Midnight Peace
Misty/Allen/Janum
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Realistic or Modern Generic Average Superheros
- Thread starter Midnight Peace
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Binarydivide
Mostly Harmless
The world is an arrangement of questions and answers.
In this street, on this hour, the question was the same as it always was when Martin looked across the grey faces of humanity, wrapped around so tightly with instincts and petty insanities it's a wonder that an independant thought ever managed to edge it's way through their skulls. Predator or Prey? A thousand different variations, and aside from a rare few, one common judgement.
One exeption in particular was suprising. A fragile little bundle of fears and anxieties, but a closer observation made them all the more interesting for it. Fear of judgement, anxious about discovery, clearly, she wasn't weakness all the way down. But beneath all of that, deep enough that she might not even be aware of it, the signs of a true predator shone. Secretly, she gloried in her misdeeds, with a simple visciousness that gave Martin a warm glow somewhere deep in his chest. She just needed a little help expressing who she was deep inside.
Closer still, and around that little egg of savagery, thoughts and feelings that had no clear definiton, indeed if they marked what they usually did, they might not even have one. Regardless, he smelled roses, and he smiled.
He kept his pace matched with hers through the crowd, and when they both reached a lull in the press of people, he took a final step to close with her, and casually draped an arm across her skinny shoulders. Before she had a chance to do anything in reply, he tilted his head to her ear.
"Hello, killer." He said, softly enough that none of the surrounding people could hear. "Please don't cause a scene. Now you and me are due a chat, so choose a spot, or I'll choose for you." He didn't bother to emphasise his point any further, given the physcial contrast between her and himself.
In this street, on this hour, the question was the same as it always was when Martin looked across the grey faces of humanity, wrapped around so tightly with instincts and petty insanities it's a wonder that an independant thought ever managed to edge it's way through their skulls. Predator or Prey? A thousand different variations, and aside from a rare few, one common judgement.
One exeption in particular was suprising. A fragile little bundle of fears and anxieties, but a closer observation made them all the more interesting for it. Fear of judgement, anxious about discovery, clearly, she wasn't weakness all the way down. But beneath all of that, deep enough that she might not even be aware of it, the signs of a true predator shone. Secretly, she gloried in her misdeeds, with a simple visciousness that gave Martin a warm glow somewhere deep in his chest. She just needed a little help expressing who she was deep inside.
Closer still, and around that little egg of savagery, thoughts and feelings that had no clear definiton, indeed if they marked what they usually did, they might not even have one. Regardless, he smelled roses, and he smiled.
He kept his pace matched with hers through the crowd, and when they both reached a lull in the press of people, he took a final step to close with her, and casually draped an arm across her skinny shoulders. Before she had a chance to do anything in reply, he tilted his head to her ear.
"Hello, killer." He said, softly enough that none of the surrounding people could hear. "Please don't cause a scene. Now you and me are due a chat, so choose a spot, or I'll choose for you." He didn't bother to emphasise his point any further, given the physcial contrast between her and himself.
Quiet Is Violent
Eight Thousand Club
Mitchy had so much to do. She had roses to grow, groceries to by, and a body to hide. It was still in her hideout, shilling in a tub of ice. She needs to get more ice. Add that to the list. She fidgets with the end of her rope quickly, her eyes darting about. How many know? How many want to find out? Was she noticed at all?
Then someone touched her shoulders and she jumped like a cat. They whispered in her ear, "Hello killer. Please don't cause a scene. Now you and me are due a chat, so choose a spot or I'll choose for you." It sounded ominous, almost threat like. Mitchy is in the business of murdering people who pose a threat to her. "Rose garden." Mitchy replied softly, not saying another word. He would lead her there if he knew what she was talking about, or he would ask her to lead. She wasn't going to aggravate her victim anymore than she had to.
Then someone touched her shoulders and she jumped like a cat. They whispered in her ear, "Hello killer. Please don't cause a scene. Now you and me are due a chat, so choose a spot or I'll choose for you." It sounded ominous, almost threat like. Mitchy is in the business of murdering people who pose a threat to her. "Rose garden." Mitchy replied softly, not saying another word. He would lead her there if he knew what she was talking about, or he would ask her to lead. She wasn't going to aggravate her victim anymore than she had to.
