Realistic or Modern Return to Sender IC [OPEN]

[MidwayLives]

"G? G!!! G, you called me all the way down here! Open the door!"

Tom yelled as he rapped his fist over and over against the door. Normally, everyone generally left G be and that was fine with Tom. If all the guy wanted in return for handling all the boring diplomatic shit that someone like Tom just couldn't be assed to handle was some food and privacy? Why bother at rocking the boat when it swam so swell? But then he'd just had to go and mention that an agent from another state was apparently poking their nose around in California's business, and not just any agent, one of New York's best. When still no response came after the fifth or so heated attempt to get G's attention, Tom glowered at the door before he just...dropped.
​

Which

didn't mean he hit the floor like a sack of potatoes, more so in the 'like what if you popped a water balloon and watched it explode all across the floor' kind of way. The massive puddle of water eked in under the crack in G's door that Jeremy had noted seemed very much overdue for a renovation. It was a miracle that G was able to get the door open at all given how much it tore at the underside of the door to scrape against the flooring. As the living liquid spread across G's floor, he began to meld back into a humanoid shape, disregarding his glamour so his natural yellow eyes could help illuminate the room. If only just enough so he could see what the hell he was doing/where he stood in position to everything else G had set up in here.

<"You got a problem with answering your door?">

G hadn't once glanced over from his various monitors in Tom's direction. Not even now as the elemental was throwing his thoughts around with all the subtely of a kid on a sugar rush. "Did you ever think of waiting perhapssss? I wassss collecting and printing a transssscript of my converssssation with The Ssshade. Sssince I know you won't pay attention long enough for me to explain it all word for word." G waved a hand over his shoulder. "Make ssssure to not leave any of yoursssself on the floor, the boardssss will peel and ruin the hardwood. It's quite expenssssive to replace, you know."

<"Yeah, yeah. I'll make sure to tidy up your creepzone before I head out. You finish printing whatever you and that geezer spoke about?">

"Charming *click click* asss alwayssss, Tom." G tapped his hand over to the right where there was a fax machine hooked up to his landline. <"What? You're not gonna hand it to me?">

"Ssshould I read it to you too? You know I don't like light. Turning around to give the paperssss will be like looking into a flasssshlight." G quipped as he continued clacking away. Tom grumbled something but fumbled around for the papers. The only sounds in the room being G's clicking on his keyboard and Tom shuffling papers as he went through them until by the end he'd thrown the papers down into an unsorted heap on the floor. "I expect you'll be picking thosssse up before you go as well?"

<"I don't get what he's concerned about. This 'Andre' guy or whatever sounds like another spark in the bottle. He'll keep going for a bit, Uproar takes action, and that'll be the last anyone will have heard of him. Guys like this who think they're doing something any different from the dozens of other dead dumb fucks are a dime a dozen, G. I mean, remember the Weathergifted Underground? A few shootings here and there, a bombing, a prison break out and then they kind of just fizzled out. Nobody can stand up to the Feds, no, more so they can't stand up to US.">

"Perhapsss you're right. Call it a hunch, then, bad feeling if you'd like. Ssssomething feelsss off here. I contacted some of my informantssss in D.C. and they were able to pull up sssome information on Andre and the ressst of hisss group which he's *click click click* taken to calling The [BLUE OYSTER CULT]." Tom rolled his eyes. A cult leader in the making, great. "Andre Archebeau, ssserved in the French Army. More sssspefically he was a part of the 2nd Foreign Paratroop Regiment. Ssssaw action in Zaire. Both timessss France intervened there. Last accounts from his sssquadmatessss say they'd heard he'd desserted to Ssssouth Africa and somehow ended up here."

Tom folded his arms across his chest and moved to take a seat next to G's, egh, skin collection.

<"So, he's a traitor to the frogs and nobody knows how exactly he got over here. Had to have been a stowaway of some kind right? What about his old lady? She got any ties worth investigating?">

G clicked a couple more keys and maybe his mandibles(?)

"Ssstowaway seems unlikely. Ssshiping companies face ssignificant penalties if Gifted are tied back to their regissstered ssships. Might have tiesss over here that we're jusssst *click click* unsssure of yet. Asss for hisss partner: Cherie Beaulieu. Her family fled Algeria after it began ressisting French control. Sssomewhere down the line, she met Andre, and the two fell in love." Tom pounded his hand on G's dresser. <"Fuckin typical. Whether it's the limeys or the frogs. We've always gotta clean up behind them no matter what it is. Christ.">

"I doubt Parisss could have anticipated one of their Gifted trying to incite a revolution in America of all placesss."

<"Yeah, well maybe next time the Germans get any ideas, we'll just let them have the place."> Tom scoffed before brushing off the entire idea of worrying about Andre and Cherie in general. <"Alright, next, the..uh, fat guy. Any leads on him?>

"I'd had one or two but according to The Ssshade's sssurveliance, he's either left the group or been killed by them. No sssightings since they all departed the bar and headed towards an apartment complex in Sssanta Clarita. One that'sss known for being a birthday party." A congregation of Gifted more or less. That got a discouraging reaction out of Tom as he looked sharply off to the side. <"Well, I'll give it to him, that's one ballsy place to hide out. Uproar could chew his ass up and spit out the corpse but if they were to storm into a birthday party and wreck up the place? Say that Andre goes down swinging? In close quarters like that you're asking for a blood bath. Dead parents, old folks, babies...Son of a bitch!>"

G nodded in the darkness.

"It sseems he or whoever may be helping him along here realizess how it might influence other Gifted tenantsss if this sssmall group not only ssstands up to Uproar but defends them when they're hurt or even killed? I believe that's what The Ssshade is the mosssst worried about *click click*. But, it's really the lassst member of the group that puzzlesss me. Informantsss couldn't ID her, find any background hisstory, not even a faint trace of what her Gift may be. All I was able to get faxed over was a sssketch the Shade made."

Tom rifled through the papers until he found what G had been referring to.



<"...Yeah, I don't like her either. Those eyes...">

Something about em was just offputting in the obtuse kinda way that Tom just couldn't put into words. "The Ssshade sssaid he'd try to keep usss in the loop with what he feelsss we need to know *click click* but I have to admit, the woman ssseems like a total enigma..."

Tom set the paper down. <"Well, be that as it may, so long as they're still mucking around in Santa Clarita, they're not our problem.">

"Perhapsss. But you know assss well asss I do that 'Tra' will make a big show whenever Uproar feelsss confident enough to commit to a raid on the complex."

'Tra' was of course a shortening of the nickname of Unit#69's strongest member: The Real American/John Rivers. His gift [A Real Hero] was a physical type and revolved around energy manipulation/allowing him to channel it through increasing his physical strength or concentrated blasts/beams. He was considered a very important asset when it came to coordinating the UFUP unit up in Santa Clarita but the downside, massive as it was, being that he was 100% a camera hog. Which, kind of, y'know, went against the whole reasoning behind the Big Secret.

"I almossst wish we were handling it jussst to avoid whatever farce he'll ultimately turn it into."

<"...Yeah, guy's a jackass. Who knows, maybe we'll get lucky, and he'll kick the bucket during the whole mess."> Tom joked, though G didn't give it any kind of laugh. <"Huh? Hey, what's this last paper talking about?">

"Oh! The Ssshade wanted me to asssk you about that. Two men from the National Guard were targeted by Pro-Gifted fighters and killed. They'd apparently been transssporting sssome kind of item on ordersss by the governor. The mayor of Sssanta Clarita isssn't as convinced Uproar and #69 will handle thisss so he reached out and the governor ssseeemed to agree to transssport ssstate materialssss here in L.A. The guardsssmen were killed and the item wasss ssstolen. The whereaboutsss are currently unknown."

<"...what was the item??">

"A sssteel drum. The men claimed there wasss a Gifted inssside it. I wouldn't put it past our government but to transssport sssomething like that in broad daylight..." G's voice drifted off into white noise as Tom heard the words 'steel drum.' and 'Gifted inside of it.' The paper fell from his hand and fluttered to the floor as Tom grasped at his chest. "...Tom?"

<"..G...I....I think I'm.."> Tom stumbled back and collapsed against G's dresser. <"having a heart attack...">

