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silvieon's avatar

Noble Star

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                          Kids, let me tell you the story of how your Uncle Rhys and I became friends.

                          See, your uncle had just crash - landed in my lap during a tedious meeting, and I almost crushed him with a table. But I didn't. It would've been bad, but I didn't. I've had a lot of moments when I wish that I did crush him, but those are stories for another day.

                          But what happened was that everyone was suspicious of him and he ended up tased by the devil lady that I told you guys to stay away from. And then your Aunt Jaden set off the fire alarm, which made things very unpleasant for all of us. So I had to carry Uncle Rhys back to my office on my shoulder, and woke him up by throwing a bucket of water onto his face.

                          Try it some time, kids. It feels very rewarding to see the other person jerk up in a panic and covered in water.

                          So anyways, what was I talking about?

                          Right, your uncle Rhys.

                          Anyways, then he asked for some fish fingers and custard - you know how much he loves those - which I actually thought was ridiculous at the time. Funny how times change, right? I didn't think that I would like it at all. I actually thought that he was crazy with the fish fingers thing. It actually was pretty strange at first, getting used to the texture and all, but...you know, pretty good.

                          So...yeah. Back to what I was saying.

                          I was ready to throw him out of my office - which would've been another very bad idea, considering how much your uncle helped all of us out. But that doesn't come until later. For now, he was just the freak who landed in my lap.

                          Don't call people freaks okay, Rose? Not unless you're angry enough.

                          All right, so I almost threw him out that day. But what made me stop was when I realized that he was a genetics professor. Now, you kids might remember how I used to be the director for this important team that fought a dangerous virus. But besides that, many people like us - superhumans - were losing their powers. No one knew why - only that it was connected with genetics.

                          So it was because your uncle Rhys mentioned that he was a genetics professor that I didn't just throw him out of my office. And because, poor guy, he couldn't get back to his time. So instead, I offered for him to work with us - or at least, the genetics team - in finding a cure to the super power problem.

                          Except that I put him on probation, since he seemed a little...well, you know your Uncle Rhys. So I was going to stick by him for the next week or so after that to make sure that he was getting used to the new millennium. And also so that he wouldn't touch whatever he wanted to touch. You know how often that gets him into trouble.

                          And the rest, they say, is history.
silvieon's avatar

Noble Star

silvieon's avatar

Noble Star

silvieon's avatar

Noble Star

monsieur sushi's avatar

Tipsy Grabber

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                    Rhys was, to say the least, not exactly paying much attention to Lee as they walked down the hall. The redhead said something about this being the 'official tour' around the Octagon, seeing as Rhys now worked for them, every hallway looked the same to him. There wasn't a point in touring around a place that looked the same everywhere! How was he supposed to remember where to turn left and where to turn right?

                    In any case, the time traveller pretended to religiously listen to Lee's words while entertaining thoughts about breaking and entering, er, exploring (in a slightly less legal way) more on his own later. If he ever managed to shake off the redhead. Lee didn't seem to want to leave Rhys on his own (and with great reason too). He would most likely get into trouble the moment he left Lee's supervision.

                    "Can we take a break?" He finally spoke up after a long time of humming and nodding. Rhys stuffed both hands in his pockets. "We've been walking around for hooouuuurs."

                    He knew Lee would probably ignore him or worse, punch him through a wall and render him unconscious. Again. Normally he would've had enough sense (barely) to keep his mouth shut unless he deemed it absolutely necessary to talk (lies), but he couldn't imagine going on since this was becoming a little too boring. Wasn't he supposed to start working with the scientists an hour ago anyway? Sigh. He'd rather mess around the laboratory than walk around in circles.

                    Rhys waved a hand in the air dismissively as he continued. "I think I can manage around just fine by now! A-ah well, I mean . . ." he looked around and scratched the back of his neck. Now how does one go about saying this was boring without pissing off the temperamental redhead? ". . . I feel like we've gone through this hallway five times already . . . and yes, yes I knooow you want to get this over with as soon as possible but there are merits to enjoying life a bit slower! Rushing through everything isn't going to be fun and sometimes you--"

                    . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


                    What was that feeling just now . . . ?

                    The time traveller stopped moving. 'That's odd . . .' Rhys could've sworn that something weird just happen to the current flow of time. Everything was fine a moment ago so maybe he was simply imagining things. Or maybe--

                    A rare, serious expression graced the Welshman's face.