Binarydivide
Mostly Harmless
He smiled languidly, indeed, if humans had vocal cords capable of purring in satisfaction, he would have been. As it is, he'd never been terribly fond of cat, and the low-light vision wasn't worth the increased visibility. Not while there was an asian supermarket in the city which still sold conviniently mislabeled fruit bat meat, anyway.
As it was, he withdrew a colourful little foil packet from a coat pocket, and taking his arm off the woman, popped one of the crunchy delicacies in his mouth before returning the packet to it's pocket. Another handy little treat there, with the bonus factor that if nobody looked too closely, there wasn't much to distinguish the fried silkworm pupae from any other brown crunchy thing in a packet. As soon as he swallowed them, his relatively aimless motions through the crowd seagued into a purposeful stride. Concealed by his nose, his olfactory bulbs began to shift and change. Male silkworm moths can distinguish pheremones from a female at a molecular level from the distance of a mile. There was a lot more than a molecules worth of rose oils in the air, and so he headed to the greatest nearby concentration.
From what he observed from her, he was walking directly into a trap. The anxiety had bled away, revealing the coiled steel springs of violent intent. It seemed he made the right call after all. But there were cracks in her composure, and her resolve. Not the sort that would make her recant, she wasn't that type of person; but cracks nevertheless. She would need to learn not to take threats so personally if she was to thrive in her chosen soil.
The terrain changed rapidly from concrete and asphalt to greenery and gravel. He gestured her towards an empty, isolated bench secluded by the surrounding foliage. While she still had her back turned, he remained on the path, and calmly said. "Is this the point where I am supposed to suffer a painful and/or humiliating demise? If our positions were reversed, it would be. Might I suggest that you are not the only one who has a few skills in that department, and that we have a civilised conversation. I will understand if you decline, but I did have to offer."
As it was, he withdrew a colourful little foil packet from a coat pocket, and taking his arm off the woman, popped one of the crunchy delicacies in his mouth before returning the packet to it's pocket. Another handy little treat there, with the bonus factor that if nobody looked too closely, there wasn't much to distinguish the fried silkworm pupae from any other brown crunchy thing in a packet. As soon as he swallowed them, his relatively aimless motions through the crowd seagued into a purposeful stride. Concealed by his nose, his olfactory bulbs began to shift and change. Male silkworm moths can distinguish pheremones from a female at a molecular level from the distance of a mile. There was a lot more than a molecules worth of rose oils in the air, and so he headed to the greatest nearby concentration.
From what he observed from her, he was walking directly into a trap. The anxiety had bled away, revealing the coiled steel springs of violent intent. It seemed he made the right call after all. But there were cracks in her composure, and her resolve. Not the sort that would make her recant, she wasn't that type of person; but cracks nevertheless. She would need to learn not to take threats so personally if she was to thrive in her chosen soil.
The terrain changed rapidly from concrete and asphalt to greenery and gravel. He gestured her towards an empty, isolated bench secluded by the surrounding foliage. While she still had her back turned, he remained on the path, and calmly said. "Is this the point where I am supposed to suffer a painful and/or humiliating demise? If our positions were reversed, it would be. Might I suggest that you are not the only one who has a few skills in that department, and that we have a civilised conversation. I will understand if you decline, but I did have to offer."
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Quiet Is Violent
Eight Thousand Club
Mitchy was happy to have been lead to her garden. The man knew the city. That's good. She was much less obliged to kill visitors. She smiled, noticing that she was still fidgeting. Why was she still anxious? Something was wrong. She was very good at knowing when something was wrong. "Is this the point where I am supposed to suffer a painful and/or humiliating demise?" The man asked her. Mitchy laughed softly. Perceptive. Interesting. "If our positions were reversed, it would be. Might I suggest that you are not the only one who has a few skills in that department, and that we have a civilised conversation. I will understand if you decline, but I did have to offer."
Mitchy's smiled faded. "I don't understand. Why do you think I want to kill you?" She touched a rose gently. "I don't mean any harm. I just love the roses here. I'd prefer them white, but most seem to like red. Which do you prefer?" She asked softly, not looking at the man.
