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Post by Dju on Sept 15, 2016 19:30:04 GMT -5
Tim couldn’t help but admit that it felt wrong of him to step between Zenith and Nyx – he was already familiar with their bombastic rivalry and how personal it got. But then again, his Friend was being threatened, and so that made it his business as well. As soon as Zen blasted the floor, he sped himself up again. To watch Zen’s energy beams in slow motion was a show in itself, but Nyx’s force fields also had a charm of their own – as she was conjuring them, Tim calmly made his way under it watched all those colorful light lines draw their way through the air. They seemed like rain dripping from a window, yet sturdy and…hypnotizing. Focus Tim, he thought, got important things to do…like untie the hostages. He looked at the couple. And then at Nyx. And then back at the couple. “You fellas can wait, right?” He said aloud, “What’s the rush, anyway.” Ignoring the hostages, Tim approached Nyx and took hold of her cape. It wasn’t too hard for him to get the tip of it stuck on the train tracks. After getting it set, he made his way to the opposite corner of Nyx, crossed his arms, resumed time and said: “Nice fish bowl you got here. Rather tight in here though, no?” Glitch uses his time bending powers to sneak into Thorn's defense shield and help out Liou. Instead of being practical and saving the hostages, he'd rather spend his unlimited time teasing her by setting up a prank: her cape is tied to the train tracks! |
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Post by Reiqua on Sept 15, 2016 20:11:26 GMT -5
Miss Marković was surprised to hear that Oswald Sinclair was only nineteen – he had seemed so mature from what she had seen in their brief conversation so far. Well, apart from the part where he had clumsily bumped into her and almost knocked her to the pavement... but still, she would have thought he was at least as old as herself. And surely there was a great difference in maturity between the ages of nineteen and twenty two, she reflected. All the same, voice acting seemed a great profession, and when he started talking in his Stormy voice, she barely suppressed a start of surprise. Perhaps most young women her age didn't make a habit of watching children's TV programs, but school teachers were a little different. It was uncanny to hear that voice which usually issued from a TV screen in her classroom being produced by a real human being, right here in the middle of the busy street. “But you got the line wrong!” she berated him smilingly as he finished the quote, “I'm fairly sure it's 'and we can all take a look at how it works'.” As it happened, she was quite familiar with the line he had just quoted – it had given her quite a bit of grief! Several of her students had insisted on using the term 'heart' instead of 'eye' when referring to the centre of a hurricane. She could still hear Zak's voice saying 'but Stormy said heart so I can use heart too!' “I'm a teacher,” she told Oswald by way of explanation, “and my class did a unit on weather last term. I showed a number of episodes of Birds Eye on Science as part of that. Funnily enough, Stormy cropped up in quite a few of them!” But whatever the young man said in response was lost to her. A streak of gold had just caught her eye over in the vicinity of Gyro City. With a racing heart, she realised it was none other than DUDE BRO TM, and found it very hard to focus on the conversation at hand thereafter. As she smiled and nodded vacantly at whatever Oswald was saying, her eyes kept flicking across to the other side of the street to catch occasional glimpses of DUDE BRO TM. He was zipping about and conversing with a wide variety of people, saying words she could not hear. At length when Oswald reached a brief pause in what he was saying, she interjected with, “Well it was lovely to meet you Oswald, but I should probably get back to school... lovely to meet you...” And she walked off towards the school, still in quite a daze. She sincerely hoped that she'd picked an appropriate time to excuse herself from the conversation without seeming rude, but she'd really had no idea what was going on so it was hard to say. Miss Marković is surprised and intrigued to hear about young Sinclair's voice acting ( Shinko). She chats to him a little about Birds Eye on Science which she has used sometimes in class, before becoming distracted by a glimpse of of DUDE BRO TM ( Jayeee). Unable to focus on the conversation, she excuses herself and heads back to school. |
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Post by icon on Sept 15, 2016 20:49:41 GMT -5
“Forgive me, I couldn't help but overhear, but... That device you mentioned? That sounds very handy, at the least for reporting.”And then DUDE BRO® walked over to them. And then Fireflyman walked over to them, though this was mostly to vacate DUDE BRO℠ from their presence, which was, in Anthony’s eyes, a more than reasonable course of action. The repairman who had sauntered over was talking to them about the ethics of safety in journalism. Moss was at the soda fountain filling the group’s beverages of choice, and Anthony leaned back into his chair as Erica began chatting to the guy. She glanced at Anthony cheerfully. “Sounds like we’ve got a philosopher over here, Antho!” “I’m certain you haven’t already watched our VRcast, otherwise you’d have commented differently,” she said to the repairman. “Though you don’t strike me as the type to sit around watching a lot of entertainment—what are you, an engineer? The name’s Erica,” she said. “My friends and I—Mossy? You’re an angel, Mossy, bless you—my friends and I do a fair bit of what you might call… niche journalism.” She waved her hand casually, now holding the soda Moss had given her, then took a sip. “But Moss and I here, we do a fair dab of mechanical work on the side. You’re interested in VR, you said? We’ve been doing some really interesting stuff with our rigging configurations.” Anthony coughed, tapping his watch. “Erica, our shift…” “What? This fella here’s interested in our work, and you know Wax is always saying we should be doing outreach. In any case, Gordan,” she grinned as she noticed his name tag, “it looks like the lunch shift is winding down. We ought to get back to work, but here—take my card!” Erica fished a business card out of her rear pocket, then passed it off to him, heading toward Anthony (who was already at the door). Erica Son journalism • mechanics maskpodcast.com/rewind