                    "What's going on?" He muttered quietly to himself, forgetting for a moment that Lee was still with him. Rhys crossed his arms and stared out the window. "It's almost like . . . time is rewriting itself . . ."

                    He felt Lee's gaze burning a hole through the back of his head. Rhys quickly turned around. "Sorry, did you say something?" The professor forced a smile on his face. "Well, anyway! As I was saying, sometimes you just have to relax, you know? People always want to keep moving, but I think taking a break once in a while is a good thing! Of course, I do like my fair share of running around and getting into trouble. But then again, who doesn't?"

                    Rhys temporarily ignored the odd sensation. There was no point in worrying himself sick about something that might've just been his imagination after all.
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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                            They had seen it; his good mood - even if they hadn't believed it.

                            Taking into consideration the entirety of the ordeal that they had just undergone - that all too close run in with law enforcement, for example - did not necessarily make the appropriate components for such a mood. After all, like it or not, there had without a doubt been a great number of men from their gang taken prisoner. Then again, if anyone was thinking that Ryder actually gave such a thing a second look, they were mistaken. He'd done his part, hadn't he? Distracted the government dogs long enough to get the most important guy out. The Boss was safe and sound - a bit miffed and shaken up - but not locked away behind bars, which seemed pretty good in comparison to the situation of the majority of the others. All in all actually, as far as Ryder saw it, things had gone rather nicely.

                            He'd returned to their base hours later, his one arm only just barely beginning to regain it's movement. It'd taken a bit of time actually ease out of the animal's persona, and when he finally had, he'd ended up almost on the other side of the city. There was nothing much to be done about that though. Back at the base, no one even thought to ask what had happened after they'd scattered. For the young man though, it truly had been a worthwhile bit of entertainment; if he was particularly annoyed or angry about any of the injuries he had received, he was not showing it. There was no reason for such a thing though, since as far as he said it, he had found a new playmate - or at the very least, someone who did not seem to think twice about facing him head on. It'd been an unexpected surprise, but not necessarily an unwelcome one. After his first intervention with Spica's mission to land his buddies in jail, he hadn't really expected to see the woman again. Funny how with thinking that, she'd appeared so soon after - and so excited to see him. Ha.

                            The stiffness in his arm had yet to leave, though he had long since recovered use of it.

                            "Crazy b***h,"

                            Ryder muttered with a bit of an amused expression on his face, recalling the strange technique Spica had used to render his arm useless, as he rolled his shoulder one final time. The slight mess from the events of before had apparently been cleaned up - Ryder could only muse it was a loss for Nic, who's car had been the one that had been driven straight into a nearby building. And after all the cash he'd poured into the vehicle.

                            Threading his way through the crowds of the street with relative ease, Ryder had no true destination in mind. The Boss had decided they'd take a 'break' to just regroup, and because Ryder felt no immediate obligation to their group anyways, he saw no need to be lounging around back at their base. That, was boring. To that extent too, no one seemed to realize that the red-headed young man walking the very same streets as everyone else, had ever been a part of the scene from the day before. That was just as well though, wasn't it?

                            With a casual demeanor, Ryder turned a corner, passing a row of shops and then a tiny cafe. It occurred to him just that, that he was in the mood for a drink. With a destination now set in mind, the young man took another turn into a less crowded street, continuing on until he reached the third-last building space.

                            The pub was a small one, somewhat out of the way of the path that most people usually took, a forgotten looking area it seemed. For it's location though, it wasn't half bad looking of a place; it's sign hung simply from just above the door, matched with maroon bricks and deep brown hues. As he pushed his way past the entrance, he was met with the orange-yellow of the lights inside. Despite the time of day, there was still a considerable amount of people inside - some eating, others just there to chat with friends- the din of talk mixed in with the low rhythm of music.

                            Hoisting himself onto a stool, Ryder leaned over onto the counter, glancing over to the source of the music - off to the left of the bar's counter, there was a small platform-like stage. A small bit of a crowd had gathered to listen the live music which had paused for a moment and then started up again; the musician was someone he had not seen before though.

                            "What're you looking for, today?"

                            Lazily pulling his gaze away from the stage, Ryder glanced at the man behind the counter. ".. Gimme one of those," he replied bluntly, nodding over to the image of a drink up on the wall. The bartender blinked, as if it was an unusual request for the time of day. Ryder had lost interest in him already though, gaze returning back to the musician and his crowd of listeners, and so the man shrugged and set off to prepare it.

