The Gambit - RP Thread

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The hum of television screens filled the room, a few dozen flicking idly between news stations, without any pattern or regard for watchers. Snippets of speeches and jingles came through now and again.

And we interrupt this musical program to bring you a special news broadcast: We're getting live reports from the eastern theater that we've won a major victory as Fukwan Hill, and that the Russetians are pulling their forces out and withdrawing support for the regime... Victory is only a matter of months away... Our boys will be home by Christmas!

-how, when we're stuck in a rut a few miles deep, does the President expect to get funding enough to continue a war in-

Strikes are forming across the nation as workers, angered by the continuing cost cuts by their employers, appeal to the government in the interests of-

Jawohl, hast du-

There's so little oil left in the wells, we're starting to run dry- The government declared it crisis level just last-

The governer of Vessels was seen with his new advisor, a man no one seems to know but Silverbloom seems to trust completely...

The watcher smiled.

"Well, well. This is a change."

The city of Vessels, jewel of the swamps and the Bay City, nestled neatly around a nearly circular bay with a bridge built over the pinched mouth, stretched below in the night and glowed like fire from multitudes of lights. The northeast of the city burned brightest, lit blue, orange and red by neon signs and bright streetlamps as the Easton center bustled even in the dark. The west was nearly as bright- Portsmouth, a suburb stretching over the narrow opening of the bay and the bridge- hauling in the latest loads from the cargo ships. The south was darker, its slums only brightened by the occasional renovated street or business center, and a small area nestled by the bay's center- The Ganjer ports- was hardly lit at all.

No one below would expect, of course, that this was quite literally the beginning of the end, nor that they might be joining in this end.

There was no careful process to the power gifted to the people of the city, no plans or choice- It was scattered to the metaphorical winds and left to blow to whomever it may, a silver raindrop that would meld itself with their skin. Three symbols, repeated endlessly in the night: Ω, ∞, and ⊗.

But that was not all that had arrived on the world...

A warehouse, dingy and smelling faintly of cat, burst into flames as a few startled squatters fled from within. The hidden caches of arms that, officially, had never been there detonated, blowing out the windows of every building on the block. From within the flames stepped out a man, dressed immaculately in a dark suit and tie and calling to mind some kind of administrator of businessman. He carried what appeared to be a small silver razor blade, but it seemed to shrink and fade away as he walked.

The businessman looked up to the sky, seeing what the mortals could not- The streaming silver waterfall. "Well," he said, in a voice that vibrated in the air, "Has the fun started already?"

Abruptly, in the center of his chest a white light appeared, and a cord of the same color was visible for a moment stretching off into the horizon.

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a flat jade mirror, rubbing it on his sleeve. "Aanki, you there? Yeah, looks like you're going to have to deal with the Gifted in this city... Something's come up."

Two figures dueled on rooftops, leaping distances impossible for even the most skilled of freerunners. One, robed and of indeterminable gender, was surrounded by a shell of blue light from which lanced out spikes and tendrils. Normally, this would have been an effective offensive weapon, but now it was occupied trying to fend off its attacker: A woman in torn clothes that had obviously seen much better days, and more specifically the long, chainlike sword that curved and twisted snakelike in the air.

The woman grinned widely. Around her eye was the letter Omega in silver, glowing brightly in the darkness. "Get off our turf, bastard." She flicked her wrist, and the symbol glowed brighter as the whip sword struck again against the blue shield with a flash and a crackle of sparks.

The robed figure didn't speak, moving back again to try and get out of the sword's reach. It was a mistake- They really should have tried to get closer, use the whip's length against it. Too late, the robed Cultist realized the trap- The whip sword, longer than it had seemed at first, now surrounded it on all sides but above.

The woman didn't waste this golden opportunity. She pulled the hilt back, and the whip sword slammed together in the space that the Cultist had occupied a moment before. It had, of coure, leapt upwards, narrowly avoiding the circle of blades. It raised one hand, ready to strike down at the one-

Just as a heavy metal ball, about the size of a basketball, struck it in the chest. The sky briefly rained red in Portsmouth, although given the late hour it was doubtful many would notice.