ericas@maskpodcast.com 247 Bolder Pt. ext. 109 |
“We do play-by-play recounts of Hero City. Right in the thick of it! Drop by the studio some time and I might be able to show you my rig if you’re so inclined—that is, if Moss and I aren’t in the middle of some action-packed high-speed chase.” Walking out the door backwards, she raised her soda-holding hand in a mock-toast. “See you round sometime, handyman!” “If I may speak frankly, I didn’t care for him much,” Anthony commented, already waiting by Erica’s scooter. “Hush, you don’t care for anyone much,” Erica retorted as she swung her leg over the scooter and stuck her soda in the handmade cupholder. “Now, are you getting on Iggy, or would you rather get a ride back to MASK on Moss’s board?” Anthony made a face as he climbed onboard. “That motorboard hardly has enough space for one person, let alone two.” “Hush, you’re just jealous because Mossy has discovered faster-than-light travel.” “That claim is factually incorrect on multiple counts.” Back in the thick of it at Coaster 's Gyro City, Erica gets friendly (perhaps a bit too friendly, even) with on Gelquie . She passes off a business card before exiting. The other two members of MASK present are concerned and indifferent, respectively.
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Post by Birdy on Sept 15, 2016 21:40:15 GMT -5
Elwood Wieland sank down onto his seat, backpack on his lap, taking a moment to catch his breath. As he did, he watched the other people boarding and leaving the bullet train. Hopefully there wouldn't be any delays today – he was late enough as it was already. (Though a glance at his watch reminded him he still had time, but. He didn’t like cutting things so close.) Finally, all were clear, and the train departed. Elwood tried to relax as the train sped along, taking him closer and closer to his destination. Finally, the train slowed to a halt, and the doors opened for the flood of people. Shouldering his backpack, Elwood – apologies at the ready – made his way through the crowd and into the station. Taking a moment to get his bearings, he soon located the exit he wanted and headed for it. Grimacing slightly as an unexpected cold gust of wind blew past, he zipped his coat up as in the distance, a crow called, followed quickly by more and more. Some poor hawk was likely about to have a murder on their wings. Another glance at his watch told him he still had time, but he’d have to hurry. With any luck and no delays, he would make it on time. Working up to a swift walk, then a jog, he proceeded to his destination as quickly as he could in the cold late-autumn air. He slid into his desk in his first class, just as the final bell rang. Another long day of school had begun. * * * The morning classes passed without event, and finally, it was time for lunch. It was pizza day. Which wouldn’t have been so bad except that today, the pizza was swimming in grease, the vegetables on the side must have been in the back of the freezer for years and were only half-thawed and half-cooked… Elwood sighed and gingerly placed the soggy pizza slice back down onto the tray. Yup, it was Premiere Night. The day that no one cared to spend any more time than they had to with the cooking – because extra cooking meant extra cleaning. And extra cleaning meant staying late. And staying late meant getting home later. And getting home later meant less time to prepare for the Premiere of Hero City! And that’s terrible. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he’d only remembered to pack his own lunch. But he’d overslept, and started the day in a rush. By the time he finished his morning chores and grabbed a shower, there had barely been time to get dressed and grab his backpack, that he thankfully had had the presence of mind to pack the night before. And now, he would have to pay the price, or go hungry. (Though looking at the puddle of grease collecting on the tray… the latter was seeming more and more appealing.) He sighed. If he could only make it though today… then it would be okay. All he had to do was survive the rest of the school day, draw as little attention to himself as possible, and make a break for it as soon as school let out. He could do it, he could make it. He may not be there was early as some may like, but he couldn’t really help that. Skipping school would only draw unwanted attention to himself, and today of all days he wanted to be as normal as possible for as long as possible. So the last thing he needed was unwarranted attention from concerned schoolfolk. He glanced at the clock on the far wall, near the doors. Only a few more hours to go. Only a few more hours, and he would be free. Only a few more hours, and everything would change. He could only hope he would be ready. Meet Elwood Wieland. He is a totally normal teenager, doing totally normal teenager things.
