitute was purposely searching for students who would embarrass themselves.

                                                    "You with the blue hair then. What is the Declaration of the Hague?"

                                                    Well, listening to Antony's answer, Marc wasn't sure if that was embarrassing or impressive. Either way, what Antony did was out of social norm, so it kind of weirded everyone out. Unfortunately, David was next to speak up. Marc's forehead hit his desk top.

                                                    For a moment, Marc felt sympathy for Caoilfhionn. This was a horrible class. It really was.

                                                    Riiiing !

                                                    That was the sound of a bell ringing, meaning class was dismissed whether Caoilfhionn said so or not. Paying no attention to what everyone else was doing, Marc made a beeline for Caoilfhionn's desk, snatched his laptop, and glided out the door.

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                                                  ━━━★ ★ ★ x ❝ you're so damn difficult. 》_______________
Brethil24's avatar

Ruthless Conventioneer

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EMPTYSPACESINMYCODE░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ! ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ! ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ!
                Jaden flinched a little at the sound of her name. Ahhhh, she was in so much trouble wasn’t she? The urge to try and hide was very strong. “I’m sorry I was just trying to be helpful!” Alright so maybe she was hoping for a little bit of excitement and she could have thought everything through a little better, but she honestly had good intentions! They weren’t going to kick her out were they?

                Fidgeting nervously, Jaden took another peek at the video display. Everyone in the room was very wet and surprisingly calm given that they were locked in a building with someone who had committed murder, and- …wait the guy was just unconscious. Oh, thank goodness. Though didn’t that mean someone had still knocked the poor guy unconscious in the first place. Well, that was probably better than killing him, but it still wasn’t nice to just- “Wait, time travel? That’s possible?”

                Perking up slightly at the idea, Jaden began fiddling with the video feed, swiveling the attached camera and zooming in so she could get a better look at the guy’s face. He looked pretty normal for someone who’d come from a different time period. Then again it wasn’t like people had changed significantly appearance wise over the last couple of centuries, and she didn’t know much about period clothing. Still, the fact that he didn’t look too weird meant that if he was a time traveller he couldn’t have come from too long ago, right? Plus people from a really long time ago tended to have more health problems than they did now, right? The time traveller didn’t look particularly sick. Maybe he was missing a tooth or something?

                Unfortunately not even a guy from the distant past (or future!) was enough to completely distract Jaden from the prospect of an impending lecture. Frowning, Jaden mumbled a quiet ‘yes sir’ before switching off the video and slowly making her way to Lee’s office. Maybe she should try to undo the lockdown first? …No, she’d probably just mess that up too. It’d be better if she just went and faced the music.

                It only took a second for Jaden to get the mic and camera on Lee’s desktop working, giving her a decent view of Lee, who was currently sitting in his spinny chair. Jaden rather liked Lee’s computer. It wasn’t as nice as her dad’s, of course, but it had a decent processor, a fast Internet connection, and there weren’t any parental blocks preventing her from accessing sites. She hadn’t taken advantage of that yet, but someday she would go and find the answers to life’s little questions that her dad didn’t want her knowing about yet. And it would be glorious.

                Fiddling with the computer’s settings, Jaden was very happy to hear Lee mention googling something, which she could definitely do without messing up. “Really? Because I can do that right now and oh he’s awake.” Jaden pulled a face. Not that anyone would be able to see it, but she did it anyways because it made her feel better. And now the mysterious time traveller was talking about freckles and ginger and people were starting to file in but since Lee’s office did not have security cameras all over it (at least as far as she knew), Jaden had to settle with just audio and Lee’s face and part of the time traveller’s head instead. Luckily Lee was very expressive. Which was just a nice way of saying he was in perpetually frustrated mode right now, so Jaden contented herself with looking things up. Apparently fish fingers and fish sticks were the exact same thing. Unless the time traveller came from a future where fish had actual fingers and-! …No that was just stupid.

                Speaking of the time traveller, he was talking now, and maybe it was the different time period thing or maybe she was just out of it, but Jaden had a hard time understanding what was going on. What did bowties have to do with anything? And weren’t apples actually delicious? And ewwwww, he didn’t really just dunk that fish stick in his custard did he? Admittedly Jaden hadn’t really had fish sticks in custard before, but she distinctly remembered eating lots of chicken nuggets as a child, and she also remembered eating lots of chocolate pudding, and while she’d never put the two together, she was pretty sure it’d be disgusting. …But what if she was wrong? She'd read somewhere that a person's sense of taste actually changed as they grew older, so what if this was one of those things where adults really liked them, but kids didn't? She had been a picky eater as a kid.