The symbol around the woman's eye slowly lost its luminescense as she settled back warily. A giant of a man in a massive pirate's hat stood on one of the rooftops nearby, balanced precariously on its shingles, and he held a huge hand cannon under his arm. "Ahoy, Lady Stalker!" he said, in a voice that would have made ocean waves calm and masts collapse. "Thought ye needed some aid!"

"Shut up! And that's not my name!" The woman turned away awkwardly on the precarious roof, glancing at the horizon. "...So is he here yet?"

"He said not to tell you if he was, but no." The man in the pirate hat followed her gaze. The silver river flowed still, though it was already slacking off- Much, much sooner than it should have. "Looks like there be fewer this time."

"Something's wrong with this world."

The sun was rising when the beggers stepped onto the sidewalks, raising plates and bowls to the skies and pleading with passerby for coins.

One, a sallow-faced old man with deep purple bags under his eyes and only a few whisps of hair on his head, reached out pitifully towards the early morning walkers. "Plea-ase," he groaned, "Just a few coins..."

The jingling of a couple of dimes caught his attention, and he turned to see a dark haired smiling youth, probably just graduated from school. He seemed vaguely familiar, but the old man didn't dwell on it. "Thank you, kind sir, the Lord will smile upon you in time...!"

The youth kept smiling and nodded slowly. "Yes, I think he will," he said, as unbeknownst to the old man a blue glow began to suffuse the crowd. In time, they'd come to realize that they were perhaps less energetic than before, or that their dreams would be haunted by spectres of worlds gone past. But the old man quickly forgot the youth who'd spoken to him in the crowd.

There was a ringing from his pocket. The young man pulled out a cell phone- Or, rather, what appeared to be a cell phone to those around him. In reality, it was the size of a brick and metal, but they didn't need to see that. "Yeah, hello?" He frowned. "Amber? Yeah, I'm in Vessels..." He raised one hand and cupped his ear, to hear better over the gradually increasing noise. "That can't be right. Alright, I'll get Chirlette and Eymo over there, you find what Gifted you can before anyone realizes. Remember, get them Fort Thompson if you can, but if you don't hear back from me assume it's compromised." He shut the phone and put it away, glancing back at the crowd, and more specifically at the man who'd been tailing him for the past hour.

The war begins.

edited 2nd Jun '11 2:56:17 PM by Hydrall

As the silver raindrops fell from the Heavens, marking the beginning of the end, the roar of a black motorcycle split the air on the bridge of the city of Vessels. This roar however was louder than any other that had ever been heard on the road. Half the time it sounded like a regular, though particularly noisy, engine, half the time, however, it sounded like vicious growling a wild beast stalking the night.

The bike ran through the road at dangerous speeds, weaving through the traffic of the bridge effortlessly. The rider was clad in clothes as dark as her machine with only the white skin of her legs and arms to make a sharp contrast against it's blackness. The fabric of her long jacket billowed in the night as she stared from within her helmet at the shinning lights of her newest battleground.

The beginning of a new end.

Rachel had her part in this whole mess cut out for her. First she would have to pick over the new children of Omega before danger had time to come knocking on their doors. That it may come from the rival factions, this world headed to oblivion or their own foolhardiness mattered not at all. Only that it would come was a given and so she was there to put a stop to it.

The symbol on her left shoulder shone bright as she reached out to the city, trying to feel them in their awakening... that's the way she would use to find them. That or her companions would tell her the way, though her pride as an Omega meant that she would rather find her targets on her own.

Still, anyway it happened, the night was young and the rider was hungry but for a bit of action. Turning the grips on her machine, the rider hastened her journey into the heart of the city with the roar of her bike accompanying every moment of the way.

With his head lain on the large bus window, Alex was roused from his sleepiness by the surprising patter of rain. He groaned softly enough that no other passenger could hear him. The rain's temperature made his cheek feel slimy against the window, and his brow wrinkled when he realized that he was going to get soaked. "Damn," he cursed, whispering to himself. "I can't expect the weatherman to do his job right, either?"