He is definitely not hiding anything, nope. |
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Post by Tiger on Sept 15, 2016 22:44:18 GMT -5
Around two in the afternoon, Iskender sighed, glanced at the clock in the corner of his screen, and supposed he had a little time available to check on the dog. He didn’t much like having to call and check in on the mutt - the point of leaving him at home was to not have to deal with him, after all - but the animal tended to react rather dramatically if he didn’t get some form of attention. “Open TalkFace,” he told the computer, and instructed it to call one of the humans. Wheatley would have called them his humans, with a nauseatingly adoring expression on his drooly face. Iskender had taken measures some time ago to ensure calls from this account would be picked up without user input. The line rang twice before connecting, projecting the room out in front of Iskender. He kept his own camera off until he was certain there were no humans present - it would hardly do for them to see their cat in an office, a shark tank to one side, an empty tuna dish on the other - let alone see him talking. “Wheatley?” The cat’s tone made the name less an inquiry and more a demand. “Camera, on.” “Gatsby!” called back a very cheerful voice, as the wheat-coloured dog came into panting, slobbering view. Perched atop the bed in one of the human’s rooms, and gazing merrily into the screen of the laptop they hadn’t shut down before leaving for the day, Wheatley gave his cat the canine equivalent of a smile. “Gatsby, I can use my secret voice, right? Because the Humans are not here?” He beamed. “I love my secret voice! It is so cool! I wish I could talk to the Humans in it and tell them about how much you love me - so much that you made my collar let me have a secret voice - and I could tell them about the squirrels, too and -” “ Iskender,” the cat retorted. “Not Gatsby. We’ve been over this.” He didn’t bother correcting the assumption that the modifications he’d made to Wheatley’s collar - with a little help from a small piece of Mihtium and the proper sonic frequencies - had been done out of love, or even affection. He had hoped the dog would make a decent lackey. ...He was loyal, at least. Big enough to be ridden if Iskender needed to get somewhere high up or more quickly than he could go himself. “Yes, you can use your voice. If I’m talking, you can talk. But no telling the humans about anything. Do you still understand?” “Uh-huh,” said Wheatley. “I won’t tell the Humans anything, I won’t, because you and me are friends! And friends keep secrets, even when it is hard and there are so many squirrels and I love the Humans so much and -” “Yes, yes, you’d tell them all about the squirrels. I don’t know what you expect the humans to do about them - try to domesticate and capture them, too, perhaps?” “They could help me hunt them,” Wheatley replied eagerly. “And get them out of the trees. They are in my trees! In my Yard! Even though those are my trees, because it is my Yard.” A beat, as something seemed to occur to the pit bull. “The Yard! I went out into the Yard today because I heard the door. You left through the Yard. Without me!” “You weren’t ready to go, and I couldn’t sit around and wait,” Iskender said brusquely. “You’d be bored here, anyway; it’s all documents and coordination.” The cat tilted his head in a way that gave the impression of a sterner look. “Has there been any superhuman activity near the house?” Wheatley seemed to consider this, his brow squashed in concentration. “I don’t think so,” he said. “But I have not been outside much because it is cold and the Good Couch is so warm! Did you know the Humans didn’t close the door to the laundry room, Gatsby? I got to take socks! I have so many socks, they left me socks!” ”Iskender. You know the humans are going to be angry you took their socks, yes?” “But they left me the socks.” Wheatley cocked his head, puzzled. “They left the door open, Gatsby. They left me the socks.” “Iskender. And fine, if you’re so sure. What did you do with the socks?” Wheatley’s tail was whirring like a hummingbird’s wings. “I put them behind the Good Couch!” he announced. “With my favourite ball. For later.” “Ahh, excellent. They can’t get under there without having to move the entire couch,” Iskender nearly purred. Sometimes it was the little vengeances. “Just make sure not to drag out any of the socks when you get your ball out. Wait until they’ve bought new ones.” “Okay!” Wheatley agreed— before freezing at the very distant sound of a key turning in a lock. The front door. Which was downstairs— all the way across the house— but the Humans always told him how he had Such Good Hearing, he could hear a squirrel chittering outside even when he was inside (well— if the windows were open, anyway), and also— “The dog walker!” The pit bull let out a high-pitched whine of pure excitement. “Gatsby, Gatsby, she’s here, she’s here, the dog walker Human is here, she’s here! Should we say hi? Do you want to say hi? Let’s say hi -” “We are not saying hi! ...I suppose you will, but do it in dog. No special voice - understand?” Iskender huffed. “I suppose I’d best be going. Maintain your cover.”“Maintain cover,” Wheatley echoed. “Okay! I will maintain cover! No special voice!” As if to demonstrate this, the dog let out of a tremendous woof-- to which Iske rolled his head in the best pantomime of rolled eyes a cat could manage. “Good boy,” he said dryly. “Computer, end the call.” Iskender and Wheatley ( Avery) have a chat through one of their humans' open computers. They discuss magic collars, Iske's crool abandonment, reveal that Wheatley's speaking power (or perhaps the intelligence behind it) comes from the Mihtium, and discuss mischeif with socks, before the dog-walker arrives to take Wheatley for a stroll. Wheatley is adorable and a doof and Iske is snarky and villainous. |
