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IC:

 

Ashley paused the ribbiting her cell phone was making and looked around in confusion for a moment, she could have sworn someone was there. "Dallas? Is that you?" She peeked out of the kitchen toward the doorway but found nothing. She shrugged. "It must of been a gremlin!" She turned the ribbiting back on and started placing more frogs in the sink.

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My Bzprpg ProfilesGhosts of Bara Magna

Skyra | Hakari | Oceanna | Taleen | Arisaka | Zanakra | Kaminari | Drakkar

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IC:

 

Ashley had a problem, frogs were suppose to swim, but all her origami frogs wanted to do was get all soggy in the sink. She'd lost some good frogs. She gave them a quick funeral and then drained them down the sink.

 

Done with that, Ashley decided she needed to find something else to do, Dallas had gone who knows where, he'd obviously skipped classes because Ashley never saw him. She decided to head into the bedroom, maybe clean up Dallas' mess, since he never seemed to clean up. She walked right past Brianne unknowingly and started to pick up random articles of laundry and toss them into a basket.

 

Suddenly she slipped on a DVD case, with a shriek she fell backwards, luckily the bed was right behind her and she landed on that.

Edited by A billion cats

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My Bzprpg ProfilesGhosts of Bara Magna

Skyra | Hakari | Oceanna | Taleen | Arisaka | Zanakra | Kaminari | Drakkar

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John Harken- Middle of nowhere Nebraska

 

IC: The (inebriated?) driver of the buzz-saw adorned Humvee seemed to have decided that trees were no obstacle and driven right into the nearby forest. Unsurprisingly, they had shortly found out that some trees don't like to be chopped down and the vehicle slammed to a stop.

 

John stopped the car just outside the forest, the thing was hardly made to go four-wheeling, particularly at night. Getting out, he quietly made his way into the forest, coming up behind and on the driver's side of the Buzzvee.

 

Best to be careful with this, the fact that they managed to get their hands on something like this implies either HYDRA or else some other dangerous organization. Plus the drunken looking driving means that they probably wont be thinking straight.

 

His pistol was still in it's holster, right now it would get in the way more then it might help, while he slowly made his way up the side of the vehicle. Deciding not to act the secret agent for once, he rapped on the window and spoke up.

 

"Hey, are you alright in there?"

"I serve the weak. I serve the helpless. I am their sword and their shield. If you want to strike at them, you must go through me, and I am not so easily moved."

zsUPm2E.jpg?1

 

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IC: With a roll of her invisible eyes, Brianne left the room.I'll come back later.IC: In the back of a black limo, windows tinted, Mr. Black sat next to his associate, the silence hanging heavy in the air. He withdrew a small phone from his pocket, and dialed a number from memory. It answered on the third ring."Mrs. Khan," he began. "I was told you had work."

Well, would you just look at that?

 

bread.gif

 

I'm a piece of toast.

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IC Peter"Uh, Mr. Percival, I came to return that... Oh..."Peter had stepped into the classroom where a certain someone had folded a legion of origami frogs. Just as he was going to go work on his time machine, he had been hit by a swath of errands and was in the middle of carrying them out when he came across this. "This school is crazy," he thought to himself. Ten minutes later, Peter walked out the door ofnthe classroom with a big box of origami frogs in his arms. He had one more errand to do, and then it was off to his next class, to his duty to teach brilliant young minds... Yeah, right."Seriously though, why is this school so wacked out?" he muttered to himself as he walked through the halls. "I mean, we've got your usual share of high school issues, plus all the controversy surrounding mutants, and to put the cherry on top, half of these kids need psychiatric treatment! Mr. Worthington didn't say ANY of this in the job interview!" Continuing to vent his frustration, the future man placed the box of frogs next to the school's recycling unit. "The things I do to get by..." It wasn't that Peter Tyrell didn't like the place or its faculty; what other school would let a guy get a job here with no papers and qualifications from 80 years into the future? Joining the Xavier Institute science department as an intern teacher was probably the best choice that Peter made in this time period. However, there's only so much a guy can take and a year of living in what Peter had nicknamed the "madhouse" was starting to take its toll. Chasing down miscreants and ne'er do-wells, dealing with special needs students (the frog incident was just one of many), and the overall stress of being a teacher plus the need to deal with a super powered tantrum every now and then? "This school needs a psychologist," he muttered to himself.

