Fandom As The World Falls

[Rise of Albion]

"Justice, sir, is the great interest of man on earth. It is the ligament which holds civilized beings and civilized nations together." - Daniel Webster


"Our awesome responsibility to ourselves, to our children, and to the future is to create ourselves in the image of goodness, because the future depends on the nobility of our imaginings." - Barbara Grizzuti Harrison


"We don't even know how strong we are until we are forced to bring that strength forward. In times of tragedy, of war, of necessity, people do amazing things. The human capacity for survival and renewal is awesome." - Isabel Allende


"Superpowers, don't always make you a superhero." - Hunger, Michael Grant


(Based in the CW Arrow Universe. Knowledge of this universe is not required.)


The hooded archer, The Green Arrow, and the super-powered speeder, The Flash, would never be the first hero vigilantes to begin their stand against the injustices of the world. Evil never rests and against this ever-present threat, more needed to rise to the call. They would come, those who had been blessed or cursed by their specific power, but the road is never easy.


Power corrupts and power changes people, but for the side of humanity or against it is up to the will and morality of the mind. Those who had the chance to decide the fate of the world would need to decide where they would stand against the coming darkness. For it is indeed coming.


As these super-powered characters rise into the light of the public view, personalities and events will decide where they will stand. Lightview City will be the first and last stand for these supers. Will you choose to be a hero or a villain? Only time will tell.

1. Regular site rules apply.
   
2. When events become too intimate, please fade to black or continue on through pm.
   
3. Literacy is the biggest requirement. Posts need to be detailed and lengthy, preferably two to three full paragraphs each. Not all of it needs to be dialogue, it can be the character's thoughts about current circumstances or even about past experiences and their own relationships. It keeps the rp at a sophisticated level and also helps you to improve your own writing skill.
   
4. NO ONE LINERS.
   
5. Do not start rp-ing until I have accepted you.
   
6. If there are no more spots left, then don't apply. I'm not going to open more up unless the rp has died.
   
7. Have you read the rules? Then put your character's favourite movie or song into the personality section. Ignore the last rule.
   
8. Please be original with your characters. I want depth and personality, no Mary-Sues, Gary-Stus and no stereotypical characters. Don't have your female be strong all the time. People cry and people hurt and it takes awhile to get over it.
   
9. Relationships do not happen over night. Heat of the moment, yes, but there are going to be repercussions of that. One night stands happen, yes, but don't have them fallen in love over that or together in a relationship. That's why it's called a one night stand. No falling in love at one go.
   
10. Characters evolve and develop. It's okay if your character isn't the same as your had her/him at the beginning.
    
11. Do not fight against me. I can/might/will block you from the rp if you disobey these rules, annoy me, fight with others or anything else.
    
12. Don't fight will your fellow rpers. It's not nice and you're just being a bully. Stop it.
    
13. Your powers must be accepted first by me. I will further explain the requirements in the character application section.
    
14. Have fun!
    
15. If you have read the rules, please place 'And the fight will begin...' at the end of your application.
    

 

[Rise of Albion]

The skies over Suncast City were a threatening black grey, rolling with thunder from the east and heavy with the scent of a coming storm. The birds had all gone into hiding and that had been a sign for most storefront owners on the main street to begin filling up, not so much as people felt a stronger urge to expensively shop but to get away from the oncoming rain. It was still heavily busy on the streets and yellow taxi cabs packed the roads but Lorelei knew that soon she would be a lone wanderer. Someone with nowhere to go, nowhere to stay and no money to flash around so she could buy herself into a little bit of safety. That was okay with her though. The emptier cities were the better ones for her to go to. She couldn’t hurt nearly that many people then. She wasn’t so easily provoked to show the true monster within her.


Her dirty, curling brown hair was tied up in a quick bun with a piece of string that she had found on the side of the road. Her boots were laden with holes and her clothing a little too big for her underfed physique. Mascara was smeared beneath her eyes from crying and she hadn’t yet bothered to try and clean up. Her appearance, although not appealing in the least, was safe and protective. People didn’t try to come up and rob her and those who wanted something else were dissuaded when she showed them the little pocket knife that she kept in her pocket. She had learned in the past that letting people get too close to her, giving them the ability to influence and manipulate her emotions only seemed to end in death, destruction and another couple of dozens of darkness lines tattooed against her skin. She was a monster.


Lori drew up the hood of her jacket as the first heavy raindrop splashed against the concrete and was quickly followed by a few more. She didn’t quicken her pace though or try to find some kind of shelter. Maybe this time, if she caught pneumonia or grew too wet, she would just pass away in her sleep. That way she wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone anymore and maybe the darkness inside of her wouldn’t notice. This time, it would let her lose her life. It would let the world lose one more murderous danger. It would let her find some final peace at last. She turned her gaze upward to look at the rapidly falling drops now and let out a deep breath before continuing through the now almost empty streets of Suncast.


---


Lucien Hunter breathed in the fresh scent of the raging storm, knuckles stark white as he gripped onto the balcony railing of his poor, downtown apartment. His expression was calm and he wasn’t afraid, he was invigorated. The electricity in the air just seemed to tingle his very nerves, making him feel alive like never before. He could feel his powers surge within him and the lights in his room flickered, causing a frightened, muffled sound to occur behind him. Lucien breathed one more time before turning around with a sadistic smile plastered right across his face. His latest victim, one of his henchmen who had the audacity to get caught while on a job, was going to get a taste of what his master was truly renowned for. Something that often caused nightmares within the minds of children who didn’t even fully know what he could do yet. He was the Game-Maker and he was going to make the world burn.


“You’ve disappointed me.” Lucien told him, his tone the very same as if he were speaking to an old friend in a coffee shop. His little pocket knife flicked open and he trailed it along the man’s bound and gagged face as he circled him, mimicking a vulture on prey. “You had one job. One simple job. Rob the bank and get out clean. How many times have we been over this? This is a new world I want to live in and I can only bring the best with me. You see, because you’ve failed me, I’m going to have to show you pain. I won’t threaten you, no. This is something even better.” He was beginning to sound as giddy as a group of young girls. “Maybe not so much for you but definitely for me. Please, scream for me. Make it loud. I want to hear you scream!”