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Post by Sporty on Sept 15, 2016 23:30:05 GMT -5
With a small sigh, Layla Karimi finished packing her things and stepped outside. Today's classes had gone well, all told, but with the new season about to start up she was a bit preoccupied today. When she wasn't facing down criminals and potential disasters as the weather-gifted Nimbus, Layla worked as a trainer and self-defense teacher at the Paragon Martial Arts Academy. One didn't last long as a superhero just by throwing powers around, after all, and she found a certain sense of pride and fulfillment in teaching others what she knew. She had several promising students this year, and at times she couldn't help but wonder if some of them might join her on Hero City one day. All this aside, trying to balance the strict class schedule with her duties as both a city protector and a member of a popular reality show could get a bit hectic at times. This was mitigated somewhat by her decision to forego secrecy in her civilian identity -- after all, her students and co-workers had a hard time faulting her for running late when they knew she'd been hung up chasing down bank robbers, and the owner of the academy was all too eager to accommodate the famous superhero who practically advertised the place just by being there. Of course, exposing herself did come with its own issues... "Hey, is that -- Nimbus! Oh wow, hey, Nimbus!" ...such as the commonplace harassment of particularly nosy reporters and overeager fans. Layla turned toward the source of the voice and offered up a small smile, inwardly hoping she hadn't just run into the latter. "Yes?" she asked as a preteen boy ran up to her. She wasn't sure why he wasn't in school now -- though in this city, it was entirely possible that it had something to do with the upcoming premiere -- but before she could decide whether to ask, he went on. "Hey, you're going to be in this season, right? And they've been saying you're gonna have a partner this year, right?" Layla chuckled. "Of course. Are you excited for the new season?" The boy grinned and started bouncing in place. Ignoring her question, he blurted out, "Is it Galeforce?!? Team Hurricane was always my favorite, and I've been waiting for it to come back forever." Just like that, Layla's rising humor evaporated. Her smile fell, and she cleared her throat. "Ah, no. My partner is someone new, and Gale... Galeforce probably won't be coming back." She tried to force a new smile on her face, but it was weak. "I think you'll like my partner though. You'll get to see him tonight." The chill in the air seemed more pronounced just then, and Layla became acutely aware of the time as she pulled her light jacket just a bit tighter. "I should go get ready. It was nice meeting you. Stay safe," she said as she started making her way toward the studio. Layla Karimi, aka "Nimbus," is heading out from her day job while some exposition happens (basically she's a martial arts teacher outside of superheroing and doesn't keep her identity secret). A random fan starts talking to her and makes mention of something called "Team Hurricane" and some guy named Galeforce, which upsets Layla for an undisclosed reason. Nimbus' new sidekick is also mentioned, albeit indirectly. She finishes the conversation somewhat awkwardly and makes her way to the studio. |
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Post by Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff) on Sept 16, 2016 12:50:44 GMT -5
(sorry I'm so late! I'm settled in sort of. If it's not too late feel free to interact else I'll assume she ran into her agent or something. I'm sorry it's rushed and I didn't directly interact I'm just struggling to settle in plus the laptop shut off once I was more than halfway done 8D; While most people in Heraclia were bustling about as if it was Christmas Eve and every calendar had been hidden from the populace until that same day, one young girl remained far from it. She was not in school, for no amount of it could help her learn, despite tactics discussed and performed by doctors, psychologists, and teachers alike. Much to her dismay, she found that these attempts to help her learn came at an enormous cost to Heraclia (she was still fuzzy on the details of taxes, you see). She was not in the playground, as much as she would have liked to be. The gentle frost of the morning had rendered her favorite slide too sticky, and her favorite swing too stiff for proper swinging. She was not in her shelter, much to her boardmates' surprise. It was an inconspicuous side of a building, completely invisible to the imperceptive. And she was DEFINITELY not with her agent, and he couldn't make her! He would prattle on about glory in helping people and the potential of a kayak and a new home and she would have none of it. Glory could go stuff it, she would have the same chance of helping people as she would hurting them, and she wouldn't be bribed with her innermost desires for anything. No, she was on her bicycle, nestled comfortably in the safe and sacred haven known to driver and pedestrian alike as the bike lane. Breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth as she was instructed in gym class, the girl sped away from all the bullet trains where her agent would surely track her. Presently she signaled to stop near a cluster of weeds, panting as she did so. Reaching into her pannier, she pulled out a small notebook. Now what would do for today... Within the notebook were countless names, most of which were crossed out. Hmm...Shelby. That would work for now. As for the weeds, Shelby had another test. Swiftly, she removed her left glove and gingerly touched the plant. It instantly shriveled at her touch. So at least for a short amount of time her hands would cause extreme poisoning. Heaven knew when It would go back to healing. With a wistful sigh, she put her glove back on