"Thomas!!!"

~~~
​

"[Supermassive Black Hole]"

And as he did so, the body before him would suddenly feel as though it weighed ten times as much. For an ordinary human, it'd be enough to pin them to the ground and then some, hell, the gravity alone would be lethal with extended exposure, blackout would set in after a few seconds, death following shortly after. Still, Mu's eyes remained locked on the figure, and only then did he fully take in the scene before him. He'd seen bodies before, of course. A childhood like his, you saw plenty of bodies. But they weren't usually standing, and walking, and... talking. Mu was shocked, his breath caught in his throat. Even as Crystal caught up, his eyes darted left and right, checking doors, windows, corners, falling into old drilled-in routine as his brain desperately tried to catch up with the situation. This was gonna get worse before it got better.

The zombie closed a hand around Dean's throat. It seemed that it or whatever was puppeteering it had been able to put two & two together. Dean's Gift was tied to his ability to call out the commands he wanted to be obeyed. Prevent him from speaking and it'd be over. Dean clutched at the reanimated corpse's wrist but it's grip was tight. The teenager sincerely felt that if the zombie had wanted, it could have just as easily crushed his windpipe and let him suffocate. As it peered into Dean's eyes, he'd find out it'd had other things in mind. "Braaaaains....Gifted brains!"

Gifted...It kept saying that. His family called themselves 'Gifted by God.' Dean always thought it was just a crock of shit his folks liked to tell themselves to be able to pat eachother on the back when they went to church. Dean always saw [DREAM LOVER] as something that'd come to him willingly. God or whoever didn't play a damn role in it whatsoever. So, what the hell WAS this thing??? Dean's feet skidded and streaked across the floor as he gripped onto the zombie's face and tried to push away it's snapping maw. "L...Let..." Dean choked out in between squeezes on his throat. "LET GO!" He yelled as the zombie shuddered and glared as it's body began to shake violently. Likely a result of the 'voice' that'd kept Dean from commanding the corpse earlier, defying [DREAM LOVER]'s influence from fully taking ahold. Blood started to trail down from Dean's nostrils as he fought back mentally.

It was optimistic and even brave on his part. But the one pulling the corpse's strings had been doing this for decades. Dean was out of his league. The corpse thrashed it's head around like a wild animal as it's master reaffirmed it's control and dug three of it's clammy fingers into Dean's mouth. "won't...talk....ever again..." It croaked out, it's words slurring, as people tried to storm past Mu and Crystal as they ran in. This thing, it was going to rip his jaw off!

THIS was a complete and utter nightmare.



The people who fled here might have thought they'd be safe. It couldn't have been farther from the truth. Once Uproar got down here and set up, they'd track down every single patron who'd come and ordered/eaten at this Burger King today and murder them/disappear them. Absolutely NO witnesses were allowed if even the slightest hint of Gifted existence was witnessed by them. At best if they couldn't be killed without creating some minor issues in the short/long term, they'd be heavily intimidated into keeping their mouth shut through other means to ruin their life. It was a terrible fact of life, one that Crystal had come to accept as she'd been raised by Tom alongside Mu.

Still, it didn't mean she had to willingly make Uproar's job easier for them by keeping the few remaining patrons in here corralled. While Mu tried to deal with the walking dead currently attacking Dean, Crystal saw the cashier, likely no more than a frightened teenager rushing back into the kitchen. It was business protocol for most establishments to skip calling the police in most cases and go straight to calling Uproar. Crystal hated what she was about to do but it was this or they could be brutally gunned down inside Burger King of all places. Firing a beam of light that banked off the windows in the lobby, it exploded the register off the countertop and sent it sailing and hitting the cashier right in the side, knocking them away from the phone and across the floor. "sorry." Crystal whispered as she looked towards the other civilians. "What are you still all doing here!? Run!!!!" She screamed.

Once she was sure everyone besides the involved Gifted had left, she glanced back over to the zombie.

It was DEFINITELY feeling the pressure from Mu's gift. The ground under it's feet cracked and trembled. Bones could be heard straining, some even cracked, likely ribs from the sound of it. But even then it didn't relax it's grip on Dean, not at all. It, with a great deal of effort, turned it's head towards Mu and Crystal. "You...." It spat before Crystal stepped forward and thrust her palm out. "Let go of our FRIEND!" The concentrated blast of light slammed into the zombie and sent it soaring backwards, banging it's head against the countertop as it was forced down onto the ground, the flesh around it's face continuing to peel off as a result of all the moving around it'd been doing, revealing more and more skull. "BRAINS!!!!!" The corpse shrieked as it reached towards the countertop and tried desperately to pull itself back up. "NEED more GIFTED BRAINS!!!!!"

"This...This thing can't be the one using it's Gift, right??" Crystal couldn't, wouldn't believe it. There had to be somebody controlling this thing from afar. Like some kind of long range Gift. Hearing wretching and coughing, Crystal raced over to Dean's side. "Dean, oh my god are you okay?!"

"...y-yeah i'll be *cough cough* fine. we've...we've gotta get damian and get out of here...uproar is gonna show up one way or another..."

Crystal knew that and she didn't want ANY of THEM here when that happened. Although UFUP and Uproar were for the most part allies, Uproar's whole deal with trying to give the Gifts of deceased Gifted to their officer's kind of worked against the idea of having Gifted following orders from the government while still retaining some sense of agency. Handlers had been lobbying to Congress for years to try and put UFUP units under Uproar authority as well but it hadn't been able to gain steam. UFUP members getting caught up fighting another Gifted in public, justified as it may have been, would have been just one more excuse for the 'how chaotic Gifted can be when they're not watched 24/7' agenda that Uproar tried to push.

"Damian...!" Crystal looked towards the restroom and then back to Dean who waved her off. "like I said I'll be fine...Go." Dean didn't want to hear another word of protest and Crystal didn't want to give it. She was just upset that Dean had gotten mixed up in this kind of stuff for the first place. That was going to be it's own can of worms. One that Tom would no doubt be through the roof about. But it wasn't like they'd ASKED to be fighting zombies of all things this morning!? They were going to be SO LATE for school on top of it all!!!

As Crystal raced off to the bathroom to grab Damian/Black Ink, a bloody hand pushed open the entrance doors.

"braaaaains...."

Dean couldn't believe his eyes. It was the hearse driver. Only missing the back of his skull as a result of having it torn up by this other corpse's blood covered teeth. Same glowing yellow eyes as the other zombie. It held it's hands out in front of it and raced towards Mu hoping to tackle him down from behind. All while the other zombie that Mu had pinned was still trying to push itself back up.

"Mu!!! Look out!!!!"

DoctorDunno ​

 

[DoctorDunno]

Mu was breathing fast - things were moving fast, too fast to process. The thing pinned to the floor wasn't alive- it couldn't be, nothing could survive what he had just hit it with. And yet, it moved. Broken bones, torn muscles, a heart that wouldn't even be able to pump blood under its own weight, and it still tried to crawl, hand over fist, towards them. He couldn't look away, a sick fascination with the sight, at least until Dean cried out in warning. Mu started, braid whipping through the air as he turned just in time to see the hearse driver charging at him. At the last minute, Mu ducked down low, legs splitting wide as his slender frame dropped down beneath the zombie's grasp. It wouldn't buy him more than a moment, but a moment was all he needed - thanks to Crystal clearing the place out he was free to cut loose without anyone noticing. Well, anyone except Dean. Shit. Well, there was time for regrets later, when he was still breathing. With an upward thrust of his palm, the charging zombie would suddenly find that there was no gravity to keep his feet on the floor, nothing to let him move forward except his existing momentum. Which Mu didn't hesitate to use against him, leaning forward to collide with the zombie's legs, sending it twirling through the air, unable to touch either floor or ceiling.

---

Meanwhile, in a basement across town, Major Tom had had just about enough of this. Helping out some wannabe revolutionaries was one thing, people dying was entirely another. And then there was... whatever was in that barrel. "Ok- y'know what? Y'all just told me you were stealing a barrel of some shit, you didn't tell me the shit would be alive." He strode forward and snatched the cash from 'Darkstar's' hand. Then, he closed his eyes, held his breath, and thought of home - and when he opened them, he was there, like he'd never left. It had been a good idea, earn a little cash while he was grounded, help out a good cause, maybe catch a movie later... except for the part where he materialized right in front of the icy stare of his mom. "And where, exactly, did ya just come back from, young man?"

 

[MidwayLives]

"Sso you're giftedtoo?" Her words came out in a jumbled heap, mouth rushing to keep up with her train of thought. While she had been attempting to put as much space between her and her captors up until this moment, the woman's grief-filled voice softened her until she was no longer twisted and clinging to the wall. For the first time since before she had woken up, she felt the impact of the words she was being told, instead of them going in one ear and out the other, bypassing her panicked mind. "A-and they're holding you here?"

<"Yes. My Gift is named [HABANERA]. I'm a red flame elemental.">

Then as far as the other question went...

<"...Yes, but-">
​

She nearly shot to her feet, narrowly avoiding falling to her knees as the blood rushed from her head.

"Y-you're a fire elemental! D.. do you know James Wesson?? If they have everyone who's gifted here, then he- he has to-" She was so consumed by excitement the connection from her brain to her mouth temporarily disconnected. All she could muster was a premature giggle of relief. If he was here as well, then together, they could take what they know about this place and somehow escape. She knew her twin married a brilliant, charming man, and if he was still here, maybe he knew and he was waiting for her. Maybe this nightmare was about to end.

Poor thing. She almost had hope.

Acela currently lacked a nose, eyebrows, a mouth.

Anything that helped a human being get their facial expressions across.

An elemental learned how to express themselves with their eyes. James had been an expert at it. His son giggled and cooed as his father's face scrunched up and those glowing yellow eyes looked down at him, full of affection.

Only there was no affection present in Acela's own eyes.

Just pity.

Perhaps a hint of despair.

She hadn't seen Karen initially brought here. Hence the furious reaction she'd had when seeing her for the first time: unconscious and prone to John's advances. But she'd heard that the unit would be getting new members. Although it was rare enough for a day to go by without Tom and her exchanging venomous barbs, there was still some degree of unspoken respect between the two elementals, polar opposites as they were. After Karen had been brought here and Jeremy had finished settling in, she'd paused to talk to Tom in the relative enough privacy of his room.

"Tom." She called out to him, her slender frame leaning against the doorframe, arms folded across her chest. Tom didn't seem to acknowledge her as he sat on his couch, not bothering to wear his glamour when it was just the two of them. Slipping both of his arms through the 'wifebeater' that he wore, he flicked through the channels. Most of them being sleazy adult ones. Acela didn't care what Tom watched. She could see it for what it was. A blatantly naked attempt to try and disgust her into leaving before he'd acknowledge her.

"Tom, we got someone else besides that young man. Didn't we?"

Still not even the slightest sign of responding to Acela's inquiry.

So, she took a more direct approach and placed a hand atop Tom's left shoulder. His shoulder felt cool to the touch, in much of the same way that you or I may have described something akin to a 'cool breeze.' Refreshing to touch/feel across your skin on a hot day but could very well become uncomfortable with prolonged exposure. It was only then that Tom finally deigned to respond, all while still not turning his head. <"Acela. Take your hand off me.">

"Not until you answer my question. Who're the new members?"

<"Why do I need to tell you? You'll meet em just like everyone-">

"Did. They. Come. Willingly?"

Tom paused, seeming to consider it, before lightly shrugging his shoulders.

<"The Rookie did. The other one, a woman, well..." >

There was the briefest hint of water bubbling. Tom wasn't a novice. He'd trained himself for years, even served during Vietnam. It'd take a lot more than run of the mill fire to trigger his condition. Gifted like Acela annoyed him to no end though. At first her flames felt cool like a swift breeze, slowly numbing your nerves while it cooked the flesh off your bone. Tom could see the flames rumbling under her hand and he angrily slapped her hand away. <"Christ, Acela! What the fuck is the matter with you?!">

"You forced her didn't you?!"

Tom jumped to his feet and stared her down. Yellow eyes meeting blazing blue eyes.

<"You know as well as I do how things go by now, Acela. Don't give me this 'holier than thou' bullshit. You can 'sign up' on your freetime or you can wait until the government sees you as too much of a risk to let keep living your mundane how do you do 'Leave it to Beaver' style life! So, get off your high horse, and back the fuck off! ALRIGHT?!"> Tom screamed so hard, his thought speak threatened to give Acela a headache. That wasn't the only thing either of them heard. Acela stopped and took in the tension, heavy enough to crush an elephant. She could hear the thumping of water in the piping. Tom was furious.

<"And so what if she was forced?? For fuck's...Acela.">

"I hate this, Thomas. I always have. You know that."

<"Yeah? Well, I wish we'd just told them back when they picked up as kids, Acela! 'Hey, this isn't fair!' Could have avoided all of this! The stress, the bullshit, all of it! What a GENIUS you are! I'm on edge right now, Acela and I don't need the added helping of sanctimony. Alright? Please?">

Acela never talked about it much. Unless it was with Mu/Crystal, Tom's 'kids' more or less. But after being picked up by the government as a child, she and Tom were trained under the same Gifted soldier. They may as well have been siblings the two had been close enough in age for it. But while Acela had a loving family that she was forcefully pulled away from, Tom didn't have any good memories of his biological parents. Or at least not any that he'd ever shared with anyone but Acela in private moments. When it came time to pick out a leader for the budding Unit#81, the two elemental's surrogate father/mentor put Tom forward as the choice nomination. Acela had tried her best to talk him out of it but Tom wouldn't hear it. It was the most important he'd ever felt, even after serving overseas. It was a chance to BE the boss rather than JUST take orders.

He'd been miserable ever since.

"...Where did that burn on your arm come from?"

The burn/final reminder of James's act of defiance against his wife's murderer had melded into something of a worn-out grotesque scar patch across Tom's left forearm. Tom glanced at it and turned back to the TV. <"None of your business. Now, get out.">

"Tom-"

<"Get. Out. I'm not gonna ask again. Next time I'll make you.">

The two stared each other down for what felt like an eternity.

Then she was gone. The door quietly closed behind her.

Tom looked at the shut door, for a moment longer than was probably warranted. He placed a protective hand over the scar and slouched.