His home in the south side was only two blocks away from the bus stop, but the rain was so heavy that he had no hope in dashing through it. The morning news flashed through his mind as he listlessly walked in and out of deep puddles. "I might have slept all the way to the terminal if the rain hadn't come," he said aloud with no one listening. The thought was rational, but not very reassuring; he marginally suppressed the anger he felt toward the weatherman for messing up the forecast, forgetting to look for cars as he crossed the streets.

Alex's sister was sitting in the big chair of the living room underneath a lamp with a large book. She gave him a short glance and returned to the book. "Shouldn't you be in bed?" Alex said.

"Are you my mother?" she retorted.

Alex climbed the creaking wooden steps and entered his room on the second floor. He pulled off his clothes with a sloshing sound and dropped them on the floor. He didn't have work tomorrow, so there would be plenty of time to think about cleaning his clothes and making up a comebacks to his sister's remarks.

He dabbed his wet body with a towel. When he bent down, he noticed something on his ankle that didn't come off. He presumed that the moonlight shadows were fooling his eyes, and went to his bed.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep...

"Mmmmrfrmgargle," a form concealed under navy bedsheets and rapidly-brightening pre-dawn darkness groaned, shifting in great discomfort. Eventually, however, a bony hand emerged from beneath the covers, groping about for the alarm. For several long moments after the noise ceased, the room was still. Then, slowly, deliberately, the man curled up in bed uncoiled, a bird's nest of blond hair rising up out of the sheets with a mighty yawn and a stretch that set his shoulders popping. "New day!" he exclaimed drowsily, glancing with a smile at the clock, a digital display that was currently blinking with a chipper "Good Morning! :] " message.

Shuffling into the bathroom of his relatively sparse apartment, he turned the tap to cold, splashing a bit of water on his face to try to wake himself up. Inevitably, this tactic was both effective and extremely unpleasant, leaving him shivering in his always-freezing abode. God, why did I leave the AC on so high? He shuddered, reaching for a towel, but suddenly paused. Hm?

A silvery formation had somehow taken up residence on the palm of his right hand, curving perfectly and accurately into the shape of an Ω. Hurriedly, he grabbed a cloth, wiping his face off, and then leaned in for a closer look at the symbol. He quickly learned that it was stationary, as well as straight and upright if his hand was the same. It fit seamlessly into the folds of his skin as if it had always been there, and no amount of water, soap, and hand-scrubbing could remove it. Hell, it even felt like his real skin when he touched it. The thing might have managed to pass for a really bizarre birthmark, except for the fact that he was certain it hadn't been there the night before (or any other day of his life, for that matter). "Omega... curious," he murmured thoughtfully, tracing along it with a finger.

Suddenly realizing he didn't have time to continue studying the odd marking, he resolved to examine it again as soon as possible, an exuberant grin blossoming across his face as it always did when he discovered something new and interesting. "Clive, m'boy," he beamed at his reflection, formerly dull green eyes sparkling, "I can already tell this is going to be a very good day."

Half an hour later, Clive Mendel was out the door, dressed in a suave button-down and khakis with bag thrown over his shoulder and umbrella in hand. Whistling merrily, he wound his way through the nearby City Park and down the block to his favorite locally-owned coffee shop, always a great place to grab a bite before work.

edited 31st May '11 8:53:29 AM by darksidevoid

Jack wandered down the street, enjoying the sound of the rain as it pattered softly against his umbrella. He loved the rain, its sound and smell; he always felt that it washed away the world's cares, making it refreshed, new, ready to continue on.

It was probably just a flight of fancy, but it made Jack feel comfortable, so he stuck to it.

A slight whisper of breeze drifted through the street, sending a short burst of raindrops straight towards Jack. For a moment, he could've sworn he saw something silver heading straight towards him, but the moment passed, and he continued on his way.

Only when he reached home, and undressed to take a shower, would he realise the tiny silver mark that had indeed attached itself to the side of his neck:

∞

But, being a little bit tired, Jack assumed that the mark was merely a trick of the light, and went to bed still under the impression that all was well with the world.