and sped away from the hustle and bustle, reveling in the trees and mountains in the distance. Right before her bike knocked someone off their feet and she went flying. Into the nearest car she tumbled, her helmet causing a slight dent in one side. Shelby scrambled to her feet, used to such scrapes, as evidenced by her bruised and scratched arms and legs. She could by no means say the same for the person she had knocked over. Since flight had not worked in the face of fear so many times before, fighting--or in her case, talking-- would have to do. "Hi! I'm Shelby!" she extended a hand to both assist the downed person and introduce herself. "I noticed you were walking in between the cars but I was also thinking about things instead of looking, so I guess we're even. What kinds of things do you like to do? Myself, listen as often as I can. It's like flying, but underwater. Same with cycling, but it's more like flying on the ground, if that makes any sense. I guess since humans weren't born with wings we've been clever enough over time to come up with ways to compensate for it. What about you? What do you think?" The poor, culpable child tried not to tremble as she saw the person slowly rise to their feet... This is Mizshu. She appears to be about 11, and loves cycling. She does not, however, love the Hero City show, of which she is simply destined to be a part. Who can blame her? With powers of healing/poison she can scarcely control, she wants zero part of the action, but I and her agent (who will probably have a cheesy name by next round and a personality to match) will see to it that she does. In the meantime, while she yet again tries to make her escape via bicycle, she just about runs someone over and falls off in the process... |
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Post by Gelquie on Sept 16, 2016 13:57:19 GMT -5
Gordan couldn't help but give a faint smile at being called a philosopher, and he listened carefully to Erca as she went on about her field, taking visibly more interest as she began to talk about the mechanical work on their side of the job. Unfortunately, their conversation was cut short as one of them reminded Erica that they needed to get back to work. While disappointed, it wasn't as if Gordan was at a lack of things to do today either. Still, she seemed interested enough in talking about the rig, enough to give him her business card and invite him over to check out the rig. Gordan blinked at his good fortune as he took it with two of his free fingers, most of his hands otherwise occupied by either his bag of food or his drink. This was more than he had hoped for by coming over to the conversation, but he was pleasantly surprised. “Thank you,” he said, a smile on his face. “I might take you up on that sometime.” He gave a mock salute as she went out the door too, if only to mimic her action and to avoid shifting around his items while the group was excitedly going out the door. (He didn't want to wave and accidentally spill his drink.) Once they were gone, he looked down at the business card he gave her. While the conversation was not as technical as he would have liked due to the time constraints of the lunch hour winding down, it did give him a basic idea of what the device did. Of course, it was difficult to tell how effective the device was without seeing it in use, but he had an invitation... If only he'd thought to give her his own card, in case she'd forgotten, but she seemed eager enough to show off her work anyway even if she did. That thought sated him as she adjusted his items enough so he could slip the card into his pocket. He'd look more into their website later, when he had the time. For now, he was hungry, and he wasn't too interested in staying in the crowded restaurant or having that... man... interrupt his thoughts. He kept his thoughts close at hand, shutting everything else out as he took a sip of his lemonade and walked at a fast pace out of the restaurant. Gordan's invited! Yaaaaaaay!! He accepts Erica's ( icon ) offer and geeks out over the potential device. Then he exits stage left before anyone (like DUDE BRO™) can interrupt his thoughts with another... comment. |
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Post by Shinko on Sept 16, 2016 15:42:43 GMT -5
Sinclair had never liked season premier nights, even when he was a competitor and not the company CEO. Having to stand under sweltering spotlights that seemed to be trying to melt him into the large outdoor stage and blind him prematurely at the same time was headache inducing, and the heat played hell with his shoulder.
And yet here he was, standing behind the stage and waiting for his cue as he had been doing for decades. The show’s current host, a man called Wulfric Weisle, was in the process of hyping up the crowd further up on the stage.
“Alriiiiight, Heraclia!” Weisle called, his voice carrying it’s usual lisp, “It’s that time again, my lovlies! Time for the start of a brand new season of everybody’s favorite game show. Time for Heroooooooo Cityyyyyyyyy!”
Fireworks shot up into the air from backstage, and the crowd went berserk. They’d paid a lot of money to be here at the premier, because part of the event involved complete access to their heroes- even the ones whose identities were a secret, and thus were usually only available if you happened to catch them on the tail end of doing some hero-ing. But now press and fans alike would get to greet their heroes, talk to them, get autographs and photos…
At least that was the plan. Zenith and Glitch had show up looking decidedly disheveled, something about Nyx Nightshadow and a train track heist, and had spent more time than should have been necessary in hair and makeup. Cold-Man had tried to call in sick altogether, only to be roundly scolded for doing so; it wasn’t going to get warmer anytime soon and he couldn’t bail on the whole season when he had a contract.