                Jaden fidgeted a bit. No one was really saying anything, so maybe that meant she should stay quiet, but she really really wanted to ask, so… “Ummmmm, excuse me? Fish fingers and custard isn’t actually tasty is it? Because it sounds kind of…not.”

                ▇▇▇ ▇▇▇ ▇▇▇ someday my heart will be error free
satan in lace's avatar

Shameless Tipper

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              pulvis sidereus pulvis( : IFYOU'RENOTALLOWEDTOSTOPx.
              ps: everything is but the dust of x. x. x.
              the starscontinue moving FOR WARD! llike thisI want you to remember you're ×not a l o n e
              pulvis sidereus pulvis sidereusI cannot pretend to be someone weakx.I cannot pretend to be someone weakx.I cannot pretend to be someone weak
              everything is ▇▇▇ ▇▇▇ ▇▇▇ I SMILED AS I TOLD YOU STRAIGHT
              of the stars⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯
              pulvis sidereus ██ 向かい風の中 spica caelum. x. ██ ありのままに downtown. x. ██ 生きること about to arrest this punk.

                            When the redhead did not avoid her attack—though the other probably did not even deem it as one—Spica's lips curled into a smirk. She predicted that he would foolishly face her blow head on even though he did not know what she was about to do and she was right, the b*****d did. Of course it was most likely because he did not foresee the effect yet to be inflicted upon him, though she also believed that he was just a daring idiot who would not run away from her. She was disappointed though—if only slightly—that the one opponent that recognized and treated her as an actual threat did not seem to take her technique seriously. However Spica was not thwarted for long, as she knew he would experience firsthand not to take her lightly.

                            In a matter of moments, her fingers made contact with Rampant's shoulder and she knew she had succeeded. She could see his body tensing from shock as a wave of numbness struck his left arm and how he clenched his teeth shut. Yet his next course of action surprised her as she did not think he would be able to react so fast after losing control of his left arm. ' FFF— 'she mentally cursed when he had her arm. He ruthlessly pulled her closer, their eyes locked and her internal alarms went off immediately as the space between them decreased by the second. A piercing crack was made and Spica fell a few steps back, staggering as she tried to keep her stance. She held onto her head to try and soothe the pain from being headbutted by an animal with an abnormally hard skull. " ******** you you b*****d. " She growled, obviously frustrated by the fact that he was clearly not affected by the headbutt like she was. A snort then escaped Spica when the 'hero' girl told her to not let the b*****d defeat her. " Who do you think you're talking to? Of course I won't now get going already. " She commanded her while she removed her hand from her head. After all, there was no way in hell was Spica going to let him escape her clutches twice and she did not care if she had to destroy downtown DC in the process.

                            pulvis sidereus pulvis sidereusIN THAT SPAN OF CLEAR SKY WE ARE FREE TO PAINT WHATEVER COLOR WE WANT

                            OH, TRUE COLOR

                            " Hella better than last time. "

                            At that line her eyes lit up dangerously as she remembered how humiliated she felt from being unable to stop him and his allies escape and had to suffer listening to her infuriating, shitty superiors talk trash about her. It was just a brief reminiscent but it was more than enough to incense Spica. " You shouldn't worry about what I did, but what I'll do to you next. " When the words left her mouth she had already bolted towards Ryder, hands curled as if she held an object in her hand. Once she was within his close proximity, she outstretched her right hand that revealed to be a relatively big crystal shard she had produced in her hand and plunged his good arm though it. His right arm was now trapped inside her 'mirror' until at least, fifteen minutes had past but that was more than enough time for Spica to arrest him and throw him in prison along with his buddies.

                            With both of his arms effectively restrained, she returned the favor with a headbutt of her own (she made sure to use plenty of force) and sprang onto the redhead. The two of them fell to the ground with a thud with Spica on top of him while he laid on the concrete. While it was a questionable position to others watching, to Spica she just used her current position to ensure he would not flee even if she detested the thought of making such contact with Rampant. Her fingers trailed his torso and stopped when they reached his ribcage, which she proceeded to jab him though lightly compared to her previous blow to Ryder's shoulder. " Now listen up punk, resistance is futile so just come along quietly and nothing will happen and I won't have to use force. However if you even try to resist I'll break your atypical ribs with no hesitation whatsoever. If you try to runaway I'll proceed to give you a concussion. Now choose. " Her voice as cold as ice and eyes that held no qualms of using force. Not that she would feel guilty anyways, using brute force seemed to be the only way to get through the redhead and she was itching to let off some steam.

                            Though there was more to her cold stare than just mere intimidation—there was also a hint of hollowness in her eyes—as if she had lost the only purpose for her being alive in this world long ago, her only reason to keep going on.


