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Post by Birdy on Oct 28, 2016 13:03:49 GMT -5
Chlorolad sat on the wooden bench in the garden that resided between wings of Heraclia General, knees hugged close to himself, face buried in them, mask clutched in one hand. They had won – the heroes had won. Defeated the villains, saved the day. He was not feeling very victorious though. People had gotten hurt because of him. He was supposed to protect them – and he’d failed. Agent Tulley had gotten shot, and Oswald had gotten hit with a dart containing heaven-knows-what and on top of that, nearly gotten kidnapped again. No, Chlorolad was not feeling very victorious – or heroic – at all. True, with all their combined efforts, they had defeated Tripwire – but not before she’d managed to weaken them. Ultimately, she had been stopped, but… she’d hurt one of them. Badly. …Was agent Tulley even going to be okay? The last Chlorolad knew, he’d been whisked away for surgery upon arrival at the hospital, and Oswald was with his mother. Uncertain what to do after that, Chlorolad had simply sought out one of the most secluded place he could find – and that happened to be one of the gardens nestled between wings of the hospital. (It was like an outdoor hallway, in a way – doors to either side, leading into the building – but for the seclusion Chlorolad sought, it served its purpose.) They’d won – he knew that’s what he should be focusing on, not how badly he felt he’d messed things up by growing the tree too slowly at first, but… The words he’d spoken only that morning in his first confession cam were coming back to haunt him. He’d asked the heroes what was wrong with them – but now he was wondering if he should instead be asking himself the same question. He’d said that real heroes didn’t endanger innocents by mucking about, ignoring danger – and yet he had delayed, taken too much time growing the tree that was supposed to help them escape, rather than trap them. They’d been counting on him, and he’d failed them. Closing his eyes tight, he took a shaky breath, then released it with an equally shaky whoosh. He knew he should be focusing on everything that went right – not everything that went wrong – but that was easier said than done. He’d hesitated – let pain and nausea get the better of him for just one brief moment, and agent Tulley had paid the price for it. He’d frozen up instead of attacking, which had given Tripwire the needed time to grab Oswald. And despite all that had gone right – that Oswald had fought back, and Tripwire had surrendered, and that they had finally all made it to the hospital – he still felt like a failure. He’d said in his confession that morning that the heroes of the city didn’t even deserve the title – and now he felt that he didn’t. Who was he to call himself a hero? He couldn’t even protect those he’d been sent along with to protect. No. He didn’t deserve to call himself a hero. Not after that. And not after what he’d said about the other heroes that morning. The leaves on the bush next to the bench began to rustle despite the lack of breeze, and Chlorolad paused; he must have been reaching out with his powers without realizing it again. Taking a deep breath, he tried to relax a little, to calm down. He still felt miserable though. He’d tried – he’d tried so hard to do what he was being counted on to do. Yet all his efforts hadn’t stopped Agent Tulley from getting shot. It hadn’t stopped Oswald from nearly getting kidnapped again. If only he’d been more experienced then maybe none of that would have happened. But no, he was the greenhorn. The newbie, who …who… …who didn’t… …didn’t have… …much… …experience…. … He paused again, starting to slowly sit more upright, as this new thought seemed to take a hold somewhere. He was… new, yes. Not just one of the new competitors on the show this season, but new to the entire hero thing. True, yes, he had spent the past few months training with Nimbus to get ready for what he might face on the show. But training one-on-one was nothing like actual combat experience, as he had well learned over the past week or so. Before the start of the season, he’d practiced with his powers – and practiced without them too. Not only training with his plant powers, but also going over and over the moves Nimbus was teaching him – as Elwood in her self-defense classes he took with other civilians, and also as Chlorolad, where more… unique ways could be taught, such as with trying to incorporate his powers with the moves at times. He was new to this, and was going at it on his own, too, with his mentor being... unavailable. So maybe… maybe it was a bit understandable that he wouldn’t know exactly everything to do in the heat of the moment, let alone when that heat-of-the-moment involved being pinned down and shot at in a supervillain’s ambush. And it had been an ambush, he noted, now upright (yet still hugging his knees). While they had hoped that nothing would happen on the way to the hospital, they had tried to be alert nonetheless. They just hadn’t had the time to even react before the net was over them, and it had been fired from above, at a distance. And even with all that, he’d still grown a tree, even if it was much slower than would have been preferred. And not only that, but grown a tree large enough to block a shot that caused a fist-sized hole, and grown it from a crack in the pavement. With such little soil to work from, he’d still managed to grow something. Chlorolad was, by this point, no longer sitting with his legs curled to himself, but as one normally would on a bench. His mask was still clutched in his hands, which were resting on his lap. Idly, he fiddled with it. He’d told himself that after all his failures that day that he didn’t deserve to call himself a hero… but just what, exactly, did it mean to be a hero? Sinclair’s words from earlier that morning flashed though his mind. “In the end, it’s about doing what you feel to be the right thing. Standing beside the people who fight alongside you, come what may, and never giving up, no matter how hopeless the situation may seem.”It had seemed pretty hopeless there for a while, trapped under that net. But through their combined efforts, they’d done it. Ultimately, they had stood together and stopped Tripwire. They hadn’t given up, and she had surrendered after Ossie stabbed her with her own dart. Things could have gone far worse. But they hadn’t. All things considered… they had been very, very lucky. They’d all managed to get to the hospital in one piece (or, well… mostly one piece) in the end. Then came the realization that even Nimbus was fighting in her own way. So if his mentor – who was in a coma – wasn’t giving up… why should he? …Maybe I’m being too hard on myself… Chlorolad thought, smoothing out the mask on his lap. After all, he was new, and they hadn’t exactly been expecting Tripwire-levels of trouble along the way. It was true he hadn’t done a stellar job of protecting everyone. But if he gave up now, after just one failure… how would he grow? He’d forever guilt himself with the knowledge of having performed badly, and also the knowledge of knowing he’d just given up, and refused to grow and learn from his mistakes. That didn’t change the fact that people had gotten hurt – nothing could ever change that – but it also didn’t mean that he had to wallow in guilt about it forever. The wounds received had not been fatal, thank heaven, and though they would likely leave scars (in more ways than one), they would heal – and healing was the most important part. It may take time, but the healing would come. Chlorolad took a deep breath and looked once again at the mask on his lap. He knew he had a choice – put the mask back on and get back out there and be a hero, or simply give up. He closed his eyes, lowering his head. He didn’t want to give up. And while he knew he may not be the best or most experienced hero, he also knew still had time to learn and grow. While if he quit… well. Like a flower deprived of sunlight and water, any skills he’d obtained – anything he’d learned – during all this would simply wilt and wither away. He sat up and squared his shoulders. No, he determined, he would not give up. He’d get back out there, and keep fighting, come what may. Looking once more at the mask in his lap, he picked it up and raised it to his face, tying the ends behind his head before getting to his feet. He’d already spent too long out here – he should be getting back inside. (Besides, he reasoned; agent Tulley might be out of surgery by now, and he wanted to be sure he was okay. (And Oswald too, for that matter.)) After taking a moment to stretch, he walked though the garden towards the door he had originally come in, opening it then closing it behind him once he had passed through. (If anyone saw me complaining about a post taking forever, ah-hah, yeah, this is it, in all its angst-filled “glory”. :’D) Emolad Chlorolad feels exorbitant amounts of guilt over how things with Tripwire went for far longer than is humanly necessary, sweet Woo, this child has a guilt complex, send help.Finally, after about oh, 631 words he realizes that oh, huh, he’s a newbie so maybe he shouldn’t be so hard on himself for not knowing for sure what to do? And then he muses over that for about 571 words more, for a grand total of 1,202 words before he finally – FINALLY – admits that he might just be being a bit too hard on himself over it all. (Wow, really?? What a thought!)So after all that exacerbating, he then determines that he won’t give up just because of inexperience, and resolves to keep fighting and being a hero and all that jazz. He then goes to see if agent Tulley is out of surgery yet, and if so, how he’s doing. (As well as checking on Oswald.) (And since Tulley and Ossie are mentioned, might as well tag their writers. \ o / So, have a tag, Tiger and Shinko !)
