Bagsy heavy metal-themed superhero

I had never really known the meaning of 'feel the burn' until that moment. You hear it bandied about a lot, like it's some meaningless buzzword, but you never appreciate it until you're actually burning all over, wreathed in the invisible flame of exertion, and you feel like you might drop dead if you don't stop but still you keep going because if you stop, there's a bigger chance you'll die anyway.

That's how I felt right then, cursing myself for too many lonely nights spent of the couch eating Sara Lee cakes, and not enough days spent outside or at the gym. But hey, what flabby goth girl ever expects herself to be running for her life from... from whatever the hell was going on back there.

I had been sitting in a coffee shop one minute, sipping on some foreign beverage whose name I couldn't pronounce and that cost more than I could pay without breaking a bill. I had been thinking forward to the show tonight, running through the routine in my head, mentally performing all the tricks. Suddenly (and don't these things always happen suddenly? It would hardly be any fun otherwise) there was this huge commotion maybe a block over. Cars crashing, people screaming, total destruction-type stuff. I'd like to say I rushed valiantly to the scene to save the day, but I ran like a beaten dog with its tail between its legs. What was I going to do, anyway, charge in there and pull a rabbit out of a hat? Not my scene.

So, anyway, I ran.

I got home an hour or so later. It would have been twenty minutes except for the whole "mass panic and confusion" thing. I fed the bird, got myself a good stiff drink (and that's one of the perks of living away from home, you can drink whenever you want) and plopped my ass down in front of the beaten old 19-inch television. I could have made it look like it was a 52-inch Plasma, but there was no point. Illusions are such a drain, anyway.

So anyway, I'm watching TV when the news comes on. I don't watch the news, it's too depressing. But this report in particular caught my eye, see? It was about the s**t that had gone down just a block from where I had been sitting.
They don't know what happened, figure it mighta been a bomb or something, but I figure it's someone with... you know... powers. That might just be me being crazy. I don't know, Can't say. But you gotta go with your gut sometimes, and I figure mine's mostly right. Why would it lie to me? I keep it well fed.

Now, I've had powers for a little while now, and I can't say I'd describe myself as the HULK SMASH type. I'm no caped crusader, but what's the point of breaking a bunch of stuff for no good reason, even if you can break a lot of stuff at once? To show everyone how cool you are? Yeah right, you're taking a temper tantrum in the middle of N'yawk.

Anyway, I don't think I could do much with the powers I've got, anyway. Making something look like it's something else is cool and all, but how many practical crimefighting applications does it have? There's the animation, too, but that always ends up being fire. I don't know why, but it does.

But right then I had one of them, what do ya call 'em? Epiphanies. Decided right there I was going to be a hero, useless powers or no, and fight to the best of my limited ability for the forces or truth, justice, and Sara Lee cheesecake. I let the bird out of his cage for the night, picked up my hat, and grabbed the key to my moped.

There's a new hero in town, b***hes, and she's a fat little goth in her 20s. Look out, all you ne'er-do-wells, Abrianna's in town.

"Jimmy, would you like to go next?" asked Bob, the fat lovable lug who ran the support group meetings.
"Sure," the man named Jimmy responded, looking around at the circle of people who had gathered in this high school gym to talk about how much AIDS sucks, as if they needed confirmation "where to begin?"
He paused for a moment, recalling his day and trying to find a decent order in which to retell it to these people who really didn't care "I helped a woman today." he began with, while watching the dull faces spark with a glimmer of intrigue.

"As you all know, I lost everything to drugs and have been free and clear for 6 months, I'd elaborate, but that's for my rehab groups." he paused for laughter. There wasn't any, walking corpses rarely laugh, "Anyway, I've been making it a habit to excercise vigilance wherever I can."

"Anyway, this lady got dragged into an alley by two guys in balclavas, as always no one stopped to take notice. Fair does, neither of them had stopped to take notice of me sitting in the alley way, so I walk up behind them... and I wont bore you with the details, but I clobbered them pretty good"

The group looked reasonably disappointned at being denied the meat of the story, but Jimmy continued on with a wider smile than previously "Lady was really glad, said that she was so happy someone saved her and... well, you know, she'd do anything. Yaddayaddayadda." he leaned forward towards the group, as any normal person would have done when the fight scene was approaching "I say this: 5 bucks or a coffee. Small favours for small requests, huh? I end up drinking a coffee and snacking on the best double choc chip muffin on the comfiest sofa you can imagine and all because I had the balls to do the right thing and take credit where it was due"

He leaned back and stretched his arms out and had them lie behind his head "Do nice things and you shall be rewarded, my friends"

The meeting continued on, and no one really had their lives changed by Jimmy's inspirational story. All the more shame, he didn't come here to change lives, he came to cope with his own.

After all had seperated off on their seperate ways, he walked the streets to his humble home, a delapidated building on the south side of town.

Things hadn't always been this way. Once he was a mildly successful office drone wearing a blue suit, a smart haircut and harbouring a large desperation in his life. Then he met Miko...

2 years, 3 classes of drugs, a couple of thousand dollars and a mental breakdown later, he found himself wearing a tatered "I LOVE NYC" T-shirt, a discarded leather jacket, some jeans which even a trendy teen would say are too frayed, messy overgrown hair and a horrible stubble.

It wasn't always like this.

Good phrase, helps keep you from drowning in despair.

With great speed and stealth, he pulled himself up the drainpipe siding the building and snuck into one of the broken windows, to his dusty, empty and filthy apartment.

He let out a sigh and curled against the wall, closing his eyes. Death was waiting for him, the slightest cold or flu epidemic would be fatal, thanks to the virus coursing through his bloodstream. With a final curse to his empty fate and a memory of his long gone beloved, he drifted into a haunted sleep.

-

The foundations shock violently as the 7 minute Earthquake erupted the streets of the city. Jimmy bolted awake from his coma, just in time to see a beam fall in his direction. Instinctively he dived to the side and rolled. The floor cracked under his feet and with a side leap he only narrowly avoided falling to the ground floor.

"Rude awakening..." he moaned, as he dashed for the stairs, avoiding any small danger the derilict buildiung threw at him. None too soon he found himself sliding down a banister and barging through the heavy door.