Mitchy's smiled faded. "I don't understand. Why do you think I want to kill you?" She touched a rose gently. "I don't mean any harm. I just love the roses here. I'd prefer them white, but most seem to like red. Which do you prefer?" She asked softly, not looking at the man.
Binarydivide
Mostly Harmless
He approached the bench and sat. Hopefully her sophistry indicated acceptance. If it didn't, then a combination of pufferfish and lizard should do the trick. It would be unfortunate to kill her, but he wasn't about to become this woman's prey anytime soon. "Really? How interesting. I tend to find it the reverse for me."
"Shall I cut to the chase? I know what you can do, I know what you are currently doing with it; part of what I can do is being able to know that, but not nearly all of it. As one of the more long-lasting inderpendants in our business, I thought I might inform you of some basic conduct guidelines that we've found tends to ensure all our careers can last a little longer."
Part of that, admittedly, was conjecture. Powers, anxiety over being found, yet a clearly developed killer instinct, combined with the fact that she was clearly self-sustaining; family had been a weak point so clearly evident it was just too easy a target. Not to say that he didn't intend on prodding before this little meeting was over. He reached into a breast-pocket, and retrieved a rectangle of white pasteboard, blank aside from a single telephone number printed in red. He proffered it to her.
"But first, introductions. They call me Butcher. What do you want them to call you?"
"Shall I cut to the chase? I know what you can do, I know what you are currently doing with it; part of what I can do is being able to know that, but not nearly all of it. As one of the more long-lasting inderpendants in our business, I thought I might inform you of some basic conduct guidelines that we've found tends to ensure all our careers can last a little longer."
Part of that, admittedly, was conjecture. Powers, anxiety over being found, yet a clearly developed killer instinct, combined with the fact that she was clearly self-sustaining; family had been a weak point so clearly evident it was just too easy a target. Not to say that he didn't intend on prodding before this little meeting was over. He reached into a breast-pocket, and retrieved a rectangle of white pasteboard, blank aside from a single telephone number printed in red. He proffered it to her.
"But first, introductions. They call me Butcher. What do you want them to call you?"
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Quiet Is Violent
Eight Thousand Club
Mitchy stiffened. She looked at the bench. The nearest rosebush grew to wrap around his legs, pinning the man to the bench. Her eyes flashed dangerously. He knew too much. "I am called Thorne." Mitchy whispers. She turns back to the roses and picks one. "I work alone and for myself. Don't try to change that."
She then sat next to him, taking the card. "A beautiful garden isn't it? Wish I knew the rules to starting a garden." Mitchy said, emphasizing rules so he knew to tell her the guidelines he spoke of earlier.
She then sat next to him, taking the card. "A beautiful garden isn't it? Wish I knew the rules to starting a garden." Mitchy said, emphasizing rules so he knew to tell her the guidelines he spoke of earlier.
Binarydivide
Mostly Harmless
"Thorne, then." There were worse names, especially within her own little niche of the cape scene. At least she managed to avoid all the obvious puns. From his bound position on the bench, he said. "A little advisory, before you do something you might regret. Unless you have a power that lets you act faster than I can think, which I know you don't, you are very unlikely kill me. I can make my skin bullet and knife proof at will; I can seal all of my orifices to be watertight, and I can regenerate from any injury you do me in a matter of hours..." Crocodiles were such wonderful creatures, they even had the blessing of tasting reasonably pleasant, which was more than could be said for the salamanders, though their muscle density and regeneration made them just too useful to ignore.
He smiled toothily at her, seeming entirely unconcerned by the rose stems coiling around his legs, just close enough to let the thorns be noticed, but not trying to open up his legs, at least not yet. "...And if you do manage to kill me, then you're as good as dead anyway. One of those rules about independents, it's a mutual support pledge. If someone tries to play hardball with us, all of us come down on them; if you're good enough to kill me, you'll probably be able to survive one or two days, but you'll be just as dead as me by the end of the week."
"The first rule, is that we don't fight each other. If someone doesn't want to play by that rule, then we get rid of them, one way or another. If you want to be a solo, then it's us or another city. Otherwise, you're just begging for someone not as kindly as me to stick you with needles until you're willing to do whatever they want, just for another fix. That's not even counting what'll happen if the Agency catches up with you." Time for the first poke. Drugs wasn't as sensitive as family as weaknesses went, but it was a good stress-test of her reactions.