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IC (Borte Khan)

 

Borte, in the backseat of a limo of her own, picked up her own cellphone. The limo was sleek, black as midnight and, though it wasn't visable to the naked eye, packing enough armor to give most machine guns food for thought. "Mr. Black." Borte's voice was level, friendly even. "I thank you for your speed. It appears I have a slight problem. One of my shipments was hijacked by a few local thugs. They shot my guards and killed the driver. One of the guards will never walk again. I ask you to return the favor. Do you have any objections?"

I believe you find life such a problem because you think there are the good people and the bad people. You are wrong, of course. There are, always and only, the bad people, but some of them are on opposite sides.

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IC (Borte Khan)

 

"They've gone to ground in a collection of condemned buildings on the outskirts of the city. Used to be known as the McLean farm. After the good senator went bankrupt, the property was up for grabs. No one grabbed. It's been decaying ever since. I expect their numbers to be in the low twenties. Burn them out if you must, but I would prefer a more personal touch. I will not tolerate attacks on my employees and I want that fact made clear to any other gangs in the area. You will receive the normal payment...." Borte paused for a second. "And when you have some vacation time, a condo in the Alps, as discussed in our previous meeting. Your services are very much apperciated Mr. Black."

Edited by Basilisk

I believe you find life such a problem because you think there are the good people and the bad people. You are wrong, of course. There are, always and only, the bad people, but some of them are on opposite sides.

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IC: "Of course."Black ended the call, then told the driver where to go, before explaining the situation to Mr. White."I believe I can handle this one. And Mrs. Khan made it abundantly clear she'd like it to hurt."Mr. White nodded. While his power to manipulate neural impulses had a variety of uses, the only deaths it could cause were relatively quick and painless."Right. We'll stop just out of notice. You'll have to make your own way in but I doubt that will be a problem."The limo began to pull away as Black began removing his suit. It was Italian silk after all, and he'd rather it didn't tear.

Well, would you just look at that?

 

bread.gif

 

I'm a piece of toast.

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IC:

 

John was surprised at first that her instinct was to hug him. He then hugged her back. "I missed you sis." he said as his cyan eyes filled with emotion. It was good seeing someone he knew from his past life after an entire year of unfamiliar faces.

 

"I came here looking for answers about my dad. It seems he worked for The Hand for a time. I'm not sure why. I agreed to join them. My first test was to kill your sensei and bring Danna Kinney in for recruitment. I had no idea it was you." John said as he finally pulled away.

 

"I can't and I won't do it. I won't bring you in against your will. I won't kill your sensei. Information about my father's past isn't worth me becoming an assassin again. I already went through this with Weapon-X."

 

John looked around the room. "We have to leave Japan Julia. And soon. The Hand won't be happy if I don't return and bring you back and your sensei's head. We're both in danger now. These are powerful people here."

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IC:

 

"People of the world, people of the Internet, Homo sapiens, homo superior..."

 

In one man's private library, this phrase repeated endlessly, in perfect-quality surround sound. Glass clinked, the reporting paused, and then started again, turned back to the point at which Cynegild Picker's day had become even slightly more interesting.

 

Homo superior.

 

This little twit had the nerve to stand in the Flavian Amphitheatre, one of the ancient world's greatest monuments to the raw power of ambition, and preach the same drivel that disaffected bloggers the world over had been reposting for years - the same childish ultimatums, the same insistence on sappy, counter-productive thinking. It was good theatre, to be sure - lions in aprons, indeed! - but that didn't stop the headache that built throughout Lord's speech, starting behind the eyes and spreading until...

 

Homo superior.

