• This section is for roleplays only.
    ALL interest checks/recruiting threads must go in the Recruit Here section.

    Please remember to credit artists when using works not your own.

Fantasy CLOAKS Chpt. I

OOC
Here
Characters
Here
Lore
Here
“Okay, bye, yup, bye.” Keaton pulled his phone away from his face, hitting the end call button. Taylor had told him to call the police, amongst panicked exclamations and less than polite expressions. He didn’t really have any space in his brain to panic. Most of it was pushed away into the back of his head, compartmentalised for a later freak out. He paced his apartment as he waited for someone to pick up, the adrenaline of danger still prickling at his body in waves.

“Hello, yes, I’m a cloak calling to report in about a crime? I was just threatened at gunpoint in my apartment. No I didn’t apprehend him, he escaped.” There was something about calling the police that made Keaton feel like a child who had done something he shouldn’t have. Like he was about to be caught out for something, even though logically he hadn’t done anything.

“My name is Keaton Green, alias Chameleon?” There was the sound of a keyboard clacking on the other end of the line before another question came through. “Yes invisibility, that’s me.”

He had to wait a few more seconds, listening to the operator type away busily until her voice returned. “Make my way to- yes I know where the station is. To file a report, okay, thank you. Bye.”

Keaton got changed hurriedly, pulling on a raincoat before darting out the door to the precinct. It was at a walkable distance and he felt the need to clear his head. Being in a car would make him feel a little claustrophobic right now.
 
Firestorm
Firestorm had to stop herself from lashing out with the fire. A part of her, the part that was attuned to and part of the flame, wanted to burn them to ash. When one of them threatened Lumien and a bystander she was worried. There was very little she could do, fire not being the most precise tool. This was why she usually avoided crime fighting. Luckily someone she didn't recognize intervened and she had to turn to the other fighters. She had a trick she wanted to try out. It was dangerous, which was why she hadn't tested it before, but these bastards called for it. She raised her hand and torrents of flame ripped forward across the ground to the attackers who weren't too close to the other Cloaks. Pillars of flames of flames erupted around them, or more accurately large tubes of fire. It shouldn't burn them, but it should exhaust the air. She called out again, her voice ice-cold, "Toss your weapons well clear of the fire and I will remove it before you pass out from lack of air. Her mantle of flame was depleted but still present, and she stood with an arm outraised towards the machete wielders, now wearing just her plain black and gold jumpsuit.

Addressed: E Environment Remmock Remmock Taraninja16 Taraninja16 Sorry about the messiness, but her power is a little difficult to write at smaller scales.
 
Kipsy Kipsy saturday shorts saturday shorts Loki The Trickster Loki The Trickster
The man on Eunmi's line simply says, "You need to come in to file a report," and, following routine procedures of name, date of birth and all the other miscellaneous inquires, hangs up.

Should she arrive at the police station, Eumni is directed to the foyer where Keaton and Maria are, having been waiting. The three Cloaks have only stone monoliths, marble linoleum and themselves for company. All of the police station's resources, if any of them have an analytical eye, appear to be being used elsewhere.

Remmock Remmock Taraninja16 Taraninja16 SweetRose SweetRose
The man's machete cuts. However--the cut is shallow. She's alive. Diehard is successful.

Her throat is red and along the broken skin runs a line of blood.

She'll have a reminder of how close she was to certain death. When it scabs and scars over, the reminder will be permanent--something she'll see every morning she looks in the mirror. Something she'll feel with her finger to the keloid tissue. Something her child will ask her about. It'll be a scar to show her how thin the line that separates life and death is. A scar to remind her of Diehard... her saviour. And, when her child asks her, she'll tell him the story of the Cloak who saved her life.

When the cop cars arrive to the scene in flashes of red emergency and blue fluorescence, the men disappear into backstreets and alleyways. The only men who remain are those caught in the colums of Firestorm's brightly burning fires. They pass out soon enough with lungs full of arsenic and soot.

(There hasn't been much chance for your characters to interact because of everything that has been thrown at them. Things are going to cool down slightly, so this is your chance to develop your character and establish who they are, what they do, ways they act, etc.)
 
Taraninja16 Taraninja16 SweetRose SweetRose E Environment

Diehard had hit and rolled, feeling the glance of the machete against the woven metal fibers of his suit's left-hand palm. The woman was safe. Perhaps another time he'd ask for her name and check up on her, but for now it was a matter of fact that he just needed to protect her life to let the other Cloaks work.

It was over quickly. As he let go and stood up, the armored Cloak turned to see both Firestorm and Lumien there. More heat. More smoke. It was hell on Earth, but they were alive and well at the end of it all. It took longer than he would have liked to gather his wits, but there was an order of priority that had to be satisfied. His sidearm. Diehard did some fast figuring and moved to pick that up first. "Thanks," was all he offered to anyone listening as he recovered his pistol and holstered it. Priority number 2 was to recover the casing if he could. That was next to impossible. Damn it, his lungs still burned. Muscles in the chest tightened as he fought the urge to cough. Instead, he looked around for that metal bit.