~~~

Acela hadn't confronted Tom on the issue since. She had no qualms about throwing down with Tom. It wouldn't have been the first time they'd come to blows. She always splashed him here and there when he'd be too hard or openly cruel towards Black Ink. It wasn't as though she enjoyed it, however. Although the paths it took for them to meet were horrific, Tom was the closest thing she had to a brother and she was at the very least, grateful for that much.

But she felt the bottom drop out of her stomach at the look of hope in Karen's eyes.

Acela hesitated, then gently put her hands on either of Karen's shoulders, ostensibly to settle the woman for what was to come next.

It wouldn't be easy no matter how you tried to slice it.

<"K...Karen was it? That's your name, yes. I'm so sorry. I've been here, if not at this place, but with the government since I was a child.>"

Acela couldn't meet Karen's eyes with her own.

<"You can get up right now and walk out this door. Out of this building, even. But I meant it when I said you couldn't leave. In the government's eyes, you'll be dead if they can't have you.">

The room felt cooler as Acela flared her energy.

<"This man you speak of. If he was a friend of yours, family, then I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But if you're here then he's probably-">

~~~



Dead?

Had her papa really died back there?

Even as she was carried off by her mother, she couldn't comprehend what'd just happened.

None of it made any sense.

Her papa was tough! He was strong! Like a bull he'd always tell her.

So, why did she see purple flames burning across him in their living room?

"Mama-"

<"no time, no time, Acela."> Carmen said it so frantically, while rushing to the bedroom she'd shared with her husband. There was a closet that Acela could hide in. If she just distracted/held off the general and his men. Made it too much effort for them to have to kill an elemental to retrieve Acela. Maybe her husband's sacrifice would need not have been in vain. Pulling open the bedroom door, she locked it behind her and let her glamour go, crimson red flames scourging around her person as her yellow eyes flashed like headlights. "mama...?? What's going on....?"

<"Acela, sweetie. Please. Please go into mommy and daddy's closet."> Carmen knelt down by her daughter and held her close. <"don't come out until I come to get you, okay? Remember how we used to play hide and seek? D-Do you remember, dear?">

"Cortez! Open the door!" One of the soldiers yelled as he jiggled at the doorknob unsuccessfully. "The bitch locked the door." The door rattled and shook as two of the soldiers threw their weight against the door, shaking it and threatening to force it open. "Cortez!!!!" Acela looked from the door back to her mother and nodded. <"G-Good. Then head in there. Now, okay? Go now!">

"but mama..."

<"Acela...My flower."> The two red flamed elementals nuzzled their 'noses' together. <"No matter what happens. Your father and I will always love you.">

Jason had arrived at the door and saw his subordinates kicking/smashing at it but the door wouldn't give. "Stand back." The soldiers quickly scrambled out of their commander's way as he stood in front of the door. Gifted in the military like Jason were among the cream of the crop. Dealing with UPROAR and UFUP was enough to cow most Gifted movements from ever getting off the ground but even the rumor of a Military-Gifted being in the same town or city was enough to frighten damn near everyone. See, elementals didn't 'age' like everyone else. Sure, they got older and felt the effects of aging like other Gifted/normals. But less so the physical degrees of it and more the gradual loss of mental faculties. When an elemental-usually under the state/federal supervision-was admitted to the hospital or care ward with signs of dementia/
Alzheimer's, they were constantly exposed to their Condition and drugged up to try and keep them as docile as possible. Didn't want a 300-year-old fire elemental rampaging across New York while their brain had the consistency of jello pudding after all.

Jason Nightingale had centuries to hone his craft.

Without even touching the door physically, [BURN]'s influence spread like invisible tendrils as the door spontaneously burst into bright purple flames. The soldiers watched in awe as the door began to crumble and splinter into burning chunks of wood. He kept his arms at his sides and stepped through, his bulky frame knocking aside whatever fragments of door were left that hadn't completely detached from the burning frame. Acela took one look at the man and fled into the bathroom where the closet that Carmen had spoken of was around the corner/not visible from where Jason and his men were standing. The soldiers began to file in behind Jason, one of them even pointing in the direction that Acela had run off to. "The child's attempting to escape! Cut her off!"

*VWOOOSH*

A streak of red flame tore ass across the floor towards the soldier who'd shouted. It would have struck him and set him ablaze if Jason hadn't simply glanced over in the direction of the fiery streak. A miniature wall of purple flames rose up to impede it and the two multi-colored flames swirled before the red disappeared entirely within the purple. "t-thanks commander..."

"Don't thank me. You're an idiot for trying to run off like that. The woman's back is against the wall. She wouldn't think twice about killing you if it meant giving her daughter another chance at freedom." Jason stated, matter of factly, to boot. The soldier meekly nodded. "that said, the reality is all you can offer is delays. The child WILL be taken, Carmen. The question is only if it's now or in two minutes." Carmen narrowed her eyes. She knew she didn't stand a chance against this man. His flames burned brighter than hers and even just being near him made him sweat. The fact that the soldiers all wore gear around him without complaining meant that he had control over [BURN] to the point that he could manipulate how much idle heat he exposed to those he wished and to those he didn't. He'd be able to burn her, bypassing the traditional need for a condition altogether. But yet she didn't step back. Instead, she took a step forward, hands defiantly at her hips.

<"Is that so? What happens in two minutes?">

Jason looked down his nose at her.

"I'm going to kill you."

The conviction with how he said it struck like a sledgehammer breaking a stubborn 2x4 apart. It tried to carry on under such immense pressure and in the end it snapped like twine. Carmen balled her hands up. She knew that Jason had no reason to bluff. In her heart of hearts, she stood no chance in a conventional fight against him but it'd hurt worse to simply let him by. To take her child when the two of them had already been forced to flee from Spain, France, and even Europe in general.

She raised her hands and Jason closed his eyes and exhaled out through his nose. It sounded entirely like a sign of resignation. The outpouring of flames slammed into Jason, biting away at the fabric of his overcoat. The soldiers took a step back from behind him, as though to give him a wide berth. As Carmen continued to try and pour on the heat, her eyes met Jason's for the first time. They were dull and cold, ironic given his nature as a fellow fire elemental, and they flashed yellow. He swung his afflicted arm to the side, tearing a purple streak through the reddish flames. He stomped his foot forward and continued unimpeded, the only signs of damage from Carmen's attack being the burned fabric of his sleeve. He moved on her like a wolf lunging at a young doe. One meaty gloved hand closed itself around Carmen's throat and lifted her off the ground. The other hand was awash with purple fire as Carmen struggled in his grip.

<"...C...Can you at least promise me she'll be taken care of?>"

Jason blinked. The first sign of surprise on the giant's face.

"...Yes. I'll see to her protection myself."

Carmen looked into Jason's eyes and could tell that the man wasn't lying. He'd meant every word of what he'd said. If she couldn't physically protect her daughter, it was as much of a reassurance as she could hope to get. <"thank you..."> Jason nodded and pulled back his fist and threw it straight at Carmen's chest. The flames burned her flesh and his strength broke her bones. The pain was horrific, having her organs burned, but her thoughts weren't broadcast. She looked past Jason's shoulder and saw some of the soldiers jeering/mocking her daughter as one soldier pulled her along by her arm, his rifle pointed hazphardly in his other arm at her head. "You put up a fight back there for a little tyke. Now, stop squirming before I blow your head off, you little freak..." The soldier growled as Acela whimpered. The other soldiers nodded in agreement with their comrade's brutal manner of speaking to a frightened little girl. As the soldiers tried to corrall the girl, General Westlake. Sr stepped through the burned husk of a doorframe and scoffed at the miserable scene.

"What a sorry sight. Men, take the child back to the van. Get the bodies in place. Now!"

"Yes sir, yes sir." The soldiers all murmured out in unison. As they filed past Westlake, the one dragging Acela by her wrist stopped and pulled his hand away as Acela had burned it to the point smoke drifted up from his glove. "AHHHH!!! THAT LITTLE BITCH!!!"

Carmen shakily raised her right hand and held it out towards the man who'd so callously threatened her family. To whom her second husband had given so much loyalty to. Only to have him bring normals and a monster in the form of Jason to their home and upend their chance at a new life. Most people didn't know about it as elementals didn't tend to die in public spectacles like this but in the throes of death, they could unleash what was colloquially known as a 'dead shot.' An outpouring of their remaining energy that'd afflict anyone they focused on. The pain would last up until the user drew their last breathes but depending on the state of their injuries, the recipient of the dead shot could already have been horribly injured themselves. Much of the point when it came to using such an ability. As Westlake chided his men, he glanced over and saw Carmen's half-lidded eyes glaring him down, full of seething hatred. "Jason! Jason, stop her!" His voice sounded so far away, panicked. Just as her daughter had been, was. Jason grabbed at Carmen's arm, likely to break it but it was too late.

The dead shot was in effect.

Westlake felt a cool wave of air blow over him before his uniform burst into flames. No matter how much he tried to pat away at them or scream for his men to help, none of them budged an inch. Even the one who's glove that Acela had practically melted with the flesh of his palm stood back. They'd heard of elementals firing off 'Dead Shots' when their backs were up against the wall. Stopping one was the easy part. You just had to make sure the user died for GOOD before they could cast it. But once it was in effect? All bets were off. Those flames wouldn't be put out, no matter how much water you dumped on them, or how much you'd roll around. In fact if any of the soldiers had tried helping Westlake, the fire from the dead shot would have spread onto them and they knew it. Which is why they stood by fearfully as their superior officer died a slow agonizing death. The cool flames licked at his flesh, scraping skin and muscle off the bones with all the grace of a lion licking meat off bones. "Ja...s...o....n helllll...p....me....." Westlake croaked as he reached out a skeletal and bloody hand out towards the Gifted he'd personally selected to act as the muscle for this pickup. But there was nothing Jason could do. He pulled his hand free from Carmen's chest and gently rested her against an unobstructed wall in her bedroom. She'd already been mortally wounded with blood pouring out through the grapefruit sized hole Jason had left in her sternum.

All that was left to do was let the dead shot take it's course.

"..." Carmen could barely see, her vision had started clouding over, and the light in her eyes was dimming. The flames across her body were dissipating into wispy trails of smoke. She'd failed to save her daughter but having trusted Jason's assurance and inflicting her dead shot upon Westlake, she felt a sense of satisfaction and vindication for both Elliot's and ultimately her own death. Westlake's screams grew quieter and quieter until eventually he went still, the bedroom had been set on fire by all his constant thrashing around. Carmen's chest heaved, up and down, then it went still. The flames around her body began to settle and emit at a low barely audible rumble. "christ, she torched him..." "wha-what are we gonna write in the report, Jason..?"

"He was killed in the line of action. In her final moments, the child's mother turned hostile and used her dead shot on him. Nothing any of us could do." Jason replied as he watched Acela race over to her mother's side, clutching at her arm. "Mama! Mama!!!!" She sobbed and froze as Jason's shadow loomed over her. "No!!! Leave me alone! You hurt my mama!!! You hurt my daddy!!! Nononono!!!" She beat on the man's legs which may as well have been tree trunks to her as Jason knelt down to face level and grabbed her little arms. "Child."

He waited until she stopped struggling, her face a mess of tears and snot.

"This place...It's not home. Not anymore. There is no paradise for you to hide in."

Jason scooped up the child in his arms as she went still, likely in shock from all that'd happened. Walking towards the front of the house, he turned towards the remaining soldiers. "Move the bodies to the living room. I'll burn the place down before we leave. Don't grab anything from here or I'll execute you on the spot." The soldiers nodded. Taking items from a location of any Gifted/family/friend of Gifted was strictly forbidden. It opened up too much of a possibility for people to ask questions and could risk blowing things out of proportion. Much like how Andre's actions in the present threatened to do.

"What about the general's body?"

"Leave it."

"What? But he should be buried with full military honors! Not left in a place like this-"

"Leave. It. Do as I said."

The soldiers looked amongst themselves and then decided it was better than to argue with Jason. They set about setting the bodies up to make it look like to any neighbors or any nosy locals that it'd been a fatal accident. All that'd remain would be ashes/bones that'd be scooped up and further disposed of later. The last thing Acela saw of her childhood home was Jason standing in front of it. His hands at his side as the building suddenly burst into flames. Purple fire streaked across the building, smashing windows, traipsing across the rooftop shingles.

Then the soldiers closed the doors on the truck she was held in.