The lights went completely out as Lucien dug his knife into the flesh of the man’s upper arm, grinning like the wild maniac that he was as his prisoner squirmed beneath him, the first drops of blood beginning to fall.


---


Felicity Smoak was typing furiously away at her computer while daydreaming about her real babies back home in Starling City, in the Foundry that she called her second home. The storm beat away furiously outside against her window in the luxury apartment room that she would be inhabiting for the next two weeks. As the hacker and computer extraordinaire of the Arrow, vigilante and hero, she had been tasked with the rather safe, unimportant task of doing some first-hand research on the city. Some wild activity had been going on in the city recently and Oliver Queen wanted to know if he should make a trip out there to investigate. With the rise of the Flash, Barry Allen in Central City, others had begun to take up the call too. Some for good and some for bad.


She was annoyed though, having recognized that Oliver hadn't placed her here for any real observing or into any danger. Starling City was still being rebuilt after Slade Wilson, Oliver's ex-friend and mirakuru (superhumanly strong and fast) ex-ASIS soldier, had tried to make it all burn just to get revenge. The city wasn't exactly one of the safest places right then. Crime rates had soared, especially in robberies, and some homes were still crumbling due to after effects. He was placing her there to keep her safe. He was keeping her there so he wouldn't have to lose her. She had begun to imagine that after she had been kidnapped - even though is was part of a plan - and held as Slade's hostage to be killed, he was having nightmares about it. It was unthinkable what had happened but she had agreed to go along with it. It was her life and her choice and she had managed to get the cure into Slade who was thus defeated. Everything was more confusing than it needed to be. But that didn't stop Oliver from keeping in contact with her at almost all hours of the day.


"Oliver? There's a crazy storm outside right now, I'm going to have to hang up because you're cutting in and out. I'll call you later." Felicity called out to the phone on her desk. "Go get some sleep. I can tell you need it. Nothing dangerous is going to be happening to me or this city anytime soon."

 

[Widget]

A twelve year-old boy drowned at his twelve year-old friend's birthday party.


Bo-ring





The stabbing of a young woman who was promptly shot in the back ten times after she had bled to death... Courtesy of a former flame.


As if he hadn't seen that before.





The divorce of a famous actress with her equally famous husband.


Now why in the name of all things sweet and revolting would he care?


Alexander Browne let out an exasperated sigh, pounding the power button of his television remote until he had successfully turned and turned off the screen a total of seven times. Ordinary people were so boring; he didn't understand how they could stand to live their boring little lives so peacefully...so contentedly. If he had been in their position, he would have killed himself years ago. What's the point of living if every moment is so predictable (bo-ring)? They were so pitiable, running around like little ants carrying on their little tasks in their little lives. Only A.G.E.N.T knew... Only A.G.E.N.T cared. Not about life, for life was insignificant, but for individualism. For the separation of human nature. Only a week ago one of his Women had shot herself in the head after being captured by the Law Enforcement. Not because she was suicidal... No, certainly not... But because she understood that her life was an easy price to pay to help save the world from standardization. From sameness.


Sameness. It was an ugly word, empty of any emotion or feeling. It was simply a vacant idea, centered around indifference. Alexander despised indifference. He despised it more than he hated the sensation of boredom. Alexander was bored. He needed a new game, one in which his opponents would actually have the audacity to fight back. He loved when his opponents fought back. It was so adorable. Alexander would give them the satisfaction (only pretend) that they had beaten him in his own game, before he would kill them, relieving their poor souls of their hopelessly boring lives. He was doing them a favor... Alexander Browne had always been a generous man.


---


Hey babe, when u comin home?


The bed is cold without u.


XXX


Sorry love, business is a killer.


Meet you tomorrow at the place?


XXX


U know what I like.


XXX


Matthew Brennan visibly cringed into the sleek surface of his cellphone, before carefully typing in his reply.


Of course.


XXX





God, this had to be his least favorite part of the job. Belladonna Brooks was a smooth-talking, platinum headed, Barbie doll that had a tendency of sticking her head places she shouldn’t (literally and figuratively)… But she knew her crooks… and vigilantes. It made sense, seeing as her long row of boyfriends were constantly having their asses kicked by the lot of them.


But it was part of his job, and Matthew was not going to let down the one man who actually understood him. Most certainly not. So he continued to pry information from Brooks, which was surprisingly easy (if one knew what she liked), and Matthew had so far been quite successful.


He slipped his phone into his back pocket, squinting as the rain cascaded down from the sky, promptly catching in his eyelashes. Irritated, Matthew brushed them away, elbowing someone in the forehead as he reached up to banish the water. He hastily plastered an apologetic look upon his face as he turned to face his unintended victim, but paused just as quickly as he caught sight of the girl’s face.


She was incredibly thin, wearing ragged clothes that appeared to be decades old. Ancient hand-me-downs? Highly unlikely. Her eyes were red from crying, and black mascara streamed down her pale face like unusually colored blood. Blackberry flavored?


“Are you alright?” Matthew asked, widening his eyes and his mouth slightly for the effect. He was using his nice-guy-parents-want-their-daughters-to-date voice… A technique he had perfected over the years. It was quite impressive for a man who felt nothing. “I’m so-so-so sorry! Did I cut your lip? Oh damn, I did! I am really-really-really sorry. Is there anything I can do for you?”

 

[Rise of Albion]

Lorelei raised a shaking hand up to touch the thin stream of red blood that was now pooling on her bottom lip, her eyes widening in fear and surprise. The pain hadn't arrived yet, more so just replaced by shock. She hadn't been looking where she was going and neither had her assaulter. Now, she could feel her emotions about to tip over the edge. Surprise was not good for her, or anyone else's safety. Scrambling to her feet, she slammed her hands against the closest wall and leant against it, head hanging down against her chest as she closed her eyes and tried to take in deep, careful breaths. Don't do it, not this time. Come on Lori, you can hold it in. Don't change, don't change, don't change. Come on!


The tattoos on her back had begun to throb with excitement but a wave of relief surged through her when the tense feeling that had gripped her gut began to subside. That had been a surprisingly close call, but then again, even if she had changed then she wouldn't have lasted for long. She was underfed and fatigued and when the darkness hosted her body, it just ate everything that much faster. Then there was the rain. The icy cold rain that pierced through her clothing and was probably freezing the blood on her light blue lips at that very moment. But her pain was necessary to keep everyone else safe from her harm.