He smiled toothily at her, seeming entirely unconcerned by the rose stems coiling around his legs, just close enough to let the thorns be noticed, but not trying to open up his legs, at least not yet. "...And if you do manage to kill me, then you're as good as dead anyway. One of those rules about independents, it's a mutual support pledge. If someone tries to play hardball with us, all of us come down on them; if you're good enough to kill me, you'll probably be able to survive one or two days, but you'll be just as dead as me by the end of the week."
"The first rule, is that we don't fight each other. If someone doesn't want to play by that rule, then we get rid of them, one way or another. If you want to be a solo, then it's us or another city. Otherwise, you're just begging for someone not as kindly as me to stick you with needles until you're willing to do whatever they want, just for another fix. That's not even counting what'll happen if the Agency catches up with you." Time for the first poke. Drugs wasn't as sensitive as family as weaknesses went, but it was a good stress-test of her reactions.
Reena
Junior Member
The air around her crackled with intensity as Evelyn Hawthorn exited the building with haste. She was about two blocks down when she heard the sirens approaching the scene she had left behind. When the cops arrived they would find a bank that had not been robbed, two barbecued attempted robbers, and a thankful young teller who wouldn't be able to tell them about her savior because everything had happened in the dark. What she had done hadn't exactly been legal, but then again most of what she did these days fell into the realm of lawfully ambiguous. Eve didn't really care about what the law said if her morals said she was doing the right thing.
When she first started out on her own, she wondered what she would do with her newly refined super powers. At first she tried to ignore them. She got a job working at a small book shop, stocking books and taking inventory. There wasn't much interaction with people because the owner of the shop, Brenda Smithson, loved to work the register and chat with all her regulars. Eve happily supplied a background presence, keeping the store organized as the kind, but hair-brained owner took care of the customers. The arrangement worked well for Eve until someone broke into the bookstore and stole all the money out of the register, damaging a severe amount of product. Mrs. Smithson had insurance, but it wasn't enough to cover the damaged books and all the stolen money. It was barely enough for her to keep her business open and the cops never found the guys.
Eve couldn't stand for that. Her abilities didn't allow her to track down the guys that had robbed Brenda's Books, but that didn't stop her from going on a vigilante spree. The cops said there was no security footage clear in enough to show their faces, so there wasn't much they could do. The recommended Mrs. Smithson get a better security system. They recommended that the older woman who'd just had her beloved bookstore robbed. should spend money on a better security system. Even didn't agree. She thought bad people needed to be stopped and good people, like Mrs. Smithson, shouldn't have to worry.
So, Eve took to wandering the streets late it into the night and she hacked into the local police radio so she could always find robberies, burglaries, and other such crimes when they were still happening. That was something else that had developed over time with her abilities. She had a knack for all things technology now, anything run by electricity she could generally hack. Whenever she heard one, she'd beat the cops there and take care of the crime before the useless cops had a chance to do anything. If the robbers were unarmed and generally harmless, she found she could show them mercy and she'd just knock them out. But if anyone involved a gun or other weapon, she couldn't hold herself back and burnt burglar was on the menu. The newspapers hadn't caught a glimpse of her yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time. They already suspected that her work was a new vigilante in town and they would be right because as long as the cops weren't doing their job, Tesla would protect and save the innocent people while punishing the guilty ones.
When she first started out on her own, she wondered what she would do with her newly refined super powers. At first she tried to ignore them. She got a job working at a small book shop, stocking books and taking inventory. There wasn't much interaction with people because the owner of the shop, Brenda Smithson, loved to work the register and chat with all her regulars. Eve happily supplied a background presence, keeping the store organized as the kind, but hair-brained owner took care of the customers. The arrangement worked well for Eve until someone broke into the bookstore and stole all the money out of the register, damaging a severe amount of product. Mrs. Smithson had insurance, but it wasn't enough to cover the damaged books and all the stolen money. It was barely enough for her to keep her business open and the cops never found the guys.