The ground still shaking, he held his balance against phonebooth and praised his fortune for cheating lady death yet again.

Working in this damned office everyday can really grab at your nerves. You punch in everyday, sit at your damned cubicle, watch the same damned people pass you in the same damned order, OH WAIT SOMETHING NEW! Look at that paper ball next to the trash can! Yesterday it was on the RIGHT SIDE! Todays its on the LEFT! When variables like this are the most change you get in a day, you know somethings wrong. So why do I still work here? Good money. Reeeally good money. All this repetitious s**t Ive put up with over the past 3 years is well worth that check I get every Thursday. But really, I havent been honest. Theres more to this job than all the boring nonsense. Both good and bad.

When most people take a look at me, they dont see an office whore. They see a construction worker. Maybe a firefighter. Football player even. At 64 250 pounds, Im not your typical office worker. So when I elicit strange looks from some people when I enter the office in the morning, it doesnt faze me. Ive been getting strange looks my whole life. Ive always been one of the biggest guys throughout my entire school life. As a child I was a fat thing. Nah, lemme take that back. I was obese. I endured the typical fat boy ridicule, sooner or later it stopped affecting me. But suddenly, once I hit puberty, I seemed to just lose all my baby fat in a matter of months. Then I started to beef up. My parents and doctors just called it awesome metabolism. I had no problem with it, as you can imagine. I stepped into high school as an entirely different guy than I was previously. I was getting totally different vibes from girls, and I was lovin it. The football coaches wanted me to play football, and I did, for awhile, but I realized that it just wasnt for me. So I continued to be a ladies man, cool with the fellas, and was one of the most popular guys. Hell, I wouldve even been prom king had Bob Erskwhiler not stuffed the vote box full of phony ballots. So I left the high school life and went off to college, yet I continued to live the same exact way I did in high school. No problem here. But my grades started to slip and I realized that if I wanted to be successful and buy my mom that huge house she always dreamed of, I had to get my act together. I hit the books hard, and went into complete nerd mode. I graduated with a degree in sociology. I was offered a office job at SOGNASTYS PAPER CO. as soon I graduated, and with the money they were offering, I just couldnt turn then down. 3 years later, here I am, doing the same exact thing I was doing when I first got here.

So today, Im on my lunch break, same damned sandwich place, same damned seat in the same damned corner, eating the same damned turkey sandwich. With the same damned Pepsi. And I could swear I used this same damned cup yesterday. But as Im eating my sandwich, I feel tremors under my feet. This is something NEW. Its not some train speeding underneath in the subway. The tremors get more violent. This is something DIFFERENT. The ground begins to rattle, the people in the shop are beginning to look bewildered and afraid. Dishes begin crashing, the ground begins to crack, people are now getting hysterical. Im loving every second of this. I am so beside myself with utter glee that I do not realize people attempting to flee the shop as it collapses upon itself. Uh-oh. Damn, Im dead, right? Well, nope.

I shoved the about 3 tons worth of bricks and slabs of concrete from off of my body and got out of the rubble to survey the damage---with a grin on my face. Sure, people had died, millions of dollars will be lost but this was different. This was something NEW. I love it. Oh wait, at this point youre probably thinking How the hell did you survive the collapse?! Howd you move all that rubble?! Well, uh Im a mutant. Or something. Remember me hitting puberty and losing all my baby fat and beefing up and all that nonsense? Well, I came up with this theory, straight out of a comic book or something. You see, I think that at puberty, my mutant gene activated and I became all sexy and strong and sex and macho and win and YES. Simple. But no one knows of this secret, as Ive told no one. Id always thought that the government would hunt and capture me like some kind of wild beast and do horrendous tests on me had my secret gotten out. For this reason, I have a fear of men in black suits. Seriously.

Before we continue on with the story of Me and Destruction NYC, lets have a little flashback. The year is 1995. Summertime. I was visiting some relatives in Georgia, and I was hanging out with my cousin and some of his friends. They thought it would be a cool prank to take me out to the woods besides the highway and ditch me, leaving me to find my way out. And this is exactly what they did. They brought me out far into the woods and just bailed. So me, Mr. Cool, trying to act all tough, simply begin walking to where I believed was out of the woods. I knew I was getting close because I began hearing the sound of traffic. With a relieved expression on my face, I began to walk up the little hill that would eventually lead to the highway. But I then heard a loud crash and looked in horror as an SUV came flying through the trees straight at me on some super thriller movie s**t. Not having any time to really react, I simply out my arms up. Like that would stop a goddamned SUV. Well, s**t be my balls, it did. The SUV simply smashed into my arms and bent into a funny shape before falling right in front of me. I stared in horror at first, then looked at myself and began touching my body making sure I hadnt lost any pieces. I then heard my cousins voice in the distance.

Oh s**t mang, you think he awright?

Me, with my sick sense of humor decided to play a prank of my own. I dropped to the ground and began moaning loudly. I then heard one of my cousins friends voices.

Oh s**t thats his voice, mang!

They ran over and found me on the ground right next to the f**ked up SUV moaning in pain.

Aw naw, what we done did?! my cousin cried.

After a few minutes of them all weeping and crap, I sprung up with a loud GOTCHA! as I cackled with laughter. My cousin just looked at me with a horrified, twisted up face.

What the? How how you gon do that to us, mang?

Teaches you not to play some f**kin prank on me, dammit.

We should get outta hurr before polices come.

So we fled and laughed about it later on. I wonder what ever happened to the person/people in the SUV? Heh.

Now, as I stood there watching the chaos going on in NYC, I could give a damn less about what had caused this. I could give a damn less about the fact that the place where I worked was destroyed. All I knew is that someone finally destroyed this streak of absolute boredom in my life with something fresh. Dead people? People f**k a lot, we can replace them. Destroyed buildings? Eh, we can make some more. Ive got no job now, and someone has given me the chance for a new life. Time to start fresh on a new page, in a new chapter in that book that they call my life. Here goes the big guy with the strange name, out to start anew. Again. Hello, world, Norfas Apasair has come to pillage all your villages.

OOC: Well now, this is my first board RP post in like... a year...? Or two...? Feel free to tell me if I need to change anything.

