Knights of Darkvale

[One Eyed Jack]

Hadn't this city gone through enough already? Weren't there enough murders, thefts, rapes? The death of the mayor and district attorney seemed to point the downward spiral of the whole place, while the common man protested wall street and the rich seemed to ignore the whole ordeal as if the entire middle to lower class were just cattle. There were even talks of hiribg Zerotech Industry's own Private military company in to help out. The matter had just reached the table of city hall about the time the attack happened.

Michael Crowe stared out the window of his small apartment, taking a deep breath. He had rehearsed this for some time now. He had laid out a plan of action, a route to take his first night. It seemed insane, but any more sanity was the minority. Especially on this side of town. And what if he failed? He was just some schmo living in the bad side of town, taking two trains a day just to get to a job that didn't even notice him. If he failed tonight, if he ended up severely injured (or worse), who would bat an eye?

The man picked up the mask from a hanging mannequin, a garb worn for skiing with a few modifications, and slowly slid it over his face. Grabbing the goggles from the same bust, he slid them on. It had been a ridiculous Halloween costume that he just could not pull off. It was a stroke of luck he had kept the sapphire blue eye pieces. They just seemed cool (and a shame to throw out the eighty dollar pair). He looked himself over in the mirror, his blue hooded sweatshirt covered on the shoulder and back with an insignia he had stitched on in a hurry, his sleeves rolled up to reveal his impromptu gauntlets, consisting of fingerless gloves and black fighter tape wrapped up to his elbows. He took a good long look at the slender frame in the mirror before deducing it was indeed time to head out into the night, giving a grin as he marched to the loft window, opened the door, and jumped into the autumn night.

Michael rode the train the next morning in silence. His head was wrapped around the left ear in a thick bandage. his right eye had a black ring around it. Every time he breathed, he was sure that he was going to have his rib rip through his lung and play his innards like a pin cushion. The trip to the office from the second train was bearable, but once inside the complex with people who might not always remember him but would remember his face, the torment began. By the time he had reached his Team's cubicle section he had been given about four fight club jokes. One person had even asked in the elevator if he was having relationship issues. By the time he was seated in the maze of grey cork boards and ringing phones beneath t he humming buzz of a thousand monitors running at once, Michael decided he would kill them all one day. And to think it wasn't even time for his first break, or time to put on his headset and begin the day.


Michael was not alone in his thoughts, in his concerns. The rest of the city could sense the luminous cloud that had seized the city. People were afraid to go out into the night outside of the thriving Downtown district, and parents were watching their kids even more carefully. Crime had seemed to sprout overnight. Most blamed the nearby Metropolis of Eden, but it seemed like it had always been there. It seemed like it had just been waiting until the opportune moment.

Everyone knew the police were on the payroll of someone. The District Attorney had set to fixing that, and the Mayor had never been more adamant. Many believed him to be the first person to run for a position of authority not just for the job, but to make real, honest change. Not like the kind presidents wanting re-election preached. Real change. The bomb had taken care of change in one fell swoop.

The world tried to move on, to pretend that it was all going to be alright. Still though, Michael was not alone in his thoughts, in those concerns that kept him up at night. And the one thing he had no clue of was that, he was not alone in his gifts. Not even as far as a different building, he was not alone.

[sobamushi]

It was getting harder to breathe and the room spun rapidly, almost as if collapsing inward. Manya held up her arms, desperately trying to shield her face from the worst of the blows, her body was a sea of pain, and she could no longer tell where the blows were coming from. She felt the solid smooth surface of the wall bump against her back and cursed, he had backed her into a corner, now there was no where to run and no where to hide, Manya groaned in fear and pain as another fist connected with her jaw around her tiring arms.

The beatings had started about three months into the relationship, when Dan had suspected her of cheating on him. They were just slaps then, which quickly escalated to punches and kicks, but she just couldn’t leave him, she was trapped like a moth to a candle flame, she could feel the heat and she knew the deadliness of its touch, yet she could not fly away. Manya caught herself losing consciousness, the room blinked in and out of focus, she could feel her legs give under her even as Dan grabbed a handful of her shirt and dragged her near limp body towards him. He held her against him, crushing her to his hard chest until she couldn’t breathe, she felt Dan pull on her belt and knew he was trying to undress her.

Manya wedged her hands between their bodies, trying to push away from him, but he held on and her head snapped to the side as another punch landed on her already aching jaw. Despair rose in her like a wild fire, spreading through her muscles, fueling on whatever was left of her strength. She felt her fingers tingle, an unfamiliar feeling that caused her to shudder in unknown fear, yet there was a comforting warmth that enveloped her, and momentarily the pain disappeared, replaced with this growing glow that seemed to radiate from her very core.

Dan screamed, Manya blinked and saw his hands clutching at his chest, red was seeping through his fingers. Was that blood? Manya shook her head slightly and took a step closer to Dan, but he backed away, his face white as a ghost, his wounds forgotten as he stared at her with pure terror. Terror turned into anger and the man roared his pain and discomfort before closing the distance between them again. This time Manya did not think, her hand shot out on its own and something unlike a sharp icicle shot out from her palm, it struck Dan with a sickening thud and buried its cold, glittering body inside Dan’s warm flesh.