Eve couldn't stand for that. Her abilities didn't allow her to track down the guys that had robbed Brenda's Books, but that didn't stop her from going on a vigilante spree. The cops said there was no security footage clear in enough to show their faces, so there wasn't much they could do. The recommended Mrs. Smithson get a better security system. They recommended that the older woman who'd just had her beloved bookstore robbed. should spend money on a better security system. Even didn't agree. She thought bad people needed to be stopped and good people, like Mrs. Smithson, shouldn't have to worry.
So, Eve took to wandering the streets late it into the night and she hacked into the local police radio so she could always find robberies, burglaries, and other such crimes when they were still happening. That was something else that had developed over time with her abilities. She had a knack for all things technology now, anything run by electricity she could generally hack. Whenever she heard one, she'd beat the cops there and take care of the crime before the useless cops had a chance to do anything. If the robbers were unarmed and generally harmless, she found she could show them mercy and she'd just knock them out. But if anyone involved a gun or other weapon, she couldn't hold herself back and burnt burglar was on the menu. The newspapers hadn't caught a glimpse of her yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time. They already suspected that her work was a new vigilante in town and they would be right because as long as the cops weren't doing their job, Tesla would protect and save the innocent people while punishing the guilty ones.
Quiet Is Violent
Eight Thousand Club
Mitchy shivered. Needles. Gross. Doctors have needles, and they are evil. "Okay, no fighting with each other. Got it." Mitchy smiles and looks at the plants growing on Butchers legs. They receded back to the bush.Binarydivide said:
"Are there any other rules I should no about?" She asks softly, not looking at him. She focused on her nails. "Other than the no fighting thing?"
Binarydivide
Mostly Harmless
It was always a risk with powers, the fact that you could never be certain of their true extent. For instance, Thorne seemed physically incapable of meeting his eyes, which combined with her near-perpetual quivering, made her seem quite pathetic. Of course, it might well be a carefully crafted image to make him underestimate her, while she kept her eyes on him through her connection to the surrounding greenery. But maybe that was only what she wanted him to thin...
Past two-layer thinking, there was only madness, so he stopped that particular train of thought, though he refrrained from letting any of his inner smugness show, just in case.
"Two is just more of the same really. Don't go after anyone too big, and avoid publicity. Essentially, we've got a nice little satus quo at the moment, and it's the only thing keeping us all safe. Public activites means that it's good PR for The Agency if we get snatched up and left to rot in a blacksite somewhere, and they need that with their funding coming up for review soon. On the other side of the tracks, you don't touch the bigger gangs, the ones with tame capes, or they'll gang together and crush us. So if you want to stay out of a hole in a field or Ubermensch's dungeon, you'll play along."
Hopefully she would never have to meet that pathetic little excuse for a fasist. Why mind control powers always ended up with the skeeviest representitives of the human race he'd never know. At least he seemed keen not to look into his head for too long, you thought you heard that faux-nordic slug muttering something about fenrir the last time you had to suffer his company.
"Three, well I already mentioned the defense pact. Fourth, we tell each other what our jobs are when we get them. Not that long ago some clever little weasel got the idea of sending us on mutually exclusive contracts, trying to break us apart. Almost succeeded, before Wendigo tracked him down and repainted his flat with his insides. That leads us onto the last one. We don't judge; anyone can join, provided they can abide by the rules. Provided they don't break the rules, they stay. That's why we have a known serial killer in our ranks, and before you object, answer me this. Who knows what Wendigo looks like? Who knows why he does what he does, or how he managed to do all that he did and not get caught? I do, but then, my power puts me out of his target demographic, so to speak."
Past two-layer thinking, there was only madness, so he stopped that particular train of thought, though he refrrained from letting any of his inner smugness show, just in case.
"Two is just more of the same really. Don't go after anyone too big, and avoid publicity. Essentially, we've got a nice little satus quo at the moment, and it's the only thing keeping us all safe. Public activites means that it's good PR for The Agency if we get snatched up and left to rot in a blacksite somewhere, and they need that with their funding coming up for review soon. On the other side of the tracks, you don't touch the bigger gangs, the ones with tame capes, or they'll gang together and crush us. So if you want to stay out of a hole in a field or Ubermensch's dungeon, you'll play along."