~~~

As Acela's own memories of being captured flooded her mind, she shuddered and covered her eyes with her hands. Her thought-speak messages broken up as though she were crying, something she physically could not do. <"so...so sorry...">

rakshasa ​

 

[MidwayLives]

Thomas Gorman was one of the strongest elementals that the government-at least publicly had under their employ. Unlike many of his peers, Tom had gone willingly to the federal agents when they approached his biological family. Whatever the circumstances may have been that influenced Tom's decision, they couldn't have been good. He'd trained for years, got a sister in the form of Acela, did a tour in Vietnam, and was eventually granted leadership over his own UFUP unit.

And, here he was, in one of his subordinate's rooms having a heart attack.

He clutched at his chest and the brightness in his eyes flickered as though they were on the fritz lightbulbs. Books tumbled off G's dresser and clattered to the floor as Tom fell onto his rear. Elementals lacked mouths in their natural state so he couldn't cough or pant but his thoughts seemed jumbled enough on their own. <"G....hurry...">

G had stepped up from his chair and inched towards Tom's downed form. It was a mystery to just about everyone but Tom himself how old 'G' was exactly. John had speculated somewhere around the mid-late 1800s given G's fondness for music of that time-mostly stemming from Austria-Hungary and the German Empire. If you were to ask G then he'd say that he'd first come to America sometime after Germany's defeat in WW1 and before the collapse of the Weimar Republic. Most people barely got a chance to look at him, let alone ask about his past, to be 100% certain. Kneeling down by Tom's side, G clicked together what sounded like drooling mandibles. "What sshould I do?? Sshould I call 911? Uproar??"

<"No! No...no cops.....not Uproar...They'll fry me for this..."> While most people may have felt that Tom was exaggerating, G didn't doubt his words. Uproar since it's inception during the LBJ administration and bulking up during Nixon's term, hadn't exactly been on the greatest of terms with UFUP. To let Gifted like Tom lead other Gifted was like giving a RPG to a terrorist who'd come back around and shoot it at American forces. If they'd heard that Tom may or may not have had a heart attack, they'd press on it as hard as they could to try and get Tom booted, possibly even disappeared if the government felt he was too unstable to stay a valuable asset to them. It'd hurt, greatly at first, to lose an elemental. Especially one with Tom's level of skill and power but the government never played favorites. No matter how patriotic Tom was. <"my right pocket....it has pills in it....give them to me..."> While it sucked for generally everybody else, G could see perfectly fine in his darkly-lit room, only a few candles here and there and pull-lights. He stuffed a mitten-like hand down Tom's pocket and pulled out a bottle of Quinapril. Tom snatched the bottle from him and struggled to open the twist top in his moment of weakness. <"open it! please...hurry...">

G pulled off the cap and poured a couple of the pills into Tom's waiting palm. Being that he lacked a mouth in this form, Tom shoved the pills where the mouth would normally be on his person and let the pills dissolve in the water. He slumped his head back and slowly pulled his hand away from his chest where he'd been clinging to it with such intensity G was surprised, he didn't rip off a patch of his shirt. "Do you...Feel any better, Tom?"

<"...yeah, yeah. i'll be fine now. just needed the medicine. helps my blood pressure. christ...">

G shook his head. "Thisss issss no joke, Thomasss *click click*. If thisss had happened elsesswhere, I doubt a ssstranger would be asss accommodating to help you get your medicine out. Have you even told Crysstal or Mu about thissss condition?"

Tom slammed his fist on the ground. <"Yeah, well maybe if you hadn't dumped all this news on me at once I'd be fine. This kind of thing only happens when I'm feeling overwhelmed. It just doesn't stop. First, I get Acela breathing down my neck, the Rookie trying to step up to me, and now I'm getting a lecture from you?? Bite me."> As for telling his children, Tom mentally snarled like a big cat. <"Isn't being a teenager stressful enough without me putting this on them? Besides, I'm not an invalid. I've just got high blood pressure. That's all. No need to make it a national emergency.">

"Tom. You almossst jussst died on my floor *click click click*"

<"Yeah, and I didn't. I got my medicine. Thanks, by the by, before I forget.">

G leaned back in his chair, it's frame squeaked and groaned under his posterior.

"You ssseemed aware about that barrel."

Tom blanched, which was hard enough to tell given he lacked most of what helped humans express themselves. <"Yeah.. Yeah, I have something of an idea. If it's what I think it is then I gotta make some calls. Get in touch with the geezer and Santa Clarita's UFUP unit. The mayor has that whole 'stay at home' BS going on because of the bar Andre and his bitch burned down. Perfect timing to go snooping around and see if you can retrieve a six foot tall steel drum."> [/FONT]

"Any intention of letting me or anyone else know what precissely isss IN the thing?"