OOC: Sorry it's so short and suckful and I didn't work in the whole Earthquake thing, I'll probably do a follow up a bit later. Also note that having metal hair is not the extent of Cliff's powers.

IC:
A massive wall of thunderous noise erupted around Cliff, as though the entire world was trembling. He looked down into his freshly-purchased beer. "Hunh, sounds like the next act's just started," he grumbled to himself. "And I'd just bought another beer. Typical." He downed the drink, then waded into the crowd and dived into the pit.

Bodies surged around him as people pushed and shoved while the music rolled over head. In all honesty, the pits were the only reason Cliff really came to these local shows. The venue was dank, dirty and cramped, you could've gotten a better sound system by leaving a bunch of amps to rot in a swamp for ten years and the bands themselves were generally a sty bunch of talentless nobodies, but they were cheap and there's nothing like a damn good pit to vent your frustrations.

Cliff's train of thought was interrupted by something impacting on the back of his head. He spun round to see some weedy kid with greasy black hair fighting invisible ninjas in the middle of the floor.

"Leave that fing emo bulls**t out of metal shows, a**hole!" he yelled before slamming a meaty fist into the kid's face, then grabbed him and lifted him up on top of the crowd to be surfed away from the pit. "Fing hardcore cs," remarked Cliff.

He stood towards the side of the pit, whipping his head round and round in time to the pounding of the drums. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a mosher fall to the ground and went to pick him up out of respect for a fellow metal-head. However, when Cliff got the guy to his feet he noticed that the fallen body was lacking a head.

"Holy f***ing s**t!" he shouted. Others in the crowd began to notice and some started panicking. Cliff decided he'd rather not stick around to find out what the hell was going - he didn't feel like risking losing his head to a crazy bastard for the sake of crappy local show.

He rolled out of bed and trudged into the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, he noticed that the lower parts of his hair were, bizarrely, covered in blood. "What the hell happened last night?" he groaned as he turned on the shower.

"Sonofab**ch!" he yelled out as he ran his hands through his hair to work out the tangles from the previous night. His hand was covered in shallow cuts. "The f**k?"

He turned off the shower and went to inspect his hair more closely. It had a peculiarly metallic sheen to it when he held it to the light, which was odd because Cliff was not the the type of guy to use conditioner. Carefully yanking out a strand, he went over to his fridge and grabbed a block of cheese. The hair cut through it like a knife through hot butter. Suddenly, he had a flash back to the headless body at the show last night and it dawned on him what must have happened.

"Brutal."

"...and that's why the district couldn't possibly afford another teacher until the next fiscal year."

"Uh huh." CK murmurred, scribbling away furiously on his reporter's pad. In his entire conversation with the superintendant, he had only written down "No new teachers." the rest was a rather elaborate sketch of a monkey wearing a fedora.

"Well thanks for the scoop," he said reaching for his blazer, "I'm sure it's page 1 material."

Outside of the school district office, he openned the passenger side door of the ancient Ford Escort that served as the New York Ledger's company car and climbed accross to the driver's side. The door to the driver's compartment hadn't openned properly since 1998, and the publisher refused to spring for money to have it repaired. Said he was saving money to buy a new one, but somehow CK doubted that.

He leaned back in the seat and sighed. They weren't expecting him back in the newsroom for another half an hour. He debated his options. He could go to Starbucks and wait on line for half an hour to get a latte, or he could take this moment to catch a quick nap.

As if sensing his intentions, just then his cell phone went off playing the anonying samba ringtone that all the work phones came pre-loaded with.

Instinctively, CK grabbed it and flipped it open.

"Colin Koskey, New York Ledger," he recited into the mouthpiece.

"CK," the voice of Emma, the news clerk came over the line. "You're in midtown, right?"

Whenever someone in the office asked where you were was always the secret hint that they had an extra assignment up their sleeves for you. CK felt the urge to lie for a moment, but he didn't want to get Emma in trouble. He'd been trying to get her to go on a date with him for months.

"I might be, " he said coyly. "What's up?"

"Boss got a hot tip," She said hurriedly, "The mayor's going to to be meeting with the leader of the Hell's Kitchen protests off the record. Boss wants you to head down to City Hall and grab him for comment as he leaves."

CK was floored. "The boss wants me...the education reporter...to get a comment from the mayor?" He saw visions of himself confronting the mayor with harsh unyielding questions, and then someone handing him a Pulitzer Prize before he even made it off the steps

"Bill's up in the Bronx talking to the D.A., he won't be down in time..." Emma started to explain, but CK had already snapped the phone shut and was tearing down the street as fast as the ancient car and New York traffic would allow.

He only made it two blocks before the flashing lights of an NYPD car began to appear in his rear-view mirror. Uttering a slew of profanities, he pulled over to the side of the road.

The cop saunterred to the side of the Escort and lowerred his head. "License and registration please."

CK mentally said a silent litany to the patron saint of journalists (although he wasn't sure there was one), and passed the officer his press pass.

"This isn't your license, sir," the cop said dourly. That actually worked every now and then but clearly not now.

CK ducked over to the glove compartment and began rummaging through it for the registration and insurance card, praying that the publisher had at least kept up the insurance bill so he could just get a ticket and leave when he felt a rumbling in the ground.

"What the..." he heard the cop say!

He sat straight up and looked in his own rear view mirror only to see a storm of debris being thrown up and down the street coming directly toward him. His mind stood completely still for a moment. He didn't know what to do. He was brought back to earth by the sound of the cop slamming the backdoor of the Escort shut and getting in the back.

"Floor it!" the panicking officer screamed.

For lack of a better idea, CK did just that. He turned the key in the ignition and floored the gas pedal.

Clipping the car in front of him, he raced down the street, trying to escape the oncoming, shockwave, but it was advancing too fast, and there were too many people and cars in the road in front of him to keep this pace up. He felt the back of the car lift off the ground, and began to tumble head over heels.

Then everything went black.

He didn't know how much time had gone by, but he openned his eyes to find that he was upside down. The entire right side of the car was crushed, had he been sitting in that seat he'd be dead. His seatbelt was suspending him above the ceiling of the car which was resting atop the rubble-strewn road. He was actually quite comfortable, and didn't make any effort to extricate him from the crushed car.