Hopefully she would never have to meet that pathetic little excuse for a fasist. Why mind control powers always ended up with the skeeviest representitives of the human race he'd never know. At least he seemed keen not to look into his head for too long, you thought you heard that faux-nordic slug muttering something about fenrir the last time you had to suffer his company.
"Three, well I already mentioned the defense pact. Fourth, we tell each other what our jobs are when we get them. Not that long ago some clever little weasel got the idea of sending us on mutually exclusive contracts, trying to break us apart. Almost succeeded, before Wendigo tracked him down and repainted his flat with his insides. That leads us onto the last one. We don't judge; anyone can join, provided they can abide by the rules. Provided they don't break the rules, they stay. That's why we have a known serial killer in our ranks, and before you object, answer me this. Who knows what Wendigo looks like? Who knows why he does what he does, or how he managed to do all that he did and not get caught? I do, but then, my power puts me out of his target demographic, so to speak."
Quiet Is Violent
Eight Thousand Club
Mitchy absorbed the information carefully. Rules, rules, rules. Why have rules as a villain? Villains are the ones who break rules. But there was some part of Mitchy that knew it was better to agree and behave than cross the villains. So she stood up, touching a nearby rose with interest. "And if I refuse?" Mitchy asked, the rose turning white in her hand. "I am a woman of free will, and I believe very strongly that I should be able to break any rule I want to. Why should I agree? What do I get out of forming this pact?"
She turned around again, looking at the bench. In her mind, she knew just how to get away from this man. All she needed was some kind of sign that he was going to attack. And so she waits anxiously, half hoping that he attacks.
She turned around again, looking at the bench. In her mind, she knew just how to get away from this man. All she needed was some kind of sign that he was going to attack. And so she waits anxiously, half hoping that he attacks.
Binarydivide
Mostly Harmless
He placed his hands behind his head and streched,-basking in the sunlight for a moment before he answered, eyes half-shut and a smile on his lips. "In the short term, nothing at all. You'll just be ignorant, and alone. Stuck in a way of life that is not very willing to give second chances if you make any mistakes. Without any way of knowing if the next job is the one that you will not return from. That's if you're lucky of course. There are far worse fates to suffer, especially when your powers don't give you much in the way of personal protection when you aren't conscious."
"Besides, most people tend to enjoy making large quantities of money, as I find out. All those important people I said not to mess with, well I might have glossed over one key aspect of their relationship with us, that they are willing to be very generous in return for quiet, professional work done with no link to them." He took out a pen and scribbled an adress on the back of his rejected card. "Let me make my card a little more tempting for you. That is the address for an empty house out in the suburbs, in the empty trash can round the back, there is a suitcase containing $2000 dollars in cash; just something I had put away for a rainy day. If you want, I can even ensure that regular payments of a similar size make their way back to your family. So, do you want my card or not?" If she wanted to play hard to get, there was little reason for him to hold back on anything. Hopefully she didn't consider that a threat, because he wouldn't want to ruin one of his favorite suits just because he had overplayed his hand.
"Besides, most people tend to enjoy making large quantities of money, as I find out. All those important people I said not to mess with, well I might have glossed over one key aspect of their relationship with us, that they are willing to be very generous in return for quiet, professional work done with no link to them." He took out a pen and scribbled an adress on the back of his rejected card. "Let me make my card a little more tempting for you. That is the address for an empty house out in the suburbs, in the empty trash can round the back, there is a suitcase containing $2000 dollars in cash; just something I had put away for a rainy day. If you want, I can even ensure that regular payments of a similar size make their way back to your family. So, do you want my card or not?" If she wanted to play hard to get, there was little reason for him to hold back on anything. Hopefully she didn't consider that a threat, because he wouldn't want to ruin one of his favorite suits just because he had overplayed his hand.
Quiet Is Violent
Eight Thousand Club
"I work for myself, I kill for my pleasure. I don't have to report to you or anyone else before I kill, and as a matter of fact, I refuse to. I don't get hired, I leave no paper trail. If you want me in your derranged club, those are my conditions" Mitchy snaps. Then he mentioned her family. He poked her a little too much. The roses turned black and began to rot. "I don't know who you are or what you want with me, but you'd better high-tail it out of here before I kill you." She took the card anyways, but her scowl remained on her face.