                            The musician seemed really into his task; it seemed rather evident by the tune. What was the name of the instrument he was playing again...? Ryder made a slight grunt, only looking away when the bartender returned with his drink. Snatching the glass up, Ryder took a swig, interested in the music despite himself. It wasn't as strong as it could've been, but it was fine for now he supposed. Tossing some change onto the counter, the young man slid off the stool, his interest leading him over to the gathering, glass in hand.

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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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                      In a fairytale, a hero always had to prevail. The villain defeated, and the town saved.

                      Except, perhaps, this town was not as lucky.

                      For alas! The poor police were no match for the Invisible Mobile. Nor was it any match for the combined forces of Hellfire, Heist and the Plant-head. With toilet paper thrown across town, a helicopter decimated and a seat set out to air from the pee it had been soaked with, the day had ended with all of the gloriousness that came from a life filled with adventure.

                      As the sun set on the three heroes – ahem, villains of the day, there was nothing that could go wrong. Having given the manliest embrace to the two that had shown him the wonders of touring a city villain style, the man that was known by many names – Zale, Rave, b*****d, even The Sombrero Rapist – set off to discover himself and the secret to life.

                      Also known as he visited Taco Bell and for once had money to pay for it.

                      Life was grand.

                      It should have stayed that way.

                      Unfortunately there was only a small glitch in his happiness – one tiny, tiny thing that could have set this amazing day apart from the rest of them, seeing as he’d had a roof over his head and a warm blanket for once. (Stolen, of course, but the moral of the story would be ruined if we were to indulge in that tale.)

                      Because no matter where they went – no matter how much one hid, no one could escape – “Th’se damn Walmart c’meras!”

                      It wasn’t fair. He’d only been picking his nose in front of one. It was no excuse for the way that it betrayed Zale, led several policemen to try and grab a hold of the poor green haired man, who had only been trying to pet someone’s kitten that day. Nevermind that the child carrying it had started crying long, long ago. It was still no excuse for their rude behavior.

                      “Hey, woah, w’tch ou— it’s genuine lea’r right there!” He yelped as one of the bulky policemen grabbed a hold of his forearm, big hands squeezing as some yap read him his “rights” or whatever they called them.

                      Hobos didn’t have rights.

                      “For all the hobos of th’ city!” And with a war cry, he slathered his bare hands over the foreheads of those he could reach – instantaneous memories popped into his mind, muddled with nights of drinking, cigar smoking and vandalizing of the city’s playgrounds. These people … they were monsters! Even as he stumbled and tried to hold himself against the wall, Zale could not escape the pounding headache, regaining his sense of self after only a few moments of grief.

                      It hadn’t been as bad this time. But the effects were still evident in the police, who were just barely starting to recover.

                      “Whoops, betta’run now shouldn’I?” And with a small wave to the police, Zale took off on a run, using the newly gained routes that had been provided to him so kindly by his pursuers.

                      This was a high speed chase! His life was on the line, and he would stand for the people of the city who needed to be released from the oppression of the commanding chase that was Wal –

                      Zale’s face hit the ground as he tripped over …

                      Wait for it …

                      A banana peel.

                      He blinked. “Those thingamajigs actually work?” Little bastards, working against Zale when he’d tried them a week ago but nooooo, had to comply with the corrupted business, didn’t they?

                      Zale spit at the banana peel on the cement floor – he was sure that he could hear shouts coming from somewhere behind him. He would have to get more drastic. Taking a sharp turn on the dodgy end of town – hobos, those damn hobos everywhere – he wandered in the alleys that he found. None gave him refuge, but thank god for those near impossible spaces that the fatties couldn’t get into. He himself was as thing as a stick. Not eating eventually turned out to be good for him!

                      Ah, except now he was stuck somewhere. Wasn’t this supposed to be the drug end – oh damn it, there they were again. Zale looked around for a possible exit and then –

                      “Fire escapes how much I l’ve you.” The fire escape’s ladder was a bit too high up for him to reach, but with the power that came from the desperation – and cement block that he’d found lying near him – he was able to kick his legs enough to reach for it. He pulled himself up and forgot that those stairs could move, and crashed against the floor. But never mind, they were accessible now. His plan was still intact!

                      He would now proceed to walk up the stairs like a gentleman, back straight and expression heavy – oh dear why was the rail hitting his cheek again? Another try, and he was able to get up a couple of flights, enough that the police that scattered around wouldn’t notice him. It was a good thing that he was wearing black, too – fit right with the rails!

                      Zale chuckled. Zale: 1. Police: …345.