Manya stared in shock, Dan turned and fled the apartment for the last time.

How she had managed to get to work, Manya did not know, nor did she remember cleaning herself up, going to bed, and waking up the next morning to get ready for work. Yet here she was, sitting behind her desk staring across into the empty seat across form her. Michael was not in yet, might as well, she didn’t feel like making up more excuses for the bruises she sported. Quietly Manya shrunk in her seat more and put on her headset, just as she was about to log in and start her day she saw her coworker slide into his seat across from her, his face almost mirroring hers in cuts and bruises. Manya almost wanted to ask, but decided against it as she clocked in and started her day.

[Gunneh]

Jackson pulled the grey, woolen jacket tighter around his torso and let his eyes wander around the early morning bustle that filled Darkvale: People were milling back and forth on the sidewalks, trying to get to their jobs or their school and start their day just as their routine dictated. Every so often, he'd see a woman with half-done make-up and frazzled hair hurr into an office building or a man in a wrinkled business suit with a mostly-loose tie do the same and it made him smile. It was the simple pleasures in life - like not worrying about a "day job" - that made him happy to be who he was. He let his gaze shift towards a near-by hotdog cart that made him frown, though, as his stomach chastised him for not feeding it yet.

"You want to get some breakfast," he asked the red head beside him without looking at her. "I'm fucking starving."

The red head looked over at Jackson before turning her gaze to the hot dog stand nearby. Her lip pulled up in disgust but her stomach protested loudly. Casey would rather eat her own hand than a hot dog. Those things reminded her of her days in foster care. A shiver ran down her spine, causing her to shake where she stood. "I'm fucking starving too but do we have to get ot dogs?" She whined. Even Jackson knew how much she hated those things. Casey glanced back at the street sign on the corner. They weren't too far from the diner she used to work at.

"We could always head over to PJ's and grab a nice burger." It was then she remembered how strapped for cash she was. Being a vigilante didn't pay like a regular job did. She shoved pale hands in the pockets of her skinny jeans and pulled out the empty pockets. "Well shit..." Casey checked the pocket on her dark purple hoodie. To her surprise, she pulled out a twenty dollar bill. "Hell yeah! Come on Jackson. Let's head tp PJ's and I'll pay." She batted her thick eyelashes and pouted her lips at her partner. He usually couldn't resist her pouty face.

"But," he protested, "the hotdog cart...Nathan's...and...but..." The pouty face always got him and she knew it, but he wouldn't go down without whining a bit of his own. "Fine, but I reeeeally want a hotdog, so you owe me a sausage in a bun with chili and copious amounts of cheese on top."

A grin spread across her face as Jackson gave in. "You're nasty. You know that right?" She said as she grabbed his hand and dragged him down the street and around the corner to the diner she loved so much. If Casey wasn't with Jackson or out fighting crime, she was here hanging out and bumming suckers off of Katy, the waitress who was trying to quit smoking. The two entered and were immediately seated in a booth. "Hey Marcy. The usual please with a chocolate milkshake." Casey smiled at the blond waitress as she took down ehr order. When Marcy looked to Jackson, Casey could see the way her demeanor changed. Marcy went into full on flirt mode as she took his order.

As soon as Marcy left, Casey rolled her hazel eyes. "Jesus. I forgot how slutty she was." Then again, she always saw girls throwing themselves at Jackson. It didn't bother her though since she got hre fair share of guys buying her drinks at clubs when she went out. "So Jackson... What are you gonna be for Halloween?" The holiday was only a few days away and she could hardly wait. She loved dressing up even though Jackson always tried to make her dress slutty for his own entertainment.

Jackson watched with mild interest as Marcy walked away, somewhat entranced by the way her hips swayed back and forth. "I must say," he said quietly, almost missing Casey's question, "she does have quite a nice ass, slut or not." He coughed loudly and smiled at the red head.

"Me," he asked. "Oh, I'm thinking of dressing up as some masked vigilante who has the best interest of the city in mind. I think that sounds like a brilliant plan, myself. Honestly, though, I'm more curious as to what you'll be dressing up as this year. I've taken the liberty of compiling a list if you're interested. I think 'slutty pirate wench' is a front runner this year."

Casey just shook her head at Jackson. He always did like blondes. "A vigilante huh? You have fun with that." When he mentioned the slutty pirate wench, her eyes narrowed in a playful glare. "Don't you remember what happened last time I wore a short skirt and knee high boots?" They had gone to a Halloween party two years ago and Jackson had talked her into dressing like a slutty police woman. Long story short, a few guys left the party with broken fingers from trying to touch her ass. "No pirate. What else is on that list of yours?" Casey figured she might as well not argue since Jackson always seemed to get his way when it came to costumes. He knew her weakness and exploited it every chance he got.