 

He'd actually said it. The two-faced, Double-speaking cretin had the gall to stand there, preach equality, and in the very next breath mention that tripe, that foolish claim to a birthright, to inherent superiority just because you had an extra toe. At first, Cynegild had considered throwing the bottle at the screen - to be sure, both were expensive, but stress relief had value incalculable. For just a moment, he'd reached for the Chianti... and then he'd smiled.

 

The lying twit preached egalitarianism and divine, genetic right in the same breath.

 

Dominik Lord demanded equal rights, fair treatment, and told you to your face that he thought he was better than you because he was born lucky.

 

Dominik Lord ruined Cynegild Picker's lunch with his nonsense, offended the man three times in as many minutes, and was more worried about black helicopters. Clearly, something had to be done - something subtle, it wouldn't do to make a martyr of someone. Egg to the face, in this day, was far more deadly than a bullet to the temple. The key thing was resources - Cynegild had never seen the need of hiring a publicist, as the avoidance of publicity was the very thing that had allowed him so much fun in his life. Someone else would need to be in on this, someone with the people, the blind, adoring followers that would get the ball...

 

Ah.

 

Homo superior, indeed.

 

Whistling a merry tune, Cynegild sent a message, striking the keypad with light, dancing fingers.

 

<<Ave, Imperator. This populist twaddle has ruined my lunch. We need to talk.>>

We will remember - Skies may fade and stars may wane; we won't forget


And your light shines bright - yes so much brighter shine on


We will remember - Until the skies will fall we won't forget


We will remember


We all shall follow doom

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IC (Romulus)
Romulus downed what was left his wine in one gulp. He had other matters to attend to and though alcohol had a way of taking the edge of playing politics against a possibly genocidal, possibly insane third-world dictator, there was a line to be drawn. In victory, you deserved wine and in defeat you needed it. This qualified as neither one of those. Perhaps he would have to fund a coup against Mr. Malcolm after all, the man was a crass barbarian and his rabid support of a dead political system despite the massive damage it’d done to his nation was simply intolerable. The Imperator found his thoughts interrupted by a droning sound coming from his desk.
Ah yes, his smart phone. He’d ensured that it had had every single security device available installed upon on it and made use of his personal encrypted connection when using it. It wasn’t paranoia when you’d been around for the first few thousand years of human civilization. Then it was just common sense. He picked up the phone and eyed the message, allowing a wry grin to split his face.
Mr. Picker had has hair in a twist about the latest Brotherhood broadcast no doubt, after the first few speeches Romulus had stopped watching them. They were all more or less the same thing hidden behind different words. Harkening back to the politics of the Cold War in more than a few ways, with a dash of the counterculture movement thrown in for good measure, in short it was predictable. Though, admittedly, Romulus had more experience with politics than most.
He typed his response. <<Hello Mr. Picker. I can make time for such a diversion in my schedule. Name a time and place, I happen to have a room reserved for private meetings at the Royal, if you would prefer another setting, I have no objections.>>
Edited by Basilisk

I believe you find life such a problem because you think there are the good people and the bad people. You are wrong, of course. There are, always and only, the bad people, but some of them are on opposite sides.

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IC: Thunderbolt

 

For a run-of-the-mill agent of SHIELD, albeit one with the ability to throw lightning, Mikhail's uniform was surprisingly flashy. If he had considered himself a superhero of some sorts, then it would have been perfectly fine for him to wear a belt across his shirt, but there was absolutely no excuse for a simple suit to really take on his clothes. However, he was currently wearing a rather nondescript set of clothes, having wisely decided that turning up as backup with a bucket hat on was absolutely inexcusable.

 

The tanned man leaned back into the seat of John's car, carefully surveying the area outside the forest. He may not have been able to see his fellow agent, but from his position, he could probably be able to catch anyone who went into the forest after the other SHIELD member.

 

And if he didn't catch anyone?

 

He supposed that trying a Captain Marvel couldn't hurt.

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IC

 

Rene was in the process of following Dal on his quest to find Card when a familiar voice came from behind him.

 

"Mr LeBeau. A word."