                      Oh well the details had never been important, had they?

                      So now he was in front of a window.

                      It looked too tempting not to knock upon.

                      So he did.


                      Then thrice again.

                      Until he hit the window hard enough that it shattered, and he was left staring at a bleeding hand.

                      “…what a prett’red.”

                      There was a goofy smile on his face. Blood had always had the prettiest red of them all!

                      Even if it stung a bit – ow, ow, ow.

                      He tried to see if letting out a small whimper like a cat would work. Then he started to mewl like a cat, too. Surely there had to be someone that had enough pity to take in a cat, right?

KiD IC4RUS's avatar

Devoted Friend

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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
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                                                    User Image xx

                                                    (******** you what red correction line are you talking about
                                                    also, please click that picture up there yup thanks )

                                                    Java Lamps were the weirdest hipster trend to ever hit DC. There was a fine line between unique and plain dumb, and Java Lamps were just plain dumb, in Marc's opinion. It also might have been the fact that Java Lamps became so popular that they crossed the line into mainstream. What was especially dumb was Javacadabra's slogan, though: "Can I java cup of that?"

                                                    C. Courier, on the other hand, was still a unique place to him. It was a modest, stylish bookstore; not large enough to expand outside of DC, but not so small that it was plain shitty. C. Courier was in that optimum stage where it hadn't been swarmed by hipsters yet, but that would come in due time. Marc normally wouldn't have stopped there on his way to a mission, but because it was near Java Lamp warehouse, he didn't think it'd hurt to review his files in their cafe. It wasn't like he was going to Javacadabra--that place was soooo two years ago.

                                                    No. I don't know what the C. in C. Courier stands for. Shut up.

                                                    He breathed a long sigh, shuffling through a mess of report files. The incidents were interesting, but none of them gave helpful clues about what to expect. What he didn't understand was how robberies could be happening across DC if it were a Code Gray. Code Grays normally affected only one object--could it have evolved? Either that or it was a very clean thief he was dealing with. Marc took a final glance at the goal listed on his mission file, then stacked the reports together and tapped them over the granite cafe counter to straighten. He slid them neatly back into his folder.

                                                    It was best not to spend all his time in a bookstore anyway. Marc stood up from his bar stool seat, about to leave when he was bothered by a familiar somebody. She was a girl with cropped white hair and fierce attitude-- a little too much attitude, for his tastes.

                                                    "Yeah, hey new girl. What do you want?"

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

Noble Star

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                          "Oh, sorry, am I boring you here, Mr. Endrick?"

                          There was just something special about Rhys that got on his nerves.

                          You didn't want to get on Lee's nerves like that, though.

                          "What I was saying was that if you just ******** paid attention through this last bit, I would let you take a ******** break," Lee grit out, cracking his knuckles, "However, seeing as a certain someone thinks that he can get away with not paying attention, we're going to keep going."

                          Yes. Yes he was enjoying this. After getting wet and being threatened to be tased by Ceci, he needed this, hauling Rhys onto his shoulder so that the idiot wouldn't be allowed to "run around and get into trouble". Oh, yes, that would be a very, terrible idea. Especially considering half of the tour had been places that Rhys shouldn't go into, and Lee was fairly certain those were the only parts that Rhys had been paying attention to. Not even Lee knew what was in some of those rooms and quite frankly, he didn't want to know.

                          "Look, this tour thing is for your benefit, okay? Do you think I want to be toting around my very own personal idiot like you're a ******** fashion accessory?" Lee rolled his eyes, giving a short wave at his terrified secretary, the kind that said "I'm teaching idiots for the rest of the day, so cancel everything" before walking off.

                          He'd walked onto his floor thinking to give Rhys a break and maybe some lunch, and his weird fishstick (fingers?) - custard combo of his. What did he get instead?

                          [******** idiots."
                          He glared at rambling moron currently slung over his shoulder, going off about god knows what, as if Lee actually cared.

                          And what was up with that weird thing in the hallway? The bit where he just stopped and stared at something?

                          "If you get tired, shut up and take it because I'm not stopping for the rest of the day," Lee said, glaring as he finally let Rhys down in the elevator. "I'm going to show you the labs, but for God's sake, please don't touch everything you see this time? The Director said that the next time I get a complaint filed against me, he's going to stick his foot up my a**." Lee tapped his foot, staring impatiently at the slowly - moving elevator numbers, before sliding his glare over to Rhys. "And if that happens, then I will make things severely unpleasant for you."