                            And frankly, Spica would rather lose everything but that.
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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?
__________________________ ▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ ▄▄ ▄ ▄▄▄ ▄

                            She was pretty tough to still be standing despite taking that blow, wasn't she?

                            The smirk on Ryder's face only grew, finding great amusement in the fact that she could still talk so confidently, though her balance had been wavering right then, unsteady on her feet from the headbutt. Then again, in some aspects, that had just gone and made them more evenly matched, had it not? At the very least, that'd be turning into a lovely bruise straight on the middle of her forehead the next morning.

                            " You shouldn't worry about what I did, but what I'll do to you next. "

                            She was already on the move again, looking more inclined to move to the offensive and end things once and for all. He'd been expecting it - why would he let his guard down after all - but his opponent was simply full of surprises, wasn't she? Ryder backed up, not so foolish as to risk another debilitating blow to his arm, but she was up to something else, this time.

                            Unlike the stupid and silly way she'd held her hand before though, this time the woman dashed up to him with a reflective chunk of what looked like crystal - something she seemed to have conjured from thin air. It was the most disconcerting sensation, like some sort of wayward distortion was eating up his arm - but not. It was not the same as with his left, which still prickled with an unpleasant feeling, reminiscent of one having slept on it and lost the circulation through it as a result. It still would not move, but as for his right? He could still feel it responding, so that was something, yes.

                            In the split moment in which he instinctively sought to see with his own eyes, the cause of the disorienting sensation that swept from fingers to elbow, the woman mimicked Ryder's previous actions and snapped her head forward - the second crack of skulls that time today in less than five minutes. If he was being completely honest, he'd been much more prepared for his own headbutt than for hers - it caught him off guard. She used the momentum of her own attack though - smart little b***h had learned to do the same as he, to force them both to the ground, and with no way to brace himself without the proper use of either arm, Ryder felt the contact between his back and the unforgiving pavement resoundingly, only just spared a second crack to the head.

                            His eyes were closed, but he was certainly not out of it, though it did take a moment to catch back the breath which had been knocked out of his lungs with the force of the tackle. "... Gettin' a bit more rough are we?" he laughed, licking his lips to brush away the metallic taste of blood that clung to them. She didn't seem to have much of a humor for things, it seemed though. The woman was straddled atop him and she ran her fingers along his chest, jabbing at him as if that would add something to the intimidation factor.

                            All the while throughout her threats, Ryder found himself contemplating to what extent he could move his arm. He finally opened his eyes, glancing at the reflective material effectively preventing any movement from his hand, before his eyes slid back towards the woman still on top of him. The feral grin worked it's way back onto his features, and his gaze was an unwavering one in meeting her own. "Y'sure y'ain't got any other options? Both of those sound kinda shitty, 'specially th'first since I ain't a quiet kinda guy," He had yet to move, even a muscle, but even as he spoke, Ryder's mind was working, plotting.

                            In no way, was the redhead making any mockery of the woman herself - especially not, considering she was the one with the upper hand at the moment. However, apart from the easily spotted frostiness in her gaze, Ryder could also pick out the hollow and dull pieces on sheer instinct; the echo in her voice, that made it seem like more like a script to be played out than genuine - and he meant genuine in the present emotion. "So what? S'that all? Game over? Gettin' all excited at first, thought y'had more in you than that, what're y'really gonna do, then?" He smirked, the expression much too cocky and goading for his own situation. Mind, he'd never been particularly lacking in recklessness and this was just another display of such. She wasn't kidding when she said she'd break bones, but what kind of fight was this, if she looked at him like that? He turned his head to one side, closing his eyes once more.

                            "Y'know what? S'been a ********' riot, look a little more lively there - wha's your name again? Callin' it quits for t'day anyway lady, le's play again," What happened next came in rapid succession, a jolt and buzz in his own mind.

                            "Try not t'miss me so much this time, hey-- ?"

                            When Ryder next opened his eyes, the difference was much too startling to go by unnoticed. They had taken on an appearance more reminiscent of an animal, a tiger, with pupils slit in a dangerous cat-like fashion. The human aspect, the understanding and sense of logic and reason had vanished completely and utterly, to be replaced solely by an instinctive sense. There were no more words, no more acknowledgement of there ever having been a human nature, just the cool calculating gaze of a predatory creature and the possibility of having a throat torn out. A throaty growl bared pointed canine teeth. It was a split-second action next, but it was as if it'd been intended from the very start- he raised his trapped arm and swung it. The force behind the paw-like swat was likely to be enough to snap the life out of a smaller creature in one blow; it was just different this time though nevertheless more than enough to smack the woman straight off him.