It took her another minute until she was certain that she wasn't close to the darkness anymore when she finally raised her head and relaxed her posture. She took a deep breath, unable to form even a grateful or apologetic smile. She couldn't remember the last time she had smiled. Sometimes, she worried that she'd even forgotten how to. "Don't worry about it. It's just a cut." Lori mumbled, voice quiet and a little husky from the beginnings of a serious cold.


The man she had bumped into looked as though he truly was sorry for what he had done, and for a moment it hit her that maybe he actually was. Usually the only looks she got were ones of distaste or hunger. It wasn't often that she even talked to people so the attitude of this strange man was a bit of a shock to her. Looked like he led a nice life too, judging from his clothing and his general cleanliness. Even if she hadn't changed, she had still ruined his day. Her heart, frozen beneath thick walls of ice, would've have felt a pang of guilt if she hadn't buried all of her feelings years ago.


---


Lucien wiped the man's blood from his fingers on the edge of his victim's jacket and slipped his pocket knife back into its hiding place. It hadn't taken long to do it. The torture and all that but the screams of pain had satisfied him enough for the rest of the day. When he was younger, he had found a note in his therapist's book detailing that she believed he could even verge into being a cannibal. In response and retaliation, he had decided to burn her alive and then try it. The only reason why he wasn't a cannibal to that day was because he didn't like the tase.


It had been a rather long day with little productivity but he was waiting for a very particular parcel to come soon. He had sent one of his Players, the highest ranking official under his command to go and get it for him. The entire world was made up of Pawns and one day, soon hopefully, he was going to make them all burn. And he had decided that very soon he was going to ask for some help. A surprise yes, and a strange decision for him but one that he thought necessary to achieve what he wanted. And Lucien Hunter would do anything to get what he wanted.


Come and collect. The boys must be hungry and I'm quite done now.


- The Game-Maker


He pressed the send button on his phone and turned his back to the scene behind him. The collection of the body would be quick and silent, so that he would hardly have to notice that it happened at all. Then, as routine, his latest victim would be taken down to his apartment's basement where he kept the hounds. The girls hadn't eaten since yesterday and he could assume that they would be quite ravenous for some lunch. Some lunch that he had cut up nice and pretty for them.


Lucien, I've got one of the Clairvoyent's messengers. Room 312. What do you want me to do?


- A Player


Wait for me. I've got a special message I want him to take back to his masters for me. I've decided it's time to strike a deal.


- The Game-Maker


When he turned, the mess was already cleaned up.

 

[Widget]

Matthew enjoyed observing emotions of all kinds... He had become quite skilled at replicating them over the years.


There was anger. A furrowed brow, a thin, tight frown, and watery eyes (but not as watery as sadness.)





Happiness. Wide eyes, bared teeth, and crinkled lips.





Anxiety. A thin mouth, restless fingers, and darting eyes.





But his favorite emotion, the one in which he could never tire in watching, was surprise. Matthew saw it dance over the girl's face (wide eyes, open mouth, raised eyebrows) as she brought an uncertain hand to her forehead, gently touching the river of red that had begun to run downstream. She did not wipe it away, as he had suspected she would, and simply examined the thick, pooling liquid as though she had never seen anything like it before in her life (but Matthew knew she had). He drank in the surprise, treasuring each drop of it until a new emotion had taken root. Fear (shivering eyes, lowered head, small demeanor). He couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed. Fear was so... normal.


The girl had keeled against the nearest wall, one which was decorated in ugly, provocatively naughty, graffiti, her hands pressed up against its grimy surface as though it was her life. People did care too much about their lives after all. Matthew stumbled, albeit awkwardly, towards her, blazing concern flashing across his eyes as he narrowed them in guilty panic. Life was only a game... it was much more fun to play it like one. No one ever liked a spoilsport. And Matthew had always been good at the game. He knew all of the little tricks that would provide him with the materials he needed to win. It was just the matter of using them.


"God, oh God... This is not good... This is not good..." Matthew worried, using the rapid repetition of short phrases to ensure the perceived actuality of his panic. "I need to get you to a hospital; you don't look to good... I-I mean, you look fine. You look perfectly fine... I didn't mean- I mean that the cut doesn't look good, not you." He stuttered, forcing his skin to flush in supposed embarrassment.


"Don't worry about it. It's just a cut." The girl murmured. Her voice was quiet and scratchy, as though she hadn't used it for years. Of course, it could have easily just been a cold... Matthew noticed that her nose was running. Definitely a cold then. But that didn't change the fact that the girl was still lying. He had seen how she had blinked rapidly as she assured his that she was okay, and how her eyes had conveniently been averted. Although, Matthew supposed there was something in human nature that possessed people to lie about their well-being, even when it was obvious that they were injured (mentally or physically). Lying was inconvenient and ridiculous... Matthew didn't lie. He only pretended. There was a difference.


Matthew's cell phone vibrated suddenly, clearly obvious in the silent city. He slipped it out from his pocket in irritation, clicking on the 'list messages' button with slightly more force than was necessary. It had to be Brooks, still impatient by his absence.


XXX


It is our employer's wish that you arrive at the requested destination in no more than five minutes.


Room 312, Plummer building.


Do not be late.


-J.





Matthew smiled mentally (it would be idiotic to do so in front of the girl), it wasn't often that one was required to meet at their own apartment by one's own employer. But he had one problem. The girl. He couldn't just leave her after pretending to feel such devastating concern, because he would be breaking the rules of the game. Matthew never broke the rules. So instead, he reached into his other (empty) pocket, and rummaged around as though he was searching desperately for something.


"Let me see if I have a band aid for you, at least... It should be here... Wait... No! I left my supply of them to of them up in my apartment. Just wait right here, my room's just across the street!" And thus began the creation on the nerdy, bandage supplying, mathematics whiz.

 

[Rise of Albion]

Lorelei began to fidget nervously with the fraying ends of her jacket, eyes flicking around their surroundings, fingers shaking. She was unsure about whether or not this was all just some elaborate prank or some kidnapping heist. Was she about to be jumped at any second? Had this all been previously planned? Was she in danger? She couldn’t tell and it made her anxious. Kindness was not something that she experienced in recent years and any displays of it made her paranoid that there was some other underlying purpose, that it was all a pretence. She couldn’t believe that someone would actually want to help a monster like her. She licked her lips and nodded, figuring that if she did want to run then she could always do so when he was gone. “Thank you. A band aid would be… nice.”