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Post by Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff) on Oct 28, 2016 14:12:16 GMT -5
((the following is a collab with the lovely Twillie )) LaterMitzi was bewildered. There was her little space, her sectioned-off partition of the Heroes’ greenroom, completely untouched. The bottle of water, the colored pencils, the almost-unused makeup palette, nothing had been discarded or moved by Stan in favor of to-do lists and documents. Except… Mitzi picked up the scrap of paper and her eyes widened into teacup saucers. A tiny part of her rejoiced, which was quickly replaced with shame for feeling that way. Vati wouldn’t be proud, certainly. All the same, the girl knew what she had to do. It was time for a long talk with her ex-agent. *** ADMAX was no garden to walk through, that was for sure. Mitzi was carefully escorted through the halls, struggling to resist the temptation to look inside the windows on each door just to see who was inside. Her curiosity was just about to get the better of her, when-- The guard’s earpiece bleeped, and a string of very fast and very urgent words burst through, loud enough so that even Mitzi could hear one word, and one name in particular. “Escaped….Tre.” Instantly, the guard ran off to deal with the escaped prisoner, leaving the poor girl to chase after him. “Wait!” she cried, running and just barely keeping up with him. “I can’t go as fast as you can--pant--what about the prisoner--pant--what are they going to do?” The guard didn’t seem to hear her and turned one corner, then another. “Wait!” Mitzi called out again. Unbelievable. Mitzi thought, rolling her eyes. Mitzi was left alone in the middle of several hallways, twists and turns, surrounded by prisoners. Locked-up prisoners, but still. Mitzi shivered, wrapping her gloved arms in themselves. It looked so much and yet nothing like where she’d done her time back home after being caught running away. A few faces popped up behind the windows, staring her down. Mitzi didn’t recognize any of them, and there was nothing to be gained from just standing there. She fled down the corridor, heart lighting up when she saw a beam of light that could only mean one thing: outside! Mitzi grinned and burst through, causing every head in the prison yard to turn in her direction. Mitzi screamed, wishing for her bike more than ever, but suddenly recognized the head that didn’t turn her way. Forgetting her fear in favor of curiosity, she very slowly walked towards the woman. “Wait...Queen?” From her lonely spot at a shady table in the yard’s corner, Natasha lifted her head from her hands. She didn’t bother to due to being addressed, as many others before had jeered at her or tried to catch her attention with little success, but rather, she responded to the familiar-- and unwelcome-- voice that spoke. Seeing the tiny hero in front of her, Natasha jerked back in her seat and pulled an expression somewhere between shock and disgust. “Wh- what are you doing here?” She demanded, her voice cracking from the rawness in her throat. Mitzi shrank back. “I...I got lost.” Her voice quavered, but upon recognizing the face more, her eyes widened again. Scores of questions soared through her head, but the one that she ended up settling on was, “What happened to you? You still have that powder I gave you, right?” Mitzi sheepishly held up her hands--around her gloves, there were extremely tight bracelets, evidently to ensure she wouldn’t be able to remove the gloves herself and use her powers in the prison. “What’dja do with it?” Natasha kept her twisted grimace and a safe distance between herself and the hero as the latter’s words slowly sank in. “I- you got…” She spluttered for a minute, then cried, “Haven’t you all done enough interrogating? At least take me back to that room before you dig into me again.” She buried her face again and pulled her legs to her chest as the cold memories of earlier creeped back. After spilling so much about herself, Natasha hadn’t felt… right, since then. She felt exposed, frozen, weak. Although she knew what was happening in her head, and they knew now as well, Natasha still harbored a deep hatred that she wanted to spread to everyone closing in on her. “You said you tried finding a ‘cure’ before, though? Why?” The man behind the table had asked her. “What you did to this city took conscious effort, and if the potion’s really to blame for your actions, then I can’t imagine that you’d have any desire to nullify its effects based on your willing attitude while committing your crimes.”
“I… I never fully went away,” Natasha muttered. “After the potion took over, it still left a small amount of me behind. It’s too weak to fight back, no matter how much I’ve tried, or Deric did… But sometimes, it still surfaces. Sometimes, I can look at what I’ve done and feel…” She trailed off, biting her lip in fright. “The guilt, when it comes, kills me. I can’t fight it, I know what I’ve done is too bad to-- but, I can push it away.” She swallowed. “I always know it’ll come back at some point, though.”Mitzi blinked. “I didn’t want to interrogate you…” she murmured, carefully sitting a short distance away. The girl glanced uneasily at the others in the yard. “They’re all watching me,” she murmured, squirming in her seat. She met the equally green eyes of a man working out, and lamented the tone she would never achieve in herself, not while she was still in a child’s body. “Can you tell them, to, you know, mind their own beeswax? And what about you, you’re not going to...attack, or anything, right?” Mitzi eyed her uncertainly. Natasha snorted. “They’ll probably be more willing to listen to you than me. And… there’s no point for me to.” She glanced down at the locks on her wrists. “Wouldn’t be able to do much, and it wouldn’t get me far.” Resting her chin on one of her palms, Natasha looked forward with a dim gaze. “And no, by the way, I still don’t have the powder. If I did, you’d think I’d have used it on this by now.” She pointed to her nose, then, which had a bandaged wrap on it, as well as maybe half a dozen bruises surrounding it and her eyes. Mitzi looked away. “Good point--I was never really a clever kind of person.” Suddenly, though, Natasha let out a small snicker. “Still came in use, though. You ever get your name cleared after that little store robbery, by the way?” Mitzi’s eyebrows furrowed into confusion. “What do you mean?” she asked, still not grasping Natasha’s implication. Meeting her gaze with a sinister glint in her eyes, Natasha told her, “Not only did your powder set you back, but it also got me some free potion ingredients.” “You used it to trade on the black market,” Mitzi gasped, a stab of betrayal crawling into her throat. “That wasn’t nice…” “I… No, I just framed you. Obviously.” “Are you serious?” The girl could hardly think. “What did I even do to you?” Mitzi cried. With a sigh, Natasha turned away from her again. “Just wait until they tell you on the news. I’m done explaining myself.” “That was for Timothy, you know.” Mitzi pouted, hurt evident in every muscle of her body. “Tim still giving you trouble?” Natasha asked with a cruel laugh. She tried to hide the shadow of fear that passed over her face and heart. Mitzi ran a hand across the scar on her throat. “He went...crazy, to say the least, but I think he’s going to be okay. The cure seems to have worked, from what Zenith told me.” A loud crash resonated from the table as Natasha dropped both her arms, the locks slamming against the hard plastic. “ Cure?’” She repeated, disbelief lacing her voice, “What cure? There is none!” The all-too-familiar annoyance of adults not listening reared its ugly head. “That’s where you’re wrong!” Mitzi burst out, leaping from the table. “I know I’m right, I was there! And I’m telling you, it was a team effort. Ms. Kingsley’s and Comet’s and the mihtium facility’s research, the chemistry students at the university, my own powder, things I could find in the kitchen--it all worked together and Timothy’s all right. It was a bit risky,” Mitzi’s annoyance faded as she considered what would have happened if the draught didn’t work, even though it had been tested on her herself several times, “but he’s going to be okay.” “That doesn’t make sense…” Natasha muttered, “Dad always told me…” She looked up at Mizshu again. “You used your own powder?” Mitzi nodded. “That was part of it.” “You haven’t come across anything similar to it, have you?” “Not really.” Mitzi shrugged. “And it helped discover a cure to his hypnosis…” Natasha trailed off, deep in thought. “Deric was the one who thought I should find a cure, but the more we worked together, I-I wanted to find it too.” Natasha shook in her chair. “If it meant ending this torture… Whether it actually reversed the potion or just killed the last of who I was before, I didn’t care. I still don’t. Just anything so I didn’t feel so trapped. When I got here, I thought maybe fighting the heroes would help me, somehow, but that didn’t work, I can’t do that anymore. I just want…”
The tears that had gathered in Natasha’s eyes spilled now, and she ran her fingers through her hair as she lowered her head, hiding her dismal face.
“I need help.”