                            The reverberating impact shattered the trap mirror into glittering pieces; in that same instant, he twisted his body, keeping sunk low in a bit of a crouch, no longer on his back. He favored a three-legged stance, if only because his left arm was still useless. Piercing eyes made a quick scan of the surroundings, meshed with the sounds of the park and all its hectic activity. Too much. Another soft low growl caught in his throat, but interest was already lost completely in any of the potential two-legged prey. An uncanny bound was all it took to get moving and cover distance and - in a matter of moments, he was gone.

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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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                      ”LET’S GO TO THE MALL TODAY!”

                      “Badu-dum!” Zale was suddenly hit with the urge to hum along to a certain song. It was almost as if the gods commanded him to do so. There was almost no other explanation for the glasses that he found in the pocket of the jacket that he had jacked off a male that day – he snickered to himself, whispering “Jacked off.” before he relapsed back into his dopey smile and proudly displayed the glasses that had really turned out to be sunglasses. And if he’d ever been taught anything, it was that sunglasses made everything boss worthy. He had no real desire to go to the mall, but he then picked up on Heist’s ruined suit. He wanted to cry at the sight of it. The man was no longer the classy English man that he had perceived earlier.

                      “Yes, we mus’go to the mall. It’s impera’ive.” He nodded seriously, for once his face completely stoic, mouth pulled into a tight line. Someone had to be the hardass when cruising the mall. People could be run over there. By pedestrians. Really, the huge Invisible Hellmobile mathingashibs or whatever name it was (It would always be the Invisible Hero Tank to him!) was just a precaution compared to what people could do. Thirteen year old girls with mace sprays were feisty. Zale straightened his back.

                      Hell yes, they were going to do this.

                      When they parked, Zale blinked. The horrible crunching of metal under even heavier metal was unmistakably present, but there was something at the back of his mind that he couldn’t quite point out. While his hero danced around and the soon-to-be-classy-again Heist did his own thing like the handsome individualist that he was, Zale ran into a pole. After the smack was well earned, he stepped back to glare at it. Because when people wanted to be imposing they glared at each other, and he even topped it off with a scowl to let the pole know that he was being serious. “Human polin’ is not approved by fifty three states!” And oh, he was so smart. Kelly, the third grader, would have been so proud to know that her useful knowledge that had managed to get her past her exams were being put to good use.

                      But then he gaped.

                      They were…Blue- They were parked in a blue zone, AKA the handicapped zone, AKA the one place where you were not meant to be no matter how villainish you seemed to be.

                      They had crossed the line.

                      His hero had let him down.

                      “Guys, we’re not –“

                      "Whoo! Yeah, let’s do thisss!"

                      “-really, I mean i’, the cops are gonna –“

                      They moved into the mall. With Zale in tow. He could just weep as they passed by the ice cream store and he didn’t get a chance to pee on any of the containers. What was his life going to mean if they weren’t able to taste the golden showers. The shame of society these days. He did, however, have enough tact to follow Caine around and gasp with pleasure whenever he picked out something good.

                      “Fashion is impeccable to you, sir!” He imitated in his best voice as he clung to the shoulders of the other man before he spotted a – “CART’S MINE.” And he climbed into the shopping cart, creating enough momentum to be able to swing himself into a rolling movement. “Whee…” He muttered mostly to himself, because people were used to seeing strange people riding on carts. It was always fun when they crashed into a wall. Which is exactly what he did, except he crashed into a stand of canned goods. He screeched slightly when they fell on top of him. Now people were going to complain that they were bruised, and hell, he’d worked as a cashier once! Bruised cans were not a good thing.

                      Then he brushed against someone, and he barely had time to go whoopsey daisy before his mind swirled with colors. His head felt light and he was aware that he was skipping through the halls. He closed his eyes – it was a pleasant sensation.

                      Little did he know that outer high Zale was planning revenge.

                      … by eating all of the toilet paper on Hellfire’s backseat. They were suffocating. He was pretty sure he had started to sweat because of it. Was it possible to be dehydrated simply by being surrounded by toilet paper? The pretty rolls were being spread all over the neighborhood.

                      “ Y’guys th’ only thin’that would make i’better would be if it started rainin…” And he paused. Because there was always a god that would allow his wish, he believed in the mysterious god that would make things happen if he thought it to be so, he knew that it would happen-

                      Except it didn’t.

                      “Goddammit.” Being an atheist was hard, and nobody understood.

                      Except the gracious god was gracious when he was suffering, and his suffering would dissipate within the next few seconds.

                      There were lights flashing on, a sudden whirring noise strangely similar to the ones of a helicopter in the front of them and Zale could hardly breathe –


                      The excitement, the drama –

                      Zale peed himself.


                      …. So that was the strange feeling he’d had all day long.

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