Tom glanced at G, long and hard. G, by all accounts, was really one of the few if not the only person Tom could come within a country mile of calling a 'friend.'

"No."

"No?"

<"What are you, a parrot? I said, no. That's the end of it. All you and anyone else needs to know is that what's in there is Capital-bad news. The sooner it's out of the hands of a bunch of..."> Tom waved a hand dismissively in the air. <"Who do we think took it?">

"A group of vigiliantesss lead by a man calling himself 'Darkheart'..."

<"..Huh. Well, glad, that a guy with such a serious sounding name managed to get one up on Uncle Sam's boys."> Tom rolled his eyes and gestured in the darkness to G's old rotary phone. <"Call the geezer up and tell him I'll be on my way. He give you the address where he's staying? More to the point, why the hell he's poking his old wrinkly ass in California's business? What? His bosses in Brooklyn not giving him enough to work with?"> G shook his head, and may have done the closest he could arch an eyebrow. Kind of tough when you didn't have any. "The mosst he was able to tell me was that hisss 'Bossesss's were concerned about sssome troubling information one of their Mental gifted had forseen. Ssso they ssssent The Ssshade out here to investigate." G raised his hands and put heavy ehmpasis on 'investigate.' Officially, the Shade was only so far able to act in California for as long as he was allowed to be here by the governor of California. He was a guest in that way. If at any point the governor wanted The Shade to pack up and leave, he'd have to, lest he risk causing a national crisis.

<"Ah, so he comes over, drops some bad news, tells us to handle it, and what? He'll just sit back, put his feet up? Shoot, why don't I go down to the theater and buy him a box of popcorn and a jumbo coke?"> Tom slapped his knees and rose up to his feet. <"...If, and I'm being EXTREMELY generous here, IF this Andre guy really is as much of a threat as the Shade thinks he is, we've gotta take him out. No ifs ands or buts about it. He's gotta go. Him, his gal, fat ass (if he isn't already dead) and mystery girl. Permanant vacations six feet under.">

"Agreed."

<"Glad we can all agree on that. As far as the drum situation goes?" Tom ran a hand over his face, twiddling his fingers through his hair. "G, what I'm about to tell you. It doesn't leave this room. If I find out it has? I'm going to have to kill you."> Tom said, his tone leaving not even an inch of room for any hint of joking or messing around. He'd said it and he'd meant it. G held up his hands placatingly. "Thomas. I've known you for years. You know you don't have to threaten me."

"No, nuh-uh. Sorry, G. I can't take any chances here. The city can't take any chances. If...If what's in that drum, if it's what I think it is. If we let this get too out of hand? Those fuckups don't have ANY idea what they've gone and unleashed. We're talking, ground zero level issue here. The army may have to step in and well..."

G nodded, slowly, in understanding. "They'll get Andre and his followers."

"Yeah, they'll contain the whole enchilada. But not before half of L.A. is a smoldering pile of rubble and I'm left holding the bag for it."

G quirked his head. "How do you figure that, Tom? You can only do ssso much. Even you have limitsss."

"Doesn't matter, bud. I was designated leader of this UFUP Unit, I'm 'technically' in charge of unsanctioned Gifted activity in L.A. If this city gets turned upside down because the army had to clean up behind us, the government is gonna want someone to blame. A bad guy they can point their finger at. I'll be that guy. I don't WANNA be that guy which is why I'm telling you now. So, just promise me that you'll keep this between us. Alright?"> In the depths of darkness framing the entirety of G's room, with some minute exceptions here and there, Tom could see the other man nod.

<"...Alright. Thank you. What's in that drum is-">

~~~
​

Mu was breathing fast - things were moving fast, too fast to process. The thing pinned to the floor wasn't alive- it couldn't be, nothing could survive what he had just hit it with. And yet, it moved. Broken bones, torn muscles, a heart that wouldn't even be able to pump blood under its own weight, and it still tried to crawl, hand over fist, towards them.

The zombie was driven further against the floor, its bones cracking audibly. Snap, crackle, pop. Over and over again like a twisted orchestra. Bone cracked right at the side and tore through the creature's left forearm spilling embalming fluid all over the floor at the zombie's side. It used its good hand to grab the leg of a nearby chair and craned its eyes up towards Mu. The yellow glow in the zombie's cloudy eyes grew brighter as though Mu were staring down the lense of a flashlight.

Then it hit him.

<"WHO....DO YOU.....THINK YOU AREEEEEEE? TO....STOP ME....? BOY!!!!!!!">

The voice assaulted Mu's mind all while the zombie continued to struggle against the gravity well it'd been trapped under. It's mouth hadn't said anything beyond snarling and foaming at the mouth, loose skin hanging off exposed skull.

<"BACK DOWN....AND I'LL LET YOU AND YOURS....LIVE.">

The zombie slowly turned the focus of it's gruesome gaze upon Dean who'd still been tending to his bloody nose. Trying to take on whatever entity was puppeteering these corpses around had left him with a serious headache and the red stuff was oozing out of his nose like a volcano had gone off, running down his neck and staining his shirt. He kept one hand under his bleeding nostrils and used the other to grip on the underside of the table he'd been thrown into and pulled himself up to his feet. "whoa..." He murmured, nearly toppling over as quickly as he'd stood up. His head felt like it'd gone three rounds with a wrecking ball. Nobody had been able to defy [DREAM LOVER] like that. Nobody since his old man...

The zombie glanced over at Dean. It looked towards Mu and grinned.

It's black gums, the yellowed teeth that were stained with blood, still fresh enough to be wet.

<"....YOU NEVER SHOULD HAVE PICKED THIS FIGHT. [THE DEAD WALK]!!!!">

The zombie threw it's hands up, in sheer defiance of Mu's ability, and a massive wave of green energy flowed out of the abomination's palms like billowing green smoke. Dean's eyes went wide as he staggered back, favoring his free hand as he leaned on the table to steady himself. That green smoke didn't look appealing whatsoever and it most certainly didn't sound like a good idea to inhale or get anywhere near the stuff. "Mu...what's going on...?" Dean asked, his voice sound faint and woozy, although he didn't know it, trying to compete against [THE DEAD WALK]'s user had taken more out of him than even he realized. The hearse driver zombie scratched impotently at Mu as it floated up and away from him. The smoke wrapped around the protruding bone on the 1st zombie's left arm and with a series of continually increasing grotesque noises, the bone was 'placed back' with only a gaping hole left present. If one were to hazard a guess or two, so far [THE DEAD WALK] seemed to allow it's user to reanimate the dead and the green smoke that ebbed off the corpses also seemed to repair injuries suffered on the zombie's part.

*[THE DEAD WALK]*: A Mental-type gift that reanimates dead tissue within the AOE of where it's initially activated. Though it's main function is generally to reanimate dead bodies that the user can then puppet around/broadcast their thought-speech through, it can also decompose living tissue through exposed contact. Avoiding the bites of any 'zombies' brought about by the Gift's activation are crucial. The green smoke flowing from the zombies is controllable by the User and can repair a zombie's damaged state, though this only applies to inflicted injuries. If a corpse is reanimated in an increased stage of decomposition, there's nothing the Gift can do to mend that. The dead will also crave the flesh/brains of the living if not actively controlled by the User. If inhaled by the living, if they're awake, they can fight off the effects of [THE DEAD WALK] with their willpower. If they're unconscious/asleep, the smoke will act as a toxin and attempt to poison them in their sleep. But until the user either calls off the territory and deactivates [THE DEAD WALK] or the user is killed, the inflicted WILL eventually 'die' and be reanimated by the Gift. Knocking out the user will have no effect. They must turn off [THE DEAD WALK] willingly or be killed. No in between.

Seeing the smoke trailing towards Dean, the zombie threw back it's head and tried to make some kind of attempt at laughing. Between the damage that the Gift was still trying to heal due to Mu's gravity bombardment and the corpse's initially poor condition, it sounded more like a choking noise. "Agh...ahhh...crk.....crk...." Then the voice boomed in both Mu and Dean's subconsciouses. <"DEACTIVATE....YOUR GIFT....OR YOUR FRIEND....CAN JOIN MY ZOMBIES...."> Dean pressed one hand to the side of his head and pulled his bloodsoaked shirt up over his nose and mouth. "d-don't listen to him-it, Mu! Take him, them, whatever! Down!"

<"CHOOSE....CHOOSE!!!!!">

Meanwhile, in the men's room...

~~~

Black Ink hadn't really needed to use the restroom. Not right at this moment, anyhow. He just wanted a quiet place to kick his feet and think. He didn't have any general problems at school. In fact, he usually liked going! But something about today just felt different. He couldn't really put his finger on it and if you'd asked him to, 50/50 he'd just get frustrated and cry instead of giving a definitive answer. He'd have to eventually admit that maybe it was just his mind playing silly tricks on him or something. But he could have sworn he'd heard a voice in his head during the ride here. Much in the same way that Tom or Auntie Acela spoke when in their elemental forms. He was also just as sure that his daddy had heard it too.

"Ohhhhh...." He bit at his bottom lip, a habit that Crystal had been trying to get him to break. Between licking his lips too much or accidently drawing blood, he was in frequent need of lip balm for cold sores or a tissue to dab at blood when his fangs broke the skin. He kicked his feet back and forth a bit more before hopping to his feet. Thinking time was fun and all but he'd had to get going. He didn't' want to be the reason Daddy and the others were late for school. As he went to reach for the latch to his stall though, he paused as he heard a groan coming from the next stall over. Unknown to Ink, one of the employees hadn't had the sense to simply run out the door after Crystal and Mu had distracted the main zombie. This unfortunate employee had made the, perhaps not totally without merit, gamble that if there were actual zombies? That the world was going to be just as bad outside than it was here in Burger King of all places. So, in the chaos he'd bunkered down in the stall and tried to stay as quiet as a church mouse. He'd gotten so comfortable in fact that he'd fallen asleep. If it'd been a nice comfy bed he'd passed out in, it might have done wonders for his stress. Instead, all it did for him here was make him even more of a susceptible target to the enemy's Gift. Green smoke flowed in under the door and under the stall doors. Black Ink saw it, clapped a hand over his nose(which in reality behind the glamour was more two fleshy slits where a normal nose would be) and closed his mouth up tight. The employee wasn't so lucky to prepare himself. The smoke covered him like a blanket.