Pulling her jacket closer around her, she stepped out of the rain and under some shelter so that she would be able to wait for his return without subsequently drowning. The rain had blown into a full-out storm since her arrival in Lightview City. There would surely be some damage done but at least this wasn’t the Glades of Starling City. The poverty wasn’t so bad here. Sure, there was those neighbourhoods that even the tourists knew not to walk into and crime rates were third highest in the state but everyone in the city should be relatively safe from nature’s destruction. She admired that about Lightview. If she did end up slipping into the darkness, then she couldn’t so easily murder people by being able to see them through crumbling walls, holes and as they tried to escape through boarded up doors. She shuddered and closed her eyes as horrible memories of what she had done rose to the surface. Even the daylight wasn’t safe for her when she tried to run from her past, but nothing compared to the nights. They were unmentionable.


Her frozen fingers lifted up to brush some flyaway strands of hair away from her face, passing her lips, and she imagined lighting up a cigarette and feeling the warmth of the smoke drawing into her lungs. The little fire on the edge of the rolled paper would slowly burn away as she dragged in the toxic chemicals. Or even if she just had a box of matches in her pockets so she could find some dark corner and sit there, enjoying the light. Maybe she would hallucinate. Maybe she would end up just like the child in the Little Matchstick Girl. Suicide was never entirely far from her mind. It wasn’t a surprise either. She probably had PTSD and depression but she’d never been to a therapist or doctor to get it diagnosed. It wasn’t always like that for her. Lori had once been a happy young girl, free of worry and pain. Then the accidents happened and her life was changed forever.


If she was to be completely honest with herself, she hadn’t run yet because she wouldn’t be able to deal with it afterward. A stranger had shown her some kindness and although she wasn’t able to realize it yet, she craved it. She needed that kindness to sink in past her paranoia and distrust, to warm up that heart of hers and to tear those walls down. She needed someone to stick around to look after her, through the good times and the bad. There was no doubt in her that this man would not be the person to help her through it, but as long as he was friendly to her, she would stick around. Her thoughts would convince her that she needed to do otherwise, but right at that moment, she wasn’t going anywhere. Lori would wait for that band aid. She was a broken little bird with no purpose or home. But she had a beautifully dangerous power and from what would be coming in the next few days, she would need to use that to her advantage. She would need to become a hero. Lightview City was beginning a new time for all of its inhabitants.

 

[Widget]

“Thank you. A band aid would be… nice.”


For the first time since meeting the girl, Matthew allowed himself to break out into a smile. It was a small, nervous smile, common among those who had successfully asked their crush on a date for the first time, or simply lacked in confidence. Perhaps Matthew Brennan found the poor girl wandering the streets to be sort of (kind of) pretty, but Matthew Brennan was simply smiling because his plan had progressed without any complications. The Clairvoyant was correct, sometimes people were so desperate for even the slightest hint of kindness, they became blind to what the world and its people truly were. Human. All Matthew had done was take one, brief glance at the girl (human emotions were so easy to read), and he knew her, known what she'd wanted more than anything else, but would not admit it to anyone... Not even herself. Young, broken girls were always the same. They craved something that they never had, and something they never could have. Too easy. "Okay, I'll be right back," Matthew promised, letting relief fill his voice as naturally as one who had barely missed their mother's favorite vase with an airborne baseball bat. "It'll only take a few minutes..."


After watching the girl disappear under the small, slanted roof of a quaint looking coffee shop for shelter, Matthew turned to cross the street, jay-walking in apparent haste as he stumbled around passing cars to reach his apartment. A grumpy old man honked at him in fury, banging his fist on his horn to add to the drama, but other than that, he remained unharmed. Matthew pulled open the too-large, too-heavy, wooden door of the failing apartment building, and slipped in, tripping on the welcome matt as he did so.


Room 312.


Why room 312? The selection of location was never random or "just because it's convenient". No, the Clairvoyant had sworn that he would never create a plan that was that boring and unoriginal. It had to have some greater reason... There was always a puzzle if one looked hard enough. He had to investigate the whole situation if he wished to understand the significance. Perhaps this whole "meeting" was actually a test of some sort, evaluating the chosen Messenger's ability to think using the Greater Truth. Maybe the answer to the puzzle was hidden throughout the building, clues that no one else would even think to look for.


Three men were sitting in the lounge.


The elevator was currently positioned at level 1.


There were two lobbyists waiting behind their counters.





No, that was far too simple. It couldn't be the answer. The elevator dinged, announcing its arrival at the main floor, and Matthew clambered in, praying to a god he didn't believe in that he had not missed something important. The elevator music tingled on quietly, playing a tune that sounded suspiciously like a child's nursery rhyme.


Three blind mice, three blind mice.





The door slid noisily open, allowing Matthew to step out onto the second (first) floor of the apartment building. He strode cautiously down the hall, waiting for some sign that would let him know that the test had begun. Nothing happened. With uncharacteristic gentleness, he quietly opened the door to room 312. A man lounged in a large couch, waiting for him. Without warning, Matthew began to laugh. Two men.


The puzzle was complete.

 

[Rise of Albion]

The arrival of the Clairvoyent’s messenger boy was a little delayed by time but when he did finally enter the apartment, his presence was quickly known. Lucien turned his gaze towards the boy at the sharp, barking laughter that erupted from him as soon as the room was surveyed and he was found alone in it. Maybe he had thought he would be more regal and refined. Maybe he thought there would be more people there in the room. Maybe he imagined he was easily beatable. And then maybe, he was exactly what he had been expecting. He raised an amused eyebrow, his lips turning up in the slightest depiction of a smirk, his posture relaxed and comfortable as he stretched out on his dirty couch. Arms splayed behind him, resting on the backboard of the chair and legs crossed with his ankle on his knee. Those who knew him would be wary. But this boy didn’t and no matter how well he thought he could judge a person’s expressions, the Game-maker was almost one of a kind. You did not rise to be a monster without an appropriate poker face or a master over the emotions.