It was morning. Alex had completely forgotten the strange mark completely as he forgot his dreams. It was only when he grabbed a sock bent down that he noticed it. "Am I still dreaming?" he said. It felt exactly like his skin under his fingers. "Oh God, I'm hallucinating!"

Goosebumps sprung all about his body. His breathing became heavier. His mind always had a tendency toward morbid things, and since his father left he feared that he would develop mental illnesses. His imagination was active in all the wrong ways; any nightmare could come true in the form of hallucination. He looked around his room expecting monsters to break through the walls, or for his limbs to crumble into ash.

After no further strange sights for about ten minutes, he began to calm. That mark was still there.

⊗

Rain. She hated rain.

Arianna crouched on the ledge, glaring at the clouds. Rain reminded her of the time when she wasn't worth the effort of being placed in a shelter. And it ruined the view of the sun rising into a new day.

It did, however, give her cover from the eyes and ears of the guards surrounding her final target.

By final, she meant final. That was the deal: one last kill and they would never bother her again, no matter how much they liked her and her aim, and she could leave all of it behind. All she had to do was murder the head of the current rival drug ring, and never exist in society's eyes again.

The ledge was jutting out of the wall of the building nearby, its shadow cloaking her from sight, the rain hiding her further from view, perched over the advancing party surrounding the target. Too bad it wasn't under cover. She wiped the water from her forehead and checked over her guns one more time, hand brushing, lingering over the cool, dark metal that were her life now. The insignia on the back of her palm caught her eyes again.

∞

She had woken up with it printed onto her hand, underneath a layer of more water (meaning she had left the window open again), and no amount of scrubbing had gotten it off. She had finally accepted; maybe it was a sign.

Whatever. She'd think about it later. Right now she was more occupied with planning to blow this motherf**ker to hell.

The guards shifted on their ankles and Arianna stood, sweeping back her coat in preparation to run. Meticulously, she lifted her arm and aimed the gun.

edited 13th Jun '11 3:35:25 AM by Aralyn

Rachel arrived at the little coffee shop only a few minutes later. She had spent the entire night going around town, trying to find the new Gifted of Omega. Come morning she had only managed to get the trail of two individuals, one found on her own, the other was passed along to her from another of her comrades.

Naturally she went after the one she found herself first. The trail led to an empty apartment... and from there to this picturesque coffee shop. She was fairly confident that her target was inside at the moment so she let herself relax for a moment and properly parked her bike outside the establishment.

The Cultist smiled as she stored her helmet and ran a hand though the side of the motorcycle "Stay" she commanded in a light hearted tone as if she was addressing a slightly troublesome pet.

With that settled the tall black haired woman walked inside the coffee place, one hand gracefully removing her sunglasses from her piercing blue eyes. With them she carefully inspected the crowd until she set her eyes on her target.

Blond hair, bright green eyes, cute grin.

Found you Rachel thought to herself as she approached the table in which the young man sat.

Her aim had been, as expected, flawless. Her choice of location, however, wasn't.

Arianna paused for breath, panting as she hid behind a Dumpster, wrinkling her nose at the smell. She got it wrong, underestimated how fast the guards would react, underestimated how had it would be to escape, how long it would take to get out of there. But she didn't know that her gun would send a bullet shooting with so much power that it rammed deep into the opposite wall of the alleyway.

What the hell had happened?!

She closed her eyes with a slight snarl. Control. Control.

Her aim, as she said before, had been perfect. But as she had concentrated, thinking about all the difference it would make if it missed, freezing her mind blank as anger threatened to overcome her, control, control, creating so much tension in her fingers, when she pulled the trigger, the bullet snapped out of the gun like it had been held in tension for centuries and buried itself through the man's hip as the gun jerked her off balance.

She pulled herself up in panic and shot the man again, this time the bullet surging through his eye, and another going into the guard on the left. Too long. She should've been out of the alleyway by then. And the ledge was slippery and she as she turned to run she lurched forward, slamming into the concrete (no way she could escape unnoticed now, damn it), rolling till she fell against the opposite wall and got up, gun awkwardly held in front of her, but then they turned and saw her, saw her, and she couldn't lose them. She only had her backup round and no time to aim. Only time to run. Run.