“Well with the way the hypnosis was going, making people just want to attack and do little else--” Mitzi was aware of her memory seeping back to the forefront of her mind, and the guilt that went with it. “Even I was subject to the craziness, the bloodlust, the hatred, and again, and again, when they tested the cure on me…” Mitzi squeezed her eyes shut, recalling how she felt all those times. “Didn’t you even know the effect it was going to have on all those people?” Mitzi’s eyes burned into Natasha’s with all the intensity of a well-cut emerald. Before Natasha could form a reply, a shout echoed through the yard in their direction. “What are you doing here?!” A guard screeched, rushing into the prison yard and yanking Mitzi from her seat at the table. “This is no way to visit someone! You could have gotten hurt!” Mitzi sighed. “I got lost…” she started feebly, but was immediately grabbed by the scruff of her shirt. “And without an escort, at that! You’re coming with me, child.” The guard tutted, dragging Mitzi out of ADMAX without so much as a chance for her and the Queen to say goodbye. Mizshu sees the note left on her table at HCN some time after the hospital visit, and goes to ADMAX right away to see Stan--or rather, Tre. She knows he’s got a lot of explaining to do. After she loses the guard who escorts her (he gets a transmission stating Tre’s loose) Mizshu wanders into the prison yard, where she meets the Queen ( Twillie ). She and the Queen end up talking: Mizshu finds out the Queen framed her, the Queen finds out about the cure to her hypnosis potion, used on Timothy ( Dju ), and, from there, she finds hope that someday, someday, she will be in her right mind again. And for those of you who are wondering, no, Tre doesn’t get away. He gets put right back in prison and more preventative measures are taken so he doesn’t use his mind powers on anyone without repercussions.
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Post by Liou on Oct 28, 2016 14:36:09 GMT -5
“I am free!” Tim laughed hysterically, his voice cracking with disbelief. “Holy freaking Hell, Jun!” Timothy picked himself up from the ground, sand kicking everywhere, and tackled Zenith. His laughter filled the shore and echoed throughout the lake, and perhaps his screams could be heard from miles away - but he didn’t care. For the first time in weeks, he was in control again - and of course he’d act like an idiot over it. Tackling Jun did not go too well - given their powers, Zenith did not even lose their balance, but he still laughed. Zenith's eyes were shut so tightly that they could not even see him. Startled by the sudden contact, they automatically wrapped their arms around Tim to stop him from falling. They nearly let go, afraid to restrain him. Then they hugged him tightly to their chest, crying while he laughed. ----------- Two bundles of damp towels huddled together on a bench, in one of the hallways of Heraclia General. Another shiver ran up Zenith's spine and they drew their towel tighter around their shoulders. As they did so, they bumped into the bundle next to them. They started and immediately shifted aside, as if they had accidentally elbowed a priceless Ming vase. "Sorry!" Zenith said for the umpteenth time that day. "I can't believe I was so rough with you earlier, what a brute." They were still gazing at Tim worriedly, taking in his every feature as if he might evaporate at any second. “If you keep apologizing like that,” Tim said, brushing the towel over his hair, “I’ll have to pause you. Hell, I am so cold. Why would I even...I mean, a lake? I jumped into a friggin’ lake. Hypno-Tim is surprisingly dumber than me.” Sighing, he laid down the towel and faced Zenith at last. Even soaken wet, his cheeks seemed to be way livelier than before. “Don’t stress, Jun - of all people in the world, you’re the one who shouldn’t be apologizing.” His smile then faded. “I, on the other hand…” “I am so sorry.” Timothy managed to say, but the words didn’t seem like enough in comparison to what he was feeling. “I am so sorry for just...slipping away like that. For sinking. For being so...weak.” "Tim no, don't..." They half-raised their arms for a hug, but immediately lowered them. Of course that was a foolish idea - they had attacked him just a few hours ago. "You've been drugged, used and manipulated,” they said softly. “None of what happened, not a single part of it, can be your fault." "You had more than enough things to battle inside your head without a hypnosis potion on top of it." Zenith refrained from holding his hand. "Mizshu told me you'd called her Shoemaker. Sounds to me like you were putting up a real fight against the hypnosis. “Shoemaker, yeah.” He nodded, his face darkening as he remembered the event. “Right before putting a knife against her neck. I owe her my apologies as well...and to Scaletta. Oh God, I tried to strangle her.” He paused. He knew well what he had done, and voicing out all of his mistakes now wouldn’t help. “You’re avoiding me.” He mumbled. “Like I’m a china doll. What’s wrong? Afraid I will pounce?” Zenith had been racking their brains for something to say; their eyes widened at Tim's last comment. "No! Oh goodness, not that..." They could not hold back any longer and timidly laid one hand over his. "It's just that you've been through so much already. I don't want to add any more. And you still have all those awful memories from it. No one deserves to deal with all that, Tim, I'm so sorry.” “No, no, no.” He cut them quickly. “I know where this is going. Don’t feel sorry for me- don’t pity me. I’ll have to deal with that from everyone else already - and I can survive that - but I won’t stand for it coming from you.” Tim raised his eyes again and pierced them at Zenith’s. This time, he did not look away. “There’s something that I need to tell you, Jun.” Zenith nodded wordlessly. They could not look away either, lost in his gaze. “How can I start? Ah, darn it. Remember my accident? Ah, stupid question - of course you do - but the thing is…” He said, trying to choose his words as carefully as he could. “I was working under Espin’s supervision. He was coordinating the experiment - when I was swallowed by that wretched portal, he was the one who got me out.” “...He saved my life.” He said dryly. “And yes, I know what you’re going to say: he put it in risk in first place, but it was my choice. I walked into it, just like I walked into this mess again.” Zenith's brow creased as they listened; but they nodded thoughtfully. "A life saved is a life saved," they mumbled. "That was his choice too..." After a brief pause, Tim took a deep breath and continued: The thing is, Jun - Espin lost his career over the accident. He disappeared, and a few months ago I finally...I saw him again. He contacted me. I responded.” Tim swallowed, he could feel his throat drying up. Maybe he should pause Jun and give himself a moment? No, the timing was just right. “He lured me in, and I could tell something was off...but I still went for it anyways. We met and talked about the accident and his life and my life and...he introduced me to Natasha. That went pretty well.” Zenith winced internally. Now it all fitted together. Timothy suddenly sprung from his seat and turned to Jun impatiently. “Do we have to do this exam thing? Can’t we just leave?” He said looking sideways energetically. “I need a drink. No, scratch that: I need a whole lot of drinks. I need to get wasted - Jun, will you get wasted with me?” Zenith leaned back slowly in their seat, feeling the weight of each of their weary limbs like a heavy burden. Tim's enthusiasm brought them a little smile - how could they deny him anything? "You know what happens when I'm wasted, don't you?" they said sheepishly after a moment's hesitation. "I still haven’t learned to fly through walls. But hey, it should be quick. They just need to check that you don't have a bomb hidden up your nose or something.” They rubbed absent-mindedly at the stinging wounds over their heart. “The cops will probably need a statement as well. But it's almost over. Just a little longer and you can go home." “Oh, home!” He smiled, putting his hands over his head. “I haven’t been home in ages! And and and...Agatha! I need to see my sister!” Dropping the towel on the bench, he then turned to the closest nurse passing by and asked: “excuse me, ma’am, can I get a telephone? No? Are you deaf? Fine. She’s deaf, Jun.” Giving up on the telephone, he sat down again next to Jun. “They just don’t listen to me, why?” They ruffled his hair playfully. “You’re not the doctor here, Timmy.” “Hmph...yeah, I’m not. But you are for sure.” He said, his smirk suddenly taking a mischievous twist. “You cured me, Dr. Z! Say, are you always so passionate to your patients, or did I get a special treatment?” The red tinge in Zenith's face grew brighter with every word he said. "Well yes - I mean no," they stammered, running a hand over the back of their neck, "I don't know how that... sorry for forcing you, really." They simply could not look him in the eye. Timothy could not help but laugh again. The sound of his voice filled the entire hallway, and it was not long before a nurse shushed him. “I am sorry, I am sorry.” He waved at the nurses and then turned to Jun. “I am not sorry. At all.” Timothy the realized how embarrassed Zenith truly was, and his smile quivered once more. “Hey, hey - look me in the eye: you did good.” Zenith met his eye and immediately regretted it; Tim's gaze was so piercing that even their deepest thoughts felt exposed to him. “Yeah, pretty good.” He repeated confidently. “ I mean - yeah, I usually like making the first move, but uh - whatever. Pssh, I’ll get over it. So, tell me now - how did you, like…get that idea? I mean, was it the heat of the moment or am I just that...what’s the word? Hm. Likable?” Zenith stood petrified, fiddling with strands of their still-wet hair. "I had run out of hands for holding the potion," they blurted out stupidly. Their mind was bursting with other thoughts begging to be voiced; but they swallowed back their words, as usual. This time, however, Zenith could not bear to hide the truth from Tim. Not after everything he'd been through. "It was scary," they admitted in a tiny voice, "because I didn't know if it would work." They took a deep breath. "But it... the... you felt nice." Tim’s expression suddenly shone as if a ray of sunshine had just washed over his face. Timothy smiled contently and laid his hands on his back, stretching his legs and spreading over his seat like a cat. “Oh, nice was it?” He teased. “Well, that’s a surprise, Jun. I always thought I was terribly annoying to you.” Meanwhile, Zenith had curled up on their seat like a tortoise. At those words, they raised their head and eyed Tim with long-suffering exasperation. "Yes," they answered with a straight face. Then the corners of their mouth rose into a smug smile. "But I'm still here, aren't I." “Here you are.” He confirmed. All it took Tim was to swiftly shift from his seat and peck at Zenith’s cheek. Before either of them could react, a doctor sprung from a door and called him in. “Ok, so word has it there might be a bomb stuck in my nose or something!” Timothy said, raising his hands in the air defensively as he walked into the doctor’s office. Before the door closed, he peered his head to Zenith and said: “Catch you later, junebug!” Zenith nodded wordlessly, stunned, one hand still covering their cheek. He had already caught them, as a matter of fact; but they wouldn't mind if he did it again. Dju is BACK and SAFE and FREE and wet and cold, so Zenith takes him to hospital, and they talk while they wait for doctors to happen. Tim is very Tim. Welcome back, Tim.