 

For a moment, he contemplated slipping out of there faster than Miley Cyrus' tongue could slip out of her mouth, but he turned around instead, his heart sinking. As he'd suspected, it was Dr Thomas. All business as usual, with those brown eyes that could melt your soul. Not in the gooey way, but in the I'm-literally-going-to-melt-your-soul way.

 

"My office, please."

 

He followed the counsellor into her office, which was dominated by a desk with a single manila folder on it. Two chairs, one on either side. Rene took a seat in one, took an exaggerated look around, and then,

 

"You need an interior decorator in here, stat. No pictures, and those curtains don't match these chairs at a-"

 

"Thank you, Mr. LeBeau." Dr Thomas seated herself opposite him and opened the folder, each movement precise and calculated. In an effort to balance out the room, the teenage kinetopath sprawled out on his chair, hanging one leg over an arm. It was important to keep chaos and order all balanced out. The counsellor looked at him, but said nothing, instead continuing to peruse the folder.

 

Finally, he broke the silence. "Well, doc, you know I don't mind spending time with you, but if you wanna just hang out we could go grab a coffee or somethi-"

 

"Thank you for the offer, Mr LeBeau, but we'll stay here." She closed the folder and sat back, looking at the student over her glasses.

 

"You've been attending the Xavier Institute for little over a year now." It wasn't a question. "During that time, you've passed two classes: History and Physical Education. You failed the others due to a lack of attendance. Being a legal adult now, there's no obligation for you to remedy this, but-"

 

"Hold on, doc," Rene interrupted, sitting up. "You know I never went to school. I've been living on the streets all my life, I'm no good at math or writing essays-"

 

"That may be so," Dr Thomas replied, taking back command of the conversation. "But you're a bright young man, Mr LeBeau, and I hate to see you waste your potential."

 

"Potential?" The teenager laughed. "Come on, I know potential like nobody else. I can turn potential energy into kinetic energy, doc. You know that."

 

"I am indeed aware of that," The counsellor patiently continued. "Your genetic traits are impressive, but they're genetic. There's much more to life than your mutation."

 

Rene folded his arms rather sullenly.

 

"While it's true that men and women with the X-gene are permitted to remain at the Institute for as long as they like, I want to encourage you to discover a life in the outside world. You've already proven yourself capable of holding down a job, and you're fortunate in that your phenotype isn't immediately obvious. You are quite capable of living a normal life, Rene."

 

"What if I don't want to?"

 

"That's your choice. If you like, you can live here for the rest of your life. But I would encourage you to think about it. What do you like to do? What are you interested in? Think beyond your abilities, Mr LeBeau: you are much more than your mutation."

 

"Are we done now?"

 

"If you like."

 

"Sweet. See ya, doc."

 

The kinetopath pulled the door open and left with a slight breeze trailing behind him.

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IC:On the way to the cafeteria, Alex's gait slowed, for just a moment, rapidly picking up speed again.Something was amiss, there was an unknown data signature in the dorms. It wasn't there in the morning when he got up, but it was there now. He withdrew his phone from his pocket, taking it out of hibernation. In truth, he didn't really need it, but it was far easier to manipulate data using a wifi enabled device as a conduit. A quick consultation with the front office revealed that no one had checked in this morning as a visitor, which meant one of two things. Either the new signal was a member of the school... Or they were an intruder.How could he tell?Simple. Most people didn't realize it, but everywhere they went, they carried around a traceable, identifiable digital more or less unique to them. Their cell phones. Beyond mere numbers, the accounts they used, the websites they visited, everything they did differentiated one from another, and they became more unique the longer they were used. Much like a psychic might monitor the world around them by checking for minds, Alex monitored by watching for digital signals.Tapping into the unknown device's GPS, he could tell that they were in a hallway on the second floor. Dorms. That was a bit concerning, though it did indicate that they might be a student...The technopath's route was raking him close to the psychologist's office, just as Rene was leaving. Almost unconsciously, he did his best to use Dallas to block him from view. A talk with the good doctor was the last thing he needed right now. Taking a moment to tag the unknown phone in his database, and mentally watching its path, he started to put away his phone away again, pausing only a moment to check for any new messages. There weren't any, of course. There hadn't been for twelve months, not since the last one he sent...Shaking his head, he put the device back in his pocket."So, Dallas, what have you been up to?"

fK5oqYf.jpg

 

On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

 

 

  Breaking Point: An OTC Mecha RPG

 

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IC: Julia

 

Julia nodded. It wouldn't be the first time she had a few highly-trained assassins hunting her down. Almost unconsciously, she fiddled with the locket, running her thumb back and forth across its surface.