“Good evening, my name is Lucien Hunter.” He introduced, tone almost light and casual. He mimicked the way a man might speak as if he was simply meeting a possible business employee. Technically, that was exactly what he was doing, but a bit of a darker side. He didn’t feel any need to stand but stayed there in his position, almost inviting the boy deeper into the apartment. There were certain things that he needed which could not be acquired by a running man. A smile almost slipped onto his expression. “Although, you might have heard of me before under a different name. The Game-maker?” He didn’t allow him any time to respond. “Well, I suppose you would. I tend to hold a certain… reputation. Doesn’t everyone? You. Yes, you have your own reputation. You are of little concern to me. You have become my source of connection. Well done on your rise in the ranks of the damned. I’ve decided that it’s about time I got in touch with your employer.”


Lucien rose to his feet and paced leisurely to the other side of the room where there was an electrical socket. He ran his fingers across the smooth white plastic and drew in a deep breath. His little visitor from before might not have been enough after all. Plus, he did so want to get his point across. The lights in the room flickered ever so slightly as Lucien began to take in the electricity of the room. It was unnoticeable but to the trained eye. “I need you to take a message back to your ‘Clairvoyent’. This won’t hurt at all. Well, at least not for me.”


Two of his Players entered the room and grabbed the boy from behind, securing him firmly in their grasp. Lucien tried to pout but couldn’t help a gleeful, sadistic smile from appearing. They dragged him into the next room where a metal chair was waiting, accompanied with thick, black straps. He felt a surge of excitement course through him at being able to see it, and at the apprehension for being able to use it soon too. Lucien flicked out his little pocket knife as they strapped the boy down before he sauntered towards him, a gleam in his dark eyes. “You were sent here, I know. I asked one of my Players to find you and he did. He owes you his thanks. Coming here today, you saved his life. Now, now don’t worry about this. It’s a message and that’s the truth. It’s just not a verbal one. You see, if I want to make some kind of an impact on your master, I need to show him something I can do. It’s not going to impress him because I do believe he would have seen it before but at least this is a little start. Now, you are as much under his command as you are mine. To him, we’re all becoming the same. To me, we’re all going to burn. A little different in our ideals but I do think we will be able to help each other out with achieving our separate goals.”


The lights flickered in the room and almost went out and the gleam of the knife shone for a moment. Lucien surveyed the boy’s arms and felt a tingle down his surprise. Oh, one day the world would burn but at the moment, he would enjoy all the screams he could get. “Now do me a favour, scream for me.” He bent over and began to etch his message along Matthew’s skin.

 

[Widget]

Perhaps if Matthew had been a man of intuition he would have felt the way Lucien's eyes burned into his skin, silently devouring him in a flurry of excitement and insanity, but that was not so. He only knew, he never felt. The Game-Maker's expression was so carefully, so delicately sculpted into emotions other than his own, that Matthew was unable to differentiate the truth from lies. So often the human face would resemble a blank slate in attempt to conceal one's true thoughts, it became obvious that it was simply a lie. The Game-Maker pretended, but did not lie, therefore Matthew could not know him. But he believed he did. He thought he knew Lucien's arched eyebrow, amused smirk, and relaxed posture, and was calm for this reason, as he had nothing to fear. The man could not surprise him. Matthew stepped quietly into the small apartment, and closed the door behind him, hardly registering the barely audible click of the lock as he did so. Despite the silence of his steps, Matthew's confidence had been renewed, and he looked upon the haggard man with a steady gaze.


"Good evening, my name is Lucien Hunter," The man introduce, his polite, sophisticated voice contradicting his appearance drastically. "“Although, you might have heard of me before under a different name. The Game-maker? Well, I suppose you would. I tend to hold a certain… reputation. Doesn’t everyone? You. Yes, you have your own reputation. You are of little concern to me. You have become my source of connection. Well done on your rise in the ranks of the damned. I’ve decided that it’s about time I got in touch with your employer.”


Matthew narrowed his eyes slightly Lucien's given title, and plastered a small smirk on his face as he tightened his lips tauntingly. Of course he heard of "The Game-Maker" before... The man had been culprit of numerous, particularly gruesome deaths, in which the victims would be found charred and blackened, positioned in disturbing (but ironic) postures. Matthew's eyes flickered briefly to Lucien's fingers, which lay limp, innocently resting against the armrest of the couch. He did not fear death, as death was inevitable, nor pain, for pain was a mental experience, and Matthew did not feel. He was not supposed to fear pain... Then why did he feel a tingle of unease as he glanced back up into Lucien's eyes, an unpleasant sensation that Matthew had taught himself to ignore and forget. But he must not give into his weakness. He remembered his orders clearly. Anyone who spoke of the Clairvoyant must be investigated to the greatest extent. Lucien strode casually across the apartment, and ran his fingers across a small electric socket with the air of one experiencing an expensive massage. Matthew forced himself to keep his gaze relaxed and even. A light bulb flickered dimly.


“I need you to take a message back to your ‘Clairvoyant’. This won’t hurt at all. Well, at least not for me.” Lucien announced, and for the first time since meeting, Matthew was able to distinguish the flash of excitement that flickered continuously through the man's eyes. He did not even receive the chance to demand that Lucien reveal his connection to his employer, before both of his arms were seized violently by two masked two figures who dragged him unceremoniously into the neighboring room. Matthew caught one glance of Lucien's sadistically cynical smile before he was thrown into box-like, metal chair complete with thick, black straps that dangled ominously to the floor. The Players effectively bound his arms with the bands, fighting off Matthew's attempts to free himself with as much ease as a parent placing a particularly stubborn toddler into his crib. “You were sent here, I know. I asked one of my Players to find you and he did. He owes you his thanks. Coming here today, you saved his life. Now, now don’t worry about this. It’s a message and that’s the truth. It’s just not a verbal one. You see, if I want to make some kind of an impact on your master, I need to show him something I can do. It’s not going to impress him because I do believe he would have seen it before but at least this is a little start. Now, you are as much under his command as you are mine. To him, we’re all becoming the same. To me, we’re all going to burn. A little different in our ideals but I do think we will be able to help each other out with achieving our separate goals." The smile that Lucien offered Matthew was almost kind, if it wasn't for the joyful glee mingled subtly with malice he may have been fooled.