And so she had. Dodged the rounds flying to her, throwing the people she ran into behind her and almost choking every time she heard another person fall, ducking, weaving, trying to get somewhere where she could kill them without being shot herself. But she couldn't, and she was tiring out. Ink-marks were running down her face with her sweat but if she wiped them away, if she was distracted by anything, she'd be as good as dead.

Then she'd run into a particularly crowded area and ducked down, thanking God she was short, and she'd lost them. But they weren't dead. They were still chasing her, and they knew exactly what she looked like. So she ducked back into another alley, close to a bustling cafe, dropped behind a dumpster, and waited. They'd find her, and when they did, she'd nail them dead, each and every one of them.

"God damn," she whispered, hiding behind the bin and hoping her guns wouldn't malfunction again.

edited 1st Jun '11 6:03:53 PM by Aralyn

Clive enjoyed frequenting this particular cafe primarily because of its proximity and atmosphere, but also due to the hours it kept. Although he had long since finished puzzling out the behavior of his fellow early-rising patrons, it was still nice to have some time to himself and catch up on the morning's news with a snack before the real day began. Today's paper predicted milder temperatures than the high of the previous day, along with intermittent rain. Well, so far they at least got the precipitation part right, he mused, lowering the page and peering out the window at the driving rain, Still, it seems like the forecasts have been getting less accurate lately. Maybe it's just me?

As soon as he completed the thought, his ponderings were interrupted by the heavy thrum of a motorcycle engine, which steadily slowed to a halt as the rider, nearly indistinguishable through the growing deluge, parked and slid off the bike. It wasn't the appearance of a motorcycle that was unusual in and of itself, bur rather the timing. Especially so early in the morning, the people who came in tended to be the dedicated regulars, numbering about a half-dozen in total. So, when the chime hanging over the door announced the arrival of a pale newcomer clad entirely in black, every pair of eyes in the place turned to look.

After half a moment passed and it seemed clear that the woman was scanning around searching for something, most of the patrons returned to what they had been doing beforehand, the wizened old man in the corner doing so with a particularly irritable grunt. One customer on the far end of the room almost seemed to be ogling her, however. For his part, Clive glanced back down at the paper with a renewed smile, intensely intrigued by the interruption of his normal routine but trying not to stare.

Yet, as the squeaking of her boots on the floor seemed to bring her closer to him rather than to the counter, he couldn't help but - She's looking straight at me. She... what? Why? Shifting slightly, he mentally shook off his initial shock, offering a friendly nod. "Good morning, Miss. What brings you here?"

Jack rolled out of bed the next morning at six am, just as he always did. He went about his morning chores neatly and efficiently, preparing himself for the day and making sure his tiny house was spotlessly clean before moving into the bathroom to shave.

The mark was still there.

He rubbed at it curiously, and then insistently, trying to make it disappear.

What is this? he thought, beginning to panic a little as he ran through a list of skin diseases. This... It's not like anything I've ever seen before... He slapped himself mentally.

Don't panic. It's probably nothing. You're a medical student, for goodness' sake. Look it up in a textbook.

He frowned.

What kind of skin disease looks like an infinity symbol, anyway?

A few minutes later, anyone who happened to be nearby would see Jack calmly stepping outside and locking his front door, before heading off in the general direction of the university he attended.*

Deep breaths, Jack. Freaking out won't help at all.

edited 1st Jun '11 1:42:24 AM by KiriAme

"Beth, can you help me with something?" said Alex. His sister was in the same place doing the same thing. She preferred to shut out the morning light and continue using the lamp. She flipped a page. "Beth, I know you aren't deaf." She gave no response.

Alex felt a tinge of agitation. He'd never won a battle of wills against her sister. "Raven?" he said.

"What do you want?" his sister replied.

Alex sat on the floor in front of the chair, crossing his legs. He removed his right sock. "What do you see?" he said.

"A stupid tattoo."