Each step was careful as he moved, not wanting to step in the slowly growing puddle of blood lest he leave any kind of track.
 
"My God," mutters Maria as she meanders absent-mindedly around the police station. She's very good at walking in circles. "I was almost killed. What the HELL is taking them so DAMN long?"

What she mutters is muffled by a scarf. Above, she wears sunglasses and, further above, a hooded coat. They're to cover a black eye and several bruises on her neck and everywhere else. Every so often, she touches the tender skin, smoothing it down.

To the others waiting in the foyer, she asks with a sigh, "What y'all waiting for?"

Kipsy Kipsy saturday shorts saturday shorts
 
Last edited:
Eunmi

Eunmi sighs as she hears the man’s directions. She provides everything he asks for before setting her phone aside. Within the hour she’s dressed with her hair combed, ready to head to the station and file a report. It’s ridiculous, she thinks, for them to just leave her here when the hitman could come back. Then again, she’s never really been the top priority for anything in her life. She’s not sure why she thought this would be any different.

The walk to the station is short. She doesn’t bring an umbrella, instead opting for a raincoat. It’s pleasant to feel the rain pattering against her back. She winds up pulling her hood down and letting it hit her face.

Once Eunmi reaches the station, she shakes off her wet hair and heads inside. Water drips behind her as she enters. Her injury has stopped bleeding but it’s clear the knife wound is fresh. What’s odd is the lack of people here. It seems as though all the officers are out somewhere else. This concerns her.

She sits down in the foyer and waits, scrolling through her phone to check the news. Before she gets far in her research, though, the woman who was pacing around speaks. She knows her manners; it’s impolite to speak to someone else while on a device.

“I was attacked in my apartment,” Eunmi answers honestly, tilting her face to show off the soon-to-be scar. “You?” She looks between the two other people here with mild curiosity.

 
Keaton sat on a bench in the foyer, beside someone else who seemed to be absorbed in something on her phone. He was fiddling with his sleeves as a few officers walked back and forth, each step resonating with purpose. He looked meek in comparison, not sure of what he was supposed to be doing. There didn't seem to be many people in the lobby, and the people that were seemed far too busy to spare time for the filing of a report. Walking in, he'd lost all confidence with his reason for being there. Being shot was important, sure, but from the conversations of the officers passing him, there seemed to be some sort of other emergency in the city.

He glanced up as someone approached him, blinking at how covered up she was. Sunglasses indoors was quite a choice, and curiosity pricked at his brain. At her question, the girl on his right raised her head, further revealing the wound on her face. At the mention of her apartment, he sat upright, turning to look at them both with his brow furrowing.

"I was attacked in my apartment as well, a man with a gun."

Kipsy Kipsy Loki The Trickster Loki The Trickster
 
"Well, look at that," comments Maria with a soprano intonation common of sarcasm. "We've something in common. I was attacked, too. A man in black. It happened as soon as I stepped out the shower.” She rubs her chin thoughtfully. "Now that I think about it... the pervert must've been watching me, too." The moment Keaton mentions the involvement of a firearm, Maria moves across the foyer towards him, her steps poised, her stature purposeful. "A gun, you say?"

saturday shorts saturday shorts Kipsy Kipsy
 
Adane
Firestorm kept careful control of the fire around her. When she heard people start to drop in the pillars she pulled it back to her. The police were here, and they could deal with this now. With one last exertion of power she pushed all her collected flame into the air, letting it burn itself out. When it was done Adane slumped slightly. Her power wasn't really exhausted, but focusing that hard on keeping the fire controlled took a toll on her. She looked over at the other two Cloaks, still close to each other, and had a short internal argument. Part of her wanted to go make new allies or friends and greet them, and another larger part of her wanted to just avoid the whole thing. In the end neither won out, when she realized the professionalism and manners indicated she should go over and check in. She walked over, still moving easily, and spoke as soon as she was close, "Everything alright here? Glad I was here for the fire but are those people anything y'all have heard of? I haven't but I don't spend a lot of time in city-cloak circles."

 
Last edited by a moderator:
Keaton listened to Maria speak, and the bubble of confusion that was forming in his mind grew with every syllable. All three of them had been attacked in their apartments, by hitmen with seemingly no purpose but to kill them. And yet, they hadn't purposed any of them once they'd made an initial escape.

"Yes, a gun, but he only shot at me once." He glanced between the two of them. "Not to assume but are you two...cloaks? Because when I used my power to escape, the hitman stopped chasing me. He only shot at me once, as well." He was still puzzling over that, at why the hitman had been so quick to stop when he had clearly been in the superior position with an actual weapon, up against Keaton with no protection at all.