Ink could hear him spasming. His arms banging against the stall walls until his knuckles bled, his legs kicking at the floor. *THUMP THUMP THUMP* "M..Mister...??" There was no vocal response given. Just a muted gurgling and coughing as the effect of [THE DEAD WALK] took control of him. Silencing his life and leaving behind his corpse to be used however the new owner wished. "Are you oka-"

*THUMP THUMP*

The corpse had risen to it's feet and smashed open it's own stall door. The newly made zombie was as fresh as you were going to get. Still dressed up in their work uniform, the zombie turned towards the other stall. It'd heard noise coming from within. Which meant that there was likely flesh in there to consume. "brains...BRAINS!!" The zombie screeched like a banshee and began throwing it's weight against the door, causing Black Ink to scurry back atop the toliet and pull his legs in close. "EEEK!!!"

"BRAINSSSSS!!"

"SOMEONE HELP!!! DADDY!!!"

Crystal pushed open the bathroom door and was horrified as she saw yet another zombie smashing it's bloodied hands against the door, denting the metal frame. "Brains!!! Need brains!!!" As the user's focus seemed to primarily be on Mu and Dean, this zombie was more or less left on auto pilot. Acting out like a ravenous beast, seeking it's next meal. Crystal could feel her chest beginning to ache. This was starting to go well beyond some Gifted asshole trying to make a name for themselves. Zombies appeared like they were coming out of the woodwork. She had to save Damian and get them all the hell out of here before UPROAR showed up and turned this whole thing into a fiasco! "Hey! Ugly!"

She never claimed to be creative.

The zombie turned towards Crystal, it's glowing yellow eyes leering hungrily at her. "MORE brains!! GIFTED BRAINS!!!" The zombie quickly gave up it's pursuit of Black Ink and sprinted towards Crystal, taking the teenager by surprise at how quickly it hauled ass. One hand wrapped around her throat, throwing her against the wall while the other reared back to club her in the head and rip out those sweet scrumptious brains. Black Ink crawled out from under the stall door, scared out of his wits by seeing the dents on the door. He wasn't at all placated by seeing his 2nd auntie getting choked out by what looked like a monster! "Crystal!!"

"D..*ack* Damian!! Call...Call Grandpa! There's a phone in the office!!" The zombie squeezed tighter. "In the back of the kitchen!!" Black Ink hopped from foot to foot, the tile squeaking under the soles of his sneakers. "But what about you?!" Crystal's eyes flared red and a bright yellow light ebbed from her right hand. "I'll *cough cough* be fine now go!!" Black Ink didn't like this. He didn't want to leave Crystal behind with this big scary jerk. But if it's what she wanted of him then he outright refused to argue. It wasn't his place. He scurried past the offending zombie and out the door. The zombie watched him go and seemed to pause...the face contorted in, confusion?

"Damian...?" The zombie repeated, it's guard down as Crystal continued to charge her attack. "Eat THIS!" She slammed her right hand against the zombie's face and flared her energy. The light blast scorched the zombie's face and sent them flying back from Crystal, smashing against the nearest stall door wall with enough force to topple it over like a gigantic domino. The zombie clutched at it' face which just moments ago had looked like a regular teenager's face. Acne, oily hair, and a pencil thin mustache. All of it had been burned away by Crystal's Gift. She wasn't an elemental and couldn't turn herself INTO Light but it was still hers to command. Which meant that this particular zombie was left with smoke sizzling off their face which appeared to have the consistency of burnt bacon. "AGAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" The zombie screamed as it glowered at Crystal through it's spread fingers and lunged for her again. "WON'T STOP ME....NEED BRAINS!!! YOUR BRAINS!!!" Crystal sidestepped the zombie's lunge and fired a light beam that pinged off the mirrors to circle back around and come back out through the zombie's back and chest. The zombie tripped over itself and crashed into the garbage can.

"Don't get up on my account..." Crystal muttered as she quickly stepped out of the room and holding her index finger against the side of the door, she began to melt the frame to prevent the door from being opened from either side, the concrete being melted into a thick goo as Crystal went about trying to meld the door shut and keep, at least this zombie, out of everyone's hair for a minute. But she knew it wouldn't last long. The zombie would reorient itself and smash the door down in due time. Whether it tore it's shoulder out of the socket or broke it's wrists hammering at the door didn't seem to matter much. True to form, the zombie wound back up on it's feet, shaking off any excess garbage and turned towards the door and slammed against it, nearly throwing Crystal back on the other side of it. "LET ME OUT!!! BRAINS!!!!"