"I am afraid that you are incorrect, Sir," Matthew stated coolly, staring up into Lucien's eyes with calculating calmness. "One cannot simply impress the Clairvoyant by inflicting a series of gruesome attacks on his followers. In fact, I fear that doing so might provide the opposite result in which you wish to receive. While I am not opposed to sacrificing my life for the greater good of the world, needless murder does not appeal to my employer. Unfortunately, he does not possess an endless supply of people willing to dedicate so much of their freedom to him and the cause that he represents. If you do indeed believe that the Clairvoyant would wish to associate himself with a monster who causes pain to others just for the sake of doing so, you are horribly mistaken." Matthew paused briefly, but continued before Lucien had a chance to respond. "So go ahead, torture me. Break me. But know by doing so, you are gaining nothing than another charred body and the contempt of my employer." Lucien gazed past him, before his face once again broke into a smile as the lights in the room flickered violently, nearly encasing Matthew in inescapable darkness.


“Now do me a favour, scream for me.”


The words were lost in the pain that surged through Matthew's veins. Never did he know if the noise that soon filled the room was his own tormented screaming, of the maniacal laughter that burst from Lucien's lungs.

 

[Rise of Albion]

(This post is awful but shush... )


There was no sound in the world that Lorelei hated more than a scream. Piercing, blood-curdling and rife with surprise and pain, its emergence never bode well for any who were involved. She had heard them too many times in her life, both in reality and every night in her dreams. She would shiver uncontrollably in fear and try to shield herself from the noise, or even worse, if she was close to tipping, it could instantly bring forth the darkness within her. Fortunately for Suncast City, Lori reacted in the way of the former. She had been sitting idly opposite of the stranger’s apartment building, knees drawn up to her chest, contemplating simply just leaving when Lucien first touched Matthew’s skin with his biting knife. Her heart turned ice cold in fear and her eyes widened almost comically as her first instinct and thought was that maybe, without her knowledge, she had somehow caused another outburst. But no, that wasn’t it. Not this time.


Lori worried down on her bottom lip as her gaze travelled slowly up to the level where the tortured wailing seemed to be coming from. For a moment indecision held her motionless until something snapped inside of her, and suddenly she was moving forward, running across the street. Someone was in danger, someone had been hurt and she had to make it stop. If not only for their own sake but for hers as well. The lobby of the apartment building had people just waiting inside, sitting down on chairs and reading magazines. She skidded to a halt and watched them all in cold amazement, wondering if they were going to try and do anything about the horror that was obviously beginning above them. They paid her no mind but it was obvious that they could hear it too by the slight flinches that occurred with every new high-pitched note the unknown victim reached. She couldn’t just sit there like them. She had to help.


A security guard stepped out in front of her path, his hand hovering over his Taser, eyes staring dead straight at her but Lori was undeterred. Continuing on with a run for the stairs, she dropped to the ground at the sound of the whir of the electricity of the object and narrowly missed being hit by the weapon. The next actions passed in a blur as she jumped back up, landed a punch squarely into the thugs jaw and leaped over him. Years of living and surviving on the streets had taught her a few fighting moves that were going to prove invaluable to her efforts on that day, especially since she was trying so desperately not to evolve into that monster that lived inside of her.


Lucien was not intending to kill his latest victim, not that time at least. Death was never a message. It was a threat and the Clairvoyent would not pay attention if one of his extremely loyal followers was dumped unceremoniously on his doorstep. A live one however, would make much more of an impact. He was intending to etch his message into Matthew Brennan so that he could scamper back to his master and show off his latest scars. Dear Mister Clairvoyent, I am inter….


Past the glorious screams that were emanating from his latest piece of art, he heard a different kind of shout. One of exertion and one of command. He furrowed his brow slightly and leaned up, wiping Matthew’s blood on his sleeve. The smile did not disappear but his victim’s screams changed into mere whimpers of relief and pain and thus, a sort of silence filled the room. He was able to distinguish sounds of fighting from outside. Instead of making him afraid, he was only more so invigorated.


“Stay here.” Lucien gleefully instructed before he strode out of the room and reached the front door of the apartment when it flew wide open. He raised an eyebrow as he studied the soaking wet, skinny little rat girl hunched before him, breathing heavily, a hand pressed against her stomach. She appeared as though she were going to vomit. However, her physical state of well-being was not nearly as bad as those of his guards lying unconscious in the hallway. He tilted his head and smiled wider, studying the girl again. “So nice of you to join us. I’m sorry though, I didn’t catch your name.”


“Where is he?” Lorelei growled out, stomach swirling and churning as the injuries of fighting three guards began to grow on her. She turned her gaze up to land on the villain as they flickered between grey and fully black. The darkness was almost upon her. She knew she wouldn’t be able to hold it much longer.


“Why, he’s just in here. Oh Matthew! I have a visitor. Seems she fought all of my little thugs just to get up here to see you.” Lucien grinned, stepping aside so that the girl could stumble past him and into the next room. She gasped at the sight of the scrawny writing which had begun to travel up Matthew’s arm but was not distracted by his previous victim for too long when Lucien kicked her in the back, sending her sprawling. It appeared it was to be the last straw.


Lorelei gritted her teeth as her eyes turned completely black and suddenly, the entire world was hers. Lucien’s eyes widened in surprise at the sudden development of the girl in front of him, turning into the dark monster that she was always so desperate to hide. Not only today had he found his connection to the Clairvoyent, but now he also had discovered his perfect weapon. However, the extreme pressure of the darkness inside her and her exhaustion did not allow her to actually do any damage as she soon fell unconscious. “Well, aren’t you a gem. I’ll be back for you both. Don’t worry.” He advised them before casually strolling out of the room, the straps falling off Matthew as soon as he was gone.

 

[Widget]

The definition


Pain


Physical suffering or discomfort caused by illness or injury.





Wrong. All wrong. Pain may only torment those who mentally recognize its presence. When one first touches a finger to flame, a brief moment exists (if only for a mere fraction of a second) in which only blankness can be seen from the victim's eyes. Than the screaming begins. Ignorance is always bliss. In vain, Matthew attempted to heed his own advice, pretending that the pain that sliced through his arm was nothing but his imagination. He could almost hear the inane smile that split across Lucien's face as he lovingly stroked the cold metal of the knife across his flesh, feeding off of the screams he was rewarded with every passing second. Matthew lay limp in his small chair, accepting the pain with no hesitance or struggle. If Lucien wished for him to thrash desperately against his thick bonds, begging for mercy as tears streamed down his face, he was afraid he must render the man terribly disappointed. Yet he could not end the screams. Instead, he sought distraction, an escape from Lucien's maniacal laughter that pierced him with even more power than the knife.