                          When the elevator dinged, it was all Lee could do to let the doors slide open on their own instead of ripping them off himself. He wasn't going to lie and say that he wasn't seriously thinking about it, though, when he shoved Rhys through them and into the labs.

                          "Don't. Touch. Anything," Lee hissed into his ear, as he pushed him forward.
monsieur sushi's avatar

Tipsy Grabber

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                                  It was a lovely day out. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping . . .

                                  All the really city needed was a bit of chaos and everything would be perfect.

                                  Well. That's how Cillian saw it anyway.

                                  Which is precisely why he found himself waiting in line at the nearest bank with shades on that definitely didn't make him look conspicuous. Definitely not. In all seriousness though, he wished the lady behind him would stop trying to strike up a conversation. Just looking at her made him want to run for the hills. Who even wore that much red lipstick any more.

                                  "Heeyyy, come on you don't have to be so shy," she said, 'accidentally' brushing her hand against his back. Could you get any more desperate than that? "I don't bite--"

                                  Cillian swore that if she tried the 'unless you like that' line--

                                  "--unless you like that."

                                  Oh Jesus. Why did he have to end up in front of this woman. He supposed she wouldn't have been too bad if there was a paper bag over her head. He could probably deal with her if that was the case. Unfortunately, he wasn't that lucky.

                                  Cillian's fingers twitched. At least he could get rid of her later on. Make it seem like an unfortunate (as if) casualty or something. Just like one of those 'oops I really didn't mean to shoot you in the face but you know s**t happens and we just have to roll with it oh well sucks to suck' moments.

                                  He definitely liked that idea.

                                  "Are you just going to pretend I'm not here or what?"


                                  Crap. Why did he answer her.

                                  Nononono this was bad. Okay. He could fix this. Maybe. If the bank teller would just hurry up already! Seriously how long does it take for someone to deposit a meager amount of money.

                                  "Well finally!" The lady seemed really smug all of a sudden. "I knew you were listening~ So is that your deal then? Playing hard to get?"

                                  Please, lady just stop talking--

                                  Oh my God did she just pat him on the--

                                  "Don't worry, I like that."

                                  '. . . why me.'

                                  Maybe he was wrong about it being a lovely day.

                                  Cillian tried his very best not to react to the hand currently resting on his behind thank you very much. If only he could somehow freeze her hand off. Maybe give her a little bit of frostbite; just enough for her to need an amputation. No big deal or anything.



                                  He hurriedly walked away from the red lipstick woman as if she carried the black death or something equally disgusting and terrible. She said something along the lines of 'baby don't go--' but no way in hell was he going to stick around for her.

                                  "Withdrawal or deposit?"

                                  Cillian chose this moment to dramatically whip out his concealed gun to aim it at the poor guy's face. Sorry, not sorry. If he cooperated he'd probably be able to go home unscathed. Otherwise . . .

                                  "Put your hands where I can see them--"
                                  "Put 'em up--!"

                                  The crowd gasped in unison and-- WAIT A MINUTE.

                                  "What did you just say?" He turned to the man next to him. Much like Cillian, he held the bank teller at gunpoint.

                                  Oh hell no. That s**t's not going to work.

                                  Cillian narrowed his eyes. "I got here first." Which was probably untrue but hey, whatever gets him the money. He didn't just drive all the way to the bank only to go home empty-handed because of a weird coincidence. If anyone was going to rob the bank, it was going to be Cillian. No questions asked.

                                  He slowly lowered his shades to give the stranger his best bitchface. "That means I'll be the one to steal the cash, thanks."
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

                                        It seemed like fate hated Caine, who knows why. Perhaps Fate was one of his clients that he cheated on or didn’t let him do any kinky fetishes that one could… potentially enjoy. Nothing was going his way, first his bust, then plant head shitting the place over. Caine breathed a heavy sigh, and today was such a beautiful day as well. Today was just a perfect day for robbing a bank and instilling chaos into the streets of D.C.

                                        It all started like any regular day for a villain, Caine was prepared to rob yet another bank. Of course this time, he wasn’t in the mood to pull the curtains all the way and recreate a lovely scene straight out of the movies, no… He was more in it for the thrill instead. No need for fireworks today, Caine decided to appear less, attractive than his regular handsome self. In fact, he was not even wearing a suit today as a result, instead he wore a stylish set of clothes, classy in taste but it wasn’t as if he was going to attend a fancy restaurant or anything, no. Just some clothes that looked as if he was going to go clubbing later. Today, he was just an ordinary citizen who was going to fire bullets into an unsuspecting crowd, or at least the ceiling. His only equipment today was bombs and two handguns, with extra cartridges. The rest was going to be decided when he got there.