 

"Right. Okay."

 

There was no point in stopping back at her apartment--she only really kept her clothes there, so everything she valued (cellphone, Jiu Jitsu gear, laptop, passport) was safely stowed away within her duffel bag.

 

“Let’s just go to the airport,” she said. “You do know where the airport is, right?”

Edited by Zyke the Space Biker

67tlbk.png

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IC:

 

"Of course I know where the airport is," John smirked. "I had to use it to get to Japan afterall. Its not like I swam all the way here." he said jokingly. John then gripped the handles of his adamantium katana before wrenching them out of the floor. In a flourish he raised them over his head and slid them into the sheaths resting against the back of his shoulders.

 

"Alright let's get going. The Hand will know something is up soon." John said. He turned to Julia's sensei and then gave a slight bow.

 

<<I apologize for the trouble.>>

 

IC:

 

Yawn.

 

The institute lately had been sooooo boring. Even with Dallas back Nicole was still bored. He mainly spent his time with Ashley anyway. The blonde had spent most of the morning laying in bed not doing much of anything except listening to music. She finally pulled herself out of bed and walked over to her mirror. She applied some makeup and brushed her long blonde locks before exiting her room. She glanced around the hall as she left the girls dorms and headed down the large staircase to see if anyone was around.

 

OOC: Nicole open for interaction within the institute.

 

IC:

 

Matt lifted the metal bar upwards before placing it on the rack. He then sat up on the bench and wiped his forehead with a small white towel. This is what he did when he wasn't playing football or basketball, or working, or helping Aleks out with his class. He worked out. Matt was pretty much always doing something physical. Aleks' class had been a real help lately too since Matt's new mutation. His power had completely changed. Once he'd controlled plasma, now he blasted kinetic energy.

 

The one positive side to Matt's new power was that he no longer was a ticking time bomb. There was no threat that he'd possibly explode. Matt got to his feet and exited the training room. He walked down the metal hallway of the basement level. It had been very quiet down here since the X-Men had disbanded. Matt sort of missed the X-Men. He missed fighting on a team and fighting for a good cause.

 

The teen thought about changing out of his slightly sweaty white tank-top but decided he was too lazy. Matt's stomach suddenly rumbled slightly. He patted a hand against his abs as he took the stairs up to the first floor of the school. He then walked directly towards the cafeteria. Matt suddenly stopped when he saw Aleks' sitting at a table with someone who hadn't been around in a long time.

 

"Christine?"

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IC:

 

Cynegild read the Imperator's reply, and tapped out a quick confirmation that the suggested meeting place would be acceptable if the meeting could take place within the next three hours. The old Roman's insistence on in-person communication for matters like this was sensible, but there were times when his grasp of modern life and technology was somewhat unnerving - Cynegild rather doubted that most people around a few thousand years past their time would grasp the possibility of the interception of electronic communications.

 

After powering the computer down, Cynegild waited patiently for final confirmation of the meeting schedule, and prepared a checklist for his departure. The armor was simply not optional, but the knives, gun, and mace would be more likely to irritate the Roman than to be useful. The phone was, of course, indispensable for a meeting like this, but the novelty Genghis Khan bobblehead really couldn't be justified this time.

We will remember - Skies may fade and stars may wane; we won't forget


And your light shines bright - yes so much brighter shine on


We will remember - Until the skies will fall we won't forget


We will remember


We all shall follow doom

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IC:

 

"Oh, you know, sleeping around, showering, painting, eating. Regular people things," Dallas said nonchalantly. "I think I've gone to like six classes all semester. Ashley slides the work under my dorm and comes by again the next day, and it's done. It's pretty foolproof, but it doesn't leave me with a lot of motivation to do...a lot of things, actually. Somewhat related: do you think the stubble's a good look for me?"