Red. The color of eyes after sadness. The blood that trickled gently down his arm. Lucien's lips....


It had ended. Simply ended with the anguished yell of one small girl. The girl. Lucien glanced up from his masterpiece, an expression of immense joy plastered to his face as he gleefully ordered Matthew to stay, mimicking the baby voice often directed to small children and dogs. With immense effort that seemed to require all of his remaining strength, Matthew raised his head from the sharp edge of the chair that he was bond to, attempting to observe the scene that played out within the confines of the first room. He vaguely registered the furious (strangely guttural) growl of the girl as she hastily rejected Lucien's taunting pleasantries, before the man's voice called out to him.


"Why, he's just in here. Oh Matthew! I have a visitor. Seems she fought off all of my little thugs just to get up here to see you," Lucien announced, stepping away from the doorframe as he did so.


The girl stumbled through, nearly falling to the cheaply carpeted floor in her haste to pass the Game-Maker. She was a phantom. Her dark, matted hair was plastered against her skull, and her thin skin was so tightly drawn across her body that the jutting edge of her bones were clearly visible. Mascara streamed down her face. Black blood. Black eyes. They shone briefly as Lucien roughly kicked her to the floor, her fragile frame collapsing as quickly as a house of cards. Matthew's eyes widened in horror and shock as the air grew significantly heavier, weighing down upon him like a quilted blanket. Except there was not warmth... Indeed there was the opposite. The cold overwhelmed him, digging into his bones with biting intensity. The girl's eyes flickered once more, as did the air, before they lost their light, returning to its normal shade and blankness. She was unconscious.


"Well, aren't you a gem," Lucien murmured in mild surprise. "I'll be back for you both. Don't worry," he reassured them, turning to stroll casually out of the room. The straps fell from Matthew's arms as soon as Lucien exited the area.


Matthew stumbled from his chair, brushing his hands against the floor to prevent himself from falling. He straightened, hissing in pain as he gently ran a finger across the message engraved on his arm. He glared at it in great distaste, scowling as he pulled his sleeve over the bloody wound. Oh, Matthew intended to fulfill Lucien's desire, and return to the Clairvoyant to show off his latest scars, but he knew his employer would not take kindly to the fact that one of his followers had been tortured by the so called "Game-Maker". Lucien Hunter would pay. That left the issue of the girl. Lucien obviously wanted her, so Matthew must do his best to prevent that from happening. If she was important, it was critical that the Clairvoyant must know of her existence. He glanced around the room, before his landed upon a half opened window. Matthew smiled silently, before edging towards the small frame of the unconscious girl. Now all he had to do was wait for his captor to return.

 

[Rise of Albion]

Screaming.


Lorelei’s eyes flashed open, heart beating erratically, hands shaking, breathing fast and unmeasured. For a moment, she was not herself as she gazed frantically around the small room, entranced by her nightmares, tasting the scent of blood. Another place and another time. She licked her lips and felt the wind in her chest rattle as she drew it in, seeing death and destruction before her. A tear slipped down her cheek. Her fingers scrabbled slightly against the cheap carpet before an upturned nail snagged against her skin and drew blood, drawing her out of her awakened nightmares. The pain brought her back to reality.


She was in Suncast City. In the apartment building and there was blood on the floor, and on the chair and it was dripping from her stranger’s wounded arm, the sleeve soaking wet. He was sitting next to her, released from the bonds of the chair, seemingly unworried about his injuries. Her gaze travelled up to see his face and despite herself, her brow furrowed and she whispered, “I could hear you screaming. I… I had to make it stop. I’m sorry.”


She had to apologize. He had seen. Of course he had seen. They both had. The darkness that enveloped her, took over the light of her eyes and had the power to destroy everyone who had been in that room. She had once again failed herself. But she also praised her previous decisions. Keeping herself in a weakened state hadn’t let her harm anyone at all. She had collapsed at the mere touch of the darkness rising. This was how she needed to maintain herself from then on. So she couldn’t hurt anyone more.


Her past was haunting her once again. While she lay unconscious on the floor, a broken doll, her nightmares had once again returned. But this time, they weren’t from a recent break of her humanity. It had been from a thousand years before, when she had curled up in the corner of that room and placed the tip of the barrel of that gun inside her mouth and pulled the trigger. Her attempted suicide, stopped by the darkness she was trying so desperately to escape from, and punished from that very same evil. Once again, she had relived those devastating three days where nothing good happened. Where thousands of people died excruciating deaths and her morals were the only things that suffered. Because any government agency that heard of her powers, would shush up every outburst in attempt to hide her from the rest of the world. They didn’t want anarchy to erupt or they didn’t want war on their hands. The American government was already investigating into other supers to take them under their power, and Lorelei hated to admit it, but she was wanted too. Just for being a despicable monster.


The apartment was silent and she realized that she had known as soon as she woke that the Game-Maker was no longer in their presence. He was probably gone from the entirety of the block for all she knew. It was just important that he wasn’t there with them right then. What was probably worst of all, was that Lucien Hunter seemed to have a specific and dangerous power. She couldn’t sense powers, that wasn’t her power, but she had felt the rise of electricity in the room, seen the lights flickering and heard the surges of power drawing to the room.


“We have to get out of here.” Lori advised Matthew, struggling up to her feet, using the wall to the balance herself. She felt her head swim and her vision blurred but she pushed past it, holding her eyes closed and swallowing down the bile that threatened to rise. “Before he gets back. And you’re hurt, you need to get to a doctor or something. Those thugs outside, I only knocked most of them out. The rest will come looking soon and they’ll find us. We both know that neither of us are in any kind of condition to fight them. Please, I know what I did before. I’m cursed yes but we have to get out of here. I don’t want to stick around but I don’t really just want to leave you here on your own again.”

 

[Rise of Albion]

Keeping the thread open.