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Post by Thorn on Oct 28, 2016 14:47:13 GMT -5
((collab with Liou))) Waiting to be transferred to ADMAX was, if anything, even more tedious than waiting to be seen by (very rude, she had every right to complain!) doctors. They were back in that tiny room now: just Nyx, one of the suits and two police officers. Was it a vacated office of some kind? It looked like it. The chairs were appropriately uncomfortable. The windows were awful, narrow slits, like the bars of a prison. Prison, Nyx thought. The idea was less appalling now that she knew her allies would be there. Besides, a well-deserved break would be good for her. And you got one phone call, right? She could use that on Zenith, and they couldn’t do a thing about it! She just needed to stay positive. Except Zenith already knew she was here, apparently. Nyx looked up as they entered the room: hair down, goggles gone. Her former roommate. Jun…she thought, before giving herself a good hard mental shake. No. Zenith. “Come to gloat?” she asked, arms folded. Peeking from under the curtain of damp hair that half-hid their face, Zenith gave the officers a little nod. They shuffled closer to Nyx, arms also wrapped around their torso. Their injuries had been patched up, but the tears from the Queen’s spikes were still visible in the front of their suit. They should have been angry, far too angry to even think of visiting her. However, being angry consumed a lot of energy, and Zenith was exhausted by now. Nyx looked too miserable to be angry at, anyway. "Hi,” they said cautiously. “Just wanted to check on you. I heard your head got hit pretty hard..." Nyx snorted at that. Yeah, I heard that too. Apparently it’s okay when you guys do it.“I guess, yeah. Does it matter? You got what you wanted.” Zenith sighed patiently. "The mayor was safe in the end, yes. I just wish I'd got there sooner." She really didn't sound well. "But there are worse ways of being taken down, so it's a good thing no one had to hit you harder than that, right?" they told Nyx in an almost hopeful tone, as though to cheer her up. "They... they gave you something for the pain, right?" They had. Eventually. Only after seeing to pretty much everyone else, of course. One of the many reasons Nyx considered filing a complaint against these 'doctors’. “Yes, they did, but that’s not the point.” Nyx ground her teeth, though she had to admit that, yeah, it was probably good she didn’t get hit harder. She’d lost her powers- even if that was, as she desperately hoped, only temporary, it was bad enough. Far worse than any amount of pain could ever be. Who knew what might have happened if the damage had been worse? “I got tied up by a freaking bug, and- look, why am I even talking to you?” Because it’s good to see a familiar face even if I hate this face...man I’m losing it what am I even on about?“Anyway,” she continued, “you should be glad these guys are here because, otherwise, I’d…do something. Bad. Like, really awful. And you’d wish you’d stayed away.” “Yes, probably,” they agreed with a calm nod. “It’s fine, I won’t bother you long. It’s lucky they allowed me in at all. I’m not allowed to bring you anything yet, sorry about that. Maybe after you're transferred.” Nyx perked up a little at this. She wasn't surprised that Zenith was offering to bring her things, of course- the hero was very…not sensible, like that. There was a certain tea which they’d had, and then she’d stolen it when she moved out, and Nyx had run out of that tea months ago and missed it. How could she mention it without these lurkers hearing? She had a reputation, and stuff. She couldn’t beg for things from her nemesis! “ Bring me stuff?” she snorted. “What, like tea, maybe?” Please do.Zenith recognised her tone. They couldn't help but tease her back. "Tea? Of course not, don't be silly. But now I might just bring you some." A hint of a smirk tugged at their lips. Don't push it, they thought, she is injured..."Just like the good old days. You did enjoy a soothing cup of tea after I showed you how my powers had improved." Nyx scowled. Of course they'd bring that up. It wasn't my fault, I wasn't expecting much more than a few pretty sparkles!She missed her mask, it made glaring so much more effective. And not that she was blushing- Nyx Nightshadow never blushed! But if- if- she was the sort of person who did, it would certainly help with that too. “You still lacked control though,” she said- latching onto the first criticism she could, because it really had been an impressively startling display. “That came later. And was also thanks to me. So yeah, you're welcome.” A pause. “But yeah, it was good tea.” Zenith nodded slowly. "Yeah, good tea. Pity I ran out of it." Their throat felt tight. "And good lessons. I still follow some of the advice you gave me." The safest parts of it. They shifted their weight from side to side for a moment, gazing at Nyx from under their hair. Without her mask, she could almost look like their roommate again - their annoying, sulky, bratty, comforting roommate. Now there was no going back to that time. Well, isn't that nice? They use it against me but hey, at least they're following my advice! It actually was a nice thought. No matter what else they might have done, Zenith had taken her lessons to heart. It was a good thing, Nyx reflected, to have a nemesis who was actually willing to learn from you. To not just take their own ideas and...not adapt, and things. And if they were willing to admit that, didn't that mean others might learn to appreciate her influence on the hero as well? "Is Mike going to be all right?" they blurted out suddenly. It felt like a strange change in topic, and one which Nyx was less than grateful for, given the circumstances. Her mother would be happy to look after him, she knew that much. But that didn't change the fact that she wasn't going to see the creature again any time soon. “Oh, yes,” Nyx leaned forward a little. “Yeah, he'll be okay.” He's getting old though. Might not see him again at all.She pushed this thought aside and spoke again, forcing a smile: “How good of you to worry about Mike, Zenith. He'll be fine. Maybe you should worry about-” she gestured, “-yourself. Those tears in your suit. Not great for your invincible image. And of course I want you to be at your absolute best for our inevitable next conflict.” After seriously considering the idea of walking into a prison with a fish tank, Zenith smirked again. "Even if I weren't at my best, you still wouldn't stand a chance. But hey, you take a break before our next conflict, won't you, Princess." They corrected themself abruptly. "I mean, you give me a break. Make sure that you..." Here they hesitated, knowing better than to tell Nyx what to do. "I'll bet you can't even look after yourself and stay fit and hydrated without me to nag you.” Nyx scoffed. And I doubt you can deal with sentimental films without me to talk at.Aloud, she just said: “Well, I'll have to prove you wrong then.” "I'll believe it when I see it," they retorted. Off to the side, they saw the government agent in the suit tapping their watch meaningfully. Zenith let out a sigh. "Well. Keep your nose clean, Nightshadow." They began to walk away without haste. “Goodbye, Zenith. Don't get into trouble while I'm gone.” That's my job. Just before exiting, they turned back and said absent-mindedly: "Triple chocolate fudge cookies, right." While waiting to be transferred by the rudest people ever, Nyx is visited by a Zenith, great, that’s really what she needed! The two bicker affectionately and remember the good old days, back when they used to be… roommates?! Then they say bye, I WILL DEFEAT YOU LATER NEMESIS.