Loki The Trickster Loki The Trickster Kipsy Kipsy
 
Eunmi

"So we all were attacked," Eunmi notes, hugging herself tighter. That's odd. "And I'm guessing we're all cloaks, too." If this guy is, just like her, then surely the girl is one too. She knows who the guy is: Chameleon. A few news stations reported him often enough that she remembers him. The girl, however, is too covered up for Eunmi to pick out any key features. "My hitman left the moment I used my power as well. It was strange. He seemed so persistent before but suddenly didn't chase after me."

If someone is targetting them specifically, they must've all done something. Something big enough to threaten a person with enough money to buy assassins. Eunmi can't pick out anything suspicious. Or, at least, nothing different from the norm. She feels embarrassed; if she'd slipped up at some point, and now her life is at risk because of it, she didn't think she could forgive herself. Eunmi prides herself on being careful, of thinking everything through. She grits her teeth.
 
"Yes, I'm a Cloak. Maria Moreno," She frowns. "Yes, that Maria. The Maria with the scandals." She looks at the two of them through the gilded rims of her sunglasses, then at a seat--one she meanders to and sits down on, crossing one leg over the other. "Mine, however, didn't escape. I caught him. It took some time getting anything out of the bastard, but he gave me a name."

A pause.

"Nichole."

Kipsy Kipsy saturday shorts saturday shorts
 
"I was attacked, too."

A man wrenches down the hood of his raincoat and the overhead LED of the police station, lurid on the lines of his face, reveal this middle-aged man to be Brody Gray. “My name is Brody Gray and I'm a Cloak. In my cloak, I go by the name Brain Bane."

"My wife was walking the kids to school when it happened," He sighs gratefully. "Thank God. I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to them. I--" His tongue is made of molasses and each word--every syllable--is slow through his mouth. The thought is painful. Too painful to put into words; let alone syllables. "I don't even want to think about that.

Whoever he was, he was a professional. No amateur can get into my home. Not with the amount of security I have. And, believe me, I have lots of security. I got that name, too. Nichole. Who the hell is Nichole and why does she want our heads?"

Loki The Trickster Loki The Trickster Kipsy Kipsy saturday shorts saturday shorts
 
Last edited:
cooltext316717534631703.png
Mention: SweetRose SweetRose Remmock Remmock E Environment

The blonde cloak realized after a while that his wings were still fully intact. Barely opening his eyes, he saw the machete-wielding man falling to the ground, his axe only grazing the woman's neck.

While the wound didn't look serious, Lumien still thought he should act to bring her to the hospital as quickly as possible. He turned to his side and scooped up the young girl he had been holding, then ran forward and picked up the other woman with his free arm. "Don't worry ma'am, I'll make sure that cut is healed properly and then you can meet up with your family." He then jumped, his large gold wings quickly gathering wind bursts from the fire's condensation and allowing him to soar above the buildings.

As he made his swift detour to a medical facility, his thoughts slowed down enough that he could understand them. He hadn't seen the person who killed the villain before him, but whoever it was, did something Lumien should have been able to. He was able to get over all possible fear or hesitation and save the life of an innocent. Lumien didn't want to admit it, but he had been practically useless in this situation. Sure, he had flown dozens of civilians away from harm's way and towards medical officials, but unlike Firestorm, he hadn't taken out a single enemy. In fact, he had almost been permanently taken out by the opponents, since the source of his powers laid in his wings.

One thing was certain. He needed to do a lot more training, but not in the physical sense. Perhaps if he actually attended church services, instead of simply sitting atop church steeples, he may learn the correct sense of guidance one must take for moral quandaries like the one he faced today.

Seeing the hospital below, he dropped down and altered the flow of his wingspan in order to calmly drift down. Stopping by the glass doors, he let the woman down and carried the younger girl with both arms, walking inside with them to ensure their expedient care.
 
Eunmi

Eunmi’s eyes flit from Maria to the new man, Brody. Both of them are famous. She’s seen so many broadcasts depicting them in heroic and victorious scenes, articles of interviews and stories of their real lives. There’s no hiding her starstruck expression, although she tries by lowering her head. Not once in her life has she thought of herself as someone who would one day meet such famous Cloaks. It’s an honor.

“I wasn’t able to get a name,” she admits, a bit ashamed that she hadn’t captured the guy who’d come after her. “My attacker left after I fled to recover. I thought it might be because I showed my powers. Most people aren’t aware that I’m a Cloak. But… Now I know you were all attacked too, so that can’t be the case.” Eunmi feels no need to elaborate on that.

Her gaze lands on her hands which are neatly folded in her lap. She’s tired but her heart is still overwhelmed from the adrenaline rush earlier. It’s left her with a very nauseous and dizzying feeling. Regardless of how hard she tries to think clearly, she’s still caught up in flashes of the past. Infuriating.
 

Users who are viewing this thread

Back
Top