 

-Tyler

SAY IT ONE MORE TIME 

TELL ME WHAT IS ON YOUR MIND

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IC Peter"Okay, for my last errand, I need to deliver these files to Dr. Thomas?" Walking through the hallway of the school towards the psychologist's office, he caught sight of two people walking in the hallway. He recognized one as Dallas Green - "Should I go give him a talking to?" Peter wondered to himself - but didn't recognize the other. "Oh well, it's almost time for my class," he mused. Walking up to the door, he briefly contemplated leaving the file outside the door, but decided against it - somebody could steal them after all - and knocked on Dr. Thomas' door.

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IC:
"I had to be sure. If it was you, I put that technopath in a coma for nothing; didn't need to deal with the lecture. Moving right along, what's up."
"Well... You know that one guy who I've been spending way-too-much with?" Kristen asked, embarrassment washing over her.
"Oh, Christ, tell me you don't want The Talk."
"No! Oh god no, no, no, no!" Kristen exclaimed shuddering at the thought.
"Okay, good. Then you may continue at your leisure."
"Well... He and I... Well mostly he... He-" Kristen choked up at this point, her eyes starting to water. She reached up at the left side of her face, the side that was obscured by her bangs. She moved the bangs to the side, revealing a decent-sized black eye that she'd been obscuring.
Dallas Green had always been a little mercurial, even before things had truly gone to pot with the Phalanx; a bit too sharp-tongued for his own sake, a bit too sulky when things didn't go his way, always strongly opinionated. The mental stress of helping lead the X-Men, then mutants in general, and finally humanity in general against the techno-organics had done nothing to ease his mind, and by the time they had come to retrieve Alex Smith the results of his temper were almost as fearful to behold as the actual fuse lighting. It came with the territory, for the Ultimates; most had gotten used to deal with him and engaged in banter, which kept his mood particularly upbeat. But the temper had always been there, as long as any of the X-Men from back home - or, at least, Card and John - could remember.
So when Dallas Green beheld Kristen's black eye and didn't promptly flip over the entire bed, it could just have been the most frightening thing in the world.
"How long?"
"The day after I recovered from getting my new arm... He's- He's been blackmailing me Dallas," Kristen said, swallowing the innate sense of terror that Dallas seemed to be radiating, "He got a picture of me... The day that I just re-appeared in the institute and when you gave me your shirt..."
"He has a picture of you. Well. How miserable has your life been?"
"He beats me. Every day... Or almost every day. That's what it seems like..."
"Just what I like to hear. Well, fear not, Card, your champion is here."
"... What are you going to do?"
"The fact that you still have to ask me before you make predictions brings a smile to my lips and a tear to my heart, Kristen," Dallas sighed with a cheeky wink as he spun on his heel and promptly took a left turn out of her dorm.
Kristen slowly slid off the bed, and watched Dallas stride down the hall. If she had a shred of empathy for Joey and what was about to happen to him, she might've been trembling. Instead, she was relieved. Verging on ecstatic. She decided, that's just what Dallas does to people.
"Which way are the boy's dorms, again?" Dallas asked her from the corner of the hallway, flipping a coin around his fingers and then slowing its passage to the point where it hovered in the air between his index and middle knuckles.
"Thataway," Kristen called, pointing the way towards the boy dorms.
Kristen barely kept on Dallas' heels as he casually paced his way to the boy's dormitory wing; nobody was prowling the halls, deigning either to sleep in or go to class, and Dallas huffed to himself, turning around. Card was still a minute or so behind him. She couldn't tell him which dorm was this abuser's. Oh, well.
Dallas had used to claim that Arthur Conan Doyle had /actually/ based Sherlock Holmes off someone in his lineage, and that ever since every Green male had been blessed with supernatural - almost mutant-level - deductive powers. He put those into work now as he scanned the long line of seemingly identical dorm doors on both sides of the hallway - and got nowhere, quick. Then his eyes fell to something on the wall.