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Post by Shinko on Oct 28, 2016 14:47:20 GMT -5
Ossie was... overwhelmed. That was a good way to put it. He'd been half-dozing when Tulley commented about his friend's exasperation with traffic, and opened his mouth to reply... before abruptly being set upon by a very frantic sounding woman. It took the overtired man a minute or two to make sense of her presence and who she was, and at that point he flushed a bit. "Ah, well it's nobody's fault what happened, or that none of you could find me. And one of the heroes did save me in the end- that Glitch fellow. He wasn't helping them of his own will, and he let me go as an act of defiance. What ended up happening to him, did he manage to-" He was cut off at that point by a young girl (Mizshu, wasn't it?) who flounced into the room. She seemed to recognize his voice from the show, and sang a few lines from the theme song. "Ahaha, well miss, I aught to sound like Stormy. I do voice him in the show!" * * * Bill watched as Espin was escorted away, shaking his head. Even without his cooperation, they would find the lair. Bill was confident they would. Still, he couldn't shake the sense that the man had been trying to tell him something. Why emphasize the word "black" in the Black Cat's name? And while looking at the white hairs Tabitha had given him. Where they the feline villain's hairs after all? A disguise, not unlike the hood that Bill had worn when he was the Gatekeeper? Before he could pursue this line of thought any further, his phone buzzed- the HCN app was working properly again, it seemed. Good. Bill pulled it up, and was surprised to find himself looking at a message from, of all people, Scaletta. An apology for her actions the previous night. (Had it really been so short a time?) Bill sighed, his expression pained... then he smiled. "Benefit of the doubt. Everyone deserves it. Tim, Daniel, Mitzi and you too. My actions weren't exactly the best either." He put his phone away, and turned back towards the city. There was a lot to do yet, and forgiveness was never an easy street. But they had all at least finally made a start.
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Post by Celestial on Oct 28, 2016 14:50:16 GMT -5
Despite the fact that the wound looked rather severe, judging by the extend of the bandages wrapped around Tulley's torso, Constance smiled at his quips. As long as the agent was still snarking and being his usual chatty self, she was sure he would make a full recovery. She smiled, giving him a gentle pat on the shoulder. "I will bake some for you tomorrow then, dear. You rest yourself, get plenty of sleep and lots of fluids in you- though perhaps not the swill that they pass for coffee in these sorts of places. I have heard terrible things." She raised an eyebrow at Tulley's question. "Chlorolad...I know who he is but I am afraid I have not seem him. Oh dear, I do hope he was not badly hurt..." she glanced back to Tabitha. "Did you happen to see a boy- I presume he is a boy- by the name of Chlorolad around by any chance?" Tabitha pursed her lips. "I did not, unfortunately, I am sorry." "Oh well. I am sure he is fine. You focus on resting yourself first, Eric," Constance looked up as Juliana entered. It figured that he would have written to her. She stood aside, letting the two talk and trying not to laugh too much as their chitchat. That never ceased being entertaining. At the line about Tulley talking, Constance could not help but grin as a thought entered her head. "Oh yes, Juliana, perhaps we should tell Irene in advance what has happened to Eric and why he will be absent without leave for a while. I imagine she will be happy," she paused, considering her words. "Perhaps not about Eric being shot but about being out of her hair. I am sorry, Eric but you know it is true." She turned around as Mizshu introduced herself, smiling and waving at her. "Hello, Mitzi, I'm Constance, Tabitha's mum. It is very nice to meet you," Constance looked up at her daughter. "What a sweet mite. She clings to you like a little tick; is this normal?" "Sometimes," Tabitha replied with a soft laugh, touching Mitzhu's shoulder. She smiled a little as the girl began to sing the theme for Oswald's show. Constance blinked, giving a sign of recognising it, but whatever she was going to say, she kept it behind her teeth. That usually meant that it was something negative. Once Mizshu had finished singing, Tabitha gave a soft sigh, turning to Ossie. "It is very kind of you to have no hard feelings. While it is surprising to hear that Tim saved you, it is gladdening to the heart to hear: I had hoped that young man was not too far gone," she smiled, touching his shoulder gently. "At any rate, you are now here, safe, and you are going to be fine. But you rest for now, Ossie. You deserve it after all you have undoubtedly been through over the past few days." Constance is assured Tulley( Tiger) will be fine by his banter but neither her nor Tabitha have been Chlorolad so they cannot answer his question. Instead, she talks about Irene, which I am sure Tulley wnats to hear. Constance then introduces herself to Mizshu( Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff)) who is clinging to Tabitha. They listen as Mitzi sings to Ossie( Shinko) before Tabitha tells him she is happy he is not angry and that Tim let him go, before urging him to rest
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Post by Gelquie on Oct 28, 2016 14:53:30 GMT -5
It had been a long drive to prison, and Espin had been silent for most of it. He'd initially made desperate attempts to pull another scheme that would somehow set him free. (“Wait, before you take me to prison, I have a friend in the hospital I need to visit.” “I was in the middle of a book, can I grab a copy?” “Before we take the long drive, I really need to use the restroom right now.”) None of which actually worked. (“If you give me their name, I'll notify them.” “Uhh... Tolbert?” “There will be books at the prison, we can make arrangements to give you a copy.” “Do you know how many times I've heard that excuse? It's not that far, hold it.”) He'd even taken a few attempts to try to open the lock on the door and just go as far as to jump out of the moving car, deciding that he could handle the injuries and would just wait for the proper time to minimize them. But this was difficult enough without his tools and with his hands cuffed behind his back, and the cop caught on quickly to what he was doing. As time wore on, he made less attempts at conversation or escape, and soon he was just staring out the window towards the setting sun, his demeanor growing increasingly somber. He'd had a few more ideas on how to escape, but he knew full well that they wouldn't actually work, just like his earlier desperate attempts wouldn't either. He knew that at this point, unless some villain in hiding came charging in to save the day (highly unlikely, as they were all scattered and beaten as is), his fate was sealed. He knew this. He just never wanted to face it. After all, he'd been trying to avoid this for over two years. Ever since... Well, not since the day of the experiment. Although investigators were thoroughly investigating the case, the university did try to clear most of it up without help of the police. They did this by bearing down upon Espin... in their own way. One that never rubbed Espin in the right way. But even that alone wouldn't have been so bad, and he would've done it, gritting his teeth through it... If it were not for Evelyn Sharpe. His academic rival. They had entered graduate school at around the same time and quickly learned that they had taken similar thesis topics. Which meant that they would each have to work hard to ensure that their work still appears unique, that one doesn't overlap the other. For Espin and Sharpe, their rivalry gradually grew... intense. Cautious collaboration to ensure lack of topic overlap turned into a race to finish their thesis first, which morphed into subtle sabotages to one-up the other. Delivering the wrong information. Ensuring that one was late to a meeting. Erasing meeting dates on the others' calendars. The faculty had grown weary of them and berated them both for their efforts, telling them to just focus on the experiment, and sort out any overlaps after it was done. And so finally, they had, and they focused singly on the experiment at hand. Only Espin knew that Sharpe must have had something up her sleeve. So he introduced a new component to the experiment, one that would be guaranteed to give him the results he was looking for in his thesis. After all, what better way to test the effects of the prototype and what they see in their frame of reference than with someone who could observe the results first-hand and report them? He'd sought out volunteers, even offering a stipend of compensation for anyone who accepted and was taken in. But no one took it. Espin began to fear that his work would be for naught, that Sharpe would finish first, and Espin would need to scramble. But then fortune came his way. An undergraduate researcher who offered to work for him proved his unquestionable loyalty by volunteering. It was even better than Espin could hope for. After all, a student with more know-how of the experiment would be a far better test subject than the average layperson. He prepped the boy, convinced the panel to let him use the test subject, assuring them that he and the team would go through all the safety procedures. And everyone pitched in. He was given instructions, protective gear made specially for him. The story was spun to be a leap forward in technological progress so that they would get funding. But even then, the funding wasn't enough, and Espin couldn't quite convince the panel to do everything he wanted, everything that would provide all the data he would need to get his degree and be completely unique from Sharpe's thesis. So he had to take matters into his own hands. And he did. The experiment appeared to go awry... But Espin got exactly what he wanted. Of course, he never planned for Hikes to get as injured as he did. After all, one couldn't report their findings when they were effectively in a coma, although Espin was still able to gain valuable information in other ways from the experiment. And Espin never expected the boy to gain time powers from it all. That alone was something worth further study had it not been uncertain if he would pull through. But that was far from everyone's minds. Following the accident, even though many were involved and participated in the process, blame shifted to Espin for even suggesting the idea in the first place, for risking Hikes' life as he did, and for pushing the matter. But with what he had, he tried to do what he could with the data, and he finally had enough information to finish his degree. But trying to ignore the situation was the wrong call. The investigation swirled around him, and the department resented Espin for his risky behavior. So one day, in a discussion with his advisor... ”You're postponing my degree!? But I'm ready to defend! My thesis is nearly ready, once I finish preparing the data--” “You're really focused on that with all this surrounding us? Besides, the