                                        But this…

                                        This was something else.

                                        She was a babe, one of those refined woman you’d love to meet at a bar and hook up with. It was rare to see a woman working at the bank as fine as this woman was. A little fun couldn’t hurt; she would look better with a gun pointing at her face, but maybe later. Caine smirked and leaned against the counter. “You know, I have this thing here…” He smiled charmingly, enough to make the worker blush.

                                        After flirting it up a bit with the bank teller, Caine decided to might as well let loose all hell. Seemingly reaching in his pocket to get his bankbook, instead he pulled out a gun and in the sweetest voice said, “Put ‘em up –-“ "Put your hands where I can see them--"

                                        Wait, was that an echo? “What the hell was that?”

                                        Caine turned his head to the side with an expression seeming to say “b***h, did I just hear you right?” Oh hell no! It was like a mirror, he was facing. He couldn’t help but notice how this guy was contrasting him, a blonde male doing the exact same thing as he was doing, gun facing the teller compared to his black hair, doing the exact same thing. Caine glared at him as if he say, “Who the ******** hell are you?” but then he spoke.

                                        "I got here first."

                                        Caine’s eyebrow twitched. Who does this guy think he is? “The only one robbing this bank is me.” This wasn’t going down like last time; he was getting away with something.

                                        A light chuckle escaped Caine as he saw the other’s bitchface. ‘Oh, so that’s how you want to play, huh?’ Caine licked his lips in a mocking manner, taunting the other to bring it on. No bitchface was going to have him back down, not in this century. “We’ll just see about that…” They stood there for about five minute straight, just glaring at each other. The two had their eyes locked on each other, even the innocent citizens were wondering who would make the first move. Then, it happened. An array of ice shards fired, and screams of the innocent wailed through the air. Caine barely dodged it, he was caught off guard, but this… In the words of a wise person, meant war.

                                        Immediately after that, Caine decided to throw his own little hail of sharp things. Two could play at that game. Wings spread and Caine’s feather projectile ability launched a collection of feather blades towards to the other.

                                        s**t got real, and neither of them looked like they were backing down anytime soon.

                                        provisional's use only. biatch MISSION: BITCHPLS
silvieon's avatar

Noble Star

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                                                                  After countless of hours on Google, Ariadne had finally decided to settle here, in...what was the name again? Courier something or other? Well, whatever it was, it was warm, well - lit, and this arm chair was so damn comfy that she wasn't going to get out of it any time soon.

                                                                  All right, she hadn't poured over Google for hours, she just wanted a damn place to sit, drink some coffee, and read her book, without being overrun by screeching hipster girls trying to take ~*fancy*~ pictures of their iced mocha whatevers with their iPhones. Apparently, that was too much to ask for, because every single time she tried to set foot into a Starbucks, it was already swarming and there was no quiet place for her to sit and read.

                                                                  Wow, rude much, obnoxious hipster girls with iPhones?

                                                                  Instead, Ariadne curled up even more in her arm chair, hmphing at the very memory of those obnoxious hipster girls. At least back home, they didn't have that particular brand of white idiot. Just the lumberjack kind, it seemed. 'If I see another iPhone, it'll be too soon,' she thought, turning the page with what was perhaps a little more force than necessary. Although that might've just been because she was getting to the good part and -

                                                                  Ari had just glanced over the top of her book for a moment, but that hipster back. She knew that hipster back from somewhere.

                                                                  Her eyes slid back to her book for a moment - mostly because she wanted to know what happened next more than she was worried about being caught - before she glanced up again at the hipster back. Hmm. Now that was someone who was just ultra - hipster. The hipster of hipsters. Was there some sort of hipster king? Nah, probably a hipster president or something. Too hipster for a king.

                                                                  Ew, that last thought had just used the word "hipster" way too much.

                                                                  On closer inspection though, with her book still discreetly held in front of her as a shield, he looked like he was reading something. Clearly nothing as cool as her novel or anything, but he was gathering it into a folder, so maybe it was...sort of important, anyways?

                                                                  Oh, s**t, wait, he was gathering it into a folder and getting up and -

                                                                  "Whoa there, hipster!" she shouted, getting up in a panic. She wasn't going to miss him. Whatever his name was. (Mac?) "Hey, hang on there, you go to my school don't you?"