Card showed up then, in time to see Dallas crouch down next to a little glass box that said "break in case of emergency," smash it with his elbow, and reach in to draw a handheld fire axe and stand. She made a little sound, and he stood up abruptly, turned to face her; he grinned winningly, pretty eyes alight in mischief, and spun the axe in his hand.
"Dal...what are you doing?"
"Elementary, my dear Watson," he said, blowing her a kiss, before he spun around unpredictably and smashed the axe into the wood of the first door.
Kristen jumped at the sound of splintering wood, watching Dallas cut into the doors in awe.
"Joe-yyyyyy Walker!" Dallas yelled theatrically, laughing in charmed exhilaration as he battered down each door on the right hand side and took a quick glance inside each dorm to find who he was looking for. "Come onnnn down! You're on The Price is Right!"
After battering down several doors, Joey simply seemed to appear on the other side of the hall. Kristen's eyes were immediately drawn to him, as it occurred to her that she had no idea how long he'd been watching them.
"You called?" He asked, frowning and folding his arms.
"Heyyyyy, there he is! This is him, right?" he asked Kristen, all smiles and charm like a big brother who crashed a sleepover. "Good to meet you, Joey Walker, I'm Dallas Green. I'm the one who's gonna be putting you in a coffin today."
"Dal, I didn't suggest killing him!" Kristen shouted, more-than-slightly unnerved by how far Dallas seemed to be going for her.
"Very well," Joey replied, as he sighed. With this, he braced himself for whatever manner of attack planned to choose.
...Wow, you didn't tell me he was boring," Dallas pouted, rolling his eyes and snapping his fingers - Joey froze in place mid-sigh, locked firmly in a temporal sphere, and the Ultimate chronokinetic paced over to him and looked for a bulge in his pants that would signify a cell phone.
"You said he had these pix on him?"
Kristen nodded slowly, watching Dallas carefully.
Dallas patted down his front pocket and then plucked the kid's phone out of his pocket. His fingers danced along the screen and pulled up his gallery, then made their way to his favorited pictures - what he was looking for was the fourth selection.
His eyebrows furrowed together, then branched apart as his eyes widened; he realized what he was looking at all at once then shot a glance at Card, then at Joey, then at Card again and finally to the picture. He deleted it instantly, muttering "Christ Christ Christ Christ" repeatedly under his breath and injecting a few curses in between.
"Okay, now, when you said you didn't suggest killing him, does that mean you wanted him to die and just didn't want to admit it, or did you really want me to let him scrounge through life a little longer?" he asked, sounding more than a little hopeful despite his attempts at looking peaceful.
"The latter one Dallas," Kristen said, putting a hand on her hips, "I'm trying not to have any actions of mine result in killing anyone. I've done too much of that in my life."
"Technically, it's his actions that result in killing people, not yours," Dallas suggested with the grin of a child who was assuring his mom he meant the kind of dam that beavers build when he yelled at his kindergarten teacher; Kristen's face never changed and finally Dallas, crestfallen looking, looked at the axe in his hand and buried it in the wall.
"Fine," he said sulkily, snapping the phone in two with his bare hands. "I'll just vandalize his room later or something."
"Thank you," Kristen said, breathing a sigh of relief as she slumped against the wall. It was all over now. Finally.
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IC Peter"Hello Dr. Thomas. I was hit with a swath of errands, including," Peter said as he placed the file he was carrying on the counselor's desk. "They didn't tell me what this is, but assuming from the nature of the school R's probably not going to be stolen government secrets." Peter laughed nervously at that last remark."I know I've got a class to go teach, but I would like to talk to you about something. Specifically," Peter continued as he took an origami frog out of his pocket (he kept one). "Found over 200 of these in one of the lecture hall's. Definitely not normal."

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IC: Breaking the glass so Dallas could remove the axe had succeeded in setting off a series of fire alarms, their shrill wailings piercing through wall and sealing. In a school where every second pupil had some sort of combustible or explosive super-power this sort of a stuff was a must or everyone would be dead a million times over.