A liberating feeling of relief rushed through Alex's body, collecting in his head, pushing out a smile. "But, I didn't get a stupid tattoo," he said.

Alex's sister smirked. "It's the second most unoriginal tattoo I've ever seen. A cross in a circle? Or is that an X and O, like hugs and kisses? Did you go to the elementary school parlor? I bet you let them overcharge you."

Alex began to regret asking his sister about anything. "First of all, I'd never want a tattoo; that's your thing."

"Ugh! Are you being crazy again?" she said. "Because I have better things to do."

Alex teeth clenched for a moment. "Secondly, I'm more original than a sixteen-year-old who dies her hair black and calls herself 'Raven.'"

Alex's sister set her book to her side and rose to her knees in the chair. "Mom!" she projected her voice. "Alex is being crazy again. Can we get rid of him yet?"

Alex definitely regretted asking for help. He returned to his room and donned a long green shirt and khaki shorts. He needed to be away from his home. He left left the house without any exchange of goodbyes, and went to the bus. The bus arrived at a convenient time, and he was soon traveling uptown to no specific destination.

edited 8th Jun '11 3:03:56 PM by Grain

Last Night

Simon was relaxing at home, all alone reading a good book. He didn't feel any reason to go out today, he just wanted to stay home...

When the rain started pouring down, the man realised something...he had left his laundry out. It's night time! Why did I still leave it out there anyways!

Rushing outside he collected his clothes, when suddenly a silver drop went through the collar of his shirt, hitting his back. It caused a strange mark to form there...but Simon didn't really notice.

Going back inside he put his laundry in the basket and a note to himself in the future that it might need more drying. Simon read a few more pages before getting some shut eye. It seemed to be an uneventful evening...but that was only because he did not notice the mark on his back.

This Morning

Simon woke up slowly, it wasn't a workday so he could take himself easy. He made himself breakfast, brushed his teeth, got dressed...standard procedure. Why do things feel a bit tedious...maybe I should get a roommate...nah, more trouble than it's worth.

The man went out to get some shopping done...still unaware of the 'tattoo' on his back.

"Funny that you should ask that" The woman said, her bright blue eyes staring straight into his green ones as little grin found it's way to her face. The rider pulled an unused chair from a nearby table to sit right in front of Clive. With her cheek resting on the palm of her hand she added "I'm here for you"

She then laced her next words with her talents of Control. She could get almost anything from a mortal... but the man in front of her couldn't be called that anymore. Still, it wasn't her objective to control his will. She just wanted her words to reach him, for him to hear them without any previous prejudice or doubts of crazy doom prophets clouding the perception of her words.

"The world is coming to an end and you are one of the few marked with the chance to survive it"

edited 1st Jun '11 11:03:06 AM by daltar

Although he would have given her statement some real consideration anyway, any lingering incredulities Clive had faded as she talked, and not only because of the influence of her power. Another piece in his newest mental jigsaw puzzle seemed to click into place. "Marked?" he queried, taking a casual sip of his coffee and raising his palm to reveal the symbol discovered earlier, "Like so?"

"So you found it. Saves us time stripping you to look for it" Rachel said, evidently pleased by the discovery. The black haired woman, dug into the pockets of her jacket and pulled out a blue lollipop to suck on while she explained things.

"I don't know if you'll recognize it but that's the mark of Omega" The woman then moved her arm, giving him a clear view of her shoulder "I got one of those too, like everyone else in our little club"

"Now I'd like to sit here and give you the whole explanation, and I'll sure try to see how far I can take it, but trouble could strike around here at any moment. So first go the warnings. If trouble does strike you do whatever I say if you want to survive. It turns out that because of that little mark on your shoulder, any trouble of mine is also trouble of yours"

"Also, bear in mind that anyone with a mark unlike the one on your palm is no friend of yours. Do your best not to get on their bad side and get the hell away from them"

"I... see." Clive's smile faded slightly as the apparent gravity of the situation took hold, but he nodded in acceptance. "Alright. Since you seem to be implying we'll be working together to an extent, though, could I have your name before we continue?"

"Rachel. Rachel Theresa Newman" The woman answered simply before pointing her lollipop at him "You?"