Leaning in close, she whispered in his ear: "If you ever mention my family to anyone ever again, I will ensure that your body is found under a car with a rose petal in your mouth. Do I make myself clear?" She grabbed a handful of his shirt, meaning every word she said.
Leaning in close, she whispered in his ear: "If you ever mention my family to anyone ever again, I will ensure that your body is found under a car with a rose petal in your mouth. Do I make myself clear?" She grabbed a handful of his shirt, meaning every word she said.
Binarydivide
Mostly Harmless
His smile did not fade, though it did diminish. His eyes remained half-lidded as she grabbed his shirt and spat threats in his face. An extraordinarily perceptive person might have noticed a faint bulging of his neck beneath his chin. As it was, she likely only realised her mistake when he opened his mouth, and a slender, frog-like tongue shot out, hitting her in her open eye.
She blinked her eye closed at the pain, but his true weapon was already passing through her eyes and into her capilliaries, a spreading tide of numbness that began to spread, at first over her face, and then down her body. He was still smiling, though there was a hint of sadness in it.
"You broke rule one. Consider this your second chance." He held her by the shoulders, propping her on the bench as he slid off of it. "You are paralysed temporarily, most of your non-autonomous muscle groups will not function for roughly an hour, maybe more if I was wrong in guessing your weight." He placed his card in her hand, and folded it shut. "I think I might follow your suggestion, now. If your plants try to stop me, you will have broken rule one a second time, and I will return and break your neck. As regarding your family, well I might as well tell you my power now." He said, carefully ajusting her head so as to put the smallest possible strain on her breathing. "Self-directed biokinesis, as well as a analysis power based on biological systems. The latter makes me rather good at cold-reading, as you have just discovered. Drugs, enslavement, family, all things that attract an emotional response in most people. If you ever go up against any other analytic powers, expect more of the same; and not all of them are as limited as mine are."
He started to walk away, turning his back on Thorne. "If you're thinking that I was testing you, then you're more or less correct. I'd like a chance to plan ahead for when I need to dispose of the bodies of the next people to mention the word family in your presence."
She blinked her eye closed at the pain, but his true weapon was already passing through her eyes and into her capilliaries, a spreading tide of numbness that began to spread, at first over her face, and then down her body. He was still smiling, though there was a hint of sadness in it.
"You broke rule one. Consider this your second chance." He held her by the shoulders, propping her on the bench as he slid off of it. "You are paralysed temporarily, most of your non-autonomous muscle groups will not function for roughly an hour, maybe more if I was wrong in guessing your weight." He placed his card in her hand, and folded it shut. "I think I might follow your suggestion, now. If your plants try to stop me, you will have broken rule one a second time, and I will return and break your neck. As regarding your family, well I might as well tell you my power now." He said, carefully ajusting her head so as to put the smallest possible strain on her breathing. "Self-directed biokinesis, as well as a analysis power based on biological systems. The latter makes me rather good at cold-reading, as you have just discovered. Drugs, enslavement, family, all things that attract an emotional response in most people. If you ever go up against any other analytic powers, expect more of the same; and not all of them are as limited as mine are."
He started to walk away, turning his back on Thorne. "If you're thinking that I was testing you, then you're more or less correct. I'd like a chance to plan ahead for when I need to dispose of the bodies of the next people to mention the word family in your presence."
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Quiet Is Violent
Eight Thousand Club
"Ow!" Mitchy yelped, holding her eye. Then the numbness began to spread. She was helpless. Any movement she attempted was met with a wave of numbness. She tried to scowl, but that didn't work. She attempted to struggle but couldn't do that either. She was sast down on the bench and she half wanted to scream at him. What an ass!
The man starts lecturing her about not trying to stop him. Then he goes on about his powers, as if Mitchy gave a damn. She resigned herself to sitting for an hour. Might as well relax, I'm not going anywhere. Mitchy sighs and closes his eyes.
The man starts lecturing her about not trying to stop him. Then he goes on about his powers, as if Mitchy gave a damn. She resigned herself to sitting for an hour. Might as well relax, I'm not going anywhere. Mitchy sighs and closes his eyes.