The newbloods were ready in any event. A twenty-something with fiery red hair jerked up at her cue, Weisle’s declaration that, “This season we have some fresh faces for you all! First up- Lady Drake!”
The redhead, with a costume that looked like iridescent green dragon scales and a matching domino mask, leapt up onto the stage, belching flames from her open mouth into the sky. The crowd gasped appreciatively, applauding as Lady Drake gave a theatrical bow before prancing down into the midst of the crowd.
“And next up, Ryder!”
There was a loud revving, and a motorbike exploded over the ramp and onto the raised stage nearly plowing into the hapless Weisle as he scrambled to move out of the way. The man on the bike was burly and muscular, his face hidden by an absurdly painted biker helmet with a logo that looked like a fluorescent orange tiger head, complete with fangs that dropped down around the visor. Ryder’s leather jacket also had a tiger emblazoned on the back, and his bike was painted orange to match the helmet. He rode it at a more sedate pace down into the startled but excited crowd, which immediately closed around him.
“And of course everyone, with the new talent there must also be all of your old favorites! Let’s bring out to the stage…”
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Post by Draco on Sept 16, 2016 20:31:27 GMT -5
Kizuna had spent the previous night resting up. Not that he really needed it, but he didn't want to look half dead while on stage. Luckily the day wasn't to bad, so he was actually feeling pretty ok today. He only really had to deal with one robbery that morning, and was all ready feeling better from that. In fact, he felt pretty happy with himself for once. Then he realized the only reason he felt that way, was because he didn't do enough work the previous day... He didn't hear what exactly was said, but he did hear, "-Kizuna!" So he started to walk slowly onto stage. He stepped up with the others, a imaginary dark cloud of gloom after realizing he wasn't doing his job. The dark shadows under his eyes, paired with his all ready pale skin made him look like he crawled out of a grave... Exactly what he didn't want. He put up the best smile he could muster and waves to the people. He made sure to turn around at least once to show the scar symbol on the back of his coat. " Come on Kizuna... You can do this... They like you, they like you, they're not judging you... Wait, no they are judging... Ok... They're judging you, but don't let that get to you. Just keep smiling, nothing is wrong, everything is good, keep smiling! Remember to nod to the newbies and the host. Yeaaah, keep doing that. Nothing strange here, everything is fine, never mind the fact that you slacked off most of yesterday.... Never mind that...." His thoughts were running wild in his mind as he went through the steps. This happened every year, but he felt a bit extra gloomy today... Any one with the ability to see auras would see the most depressing shadow ever on that stage right now. Luckily that was one thing he didn't think about. Looking around to find a chair to sit in revealed that they didn't place any up on stage... " Could have sworn I requested one..." And he did, but like every year it was rejected, since standing tall and proud is more heroic then sitting. He gave out a soft sight and stood posing the best he could... He wasn't much of a poser though, and sort of just slouched there next to Weisle. The day was going good for Kizuna until he put himself into a state of depression... But like any good hero he stepped out onto the stage and smiled.
His thoughts ran wild as they directed him on what to do.
Just imagine a slouching vampire standing next to poor Weisle... I feel sorry for Weisle. |
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Post by Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff) on Sept 16, 2016 22:22:48 GMT -5
"... Mizshu!" The crowd's enthusiasm dwindled significantly, as a candle covered by a hand. Many of the cheers turned into murmurs as the girl clambered up onto the stage, noting her incredibly obvious age or lack thereof, and surely at least commenting on her garish and far too tight goldenrod-blue suit. She heard at least one or two comparisons to Little Ones and Laurels, a show long since past its peak. Mizshu ignored them all, smiling and waving, feeling her own healing(?) dust prickle against her gloved hands. Her agent, Stan G. Boorish, had trained her well. But despite the training, Mizshu could not help but avoid the cold, empty gaze of the cameras. She scarcely looked into a single one, and was grateful more than ever for her face mask. It hid most, if not all, of her facial features, and was an immense asset to what little of her confidence on camera was there. A slouchy, pale grey figure was standing next to the host, Weisle, who was beckoning her closer. "Isn't she adorable, folks?!" the ever so gracious host crowed, eliciting a few more cheers. But Mizshu could not stop looking at the vampire in concern. She tugged on Mr. Weisle's sleeve as adorably as possible for the fans, for everything she did counted towards helping people, a home, a potential kayak, as much as she didn't want to want the latter two, no it was wrong it was all wrong... Nonetheless. Mizshu whispered, "Do you think Mr. Kizuna could sit down he looks tired..." as succinctly and quietly as possible so as not to disturb the other hero's image. Weisle chuckled and whapped Mizshu on the back with such force that she'd very nearly fallen off the stage. "Of course he