"Clive Mendel. Pleasure to meet you, Rachel."

"Alright Clive. Would you prefer if I start giving you the lecture or would you like to start asking questions?" Rachel asked.

"The offer for Q&A is tempting, but... I'm not sure where to begin." He shrugged a little sheepishly, usually priding himself on always having questions to ask. "It'd probably be best if you just gave me the lecture first."

Arianna would see a few shapes moving at the end of the alleyway, but none of them hesitated long enough to be fired at. Muffled voices spoke, their owners clearly unwilling to run into an alley with a gun-wielding foe down the way. 

"Hnmph. Have you no love for your boss? No wish for vengeance?" It was a new voice, almost whistling in sound. Another few seconds of annoyed discussion, before finally... "Very well, I will go. She is one of my kind, after all."

The sound of slow, deliberate footsteps came echoing down the alley, slightly wet on the rain-soaked stones. "Now, now, my laady..." Closer, now, the speaker was visible- He wore a hooded jacket and jeans, his face yellowish and sickly looking. He wheezed and sucked at his mouth, sounding like some kind of hopped up smoker. "It was verry rude of you to- schluck!- off my contact like thaat." He was twirling something in his hand- a hypodermic needle. He gripped it between his fingers, turning it back and forth in anticipation.

"Now come out and play, kiddie..."

A few thoughtful eyes observed Alex on the bus. Invisible to the normal occupants, three greenish-yellow clouds, round and about the size of a medicine ball, followed the vehicle, easily keeping pace with it. One of them began to ease closer to window, to get a better look at the Gifted. 

Jack would feel a tap on his shoulder. The source of it would be readily apparent- A woman with startlingly white hair and eyes, dressed in a simple blue dress. There was what looked like a stylized dragon on the shoulder.

On her forehead was the infinity symbol.  

"I am here to give you a warning," she said. "Two men are following you. They have guns, and will kill you if they can. They won't enjoy it, but they'll do it." She looked away. "What are you going to do?"

If Jack looked back, he might have seen two nearly identical men in street clothes, walking in tandem at a fairly brisk pace. Both their eyes were fixed on him. 

A Cultist could have ambushed Simon in the store, or a Servant could have destroyed the place, or any number of things could have gone wrong- But they didn't, because even Cultists have the decency not to attack man while he was shopping. Alternatively, none had noticed him yet, which was also a possibility.

Jack's eyes widened, and he glanced over the shoulder, the colour draining from his face as he saw the two men following him. He turned back to the woman, and noticed the infinity mark on her forehead. With a nervous gulp, he began to mutter to the strange, white-haired lady, his voice shaking a little.

"How much time do I have? Do I have any chance of losing them?"

It's all to do with that mark, isn't it? Jack realised, raising a hand to his neck. What is it?

...No. That's not important right now. How can I get out of this? He looked around. The morning crowds had not yet formed properly; a few people were filtering out into the streets, but not enough to hide him from the men following behind.

...Crap. Jack glanced up; a few metres ahead stood a clothes shop. If he could just reach that doorway before he got shot...

Alex got off the bus at Willow Grove Mall. He worked at the chocolate shop part time, but didn't have work on that day. He'd spent so much time there that it was as familiar as home to him, not that he necessarily liked it a lot. He didn't plan on wasting any money shopping and just walked about idly enjoying the scents and sounds.

edited 2nd Jun '11 8:07:38 PM by Grain

These were not the men that chased her.

"Come out and play, kiddie."

Oh, she'd play. With goddamn bullets that'd find their way into their eyes.

"Get away from me or I'll blow your fucking face off," she said quietly, flatly, empty with killing intent. She never raised her voice to speak, nor did she, or had she, needed to. As she did, her handgun whipped up at the person's forehead ready to make good of the threat. She knew she could kill the guy if she wanted to, whenever she wanted to pull the trigger. But something about off him, something strange, something else.

"Who're you, handsome?" she spoke, muttered almost, voice dripping with sarcasm.

edited 2nd Jun '11 7:19:47 AM by Aralyn