media is having a field day; we're just barely keeping the details under wraps. We still don't know how they're getting the information they can get. Do you really think you'll do well showing your face to the public after this?” “I've committed no crime. He volunteered.” “...Espin. It's not just this experiment. We're getting reports on incidents where you've blatantly skirted ethical guidelines. And if this came out, you could face charges, on top of more if Hikes' family decides to press charges.” “... ...Just reports of what I did? No proof?” “The proof is in the reports Espin. And not only that, your actions. You could well have found other ways to perform this experiment without risk to human life.” “At the cost of data; a clear answer.” “Not if it went wrong. We're all about finding answers here, Espin, but not at the cost of human life. We can always find a way. You were just looking at the easy route.” “The most efficient one.” “You call what happened that day efficient? ...This is exactly why you're being held back. You're not going to learn your lesson from this one meeting, and I don't expect you to. You're being held back just long enough to force you to take classes on ethics, and take some opportunities to help the community. Perhaps we made a mistake in not helping you establish connections with others better, facilitating compassion, but we're aiming to fix that now.” “But my degree... My funding... My bills...” “You can take some of the jobs offered by university to keep you funded throughout, enough to earn a living while you complete those courses. We'll help you with that if need be. And you will still get your degree once you've proven yourself, but later. We'll let you defend at a later date once you've had an opportunity to prove yourself. And then once you've proven that you've grown some compassion, that you even acknowledge that what you did was wrong, we'll sign off on your thesis. Until then, I'm not signing anything. You want your Ph.D., you'll do as we say.” “So you're holding me captive.” “It's for your own good, Espin. And besides, we have a reputation to maintain. Do you know what it'd mean for this university if you continued to take unethical measures in our name?” “It's not... These papers, how did... Who gave you all of this?” “They requested to remain anonymous.”Espin was angry at their actions... But that wasn't enough alone. Feeling trapped, he decided he would begrudgingly agree to follow the plan. He'd do what was asked of him, and then he'd try to convince him of his change--whether it came or not--until his advisor signed off on his thesis. He'd be significantly delayed, and Sharpe would graduate first under this plan... But at this point, it didn't matter. Espin was confident that he could present a unique thesis from Sharpe's, and there wasn't much else he could do anyway. He'd gone to make small talk with Sharpe about how he'd let her finish first and forget the rivalry when he found the office empty. And through a casual search, he found out who'd slipped the information. And even worse, what else she was planning to do with it. ”Sharpe! You said this wasn't about us. So what the hell is this?!” “How did you...? Nevermind. What the hell it is is you getting what you deserved.” “I'm already getting my graduation delayed. I'm already being forced to take these classes. You've already won. What more do you want from me?!” “I want you out. What you did with Hikes, that wasn't just part of another office prank between us. That was beyond cruel. And I know what you were really thinking behind it. And I've been gathering all the information building up to it. And I'm going to make sure everyone knows it.” “Why?! The university is already laying sanctions on me, making me take ethics classes--” “If I were convinced that'd actually get through your stubborn skull, maybe I'd reconsider this. No, you're something else, Eugene.” “Th-think about this for one second, Evelyn. There's a reason the university is keeping this under wraps.” “Yes. For their 'precious' reputation. That we can recover from, I'm sure; we've got many good scientists on our team that aren't you.” “And for Hikes. They don't want to make a spectacle of him.” “I'll minimize the details on that for his sake; they don't need to know his name. I'm not a monster. But what's really more important is getting you out of anywhere important before you can do anything worse. I'm not letting you take any more chances like this, and this is the only way it's going to get through your head.” “...Evelyn Sharpe. Reconsider this. Now.” “No one will want to work with you ever again. You can find some lesser work, I'm sure. But you'll never be able to put people in such risk again.” “Sharpe. ” “I've already begun. Starting with you. I'll gradually be revealing it, worse and worse, as much as I feel is necessary, until they're onto you like flies on honey. And then you won't just have fun in academic limbo. You can have fun in jail, and then out of any place where you can do big work, for the rest of your--”He had no choice. He didn't even realize what he'd done until he'd done it. He'd surprised even himself. But the only thoughts that came after that were self-preservation. He hid as much of the evidence as he could. Both for his crime and all the reports Sharpe had collected. The ones he hadn't burned, he kept close to his chest. Up till now. And then it didn't even matter. Even though he'd taken all the evidence linking to him, he was connected to the crime anyway. The department was beyond horrified and cut off their connections with Espin. The police were coming to question him. He'd gone to hide at his parents house for some time, being the only ones willing to shelter him. It worked for some time, until they began knocking on their door. At first requesting information. Then demanding it. His parents had covered for him, promised to do what they could for him. But he could feel the stress, the tension. When they thought he wasn't there, through closed doors, he heard them crying, worrying, letting their fear tinge their words. He couldn't stay. They'd find him anyway here, and then it'd only be worse for the only ones willing to guard him. So he stole away, not telling anyone where he was going. He ran out of sight and from the law for years, until he was in a position where he was confident enough to try to give fame to his name, in a position where no one could take him. With his named dragged through the mud, there was really only one way to accomplish this, and have the place he'd dreamed of again; by throwing himself in with the villains in an attempt to conquer the city, putting it to his own use. And now, despite all this planning, despite all his efforts, after two years of desperately trying to avoid the law... He was taken away anyway, with little hope of escape. Espin wasn't given a chance to run when they arrived at ADMAX, as the officer was quick to restrain him once he'd opened the car door. He was marched inside the facility, processed, ordered to dress from his prim clothing into the prison uniform. It'd taken entirely too long, having his picture taken, his fingerprints taken... And then finally, finally, he was marched to his cell. Espin zoned out. He knew he should memorize the path to get there in the event of an escape, and he tried. But his eyes kept going out of focus, his mind wandering. Did the last two years even matter?He was pushed into the confines of his cell, and the door was quickly shut and locked behind him. Espin was informed that dinner would come later, and the schedule would come tomorrow, but otherwise, he was staying in his cell. He barely heard him, and barely registered the sound when the cop walked away. He tilted his head up, taking a quick moment to examine his room. It wasn't terrible, really; not as bad as he was imagining. It looked similar to a college dorm room, albeit smaller and with fewer amenities. There was a barred window on the other side of the wall, giving him a decent view of the outside, which gradually grew darker as dusk began to turn to night. This was his new home. ...Espin's senses returned to him, and he immediately began searching the doorway, looking for weaknesses within the door that he could exploit from the inside. But he had no tools with him, and even if he had, there was nothing with which he could tamper with the lock from the inside. Of course it wouldn't be so easy. He searched for other weaknesses in the doorway... But what security measures lacked on the outside were more thorough from the inside. Espin searched around his room for what he did have, anything that could help him. Anything that he could manufacture to help him. ...Who was he kidding? There was nothing that he could realistically use to open the door from the inside. He had nothing. Not even hope. Espin took a break and sank down against the wall, drawing his knees up to his chest as he stared at the floor, not filthy but not remarkable, and yet sturdy enough to mock him further on account of not having any weaknesses he could exploit. There was enough room for Espin to move around, and yet he felt as if the walls were closing in on him, trapping him physically and mentally. This was the place where criminals go. Criminals like himself. Over and over, he'd been told that he deserves this. And maybe they had right to think so. And yet the voices of his parents, all those who'd encouraged him, echoed in his brain... "There's so much you could do, Genie." “Wow, so apt for someone so young! Imagine what he could do when he's older.” “He has so much potential!” "It's so much to keep up with... But you know? It's worth it all the while just to help you get to your full potential." "You have a bright future ahead of you." "You could become anything you want."No I can't, Espin thought to himself. Not when I'm stuck here for the rest of my life. He felt his body quaking, his eyes beginning to sting. He took a breath in an attempt to compose himself... But succumbed and drew his hands around his legs as he rested his face against his knees, his faint, quiet sobs echoing across the cell. Espin is arrested, and while he resists at first, he eventually relents, forcing himself to think his life over, and what he'd done with himself, and reviewing how his two years of running from the law were futile. It all catches up to him once he realizes he's rather stuck and will be forced to face what he tried so hard to run from, and he breaks down.
Espin totally deserves what he got. He doesn't have to be happy about it.
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Post by Shinko on Oct 28, 2016 15:10:55 GMT -5
“And a nice surprise for you folks attending the festivities today - it’s feeling like spring, highs in the low-twenties, sunshine in the afternoon, and just a bit of a breeze to keep it from getting too hot out there. Enjoy it while you can, though, April has to live up to its reputation for showers, so we’ve got rain sweeping in tomorrow -”
Bzzt!
“ - ADMAX officials say they’re still not sure what was used to get through the door, but they have released evidence that suggests the villain was heading out of Heraclia, rather than remaining in town. Back to you in the studio.”