The screams of the officer behind him brought him back to the present. The cop had his right leg trapped in the part of the car that was trapped. His screams indicated he was in quite a lot of pain.

CK unclicked his seatbelt and fell headfirst onto the dashboard. Awkwardly reorienting himself, he found the handle to the door and openned it. Apparently being caught in a gigantic city-consuming shockwave had been enough to open the door for the first time in 9 years. Thinking about the broken door immedietly made him think of the Ledger and Emma. He hoped she was okay. He couldn't help but remember her in that short red dress she had worn to the company Christmas party. Every man in the room had been drooling over that night.

The cop's screams went to a louder and more shrill level. "Oh God, what's happening to me," He cried in a voice that was way too high. CK scrambled out of the car and went to open the door to the backseat to assist the trapped officer.

Wearing the same red dress she had worn at the christmas party, and screaming at the top of her lungs, Emma sat in the back seat, her mostly-bare leg trapped beneath the rubble.

CK blinked and did a double-take and suddenly the officer was back in the seat. "I must be losing my mind," CK said aloud as he grabbed the officer by the shoulders and pulled him from the wreckage. The man had lost consciousness, which is good because he probably wouldn't have reacted well to the sight of his bloody and torn leg.

For the first time, CK had the time to survey his surroundings. The city lay in ruins, buildings had chunks torn from them, and the streets were literred with rubble, debris, cars and bodies. CK stumbled a few steps and fell to his knees. What in the world had happenned? It was like September 11th magnified by several thousand. There was no warning. Where were the fire department? Where were the police. This led CK to think about the police officer behind him. He had to find medical help for him.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a pair of hands grabbing him on the shoulder.

"Oh thank God, a police officer!"

CK was confused. "I'm not...I'm not a..." He looked down and saw that he was no longer wearing his blazer and khakis. He was wearing the dark blue of the NYPD, with a badge, radio, gun and everything. "I'm not a police officer?" he said.

He blinked, and then suddenly he was back in his old clothes. So did the man who was shaking him, he stepped back a few steps and began to wander around aimlessly.

CK collapsed on the ground. What in the world was going on?

Before there was darkness. A never-ending of pure inky blackness. Before it had just felt completely empty. But then, just as David was about to give up hope a white light formed out of the corner of his eye. A white light which swallowed him whole and brought him to

A hospital waiting room. It appears as though he had been sleeping, as he stirred from his position on the chair, trying to gain his bearings before noticing how crowded and busy the hospital was. Numerous individuals were gathered around the hospital, victims of the disaster that occurred before. So then that whole earthquake wasnt a dream? And he was in a hospital? So then, it MUST have happened. He must have been hit by that flying piece of debris, but then, if that had happened

Why did he have no injuries? There wasnt a single scratch or bruise on him at all. He looked perfectly fine! But why?

As David was busy pondering the strange events that had occurred concerning him, another individual had walked up to him. David looked up to eye a nurse looking down on him, noticing him apparently no worse for harm. Are youalright sir? If you are, would you mind making way? We have too many patients and too little room to cope. We dont really need homeless people in especially during a crisis, and well, you look alright

David simply nodded, still in a bewildered state, and quickly vacated his seat which was promptly filled back later. He raced out of the hospital as quickly as he could, but his lack of knowledge on the map of the building intervened this somewhat. At last he managed to leave the hospital, and stared gobsmacked at the scene before him. Several ambulances continually rushed back and forth from the streets beyond, bloody and injured people were surrounding the outskirts numerous doctors and nurses trying to treat all the people that were there but struggling to do so.

Had he been wrong? David was sure that rubble had collapsed on him. He recalled the impact of it crashing onto his skull, but was that all just imaginary? David quietly wander away from the hospital, into the streets beyond that was consumed in the chaos of recovering the bodies and securing the streets again. He had to find that street corner. The corner where he was convinced he had died.

OOC: I've been waiting for this one =3

IC:

Valerie McMillain had been the other side of the city when the tremors hit, sat safely in her room of the apartment she and her mother shared. Her room was brightly coloured, and full to the brim of random junk, the walls lined with posters and paintings, shelves stacked high with comic books.

She had been watching TV when it happened, and was greatly suprised to have her music videos interrupted by an emergancy news bulletin. The footage of the event floored her. This was horrible, so many people hurt, killed, buried alive, she had to do something, get down there and help. She could, since she new she was different.

She'd known ever since about 14 or 15, ever since her mother and father had divorced really, when Val had started doing strange strange stuff. Dodgeballs would bounce off several feet away from her, and then there was the darkness... But her father had helped her through it all, seeing him at the weekends, in the country, he'd shown her all his old comics, her new idols.

Rushing into the lounge she shouted urgently for her mom, who was also watching the news on the tv. You wouldn't even tell they were related by looking at them, Trisha was a, slighly ill looking, woman in her early thirties with dark skin and hair, as opposed to her daughter, who was a tall, thin, stark white eighteen year old. Even her hair was white, excepting the very tips. Heck, even her clothes would bleach to black and white after a few weeks of wear. She'd tried being goth once. That didn't really work out.

"Mom, I've like, totally got to get out there! I can-" Val blurted, grabbing her jacket and shoes. Her mother sighed. "I know I can't stop you, hun. I wish you wouldn't go of on these ideas... but... good luck."

"Like, thanks Mom." Stopping to hug her mother, Val darted out of the door and began to make her way to the epicentre.

Sighing to herself again, and coffing heavily, Trisha returned to her sowing.

OOC: Sorry for posting quick succession, but I felt like the RP needed some driving force to move our chars together somewhat and give them something to do at least. This post introduces a dire situation and impending danger quickly approaching. Can the characters find out about it and do anything to prevent it?

14 hours after the devastation

Night had befallen the city of New York. However, it remained brightly illuminated by the city lights belonging to buildings and homes still standing and the constant flashing of dancing blue and red colours blanketing the streets and roads. Rescue operations continued to rescue those still trapped in the rubble and debris as well as the bodies of those no longer alive. Although the sun had fallen the city wouldnt sleep for quite some time, even if it ever slept at all.