can, Ms. Mizshu, and I must say, what a heart you've got there! Say, can we get a few seats over here before our next contestant arrives? I'm exhausted just standing up and hosting!" A roar of applause mixed with laughter from the crowd. Mizshu was impressed. Mr. Weisle was certainly very good at his job. "Before we move on, young lady, remind the folks who may not have seen Hero City--" A momentary pause to let the audience assure the rest of the audience that not seeing the show was only just short of a grievous crime-- "how you rescue people and thwart evildoers?" A well-meaning thrust of a microphone stuck its nose right into Mizshu's face. "I--" Feedback. "I heal and produce poison, but only sometimes, and I am small but quick. No one can catch me in the water or on land!" A grin in the direction of the lenses. Perfect. Another chuckle from Mr. Weisle. "There you have it, folks, the small and quick Mizshu! Next on the stage is..." Mizshu is a chatterbox most of the time but onstage she is extremely camera shy and quiet, mostly parroting what's been said by the guy that put her up to this whole Hero City business, a guy who...probably means well, Stan G. Boorish. She notices Kizuna ( Draco) and whispers to the host, requesting a chair for him, who acquiesces until eventually ushering them off the stage when their turn(s) are over. The audience has mixed feelings about Mizshu, but Mr. Weisle does his best and brings someone else onstage. |
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Post by Jayeee on Sept 17, 2016 9:38:27 GMT -5
Before Weisle could continue, a gust of wind briefly seized him, with a blur of gold visible for only mere seconds on the stage before disappearing again. Fans in the know understood exactly what this meant, and anticipation rose accordingly. Weisle found a scrap of paper in his hand, and with visible disdain and a small sigh, he looked quickly back up to the crowd. “Ahem, as I was saying: next up on the stage,” after another quick glance at the paper he continued in a deadpan voice, “is somebody whom I personally have a great joy in watching. Not only is he-,” Weisle sighed again, “totally good-looking, but he’s such a freaking charmer too. I just cannot wait to see what he brings to the show this time around, but we all know it’s going to be sooooooo amazing to watch.” Weisle scrunched up the paper and stuffed it into his pocket with relief that it was finally over. “I feel it’s necessary to emphasize at this point that attempting to throw objects onto the stage is prohibited, and that especially means certain items of clothing.” “Now then, with that out of the way, it’s time to introduce: DUDE BROOOOO™!” That familiar golden blur shot onto the stage once more, and DUDE BRO™ appeared front and centre. During his speedy entrance onto the stage, he had already grabbed the mic from Weisle. He waited a little while to soak in the cheering and screams of admiration. “Are you guys excited?” He called out, holding the microphone towards the crowd with a satisfied nod. “I can’t wait to get all up-close and personal to you girls and lesser-girls soon, but let me just say that I am in the form of my life right now!” DUDE BRO™ began zipping around the stage, stopping at various points to flex his muscles, dance, or even take a quick selfie with Weisle (much to his chagrin). Stopping back in the middle of the stage, the blonde musclehead brought the microphone right up to his mouth. “I’m gonna take some time to get real with you guys for a second here. Some of you hotties in the crowd are going to get kidnapped. Or Used for some nefarious scheme. There’s no way around it, you dudes are in peril.” He wiped a forced tear from his eyes. “I don’t like getting emotional, bros. But I just wanted to say that i’ll always be here to save you. Forever!” DUDE BRO™ tossed the microphone back to Weisle with a grin. He sure knew how to work up an audience - and he didn’t even have to give a lap dance this time. If there was one thing he’d learnt about the people of Heraclia, it was that they were suckers for emotional breakdowns on live television. Just a single manly tear was all he needed. Taking a (very fast) running jump off of the stage, he landed face-up on the crowd, most of whom were struggling to hold him above their heads, but we excited to finally get their hands on the hero nonetheless, and began slowly passing him along. Weisle wiped the microphone thoroughly. “The frustratingly handsome DUDE BRO™, everyone! Now let’s quickly welco-,” Weisle stopped briefly as the echoing voice of DUDE BRO™ took his place. “Yo, don’t go grabbing me like that, dudes!” This was followed by a booming laugh and then, “Oh what the heck, do whatever you like, this is awesome!” Coughing loudly into the microphone, Weisle continued on, “As I was saying, let’s quickly welcome the next hero onto the stage…” I totally blitzed that performance like, BESTFRATPARTYEVER! My entrance was all like, ZOOM! POW! BANG! And then I gave this emotional speech and it was killer like, VULNERABLEBUTMANLY! Then I went crowd surfing, it's freakin' awesome. BROTASTIC! |
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Post by Liou on Sept 17, 2016 10:10:37 GMT -5