Of course, said super-powers were also why no-one followed procedure to go outside and instead hurried towards the alarms, despite this being the exact opposite purpose of alarms, to see if they could help out with their mutant gifts. Alec was one such mutant, though had turned up more to switch the alarms off once it became clear someone was going all Overlook on the institute.

 

"Oh no, not you two," he said with comically exaggerated weariness after clapping eyes on the duo in the centre of the disruption, "Why is it always you two whenever there's trouble with axes?"

7AOYGDJ.jpg

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IC: Ethan Kigs, 'Doc'

Throughout the day, Ethan had not done much. Not much at all. It was surprising, given how often people ended up hurting themselves at the Institute (Or how he though people hurt themselves a lot). so, when the alarms went off, he was actually slightly...happy to have something to do.

Even if it was get caught on fire or help people who were on fire.

He hurried towards the nearest alarm and eventually got to a large group of students, centered around a few people. One of them was holding an axe.

Well, maybe it wasn't a fire. Maybe someone just wanted to go on an axe spree. He sighed, and started pushing his way through the crowd. "Excuse me, pardon me, coming through", Ethan said while traveling through the fray.

1Ydp0mg.jpg


Steam name: Ehksidian

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IC (Romulus)
Romulus emerged from his office in his business attire; two similarly dressed men with brown trench coats fell into step behind him. One could never to be too careful, particularly after the HYDRA attack. Minutes later, Romulus and his two loyal legionnaires were speeding towards the Royal Suites hotel in a converted military Humvee. Army surplus was a wonderful, wonderful thing.
Edited by Basilisk

I believe you find life such a problem because you think there are the good people and the bad people. You are wrong, of course. There are, always and only, the bad people, but some of them are on opposite sides.

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IC

 

Dr Thomas opened her mouth to speak, but was cut short by the sudden wailing of fire alarms. She frowned, then stood to her feet and gestured for Peter to move outside. Once in the hallway, she realized that most of the student body was heading away from the exits.

 

"Get outside and take charge of anyone who's following the fire escape plan," she said loudly to Peter. "I'll take care of everyone who's not."

 

With that, she began walking purposefully down the hall, following those few students she could see towards, hopefully, the centre of the chaos.

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IC:The instant the alarm started ringing, a loud curse echoed through the hallway, and Alexander took off running.The exact opposite direction of where he was supposed to.The Technopath, once upon a time, would have been winded long before he reached the hall, but he'd been making extensive use of the Danger Room over the past year, and his muscles propelled himself up the stairs to the second floor rapidly. Data swirled through his head, mind reaching out to the scene a few meters above. One of the data signatures suddenly went silent, most suspicious, and a photo had been deleted mere moments before. Even more suspicious. But, there's something most don't realize; data is not completely purged upon deletion, and the phone's storage was still intact.The effort needed to retrieve what was deleted was minimal, since the device was an unmodified Android phone. Moments later, as he reached the scene, he was scowling, his face a cold mask of fury."Well now, seems Dallas and Kristen have been busy. But, they don't seem to be the only ones, were they, Joe?"

fK5oqYf.jpg

 

On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

 

 

  Breaking Point: An OTC Mecha RPG

 

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IC:"Oh, don't worry. I have no killing intent."The Technopath stared at the blackmailer, hands in the pockets of his suit. His presence alone was an unusual sight; the expression on his face had only been seen a few times before."Do you know what I can do?" He asked the offender, quietly, calmly, waiting for Dallas to drop the field.

Edited by The Snark Knight

fK5oqYf.jpg

 

On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

 

 

  Breaking Point: An OTC Mecha RPG

 

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IC: Ethan Kigs

After getting close enough to hear the man with the axe-Ethan couldn't place his name-he heard something along the lines of "Dallas! You said you weren't going to kill him!"

Ethan stopped for a second. Murder? That's not good for anyone's health. He took a step forward in the crowd, and saw someone else emerge from the crowd, to confront the small group. Why can I never remember peoples' names?

1Ydp0mg.jpg


Steam name: Ehksidian

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