In an old and somewhat disused manufacturing site, the sounds of shuffled footsteps echoed across the usually empty site. A man tiptoed carefully across the site littered with quiet construction vehicles, until he arrived at a warehouse. He paused, and then slid the wide door to the side gently, gaining him access into the warehouse. The building was illuminated on the inside by a single bulb. As the man walked in, he instantly paused. Sweat began to run down the base of his neck, as he felt something hard, cold and metallic pressed against the side of his temple.

Youre late. Spoke the intimidating individual from next to the man. The man cautiously shifted his weary and agitated eyes to the other person present, sweat continually dripping from his brow. I-I-I yeah. Im s-sorry. C-couldnt be helped. T-that creep Madison wouldnt give into the plan at first, he said he wasnt exactly willing t-

You failed? The intimidating voice spoke more loudly.

N-no! The sweating man quickly shouted in response. I-I told him everything you told me to say. I-I brought him around. He said hed agree to do it.

Perfect. Madison and all of the other gang leaders are idiots. Theyre like vultures, willing to swoop down on their dying prey and eat everything within the carcass. They think that such a brilliant plan as this, striking at the city after its been crippled like this will allow us all to finally assume control of this godforsaken city. The intimidating voice said, becoming more softer. It dropped the gun that had been aimed at the underling.

The sweating man frowned. He seemed perplex. I dont understand. Are you saying that the control of the city isnt our plan, that its-

Nonsense! The intimidating voice shouted. Of course this is what its all about. Just get back to your post. Inform the rest of our gang to be ready for this. Were going to capitalise on this citys dire situation at sunrise in only 6 hours time.

"Looks like we're on the road again, Miko." Jimmy muttered to himself as he stared up at the sky, letting his left leg dangle off the edge of the fire-escape he found himself lounging on.

His hand releases an empty McDonald's wrapper which the wind swallows and carries into the vastness of New York City.

Despite losing his make-shift home, his spirits were rather high. Settling down never did suit him. Before the drugs he was a typical office drone and each and every day he'd long to be free and unconfined.

A childhood of Spider-Man comics and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles can make any New Yorker long to take for the rooftops and fly. Every day a younger Jimmy would stare out of his window and sigh as the work system crashed for the 8th time that week.

Back in the present, the ex-addict hopped to his feet and surveyed the skyline with a wide beam. Dreams can come true, though they come at a great price. With a large running start he sprung himself into the air, rolling across the floor of the next rooftop, then down an alley, catching the fire escape and letting himself drop down to street level.

Perhaps the best gymnasts in the world would be able to pull off these type of things, but it would require constant training and assessment of each individual stunt. To Jimmy, it was just instinct.

Of course, impressive instinctive agility may be the thing of dreams, but something as basic as having a home often outweighs it in terms of desire. Despite the fun and 99 cent hamburger he just had, he still lacked a place to go and shelter for the night.

That kind of sucks.

He had just been enjoying himself at the party, cranked on enough ecstasy to give a steer the feelies, and having a very one-sided conversation with the attractive young woman sitting next to him. Her shirt was made of silk, and something about rubbing his fingers on it was, well, it was just great.

It had seemed that everyone around him was getting worked up about something or another, but he was feeling too fantastic to care. That is, until he started to feel warm. Real warm. Like, warmer than usual. Everything around him was taking on a reddish cast now, and everyone seemed to be genuinely freaking out. The woman who had been sitting next to him was now fleeing and screaming, although he figured she had got a bad hit of something or other. She stripped off her gorgeously smooth silk shirt as she ran, and he picked it up to feel it, only to realize it was on fire.

It's on fire. He thought in his muddled way, not really realizing what this meant. In fact, he thought, there seemed to be a lot of fire around now. The guy who owned the place was now plucking people tripping out of their minds or just passed out from liquor and coke from the floor and rushing them out the door, and the guy was walking over to him now. He opened his mouth to ask what the problem was, man, and if he wouldn't just chill, there was still plenty of party left, but he only got as far as "Heeeeeeeeeeey--" when the man began clutching his face and screaming, the man's skin bubbling and scorching from the burst of superheated air rushing at him.

-SEVERAL HOURS LATER-

He was sitting at a table in some guy's basement, with a couple other people. The fire had been a huge buzzkill, and he was largely in his right mind now. He still felt a bit giddy, but he was with it enough to know what was going on.

"Right then" said she, a plumpish sort of woman given to carrying herself seriously. "I call this first meeting of our ragtag group of vigilantes to order."

She went around the table for a quite unnecessary roll call. Unnecessary both because there were only four of them, and because it was the first time they had all been in the same room. Hearing his name, he sighed and replied that he was, in fact, present. This completed, their fearless leader then moved right along to the next order of business, as though this were a meeting of the chamber of commerce rather than a collection of freaks out trying to stop other freaks from killing a bunch of people. He did not feel the need to mention the fact that a few hours ago he had just bruned down a block of houses in an upscale residential neighbourhood, After all, nobody had been hurt.

"So," spake the chubby one again, "We should probably go out and fight some supercrime. Being that's out entire purpose, and all."

But then spoke one of the others, a young man no older than 16 or so in a hastily-assembled costume with a music note on the front: "Do we have any supercrimes to foil?"

They didn't.

David continued to walk throughout the streets of the city that had befallen into chaos and carnage. He could hear the screams of many drowns out all the other noises in the city. It felt overwhelming. A part of him wanted to help rescue those whom were hurt, but another instead continually tugged at him to try and figure what had happened.

Why was he still alive?

It had taken him some time, to sneak through the cordoned off area, but regardless, he had to see. The street corner. And now, he was here.

David was gobsmacked. His eyes widened as he saw the area that was there. He could clearly see the spot where he fell unconscious, and he could most definitely identify that rubble did collapse there. Several pieces of brick, mortar and steel littered the blood stained area. And yet, there was a most peculiar pattern or shape, in which there were no debris at all.

David moved ever closer, gently climbing on the accumulated rubble. Upon the top, he surveyed the area that wasnt covered in debris, and finally gasped.