"Mu!! I...I can't stop these things!!! They're tough as hell!!" Crystal called out to her brother as she continued working at the door to try and 'weld' it shut, more or less, while the zombie tried it's hand at breaking it down before Crystal even got that far. Keeping a hand over his mouth/nose slits, Black ink scurried behind the counter and moved towards the backroom office. The door was locked but that was okay. He simply ripped off the doorknob off and pushed the door open. There was a small dark blue rotary phone sitting on the desk. Grabbing it off the receiver, Black Ink quickly tried to dial Thomas's phone number.

~~~

Back at the apartment, Thomas had been about to leave G's room when both men heard the phone ring. Thomas glanced over at G for perhaps, an explanation of some kind. He got none. <"Jesus christ, the old fuck can't even wait until I'm out the door." Tom stomped over like a bull in someone else's china shop and angrily picked up the phone. <"Yeah?? Who is it??">

"it's me, grandpa!"

<"Black Ink?! What the hell are you-"> Thomas glanced back at G and briefly formed a mouth to silently ask 'is the phone tapped?" G shook his head no. G was pretty good at looking out for bugs like that. <"What number are you calling me from?? I thought you were supposed to be in school by now??">

"um...well grandpa....there's a problem..."

Tom rolled his eyes. Out of everything he had to worry about, THIS had to be at the lowest level of the totem pole.

<"What KIND of problem, Ink?">

"...a zombie one I think."

Thomas felt a full body shiver and nearly dropped the phone. <"D...Did you say zombies?? As in plural...?? Ink?!">

"yup, yup!! there' like 3 of them!"

G listened in and quietly commented. "T-Thomasss, I believe thingss are getting out of hand..."

Thomas held one hand to his forehead, his other hand trembled like he had the shakes, the phone once again nearly slipping from his hold. <"..A...Are you 100% sure they're zombies, Ink?">

"Yep!! One of them attacked me!!! Crystal saved me but now daddy and Dean are fighting two more of them!! I'm scared, grandpa..." The child's mewling could have been heard through the line and Tom opened and shut his eyes tightly. <"...ok, ok. Don't get upset, Damian. G will be down there to get you guys. He'll...We'll make sure you all get somewhere safe. Where are you at?"> Ink gave the address and Tom motioned for G to write it down. "I'm sssorry, Thomas but did you sssugessst I go?!"

'who the fuck else is gonna do it??' Thomas mouthed.

<"OKAY! G's COMING RIGHT NOW! Just..Just stay away from them, Ink and for god's sake, don't let the green smoke anywhere near your mouth!">

"okay....love you grandpa."

<"....love you too, kid.">

Tom hung up the phone and shuddered. <"Jesus h. christ. Things are going to hell in a handbasket and I have zero fucking clue on how to handle it. I...I gotta go meet the Shade. G, I'll call you a cab and you gotta get down there to that joint and scoop them up before Uproar shows up. If Uproar sees MY kids in the middle of this nightmare and that Hawkins kid? We're gonna be up to our necks in shit."> Thomas stepped out of G's room only for G to stand in the doorway and call out to him while shying away from the hallway lights. "Thomass! You ssstill haven't explained why I have to go!!! Can you not pick them up on your way to meet The Ssshade?! I haven't left my room in yearsss!!!"

Tom paused and very slowly, so slow in fact that G would later figure it was another attempt at intimidating him. <"No, no I can't. You wanna know why I can't? Because let's say traffic's a bitch and I don't get down there until the corpses have chewed their faces off or Uproar's shown up. No matter which way you slice it, I'm getting fucked in either scenario. Either I lose half my team in one fell swoop and I was too late to do anything about it and you want ME to try and talk down Uproar from just shooting first and asking questions, later, if at all?? They've been waiting for an opportunity like this. To paint me as incompetent. I show up when goddamn zombies are rampaging across town? That's gonna be dumped on my lap quicker than those dead whores Johnny keeps leaving around."> Tom tucked his hands in the pockets of his jeans and mentally scoffed. <"Christ. I mean, I cover up for damn near everyone here. You think Johnny's smart enough to dispose of those bodies by himself? No, I dump em all in [OCEAN MAN]. Even my own damn daughter steals when we go shopping and I have to pay for it to avoid causing a scene. Now, G, YOU tell ME. What do you think Mrs. Kafka would think if I told her where her precious little poodle ended up after all huh? 'Sorry, I was wrong when I'd told you she ran away. Turns out he got skinned and hung out to dry because one of my employees is Buffalo Bill but for animals!' DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME, G?!">

"..."

G staggered back from the sheer weight behind Thomas's mental barrage.

Tom winced and turned away.

<"I'm just asking you to do me a favor, G. Please. This has a chance to get bigger than what those kids can handle. I got enough on my mind that I'm gonna have to juggle without worrying about them. I'll call the school when I get to Shade's motel room. Might be better if they still go. Need to get an idea how far [THE DEAD WALK] has spread. If it's as bad as I think it is..."> Tom closed his eyes. <"It's gonna be hell.">

G sighed and slowly opened his door. "Alright. I don't appreciate being threatened twice in one conversation. But this isn't about me or you. It's about sssecuring the lives of thosse children. I'll do what I can."

<"...Thank you, G. I'm...I'm sorry.">

"Don't wasste time apologizing. Go. I'll do what needss to be done."

<"..Alright. My door's unlocked. Go grab some clothes, a sweater, slacks. Then call a cab and get the hell out of here. Call me when you get back here. We clear on the plan?">

"Cryssstal."

<"Good, good. I'm glad you're in my corner, G. Because I feel like tonight's gonna get a whole hell of a lot worse before it gets better...">

Both men looked out the nearest window in G's room.

Unknown to them, the smoke from [THE DEAD WALK] had been able to spread itself to the nearest cemetary.

The occupants were planning on taking some unexpected 'shore leave.'

Uh oh.



DoctorDunno
​

 

[MidwayLives]

Meanwhile, in a basement across town, Major Tom had had just about enough of this. Helping out some wannabe revolutionaries was one thing, people dying was entirely another. And then there was... whatever was in that barrel. "Ok- y'know what? Y'all just told me you were stealing a barrel of some shit, you didn't tell me the shit would be alive." He strode forward and snatched the cash from 'Darkstar's' hand.

"Oh great! *cough cough* The little shit's gone! Now what's stopping him from just *cough cough* ratting us out to the Feds, Darkstar?? You KNOW they're gonna be looking for this...this thing!!" Herald shrieked as he'd fallen onto his back and was trying to crawl towards the basement stairs as the green smoke continued to filter and spread across the entirety of the basement. "No way in hell they just let this go! MT's gonna go squeal to them and probably *cough cough* get some kind of reward!"

<"LET ME OUT!!!!!!">

*THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD*

"OH GOD MAKE IT STOP SCREAMING!!" Crimsonwing shrieked as he held both hands to his ears and fell to his knees.

The lid of the drum was ripped free and thrown clear of the bathroom. Crashing onto the table in the center of the basement, crushing it under the lid's weight. It had to have weighed at least a good forty or so pounds. If one looked at the metal hooks it used to click into the drum, they'd see that they'd been singed and contorted at the edges. As though they'd been burned and melted. One hand lurched out from the now exposed barrel, the hand wore a black leather glove which audibly crinkled as the owner of the hand bent it up into a fist and back. As though it were testing out it's own limbs. It slapped around at the exterior of the barrel before reaching around and grasping the rim where the lid had been ripped free from. The figure pulled itself up and an absolutely horrendous odor washed over the three teenagers. It could have been described as the combination of rotten eggs mixed in with maggot infested meat that'd been thrown into the nearest garbage bin among all the other refuse. That was in it of itself being extremely generous. Slimy looking water, a yellowish green in coloration ran down the seams and folds of the figure's black trenchcoat. Dripping down in foul smelling streams, the figure craned it's neck from side to side.

*crack*

*crack*

It clambered out of the drum, it's black combat boots slick with a brownish sludge-like liquid of some kind. Herald and Crimsonwing were both too fatigued by the effects of the green smoke, which we now know to be a manifestation of [THE DEAD WALK], to vocally cry out in complete and utter petrified terror. So, instead they settled for having their mouths left agape, tears running down their cheeks as they'd found themselves way in over their heads. Darkwing hadn't screamed or fallen or really shown any express discomfort in regard to the smoke. As though he welcomed whatever it'd do to him. He looked upon the figure, who even judging roughly from the distance between them, was absolutely towering. He must have been eight feet at least. Tall enough to look a polar bear in the eye, not that you'd ever want to unless you had a death wish. The uniform that the 'thing' wore could have given one any number of ideas from government agent to scientific experiment gone horribly wrong. But the feature that draw the most stares were the thing's face. It had no hair to speak of and it's head looked like it was stuck in a constant state of melting. Acid oozed across its facial features, exposing muscle tissue across every couple of inches or so. In fact, when the creature grinded it's teeth, you could see the inner workings of it's jaw muscles at work. The nostrils were a mess, looking as though they were going to just fall right off his face. The eyes were even worse, looking like caves with how sunken in they were, his eyes looking like the only spots of color among his melting complexions.

"who....who are you...?"

The thing's head snapped towards Darkstar. The teeth clicked together, and it looked the ringleader of the group from top to bottom. In much the same way that a tiger eyed an animal that it'd already marked up as prey. Then it began to speak to him.

"Once....upon a time...I used to be called.... Edgar Cruz...."
The man stepped forward and Herald/Crimsonwing both held up their hands as a sign of surrender. They'd been told that they were saving a Gifted, a man's life from being trapped inside the barrel. Whatever this thing said, how it said it. It didn't look like a man. Not anymore.

"I had a wife...She was beautiful...and a son. He was...stolen...from me. His name was.... Damien..."



"...But you, no, the world. Can call me..."

He splayed his gloved hands to the side. His voice sounding like it was physically paining him to drag each word out through his mouth. Although it was mostly obscured by the acid-drenched flesh coating his frame, Darkstar could have sworn he saw a glimpse of the man's trachea.

"Rot."

DoctorDunno

~~~



It'd all been agreed upon for the most part.

G had, with extreme reluctance, lurched out of his room. Keeping his arms tight to his chest and hunching down. As though it'd make his hulking frame any harder to see as he skulked through the hall to Tom's room.

Tom regretted threatening G to get him to comply. It hadn't been right and for a split second, he'd thought back to how Jeremy had enough of how Tom spoke to him. It hadn't been anything personal. G was about as much of a confidant as someone as brash and crass as Tom was ever going to have. The Rookie was an alright enough kid but it just hadn't settled in his head yet that a normal like Jeremy was allowed on a UFUP Unit with no objections from the higher ups. When Tom had asked for an explanation, all he'd been told was that 'he'd just have to wait and see.' What kind of cryptic nonsense was that?

But he didn't complain. At least not to his direct superiors.

They'd killed men like Tom for far, far less.

As he drove down the busy streets of L.A to meet up with 'The Shade' at his motel room, Tom heard a ringing coming from the car phone that he'd been forced to install in his otherwise pristine car. Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, Tom grabbed the phone with the other and held it up to his ear.

"Agent Gorman, here. Speak."

"My my, how professional. I suppose a bet I'd made with one of my officers that you'd answer while pretending to be inebriated was premature."

"Warren."

Warren Fairweather was the handler in charge of UPROAR forces stationed in L.A. Prior to him, his father had been in charge, and before that Warren's grandfather. It'd turned into something of a macabre family legacy. Tom hadn't been around for Warren's old man or his gramps but he knew enough from his encounters with Warren that the man was a slimebag. Always trying to eke out the slightest bit of corruption or weakness in Tom's team so he could bring it forth to the White House and try to get Tom sacked as leader/another notch on the agenda that 'Gifted should not be allowed to choose for themselves' that UPROAR as an organization wholeheartedly described to. If men like Warren had their way, Gifted like Tom and Mu would be converted into little more than emotionless killing machines that obeyed orders from governmental officials. On good days, Tom could almost appreciate the hustle. Man wanted to get up higher in the world and didn't care who he had to step over to get there. Tom's life as a whole, plus a tour over in Vietnam, had been proof enough that life was terrible. No extra evidence was needed.

Still, today was as far from a good day as the UK was from Australia and it was only going to get a whole lot worse.

"I'd say it's a pleasure, Thomas. But you and I both know that it isn't."

"Yup. So, why are you calling me? I'm a little busy today-"

Thomas paused. Had that been gunfire on the other side?

"...What the hell's going on over there, Warren? Sounds like you're at the firing range with Rambo."

" 'Rambo.' Poignant. No, I'm afraid I'm at a much less miserable locale. The Los Angles National Cemetary to be more specific. Have you been watching the news lately, Thomas?"

Thomas felt cold sweat starting to soak his white shirt. He rested the phone briefly on the dashboard and moved back to adjust his jacket over the shirt. As if to hide the sweat stains from invisible prying eyes. He then slowly picked up the phone again. "...No. Been busy. Why...?"

"Well, there's been reports of acts of cannibalism if you can believe it. People getting attacked in broad daylight. Flesh bitten into; fingers torn off. Gouges and gashes caused by bite marks or nail scratches. So far the media had a bit of a runaway scandal. Blaming it on a drug epidemic that President Carter had simply failed to notice. PR pencilpushers are already framing President Reagan to be the one to bring order to this chaotic situation as it develops. To my understanding there's even been musings about activating the National Guard."

Thomas felt a chill run through his car even though it was a pretty hot day. Maybe that's why he was sweating so much. Yeah, had to be it.

"...But you and I both know these aren't just run of the mill crack fiends. Don't we Agent Gorman?"

"how many?"

"Hm?"

"how many of them are active at the cemetery?"

"I contacted the U.S. Department of Veteran Affairs. Thankfully, nobody's been buried here since 1978. I have battalions of my officers stationed around the entrances and exits to the cemetery. Things have been quite...exhausting. A gentleman I spoke to over the phone confirmed to me that there's at least 85,000 veterans from various wars buried here. My officers aren't much for commentary, but I've seen it with my own eyes. A green smoke spreading across each gravestone and eating away at the dirt laying above the coffins. I've seen skeletons dressed in ragged remains of Confederate uniforms rise and sprint towards my officers. In god's name, I've even seen rotting remains of service dogs tear out one of my officer's hearts. Feels as though I've stumbled across a real-life horror movie."