A glowing blue orb appeared in the middle of the laptop's screen, then Glitch's silhouette popped up inside it. Nyx Nightshadow started violently when she noticed the young man's presence under her shield. After an instant's hesitation, she loudly proclaimed that Zenith could not save everyone, then lowered her shield and flung herself off the train tracks. She was, however, yanked back by her cape, which was still stuck to the tracks. Nyx did not look remotely happy that she had to tear it before jumping off, to say the least. "Nyx!" came Zenith's voice, clearly audible in the video. Their silhouette hovered over the edge of the train tracks, until they added in a blank tone: "... well, just use your shield, Nyx!" The slap of a hand on someone's forehead joined the sounds from the video. The camera zoomed in as Zenith darted to the hostages, lifted the woman and flew with her to the nearest flat stretch of ground. It then zoomed onto the woman's beatific expression before Zenith returned with the man. The video was fast-forwarded to the moment when the former captives were standing with the hero, untied and clutching fresh autographs. "The two of you have been very reckless. You have no idea just how lucky you are," chided the hero's stern voice. "I never want to see you or anyone else caught in such a trap, do you understand? Nyx Nightshadow is not someone easily stopped." Zenith raised their head and gazed into the distance, their jaw set. "But know that next time she attempts something, I will do everything within my power to protect you." A pitiful whine covered the rest of the video's sound and the laptop was slammed shut. Zenith's torso flopped over it. "Why did I say thaaat..." they moaned into their hands. They pushed the laptop away, curled up on their chair in the corner of the make-up room backstage, and pulled their collar as high up as it would go. They could still see the last texts on their phone's screen - no response yet. "hey are you still nosebleeding" "are you glitching??? oy" "Timmy do you need to go to hospital if you need to go to hospital I swear I will ditch Sinclair and carry you there myself" (Nyx's action written with plenty of help from Nemesis <3) Zen is backstage, watching the video about the end of the train track scene with Thorn and Glitch, and cringing a lot. Also they are worried about Dju . |
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Post by The Scrac that Smiles Back on Sept 17, 2016 10:22:52 GMT -5
"Mattress Comet!" Weisle called into the microphone. "Don't call her short lovelies, or she'll cut you down to size!" he chuckled at his own comment, but the chuckle faded as no one appeared. "For those new to the show, Mattress Comet shares her name with the company that was first to sponsor her! Hope they don’t mind their employees being late.” he waited a moment longer before going on. “Don't you worry folks, she'll be here soon, and with a tale to tell! Next up on stage is-" The show had to go on. Besides, it wasn't like these things never happened. The ceremony has started, but Mattress Comet is not there. How peculiar. |
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Post by Dju on Sept 17, 2016 11:03:39 GMT -5
The day was just starting to get better.
The day was starting to take shape.
And then it fell apart again. How unfair.
Tim sighed and let his body be comforted by the rocking of the train wagon. When you’ve got a sick motorbike in your garage, you don’t really need public transport – but that motorbike belonged to Glitch, and right now Timothy didn’t really feel like being him. Instead, he clutched to his humble bike and let them be carried across Heraclia’s train tracks.
I was standing on these train tracks not so long ago. Helping my friend. Teasing Nyx. Being a hero.But something went wrong while he was inside her force field - and he had a gut feeling it was not Nyx's fault. It’s mine. It’s me.Tim couldn’t even appreciate the outcome of his prank at the time – as soon as Nyx’s cape was torn, his head started aching again and he felt something dripping down his chin. When he looked down at the floor, bright drops of blood stared back at him. He gazed at the hostages being untied by Zen and felt ashamed. He wasn’t much use to them. All he wanted to do then was remove his wretched helmet and catch some fresh air, but that was the only thing keeping Timothy apart from Glitch, and he wouldn’t bear the thought of them becoming one. The worst part came next: he was not the only one who noticed the blood on the floor. He tried recalling Zen's expression when they saw it, but he put that memory to a halt - it hurt too much to think about it. He took a peak at his phone. Natasha had answered his previous text. Finally some hope. His heart withered.
The day got even worse now. The train screeched when it reached its station, and the doors in front of Timothy slid open. It’s my stop, he thought, it’s Glitch’s stop. And I don’t want to go. Maybe I shouldn’t go. Probably time to ditch this show, I don’t even know why I do it anyway.He felt his phone vibrate again. “Zen.” A bright smile bloomed from his mouth. “Of course.” He did it for Zenith. And it was worth it every time. ----------- He found Zenith sitting at the make-up room. “Knock knock” He chanted by the door, all dressed up in his Glitch gear. “What’s with the long face?” He noticed the laptop in their arms. “Ah. I see.” He shut the door and took off his helmet. “Lemme guess: You’re stressing over something you said today? You know – the cheesier the line, the more they love it. So don’t be so hard on yourself.” Timothy Hikes hesitates from joining Hero City's grand opening ceremony after a bad turn of events with Thorn and Liou at Heraclia's train tracks. Thanks to his friend's texts, he works out the courage and meets them at the make-up room.
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Quintessential
Maybe later this week?”