“Hmm, sounds like someone’s trying to avoid a repeat of the beatdown in November, eh?”
Bzzt!
“ - or a limited time, you can get the entire lineup of this season’s new DUDEBRO™ action figures, the largest and most expansive set to date! Call in the next fifteen minutes and we’ll include a FREE poster detailing all the - “
Bzzt!
“ -latest star among supervillain trackers is the Black Cat, who disappeared from Heraclia in November. Janice Copland has been gathering reports of sightings of the Black Cat ever since his existence - and his disguise - were brought to the public’s attention.”
“It’s exciting, to be one of the pioneers on the tail of a new villain! I scope the media every day - it’s not easy finding cat sightings, it’s not like tracking a bear, haha - but the farther word spreads about the Black Cat, you know, the more people are reporting when they see cats they think might be him. So, now it’s just a matter of figuring out which - “
Bzzt!
“ - and yes, there’s still some controversy over bringing him back on this season. But Fireflyman’s been on probation since November, and they cracked down on him doing any vigilante work after the big crisis - if there’s a lesson to be learned, he’s had time to learn it.”
“It just feels iffy to me! I know there was the public apology, and they found that reversal serum in Tripwire’s equipment, but the fact is, he still thought it was okay to do in the first place - ”
“And would Sinclair put a hero he didn’t trust back on the show? Say what you want about him, but he doesn’t take crap from anyone.”
“Heroes sabotaging other heroes isn’t anything new, anyway. Pool party incident from season eight, anyone?”
Bzzt!
“Hello there, Robin! So you had a surprise you wanted to share with all of us? We’re all here!”
“I sure did, Stormy! Look at this!”
“Oh, my tailfeathers! Is that a baby hummingbird?”
“It sure is! I found her by herself under a bush. I couldn’t find her parents, so I’ve been looking after her. I’ve decided to call her Flitter.”
“That’s very kind of you, Robin; I’m sure Flitter will be a great new friend for everyone!”
“Maybe so, Hoot-Hoo-y, but it’s okay for Robin because she’s a bird! Imagine if a little human nestling had found Flitter and tried to pick her up!”
“Oh, that is a good point, Stormy! Kids, remember, if you see a wounded or very young animal, you should-”
Bzzt!
“ - be downtown today, covering all the Justice Jubilee events! It’s shaping up to be an exciting occasion this year, and security has been intensified, so everything should be smooth sailing this time around. But, there are a lot of things you can do to help keep yourself safe, even if a situation security wasn’t expecting happens - and even if they are prepared, things can get a little chaotic. So we have with us today Terry Murdock, author of Mortals and Metahumans; A Guide to Mundane Life in Heraclia, and he’s going to give us some tips on staying safe during any sort of -”
Bzzzz
Bill set down the remote after shutting off the television in the HCN company break room. It was the off season- a time when heroes could adjust contract agreements, retire, revise their image, and generally go about their lives mostly without interference from the camera crews- be that on a hiatus from hero-ing or still active as needed.
Seasons of Hero City usually ran twice a year- from November to March, then from June to September. This left roughly a month and a half to two months of off-season hiatus, during which the network usually aired reruns. But just because the show was off-air, that didn’t mean the heroes weren’t still making publicity appearances.
After all, the CEO reflected, heading towards the elevator that lead down to the lobby, it would look distinctly snooty and ungrateful if they didn’t come to their own annual festival of appreciation.
A few minutes later, Bill emerged into the wide lawn around the HCN building. A variety of colorful tents and awnings had gone up, people were singing and laughing and playing carnival games, and the aroma of street food was permeating the air and making his mouth water.
However, for the moment Bill ignored all of these things. His destination was a large stage that had been set up close to the center of the clearing. As he approached it, he could hear excited barking, and Ossie’s voice somewhere in the crowd scolding- he knew his son and dog were out there with the rest of the family. Most of them anyway.
He pushed aside thoughts of Gatsby- he knew he would never see the cat again, at least not as a friend. The hints and clues that had come together over the last several months as to the Black Cat’s true identity had confirmed that.
Once he reached the stage, Bill gave a soft cough into the microphone. Gradually a hush fell over the crowd, and the CEO smiled.
“I won’t take up too much of your time,” he said. “But this year, as every year, Heraclia owes a tremendous debt of gratitude to it’s heroes. Win or lose Hero City, every one of them contributes something to the safety of Heraclia that can never be replaced. Throughout the year we ask very much of them. Sacrifice, hardship, and pain. But today we come together to give back. To show our heroes just how much they really mean to us.”
He spread his arms wide. “If there has been a theme to this season, I like to think that it has been ‘redemption.’ We are all just people, in the end. We are not above making mistakes. Lord knows I am not. I was not perfect as the Gatekeeper, and I am not perfect now. None of the heroes are. I know you have all had your doubts. Your questions. But no matter the adversity they face, no matter the scorn levied at them, the heroes of Heraclia never give up. They never back down. Because this is their city too. Their home. And as long as they are here, no matter what the adversity they will prevail.”
He bowed his head, taking a step back as the audience applauded. “Now then- enough of my rambling. Enjoy yourselves, everyone- a most happy Justice Jubilee to you all.”
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Post by Reiqua on Oct 28, 2016 19:06:49 GMT -5
Miss Marković scanned an eye down the agenda that had been posted beside the stage. Sure enough, scheduled for 2:35pm was a listing for Heraclia District Combined Schools Acrobatic Troupe. Wynter had been enthusing over their upcoming big performance for months. The teacher made a mental note to position herself close to the stage in time to watch. She was always proud of her students' outstanding achievements, and Wynter had worked so hard with the acrobatic troupe - she deserved this moment of glory. Miss Marković's smile widened as she recalled a remark Jackie Halloran had made to her. Apparently she was in talks with the organisers to see if they could arrange for the children to meet with Dynamic after their performance. Of course, the children knew nothing of this scheme, but imagining their looks of absolute awe and delight, Miss Marković sincerely hoped that it would work out! But that wasn't 'till well after two, she still had plenty of time to try and conduct her other business. She stood tall and scanned over the heads of the crowd around her. Being a tall person, and wearing six inch heels, that wasn't too difficult to do. A streetcart covered with vibrant colours and loaded with a variety of figurines caught her eye. Of course Danae and her mother were there, chatting animatedly to the lady operating the cart. Miss Marković wondered briefly if the lady had a license to be selling such things here. By the look of the small contingent of security guards marching her way, perhaps not. Then she saw what she was looking for. A flash of bright blond hair, a freckled face. With her satchel of Important Things clutched firmly in her hand she made a beeline in the right direction, pushing her way through the crowd and trying to avoid the soft parts of the ground. There was a down side to wearing six inch heels too. When she drew close, however, she recognised her mistake. This was not the Sinclair she was looking for. It was his son, Oswald he'd said his name was. She remembered meeting the young man back in November outside the Shawarma Shah. Should she go and say hello? She stood at a short distance indecisively. ((I'm assuming Justice Jubilee is somewhat like a fair or carnival with room for community performances later in the day, but correct me if I'm wrong!)) Miss Marković wanders around trying to find Sinclair for some Important Reasons. She finds Oswald ( Shinko ) but no sign of Sinclair senior at the moment. Also tag to ♥ Azzie because Wynter's acrobatics friends are all fans of Dynamic (I don't really plan to actually write this bit, but thought you might be interested all the same) And tag to Lizica for a street cart that looks a little similar to Madge Oddmund's (again, I doubt it's her because I'm guessing you're not likely in a position to post, but thought you might be interested)
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Post by Shinko on Oct 28, 2016 20:31:47 GMT -5
Ossie had gotten separated from Anna and the twins when Wheatley decided to gallop off to give an enthusiastic hello to some of the teenager's voice actor friends (whom the dog had met once or twice). The rest of his family had left him to the conversation that followed, which had somehow turned into a session signing autographs for little kids. They had brought along the autograph books for the heroes, of course, but stars of their favorite cartoon show were exciting as well! Ossie was sure to sign with his real name, and as Stormy the storm petrel. He was doing a rousing rendition of Stormy's personal theme song for the kids- who were singing along as Wheatley howled- when he caught a woman hovering in his peripheral vision. She was vaguely familiar, though Ossie couldn't quite place where he'd seen her before. Finishing up the song, he turned towards the woman. "Hello, ma'am. Can I help you with something? I think-" he yelped as Wheatley started straining against his lead to greet the stranger, and yanked the dog back. "Wheatles, sit!" he commanded sharply. The dog dejectedly obeyed, turning back towards the enthusiastic pats of the children as his owner turned back towards the woman. "Sorry- anyway, I was saying I think I might know you from somewhere? Sorry, your name is slipping me." Wheatley used with permission from Avery- if you recall it was implied in narratorpost that Ossie had him, lol. Ossie spots Miss Marković, and vaguely recognizes her, though doesn't know where precisely he's seen her before. He doesn't have the advantage of associating her with a major celebrity to jog his memory of a few-minute incidental meeting half a year ago, sorry. ='D He does say hello, though, and seems to be back to his old cheerful self after the traumas back in November.