It was a human shape. Or at least, there was a clearing just right for a human being. His size, in fact. Was that the answer, then? Did he have the most fortunate luck that all the debris narrowly missed him and in fact surrounded the outside of his body? It would explain why he was physically fine. But the chances of that happening was just so remote

And the feeling of actually being hit by that flying piece of mortar still felt most real. If that was the case, where was the stone? And where was the cut on his head?

He was utterly confused.

He picked himself up off the floor minutes later. He had to get back home, if he was caught trespassing then he might be presumed as a looter. No, the best thing would be to think about it at home

There was a movement in the corner of Davids eye. He turned, and he could see two shadows not to far from himself. They shifted within a nearby building that was still standing although was no doubt now structurally unsafe. Looters, then? It was certainly probable. They would probably be searching for any money or other precious goods in an attempt to claim for themselves. David was going to call out, but thought it would be risky. Instead, he would report it to the police, but he had to confirm his suspicions first. It was extremely late at night, 3:35am in fact, so the poor lighting might not be working in his favour.

He edged closer to the building, being careful in case it would collapse. He gently began to peer into the window, to look for where he saw the shadows.

BANG!

A gunshot rang out that changed everything. David began moving back in surprise, believing that his luck had finally ran out, but instead the reverse was true. Indeed, he had been shot at. But, the bullet did not hit him. Instead, it had hit his own attacker.

David could see more clearly now a man inside the building falling to the ground, crimson streaks of blood dancing in the air. The reflection of the moonlight on his gun emphasised the fact that it was probably he whom had fired the shot. But then, how would it be possible he had hit himself?

You you killed him! screamed another voice, the second of the shadows. David could see more clearly now the other man. He came into view, holding a gun as well. The first shadow was no longer moving.

Had this man shot the other then? No, that couldnt be, his reaction was all wrong. He believed David killed him, but he had no weapon. What on earth was going on?

The second shadow wasted no time in firing at David, either. It was a big mistake. The shot rung out, and again David was sure he was going to die this time, too, but no. He wasnt hurt or scratched at all. Instead, his attacker, who fired the gun, fell backwards to the floor, blood streaming from his chest. His attacker had seemingly shot himself.

What the hell?

David began sprinting away in shock and disgust. Adrenaline was carrying him far away from the site, his mind awash with confusion. He was terrified of all that he saw, his mind burning a single question over and over again.

Why was he still alive?

A bright, orange tint befell the ever awake city. Large shadows were cast from the buildings that were still standing, whilst smaller ones arching in all directions from the twisted wreckage of those destroyed intermingled with these. The sun was rising.

A tired and exhausted city force continued to try and work. Rescuing more bodies. Saving those whom were injured. Recording those who had died. Little did the authorities know, that within minutes the body count would be rising further.

An explosion occurred within an isolated street. An ambulance and its occupants were blown backwards in a spiralling tumble. Climbing out of one of the still standing buildings, a gang of dozens escaped through, wearing hoods and mask. Slumped over their shoulders were giant bags, and their hands carried various assortments of weaponry. Gunfire rang through the air as the survivors of the ambulance were disposed of for good.

Alright! Keep going, we can make a clean sweep of this citys ruins! called the leader of the gang, who addressed his followers. Working along side the rest of those gangs, we can assure the underworld comes out on top. First of all carry out destruction in here, keep the authorities over worked and then stretch our territories further! Yeeeeeeeee-hah!

Around the citys areas of destruction, further bouts of planned destruction and criminal activities continued. The citys security resources were overstretched to the limit. Against this, the city needed a miracle.

It needed Heroes.

Val had wasted no time in making her way across town by any means still functional, even running most of the way. Since she had got there she had immediatly started helping out the relief forces, digging out, she was horrified to find, mostly bodies.

This wasn't right. How could something like this happen?! Surely there must have been some warning or something? Val didn't know, she had kind of flunked geography quite badly.

Still, she was doing her best, even if the results were mostly grim, those that had been found alive were worth it all. But after hours of this, she needed a break. Heading to sit down for a few minutes, Val sighed to herself gazing forlornly over the rubble.

Where were the heroes of her comic books, there must be some out there, they could have stopped this. There must have been somebody at least who could... all Val could do was help clear up.

Her introspection however was quickly intterupted as a burst of gunfire cut through the air nearby. Turning sharply miss McMillain saw that a relief station was under attack by a group of thugs, heavily, and hairily armed, they were holding a nurse at gunpoint, taking the advantage of the situation.

"Oi, Hello Nurse, you gives us alla youse meds, and we don' start redecoratin' tha buildins early, ya dig?" The ringleader of the group growled, in a suprisingly whiney sounding voice. The nurse was in a state of panic.

Val frowned. That was it, she couldn't wait for others to start before her now, and tag along after. Not at a time like this. She'd have to take the plunge herself. Darting up, she leapt onto some nearby rubble ~Thank goodness I took gymnastics for so long...~ and struck the most imposing pose she could. Which considering she was a gangly 18 year old girl in jeans and a t-shirt, was about as imposing as shredded wheat.

"Like, stop! Leave her alone!" Val shouted, her voice no where near as heroic as she at imagined in her head. "Get out of here!"

"Who's gonna make us?" The thug laughed turning his gun upon Val and opening fire with a grin, his compatriots looking at him a little worried, this was kinda more intense than they were expecting. "Not some ikkle girl, that's fur sure."

But the bullets seemed ineffective, dropping flattened to the floor about a foot away from Val's body as the light seemed to dim where they would have struck. "Not just some girl..." She grinned, blowing the dark tips of her hair out of her face, she would HAVE to get that cut... "The Incomparable Inverse!"

A black van sped along the street, swerving occasionally to avoid the smoking wrecks which still dotted the cityscape.

The man in the driver's seat sat hunched over the wheel, a wide-brimmed black hat pulled low on his brow. Every ounce of his attention seemed focused on the road, as though if he were to look away for even a second the van would go careening from the asphalt and into a storefront. The woman next to him was fiddling nervously with a police scanner, picking up a report about a robbery here, a shootout there. Listening intently, she seemed to hear something she was satisfied with and punched the driver lightly on the shoulder to get his attention. He made no move to acknowledge her.