"Ummm...slutty nun," he said. "I think that's just tasteless enough to be spectacular." Her eyes lit up a bit.

"Can I smack the shit out of people with a ruler?" Casey had a thing for inflicting pain on others, especially if she got to laugh at them while she did it. Their orders arrived and Casey sipped on her milkshake. She always got a milkshake and a plain cheeseburger when they came to PJs.

"So a vigilante and a nun huh? We will make an awesome pair this year."

"You realise the vigilante thing was me being a smartass, right," he asked, smiling as he took a sip of his Coke. "It's not really a costume if it's what you do for a living, dollface." He took a bit of his burger and sighed contentedly.

"A living my ass." She complained after finishing a bite of her burger. "Im barely making rent Jax. I dont want to live on the streets again." Her time on the streets of Darkvale was something she never wanted to relive, powers or no powers.

"Everything will get straightened out sooner or later," he replied through a mouthful of food. "Maybe you can make a little extra money stripping? Put that body to good use or something. I mean, it's not like you've gotten naked for anyone in particular recently. Maybe jump back in the game?" The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and for a split second, the soda in his glass looked like it was boiling hot.

"Ive thought about it. Im just not sure how much the customers would like my new battle scars." Casey was reffering to the fresh, pink scar right under her belly button. Some ass had stabbed her about a month ago while she had been out drinking. "Of course, some of the guys pay extra to touch my scars. Maybe I will get back in the game. You promise to come watch me dance?" She winked at Jackson as she sipped her milkshake. "Ill give you a private lap dance big boy." A giggle followed the statement as did an eye roll.

"You can bet on it, babydoll," he said with a wink and a small chuckle. He finished his burger, pulled out his wallet and laid enough money for the tip and the bill in one go. "Keep the twenty. Now, let's go hit the gym and get a workout in before tonight."

Casey sighed as Jax paid for their meal once again. Asshole. She did still owe him a hotdog though. "Sounds good. I need to burn off some extra energy so I dont go overboard tonight." Her power was a double edged sword at times. Most would think manipulating molecules would be kick ass and shit but it had serious blowback if she didnt use it for awhile.

"Wanna spar when we get there? I bet you two hotdogs that I can kick your ass." She challenged him as they walked out of the diner and towards the gym.

[One Eyed Jack]

The day progressed like it always did. The morning was slow; dreadfully so. Michael sat there staring at the screen. He made faces at Manya, got her to smile. He began a conversation to kill time, and just as he was getting to the good part of a random story, the beep in his ears signaled him it was time to abandon all hope in humanity. The customer is always right in a call center, and the lunatics who call as soon as a call center starts their day are the ones who damn well know they’re always right. Even when they are so wrong that the receptionist wants to reach through and slit their throat with the bill that they are claiming they shouldn’t be receiving, the customer is always right. Before his eyes, two hours had passed. He had spoken with an elderly woman who couldn’t operate her cell phone, a drunken man who had spent three hours on the phone with a Personals line and was screaming for Michael’s manager within two seconds of the greeting, and at least 3 guys being passive aggressive, trying to worm out of their plan. It was at the point by the time an IM popped up to let him know it was his first break was ready that the window seemed oh-so inviting.

He didn’t remember the rest of the time from first break, past lunch. It was all fuzzy. The only thing Michael could recall was the sound of the ringing on his Caller ID. Over and over, it rang, calling out to him, a lighthouse pulling the ship of coherency back to shore. It was different though. It wasn’t a caller, a customer. And it wasn’t from the company. Someone was calling him directly though no name or number appeared on screen.. His hand slowly reached out, placing his fingers against the hard, cold plastic and lifting it to his ear. The experience was quite unlike anything he had ever felt in his entire life. Agony and grief washed over him, and his eyes flashed images so fast that he wasn’t able to keep up. A screaming woman, a car crash. A body. A crying child. Maggots. Bodies burning in a pile. A man screaming in the darkness of a cave, shouting what sounded like “cursed” over and over. All of this just from one word. “Michael.”

“You must help. Everything is beginning. The voice in His ear is whispering and now you must act. You must help. There are others. Some right in front of you. You are not alone. You must stop this all. Stop the whisperings.”

Michael opened his mouth, trying to find words. He could feel the tears running from his eyes, but it was as if he were thousands of miles away.

“You will find them. Tonight you will hear from me. I must go. He returns. Don’t let him stay any longer.”

The line dropped. It was about that time that a bolt of lightning burst from his hand, and half the building suffered a blackout.

[One Eyed Jack]

Sorry folks but I'm done with roleplaying for a bit. I'll let you guys know if I start again soon

x

One Eyed Jack: since you're currently away, I won't bother sending you an unofficial warning for this; I'll just tell you here. A rule on FOG exists about this type of post: OOC in IC. At FOG, there should never be out-of-character information in an in-character thread. We consider it tacky and unprofessional.

Whenever you return, it would be best to delete this post and create an OOC thread for this role-play.
Thanks for reading!

~ Kalon Ordona II

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