 

[Widget]

Drowning is just like swimming. The only difference is that you never get anywhere. Contrary to popular belief, there are many ways one may drown. The most commonly given answer would be water, in which the drownee flounders around like a discombobulated fish until the thin liquid gradually floods their lungs.


One may drown in darkness, blinded by the nothingness they have always known, but never faced. Darkness, like all words, has many definitions. Even the blind are not immune to that kind of suffering.


And there is drowning as a result of guilt, which is perhaps the most damaging and painful path one may select.


The girl was drowning in all but the former, although Matthew believed there were times in which she wished she was.


Her darkness had now faded; nothing but a terrible feeling of inexplicable dread hung over the room, reminding its inhabitants of the nightmare which had so recently come to pass. But the guilt stayed, as it so often does. It lived in every word the girl spoke, and dripped from her eyes, replacing the tears that (theoretically) would have been falling. Matthew should have known she was different from the beginning, for the air of solemnity that she carried was far beyond her years and knowledge. He saw that pain now, yet remained cool and indifferent, which was the common reaction for those who are uncertain of how to feel empathy. Matthew Brennan different, however. Matthew Brennan did not sift through the girl's emotions with vacant logic. Matthew Brennan cared. He needed that Matthew now, so he became him.


Quietly, without any further words or show of terror, Matthew knelt beside the girl as she slid to the floor once more, and placed a gentle hand upon her shoulder. His blood seeped through the thin, torn fabric of her shirt, but he doubted that she would mind. What was it that Matthew's mother had once told him whenever they had passed by a crying child or tired senior? 'Never underestimate the power of the simplest touches, the simplest shows of affection can hold over people.' The saying was true, yet empty.


"Don't apologize," Matthew told her, speaking with the softness he so often heard from mothers comforting their small children. "Whatever happened, whatever you became... It wasn't your fault." He paused to exemplify the effect, letting his words sink in. "This man, Lucian... He would have killed me if you hadn't arrived when you did. Never say sorry for wanting to help someone; it's a rare trait. You came here when no one else did, even though I am sure many could hear me. Thank you."


Matthew drew the girl to her feet, wincing as he brushed his injured arm against the wall. He offered a painful smile, trying to vanquish any concern that may have arisen from his moment of weakness. "I promise I'll get you out of here. It's my own fault that I got you dragged into this in the first place. If we leave now, we may still have some time to escape before Lucian returns. The thugs may still be knocked out; it hasn't been that long... And if you can do what you have just done, I think it is safe to say they won't be waking for a while." He smiled again, before heading to the half-opened window. It was his turn to leave a message. Carefully, he dragged his bloody hand across the window-sill, then opened the window fully. Let Lucian know he was willing to play, for he knew the Game-maker would not fall for such simple trick of suicide.


"We'll make it." Matthew reassured the girl, offering his uninjured arm towards her for support. And, in fact, he did know they would escape, as that was what the Game-maker wanted all along. Slowly, they made their way towards the door, back into the world that tried so hard to ignore its existence.

 

[Rise of Albion]

Keeping the thread open. 
“Oliver, I thought I told you to get some sleep… Who else is going to take care of you?... Dig has Lyla and he’s about to be a father , and Roy isn’t exactly in the best state of mind right now… Don’t pretend like you don’t know… I know Thea’s disappearance has been tough on you too, but you’re stronger than him… Cause I’m sure you would be exactly the same as you are now if you didn’t go on the Island… Okay, I am not getting into a fight with you over this… Yes I am changing the subject… Really? You’re asking me about the weather… Fine, it’s still raining… I’m driving… Oliver, a girl needs red wine to get her through the night if she doesn’t have delicious company to entertain her otherwise… Shut up… Of course I’m being safe… I’ve driven in the rain before… Oliver, you can’t just make me stay in an apartment for however long you want… No, you can’t… Oliver!... I’m not an idiot and I do happen to have a little skill with technology. I’m using the car phone… I can’t imagine what it must have been like without technology for five years. I would’ve gone insane… Yeah well you wouldn’t last a week without me… Really? You think so?... Thanks Oliver, that’s really kind of- Oh shit!”


Suncast City was the exact opposite of what the name suggested, the black clouds obscuring any form of natural light. Felicity Smoak had turned her windscreen wipers up to the fullest extent and was driving at the slowest speed she possibly could without making it quicker to actually walk. A blue screen implanted into her dashboard was currently connected to her speakers and it would seem that she was having a rather one-sided conversation with a being named Oliver. The speakers, however, only gathered her own voice as that of her companion was given into a small comm unit that was currently seated comfortably in her ear. A bag lay on its side on the passenger seat, the cheap bottles of red wine barely visible except for their seperate paper bags peeking just from the top.


It was only supposed to have been a short trip. While twiddling her thumbs at the apartment, Felicity had begun to grow increasingly bored of hacking into police reports and browsing the internet for any possible, interesting information. She was adamant that she couldn't get this confused with her reputation. Computers and technology were her life. She didn't think that she would be able to live without them. They were what made her special, what made her important. But there was a difference between just doing whatever she wanted, between helping to save the world and sitting at home, definitely not doing anything vitally important. She had decided to abandon the searching for the moment, make a quick trip to the bottle shop and be back before anyone had even noticed. Of course, that never seemed to work with Oliver and he had immediately phoned her as soon as she walked out the door. She held off answering him until she actually bought what she went out for. It was a smart move.


However, as Felicity had been driving through the almost empty streets when two people suddenly appeared out of the rain, in the path of her car and she was forced to swerve and slam on the breaks. Dimly, she could hear someone calling her name but instead, she was focused on the couple she had almost hit. Not bothering to pull up her hood, Felicity threw open her door and jumped out into the thick of the storm. "Are you okay? Are you hurt? I didn't hit you? Oh my god, I'm so sorry. Are you both okay?"


---


Lucian Hunter twirled a small knife around his fingers as he strolled throgh the enormous, empty hall of his abandoned warehouse, the clicking of his heels ricocheting around the blank space. He was currently alone but that didn't bother him. It never did. Most times it made him properly appreciate the ultimate goal that he was planning for. To burn down the entirl world. Being out and around normal, boring people was constantly setting his nerves on edge. If he wasn't careful, he was certain that at one point, he would most definitely be caused to break. He didn't want that to happen yet, otherwise it would mess everything up. And Lucien had a plan in place. One which would cause a time for the ages.