                                                                  "Yeah, hey new girl. What do you want?"

                                                                  "Tch, the name's Ariadne. You call me by my name, and I won't call you hipster anymore." She gave him a lazy once - over, folding her arms at him. "Speaking of, what is your name anyways? Like, Mac or something? Ends with a c, right? You're in one of the classes I was late to." Which was actually like all of them, but Mac - hipster - guy here didn't need to know that. "Anyways, I couldn't help but notice that you've got a fancy folder there. Doing something illegal maybe? Because if you are, I'm pretty sure that the school should know about it, so."

                                                                  Hey, dealing with manila - folder - carrying, ends - in - a - c, hipster guy was going to be more interesting than sitting around and reading, at least. Hopefully. If it wasn't, she was going to be severely disappointed.

                                                                  "So let's go do something about that manila folder there, hm?"
monsieur sushi's avatar

Tipsy Grabber

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                      Rhys, because he was Rhys Endrick, part-time traveller and all-around idiot when it came to normal everyday things, couldn't listen to Lee's simple rule of 'don't touch anything'. Saying that to his face was like telling him that he could go ahead and touch everything. Sometimes people had to wonder how exactly he earned a PhD. So, of course, Rhys, that one guy who owns the shortest attention span in the entire world, went ahead and poked a test tube. It threatened to topple over.

                      Everything in the room seemed to go in slow motion until the test tube managed to right itself again.

                      "Oh by the way," he piped up from somewhere behind an enormous apparatus. He went ahead and removed a flask filled with purple liquid from the table before pivoting on his heel to face Lee. "Mr. Endrick is my father. I'm Professor Endrick. Or Doctor. No one ever really calls me Doctor Endrick though which is a sad, sad thing because I'm particularly fond of being called 'Doctor'. I do have a PhD. in Genetics, you know. But you can just call me Rhys. Mostly everyone does!"

                      Rhys could vaguely remember Lee threatening to maim him or possibly annihilate his entire existence if he messed around with the equipment but . . . eh he was probably imagining it. Then again, the red-head was currently glaring at him as if Rhys went ahead and started the apocalypse though so . . . hmmm . . . nah probably still his imagination. Rhys always did have an over-active imagination.

                      "Oooh this liquid is a lovely shade of green. It matches the color of your eyes, I think," Rhys held it level to Lee's right eye and squinted. "Hm, no, this one is a little bit darker. Just a little bit."

                      He returned the test tube back and took another one.

                      And that's when he somehow tripped over nothing and ended up spilling the flask's contents all over the floor and . . . a-ahaha . . . . Lee. Whoops.

                      " . . . my hand slipped?" The professor offered a weak smile.

                      Oh dear. Now he could remember Lee explicitly telling him not to touch anything about . . . a hundred or so times before they entered the room. Rhys supposed he could feign ignorance although that didn't seem plausible now that the red-head looked as if he wanted nothing more than to punch the living daylights out of him.

                      Although Lee always looked like he wanted to punch the living daylights out of him.

                      "At least we know it's not acid!" Rhys said while he slooowly inched towards the door. He wasn't very stealthy about it. In fact, he almost knocked over a test tube rack in the process.

                      "Look at the time!" He exclaimed, looking at his wrist. He didn't have a wristwatch. "I really must be off. I have, erm, something . . . to do right now . . ." Rhys trailed off.

                      He almost got through the door. Key word being almost.
monsieur sushi's avatar

Tipsy Grabber

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                                  Was this guy serious?



                                  Cillian tossed the handgun aside (come on now it's not like he actually needed that thing) along with his shades (it was a pretty damn flimsy disguise anyway) and immediately went in for the kill. A dozen ice shards flew throughout the room. Two of them managed to pin the lady who kept trying to molest him to a pillar. Cillian figured he could deal with her later after dealing with the other guy.

                                  Cillian wasn't too pleased the find him still standing. And don't even let him get started on the dude's wings. He would've made a terrible joke just then if he wasn't so busy thinking of ways to end this quickly. But hey, looks like this wasn't going to be nearly as boring as he originally thought.

                                  Not expecting the guy to retaliate with shards of his own, Cillian hurriedly pivoted behind a pillar just in time to avoid damage. The feathers sailed through the air and embedded themselves into the wall. He whistled. Not bad. But hell if he was going to say that out loud though. Noooope.

                                  This was still his bank, thanks. Just because a feathery b*****d mistakenly took dibs on his steal -- emphasis on HIS -- didn't mean Cillian was going to let him strut out of the place unharmed.