"There's a robbery over on Wood, that's only two blocks over that way. There's no way the cops'll get there to stop it in time, so we better-"

"Shut up.", The man at the wheel deadpanned, his eyes not switching from the road unfolding before them for an instant. The black van sped on.

-
Bill Gunderson lumbered roughly through the bank doors, scanning the street outside for any signs of police, and finding none. He motioned to the man still standing in front of the bank window, pointing a fully-automatic firearm menacingly at the terrified people huddled on the floor, praying for their lives.

He motioned to the door, and asked the other impatiently: "C'mon, man. We ain't got a lotta time here. The fuzz'll be here any minute, man. We gotta be gone long before then. You wanna go back to jail, man?"

"Man, jail ain't the most of our worries. Just thinkin' of what they'll do to us if we screw up and spill the beans is enough to get me goin'. You don't have to tell Jimmy twice." Replied the man named, it would seem, Jimmy, as he snatched the shopping bags full of newly-minted bills from the bank counter and started towards the door as well. Suddenly he stopped, and handed the money awkwardly to Bill, fumbling around the gun that was still clenched in his fist.

"You go on with the cash, man. I gotta finish some business here." Said he, brandishing his gun cruelly and jerking a thumb backwards at the scattered persons still sprawled on the floor.

Bill was horrified. "You're not going to..."

"Of course. No sense leaving a job half-done, is there? Besides, anyone in there could finger us. We ain't wearin' masks, Willy-boy. You go put the cash in the car."

The doors creaked, almost inaudibly, and the partners-in-crime wheeled around, pointing their guns at the youngish boy standing there. He was unarmed, and standing brazenly in front of them.

"Put down the guns." The boy squeaked in a high, wavering voice attempting to sound commanding. Bill and Jim laughed.

"Put down the guns." This time a little firmer. Bill and Jim stopped laughing.

He repeated the command a third time, singing it in a high, clear tone. Bill and Jim put down the guns.
In the same singing voice, he told them to raise their hands and step outside. They did.

Outside, a trio of police cruisers had apparently pulled up without making a noise, and sat there now on the curb, sirens flashing silently. Not even the engines made noise.

They stepped forward towards the cruisers, and a portly female officer handcuffed them both, perhaps a little more friskily than was proper. She started to step them towards a police van, and just then Bill noticed there were no other police officers. There was only one fat one, and there were three cruisers and a van.

It was at this moment that a man in a wide-brimmed black hat stepped around from behind the van. Bill saw Jim go down, blood spurting from his ruined throat. He was puzzling over what happened when he realized the man in the hat was holding a revolver. But he hadn't seen him move. He hadn't seen him-

He felt the hot kiss of lead in his throat, and he dropped to his knees. Bill Gunderson's world wavered, swam, and went black.

It came rushing back in a flood, and he could see with amazing clarity that he was lying in a pool of his own blood, staring at his dead partner. He realized with horror that he was dying, really dying, and that he would never see his family again, never get the payout They had promised him, never feel the touch of his wife's soft lips upon his own rough skin.

He struggled, fighting for life desperately, trying to hang on. He reached one hand in front of his face and his vision swam again. He made a gurgling noise in his throat, a cry for mercy.

The man in the hat shot him again.

This time his world went black permanently.
-

The black van sped on through the night, the people inside utterly horrified at the actions of the man at the wheel just a short while previous. They had not intended to kill anyone, but the man said it had to be done. Said it was necessary. They nodded silently and didn't say anything else to him, just headed along to the next place where justice was failing, where people needed protection.

They might have been heroes, but they sure didn't feel like it.

Will was picking imbetween his toes when the earthquake happened. The block of flats he lived in shook violently, knocking various objects off his shelves and sending deep cracks through the walls. His various charms that were hung on the ceiling jingled and swung. He leapt up, ran to the window, and gasped.
He heard distant screams, saw building collapse and crumble. Then the world stopped shaking, but the carnage continued. He figured he was right at the edge of where the damage happened. Probably.
"Mom, did you feel that mega quake!" he yelled as he ran into the main room. His mum (he may be american but I'm not!) looked up over her paper with a look that said it all. It said 'what do you think, you idiot'.
"Dude mom this is so bad for my fung-shi!" he carried on, pronouncing it wrong. "The walls are like, totally KOed"
"Yes dear" his mum stood up and sighed. "Maybe we should get our stuff. I don't think it would take much to knock the place down."
They put their valuables and some clothes into a couple of boxes, and left the building via the stairs. His mum said "I wouldn't trust that elavator as far as I can throw the damned thing", so there you go.

When they got outside even his mum gasped.
The air smelt of blood. Cracks ran through the concrete, cars were upturned, buildings were falling apart.
And this was at the edge of the more damaged section.
"Man mom this must be right off the Richter scale"
"Lets get away from the buildings dear" she sighed, picking up her box and walking away.
Will breathed in the air, then brushed his hair out of his eyes.
"Seriously bad karma, dude"

OOC: A bit uncommital incase I change my mind about joining this RP, but there you go.

OOC: I'm falling behind so I'm slicing a section away from my planned first post and throwing this out here. I know that the spacing & paragraphing is a tad odd and I'm guessing the speech format isn't perfect either. I guess the level of character information is a little high, too. Oh, and earthquake integration is right around the corner. Haven't neglected that.

IC

The classroom was as silent as could be. Not even murmurs traveled from the students' mouths. No pair of lips quivered.

This was to be the last week of a disastrously disorganized summer school arrangement - the solution to the dire progress the students had made this year due to a number of factors beyond their control. It was an ill-arranged facade with people from all years and all classes jumbled into all classrooms by overworked, underpaid teachers and a certifiably insane principal. Surprisingly, it had worked quite well - friends were often separated which reduced the distractions and noise by much more than one would have presumed. However, this artificial silence was about to be broken.

A pair of lips quivered.

"Um...Jenna?" a voice spoke from an isolated desk at the far right of the room.

The girl adjacent to the silence breaker turned her head. While most head turnings are routine affairs with nothing special about them, this one was not. This one had panache. Her movement possessed both great speed and gentle elegance. Her long whitish hair flew, following her head until and after it stopped, gliding past her neck as she faced him. Apparently blinking while turning, her closed lids receded to reveal a pair of scarlet eyes that glared straight at him.