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Post by Reiqua on Oct 28, 2016 21:41:14 GMT -5
Miss Marković stood awkwardly at the edge of the small knot of children clamouring for Oswald's signature. Evidently she stood awkwardly enough that the young man noticed her staring at him (beyond the usual level of stares he attracted for looking so much like his father, that is), because he broke away from the crowd to come and speak to her. She shied away from the ferocious dog as it tried to bowl her over, but its owner soon seemed to have it back under control. He was asking her name. "Oh, it's Andrea," she said (awkwardly again), extending a hand. That's what guys do when they greet people, isn't it? They shake hands, right?No sooner had she done so than she realised that he needed both hands to maintain his grip on the dog at the moment. She awkwardly converted the gesture into a move to brush some hair away from her face. Not that she actually had any hair in her face. "You bumped into me outside Shawarma Shah that one time," she said by way of continuing the conversation. Oh well done Andrea, very well done, that's not an awkward way of putting it at all. She felt her face flush slightly with embarrassment. Okay, now I need a reason to be talking to him."I... I was looking for your father," she queried hopefully, "is... is he around?" Great. Just great. Not only had she just outright implied that she hadn't particularly wanted to talk to him, she'd also done that annoying thing of asking after the famous Sinclair, every bit as though his son would be able to happily produce the celebrity for all and sundry who asked to meet him. Smooth, Andrea. Very smooth."I just wanted to talk to him about something quickly" she mumbled at her sparkly red toes, indicating the satchel of Important Things she was holding. Talking to guys is not a strength for Miss Marković. Especially not hot guys who happen to be the son of a well known celebrity and have a scary dog to boot ( Shinko ). Maybe there's a reason she's a 22 year old spinsterShe asks Ossie where his father is because she wants to talk to him. Also present: Wheatley ( Avery )
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Post by Shinko on Oct 28, 2016 23:07:24 GMT -5
Ossie was surprised by the young woman's apparent flustered attitude, but in retrospect perhaps he shouldn't have been. She looked like she was probably about his same age, and he got the "gatekeeper fans going for the son who isn't old enough to be their dad' thing a lot. He reached down to Wheatley, petting the pit bull as he sat perfectly docilely in spite of Marković's misgivings. "Andrea," he repeated with a nod. "It's a pleasure to meet you again, Miss Andrea. I think I do remember that, a little. As to Dad..." The man looked around, then shrugged ruefully. "He's somewhere. Probably doing his best to dodge the reports who'll want to get a statement from him when he's here trying to relax a bit. I could text him but I dunno if he'll come to a stranger's summons without being given some reason." The young man looked down at the satchel. "You have a gift in there for him or something? A fan?" It wouldn't be the first time, or entirely unexpected considering this festival was nominally about showing appreciation for the heroes. Os is a little bit "ah" at what he perceives as a Gatekeeper fan using him to get to his dad, but he's polite and goes along with it, asking her what she wants to talk to Bill about. Reiqua
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Post by Reiqua on Oct 29, 2016 2:28:44 GMT -5
Miss Marković blushed even more as she realised her embarrassment probably made her look like a swooning fangirl. She wasn't! Sure Sinclair was okay-looking (and by extension his son) but she really went more for the DUDE BRO type. The Gatekeeper connection had nothing to do with the fact that she was just awkward around guys generally! Thankfully she had the presence of mind to realise that this wouldn't be the best sentiment to voice just now, so she held her tongue. But when Oswald started surmising what might be in the satchel, all thoughts of embarrassment left her. Here was just another ordinary person disparaging how seriously she took her teaching work- Well, okay, he wasn't disparaging anything yet, but he probably would be shortly. Miss Marković tried not to come across as too defensive as she explained the Very Important contents of her satchel. "I think I mentioned last time we met," she said reasonably mildly, "but I'm a teacher." She paused for his acknowledgement. "Well I set my students a writing task last week to write a letter to their favourite hero. Now while most teachers might be content to leave it as a hypothetical writing task, I feel that I owe it to my students to make this learning experience as real as possible for them." She smiled, just to make sure her words didn't come across as harsh. "I should think that today of all days it might be an acceptable thing for some school children to try and reach their heroes with a little fanmail!" she added in a tone worthy of Tabitha Kingsley herself. Definitely nailed the whole non-defensive thing. "Of course, I don't need to see your father," she continued, laying stress on the word 'need', "If I just could trust you to deliver these to him as a priority..." All the same, she didn't relinquish the satchel just yet. It would be rather exciting to meet the Gatekeeper. Miss Marković has some fanmail from her class that she wants to give to the heroes. Shinko (Because who doesn't love fanmail \o/ And if there's one thing better than fanmail, it's in-universe fanmail, amirite?)
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Post by Shinko on Oct 29, 2016 3:41:28 GMT -5
"Aaah, I see," Ossie nodded. "That's sweet, I like it. Hang on, I'll see if I can get a hold of him. Chances are he'll get some of his errand runners to actually haul the letters around since the heroes are a bit scattered, but..." The young man quickly inputted the text to Bill into his smartdevice, and after a few moments turned his attention back to Marković. "Alrighty, he's on his way. Luckily he's not talking to anyone just now, I guess his fan club is preoccupied elsewhere. I can just give him the letters if you have somewhere else you'd rather be, but if not you can wait here and give them to him yourself." Indeed, within a few minutes Bill himself scooted into view through a gap in the crowd, looking somewhat harried. "God, I need a smoke," he muttered, but he was hardly going to indulge himself in this crowd. He was responsible abotu his secondhand. "This event is far more fun when you attend as a hero and not as staff." "No doubt," Ossie agreed. "Dad, this is the woman I told you about- ma'am, this is my father, William Sinclair." "A pleasure," Bill said, offering a gloved hand to the woman- he was still wearing his gloves despite the improved weather. "I understand you are a schoolteacher ma'am?" Ossie thinks what Ms. Marković is trying to do is cute, so agrees to summon Bill, who promptly does appear. Reiqua
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Post by Reiqua on Oct 29, 2016 5:08:10 GMT -5
Unsurprisingly, Miss Marković elected to wait and hand the letters over herself. After all, she didn't really have anywhere else to be until 2:30. Moments later, her heart raced as she saw a familiar figure emerging from the crowd. She found herself internally squeeing - just a tad. Okay, so maybe she was a bit of a fan after all. She shook his proffered hand with her satchel free one. So she had been right, men did shake hands as a way of greeting people. "And a pleasure to meet you as well Mr. Sinclair," she said, "my name's Andrea - Andrea Marković." She was pleased to note that she came off far better this time. She was no longer the plain old, socially inept Andrea, she was her confident schoolteacher self again. She had no idea how much Oswald may or may not have explained to his father so she went over it all again for good measure. "So I'd be honoured if you'd see that these make their way to the proper recipients," she concluded, handing over the satchel. She paused contemplatively, then added, "I don't mind telling you Mr. Sinclair, that I think your show this season has been an excellent influence in the lives of the children of Heraclia." She went on to explain, "My class have completed an extensive unit of work on Hero City over the past few months, and I've seen them wrestle with concepts of right and wrong, bravery and selflessness, and of course, forgiveness..." she looked directly at the CEO, marveling at the figure whom she'd come to respect so much for his selflessness and kindness, actually standing before her in the flesh. She drew a deep breath before continuing. "There are those who would say that the show is a vulgar spectacle of oneupmanship with heroes pitted against heroes at the cost of civilian safety..." she drew herself up to her full, considerable height, "but anyone who holds to that view after watching this season of Hero City is a fool," she declared, "Mr Sinclair, you have my thanks for what you've done for Hero City and for Heraclia." And so saying, she subsided into her shy and slightly embarrassed self once more. Miss Marković hands over her satchel of fanmail to Bill and then gushes a little about how far Hero City has come since he's been CEO, unconsciously playing to his greatest sensibility. Shinko
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