                                  'As if.'

                                  Instead of dropping a corny Hollywood movie line like 'is that all you can do' which is what most terrible villains do, he willed his body temperature to drop to the point of freezing. Low density ice began to form around his hand until he held a blade made entirely of hardened ice. Talk about going for the old fashioned way.

                                  Cillian waved it around experimentally. Eh whatever. It was good enough.

                                  What was left of the crowd (okay seriously how have they not run away or called the cops yet) ooh'd and aah'd accordingly. The lady with the red lipstick -- despite nearly having been gutted by his ice shards -- looked particularly awestruck. Cillian slowly shook his head at her.

                                  She mouthed something that looked suspiciously like 'marry me'. He sighed.

                                  "Sorry," Cillian murmured as he strolled past her. He teasingly traced a vein running down the side of her neck. What? Can't a guy do what he wants? "I'm not into commitment." And definitely not into desperate people wearing bright red lipstick either. Come back and try again later.

                                  He finally turned to his opponent.

                                  "Hey," he casually balanced the sword on his shoulder the same moment he pocketed his left hand. Honestly he didn't want to do this. But cash was still cash and greedy bastards like him couldn't resist 'em no matter what. "Let's get this over with. I just came for the money."

                                  Cillian wasted no time in brandishing the sword against the guy. He feinted to the left and attempted to slice at the others' torso. Someone from the crowd shouted 'to your left!'

                                  Ugh. What. Now the bystanders were trying to get in with the action too? Why though.

                                  "Shut up," Cillian tsked in disappointment and sent an ice shard through the poor sucker's throat. "Anyone else want to join him?"

                                  Insert silence here.

                                  Hmph. Cowards.

                                  Now to get back to the main event.

                                  Cillian faced the stranger once more and purposely adopted a relaxed disposition. Provoking the enemy was always something he enjoyed.

                                  His lethargic stance conveyed a silent 'come on I'm getting bored'.
golden dewdrop's avatar

Sex Symbol

          provisional's use only, dnt pro pro

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          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

                                        Caine stood there, waving his gun around aimlessly. Really. Was this guy that popular with that chick over there? Why haven’t those people called the cops yet? Wait, why are they even there in the first place? Caine raised a brow, ‘that chick got some weird taste… Fake Gucci, please… That shirt is not even close to Armani. Bet that lipstick is from some dollar store. Faux rouge-try-too-hard much?’

                                        His opponent managed to get his attention back, “Hm?” Caine responded casually, impressive sword. Caine wondered if he could actually face a guy with a sword. The criminal checked over his ability list. Nothing really could actually go head to head with a sword-like combat. Of course, he wasn’t going to give up right then and there. This b*****d made the first move, and Caine was going to be the one to end it. “Just for the money, hm? Why are you fighting me then, Icebaby?”

                                        Yes. Caine just called him Icebaby.

                                        “Whoops!” The ice-b***h swung the sword, and Caine managed to dodge it – just barely though, it did manage to slice him enough to bleed a little bit. It was more of a small paper cut than anything. That did hurt though, and Caine couldn’t help but wince at it. Defiantly couldn’t let his guard down. He had enough designer clothes ruined.

                                        A bystander yelled “To your left!” Wait, what are you on, bro? Yeah, it was true that Caine was going to go to the left, but… Aren’t these people aware of their situation? Caine had to wonder, but was then interrupted by his opponent’s sudden murder. Looks like this guy really is going in for the kill. By then, it was silent.

                                        Caine didn’t want to get his hands messy with killing the innocent, or at least he tried to. It was that guy’s fault anyways. Run while you can, but some people just lack common sense nowadays.

                                        “Whatever you want, babe…” Caine read his message loud and clear, and in response, stuck out his tongue in an erotic manner. “I’ll do whatever you want.” Feathers weren’t going to do the trick now, seems like he had to bring out the big guns. The black-haired criminal took a fighting stance, his wings disappearing. He had no need for those now. It’s Superhumanity time, courtesy of Lee. Caine’s eyes glowed a pale green. This b***h was going down. “Hey, Babycakes. What’s your name?” He asked casually.

                                        Might as well know now before b***h got knocked out unconscious.

                                        “Better answer quickly ~“ In a flash, Caine grabbed onto the customer service desk and threw it in Cillian’s direction and running there, throwing a few punches in.

                                        provisional's use only. biatch MISSION: BITCHPLS

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