He was positively captivated and absolutely terrified. What would you do if you randomly addressed someone facing away from you and when they turned around you found them to be the most stunning person you've ever seen with eyes of Satan that looked fit to destroy you?

How on Earth are you supposed to inject speedy elegance into a head movement, anyway? This was crazy. So crazy, in fact, that he had completely forgotten what he was going to ask her. There was no train of thought and no tracks to trace it with, but he had to say something; he'd already garnered her attention.

As these thoughts ran through the boy's mind, the girl cocked her head and her gaze softened; she seemed curious at the boy's apparent intimidation. Perhaps she wasn't aware that her default expression was that of a galaxy destroyer? Maybe her addresser was just insane.

She still hadn't uttered a word and seemed content to remain silent, so now he really had to say something, but all he could think about was her looks. That pale face and hair contrasting beautifully with those bright red eyes...it didn't help that she was now brandishing the cutest expression of curiosity he'd ever seen. Just moments ago, she was harrowing.

"Wh...uh..." ...He was speechless. What was he supposed to say, "why do you look like Snow White's devil twin"? Nothing else came to mind; not even "never mind".

The girl turned away and sighed. The boy thought to attempt an apology, but she cut him off. "Albinism. It's a genetic disorder that leaves your body unable to produce the menalin pigment that influences the colour of the eyes, hair, and skin. Those afflicted usually end up with white or blonde hair, blue or pink eyes, and pale skin. The lack of pigment makes the sun more dangerous to the skin and eyes and most experience sub-par eyesight."

She paused and leaned back on the high stool she was perched on. "That's why I have to lug these around," she informed, gesturing to the wide-brimmed Honchkrow hat, prescription sunglasses and a long-sleeved jacket{it's summer} to her side.

She let her stool rock back to it's original position and continued as if the conversation never happened. Apparently she'd been through this a number of times before; maybe she even had the lean-back-on-stool routine planned out perfectly.

He opened his mouth with an apology ready but she cut him off again, still facing the other way. "No need to apologize," she murmured, her nonchalant tone masking her hurt. The boy's mouth was still open. "What are you, psychic?" "No, just perceptive." "..How are you supposed to perceive something like that when you aren't even looking at me?"

She giggled. "You like questioning people, don't you?," she...questioned. "I sure do. What colour is your hair?," he respond-questioned. "What, this?," she respond-questioned, looking at him out of the corner of her eye as she coiled a finger around one of her locks. "It's called platinum blonde, IIRC..." Apparently she had missed his joke or was simply responding to it by spewing facts and alien abbreviations. "Eye-eye-are-see?," He asked, bewildered.

The girl blinked twice. Had she just used an internet abbreviation in a conversation? Oh dear. This wouldn't do at all. "Umm...it stands for 'If I Remember Correctly.' It's...an internet abbreviation..." She shrank further into her seat with each word.

Silence reclaimed supremacy for nearly a minute. The girl expected to be mocked within that time, but she'd received nary a chuckle. Curiosity got the better of her and she glanced back at her questioner to catch him still gazing at her, smiling. Had his eyes not wandered since her embarrassing moment? She was tempted to ask, but was cut off in a role-reversal.

"Your embarrassment was adorable," he smirked, lowering his eyelids by a fraction and leaning forward an inch. "I just couldn't look away." Before she could respond, he threw another question at her. "What grade are you in?" The girl hid all emotion behind a steadfast frown and responded cooly. "eleventh."

"Whoa!" the boy's false confidence was blown away instantly. "Are you some kind of super genius or did the transfer from England screw with your placement?" The girl turned away. "Noticed my accent, hm? ...Wait." She turned back. "What do you mean, super genius?," she inquired. The boy looked her over to be certain and responded.

"Well, it's just...you're so smaaa..." He didn't finish lest his tongue be torn loose, as the girl was staring him down and looked fit to disembowel him any moment. He held onto the letter a as he searched his mind for a subject changer. Well, she was staring at him again, so...

"Ah...uh...you said eyes are either pink or blue, right? Your..." The girl relaxed and interrupt-responded. "They can occasionally be violet, actually - I said 'usually'. But, yes, mine are unique. The doctors said tha-"

She was interrupted by the obnoxiously loud bell that signaled lunch time. Everyone stopped work immediately, the teacher said something that nobody listened to and the room was vacant within fifteen seconds. Only the two lone conversationalists of that period remained, and the boy had stood up and was ready to head out. "You coming?" he chirped.

"No," the girl replied, already back to facing away from him and at her books. "Oh, come on," he started. "Just because you're a total boff doesn't mean you have to blow me off. You could finish all that work in ten minutes flat." She didn't grace him with a reply.

"...Okay then," he said, rather rejected. "Just in case my instincts fail me and my current hunch is wrong and you don't end up following me anyway, why weren't you surprised when I knew your name, Jenna?" The girl turned to face him once again, this time with a smirk on her face. The first head swing he saw her perform could have knocked him over, but now she was smiling. This was too much. He felt like his legs would liquefy if he didn't shut his eyes immediately. But he didn't. He couldn't.

And so she spoke. "As I said, I am perceptive. I know you looked at the front of my book, Klyde, and you're not the only one capable of it." She gazed at him for a few seconds and returned to working.

Klyde found himself speechless once again. Not much can be said after a finisher as cheesy that, really. She made the act of reading the name off the cover of a school book sound like an accomplishment. Then again, maybe she was mocking him. He moored over this and everything else to do with the girl as he waited outside the classroom for her. After a few minutes, he decided to walk away into lunch break and see if she would come and find him. "Heh. Fat chance," he muttered. Off he went, hands in pockets.

Back in the classroom, Jenna was indeed considering giving chase. Her shyness fought with the fact that she'd never felt chemistry like that before. Few strangers could make her smile - let alone giggle - right off the bat without even trying. What was it about him? After a good five minutes of deliberation, she found the prospect of blindly pursuing him more attractive and less confusing than sitting there trying to work through the minutes-old yet already-tangled web. She threw her jacket on, grabbed her hat & glasses and headed out the door.

OOC

I am not a closet romance novelist. I am not a closet romance novelist. I am not a closet romance novelist.