85,000. The number made Tom pale and nearly lose control of his glamour. UPROAR was nothing to sneeze at and the officers were only a step up from what Rot did with his own zombies. Officers were made by using cadavers and sticking in the brain and heart from Gifted individuals. Whether it was willing or not depended on how much resistance the specific Gifted gave the government officials charged with chopping them up. Sometimes it worked and the officers who in life had been normals/party poopers like Jeremy gained access to a rudimentary version of their donor's Gift. But the process wasn't without it's flaws, major ones at that. Officers had to be rotated in and out regularly as using their stolen Gifts decayed the flesh of the officer and at a certain point they'd be so rotten that they wouldn't even be able to move under their own power anymore or be of any use in any kind of combat situation. Others gained some of the memories of their donors and had to be put down with extreme prejudice. Least they try escaping in their new mutilated bodies. Officers had just enough intelligence to be able to communicate and plan simple enough strategies amongst themselves but men like Warren were supposed to be a unifying figure for them. Someone to rally the officers together and dictate instructions as needed.

Tom had no doubt that they'd hold the line at this cemetery no problem. Something would have to give eventually though. Either the zombies would eventually overwhelm the officers and break free of the cemetery's grounds and flee further into the city causing untold amounts of death and destruction in their wake. Or if Rot was let go unimpeded, zombies from outside of L.A could simply swarm Warren's forces and turn the officers into more members of the undead. Resting the phone wearily against his forehead, Tom spoke, his voice practically a whisper into the receiver. "How long do you think you can hold them there?"

"Loaded question. Tough one to give an accurate answer to but I suppose for simplicity's sake, I'll try. I have my elemental officers stationed at the forefront. Putting up earth walls around the entrances, water elementals soaking the grass and making it hard for them to move around. Fire seems to ward them away, at least temporarily. I've had to do without my mental type-officers for the time being. ...That situation regarding the ones behind that scene of arson in Santa Clarita lead to the mayor there begging the governor to use my mental types to try and 'source out the killers.' Waste of time but it's above my station. My physical types are using conventional weaponry for now. Save their strength for if the enemy ends up breaching the barricade I've set up. I had to..." Warren grumbled. "Outsource some work to a freelance Mental-type to put an illusion around the cemetery so normal civilians don't see what's going on. If things were different, I'd say I'd have this place cleared within a day or so. But this smoke it's lingering around the gravestones and repairing any damage my officers inflict. Quite frustrating. I'd say without reinforcements, my officers can hold their ground for three days at best."

Another voice called out, sounding furious. 'THREE DAYS?! YOU EXPECT ME TO KEEP MY BARRIER UP FOR THREE WHOLE DAYS?! MY HEAD WILL EXPLODE BEFORE THEN!!!'

"You'll do what your country asks of you and without complaint."

Tom raised an eyebrow. "...Who was that? Sounded too mouthy to be one of your officers."

"...Another freelancer. One that's irritably crossed Uproar's path more than I'd care to admit. My officers saved her and her partner from these things in exchange for her assistance keeping these things corralled within the cemetery's grounds."

"Doesn't sound like you're happy to have em there."

"No 'em'. Had to cut the partner loose."

"Eh? Why?"

"He's normal. Only reason my officers didn't simply kill him and be done with it is that she'd refuse to work with us and with the number of creatures lurking around, I didn't have time to strong arm her. Adding in the fact that he refused to hear or accept a word about his partner's true nature as a Gifted, it was easy enough to keep him out of the loop. Whatever happens to him now isn't my concern." Tom nodded, not that Warren would see it, and then decided to try and get to the point. "Well. You clearly need something from me or else you wouldn't have called unless it was to gloat over me for something."

Warren snorted. "Took you long enough didn't it?" Thomas grunted in response. "I'd seen the brewing of a disaster and thought of you. I'm optimistic that you're involved in this somehow, Gorman."

"Yeah? How about ten bucks you're wrong and I'm just an innocent soul wrapped up in all this mess?"

"I don't bet. You can either come clean and tell me what's happened, or I can have you subpoenaed and dragged in by my officers."

Tom growled into the receiver. "Good luck on finding a federal judge to sign off on it, dickweed. You've got absolutely nothing on me. A hunch that I'm 'somehow' mysteriously tangled up with these strange occurrences of corpses attacking people isn't gonna fly and you damn well know it. Besides, even if you tried to go state-level, a fed judge would strike it down, and who knows? That barrier might collapse before the court battle does. So, you wanna threaten me, Fairweather, you're more than welcome to. Next time have it be a threat that's actually worth a damn you wormy cocksucker."

Warren could audibly be heard inhaling and exhaling, rather sharply at that, on the other end of the phone.

"Once this situation is brought under control, and it WILL be handled, with or without the 'aid' of UFUP. You and I will have a proper discussion. Thomas."

Tom snickered. "Sure. Name the place and time. Til then, good luck with not getting eaten. Dickhead."

He hung up the phone before Warren could get the last word in.

"Heh. He's gonna hate that."

...And on he continued to meet The Shade.

~~~

Warren flared his nostrils as he was hung up on.

"I utterly hate it when he does that."

He looked towards a nearby group of officers positioned with their rifles near the chapel's boarded up windows (still leaving some room to fit the barrels of their rifles through if needed). "Officer #62603. Status report."

Being a handler required being able to memorize every ID number for each individual officer. None of them were supposed to be passable as names. The upper brass didn't even want to slightly humor the idea of the officers coming up with nicknames for each other and fraternizing beyond combat strategies. It also was supposed to try and keep the handler from getting too emotionally invested when an officer reached the point of no return of abusing their body/it'd decomposed too badly from repeated Gift usage. Those officers were often quietly retired and given basic medical care until they naturally expired, or at least it'd been the case when Warren's father had been in charge of L.A's branch of UPROAR. Warren couldn't care less himself. Taking care of men who could do little more than follow orders in much the same way a police dog or automated machine would sound like a waste of taxpayer money(which also so happened to fuel the state budget that funded UPROAR's California branch). Better to take them out of sight, kill them, and dispose of the remains. None of the other officers would question where their peer had gone and another cadaver would be stitched up and pushed out to take it's place.

The officer that'd been addressed stepped back from the window and turned to face Warren. It removed a hand from holding the stock of it's rifle and saluted the handler. "Sir. Hostiles have still not seemed to have noticed our presence since the illusion was put up. They-" The soldier was muffled over the thunderous uproar of gunfire and screeches for brains from the thousands upon thousands of zombies roaming around outside. "-Appear to be primarily focused on the officers stationed at the entrance and exits. Aside from the ten or so officers we lost when moving to secure our present location, casualties have been minimal. Though, it should be noted that a hostile was able to reach a hand through a hole in the barrier."

Warren's eyebrows shot up. "What?? As in it forced it's way through?"

"No. When our forces indicate that we're going to fire, holes of varying sizes to accommodate the sizes of the rounds, are spread across the exterior of the barrier. One of the enemy put its hand through a hole before it could finish closing. The hand was severed within seconds of the barrier closing over the extremity. Sir."

"..." He turned and casted a glare over to the two 'freelancers'. One of whom was a mature looking woman, probably in her late 20s-early 30s with flowing blonde locks and sweat running across her face and soaking the flannel jacket she wore over a plain white t-shirt and casual blue jeans. The other looked like you could have picked her out of any crowd attending a Sex Pistols or The Ramones concert and you'd never be able to tell the difference between her and anyone standing within in the vicinity from her. Her being a mental-type who favored illusions probably helped a touch too.

"I thought the barrier was supposed to be impenetrable. Isn't that what you claimed when my officers rescued you?"



"I know what I said. Do you want the bullets your boys fire to ping off like they're shooting at bulletproof glass? Or do you want them to be able to get their shots through and hit the mark? Compromises have got to start somewhere, and this is as a good a place as any. If you wanna complain then maybe tell your officers to shoot more precisely, less ammo blown means less time I gotta keep the holes up in the barrier and don't let a zombie get their hand through." Catherine snapped. "Don't wanna do that? Then let me go and tell me where the hell you dumped my partner off at."

The other girl snorted and folded her leg over the other, while leaning back on one of the wooden pews.



"First time you'd ever get me admitting it but pig with lipstick's got a point. Don't shit on the help. Espesically when that help is all that's keeping L.A. from turning into a reenactment of 'Dawn of the Dead' from the sounds of it. Fuck me, that's a lot of zombies. Guy, chick, whoever's animating all of them. This is some serious fuckin power. Almost ADAM levels of-" Warren's eyes flashed red-a sign of him rearing up his own Gift and a revelation that his was a Mental

type. *​

*(Gifted have their eyes glow different colors when using their ability. Mental-red/Physical-Dark Blue/Elemental-Yellow/Mutation-Purple.)

"Sacrilege and in a house of God no less. Shame on you."

The punk threw up her hands. "Oh well. Guess I'm goin to Hell. Nice to get some confirmation anyhow."

Warren made some kind of noise that sounded half-between being disgusted and annoyed.

"I believe you've been informed on that front anyway, Miss Anderson. Your partner was not harmed and was dropped off at the nearest hotel. Uproar would handle the extent of his stay. He will be allowed to leave and resume contact with you once the current situation has been brought under control. There's to be no negotiations or changing of these terms. You can either continue to accept them as you've been doing or my officers can place you under arrest for insubordination and refusing orders from an UPROAR officer right now. Your choice, really."

Catherine wiped a handful of sweat off her forehead and flicked it at the ground near Warren's boots.

"You're....You're a real prick, you know that?"

Warren turned away from both women and clasped his hands behind his back.



"I am what I need to be."

What he had to be.​

 

[MidwayLives]

"Agh..."

Wearing clothing had been something that G hadn't missed. Sure, there were occasional moments where he'd remember just how dashing he'd looked in his uniform when serving in the Austrian Empire's army. Or when he'd went dancing with his childhood sweetheart. But they'd all been fleeting and nowadays G barely gave them any notice. For some of his peers, past and present, that'd been well over a lifetime ago. Yet here he was rifling through Tom's closet looking for any kind of suitable clothes to wear. If one were to look in through the ever so slightly cracked door of Tom's room, they'd see the menacing silhouette that G cast on the wall.

Two antennas poked out from atop his forehead and his skull in general seemed to be somewhat elongated at the back. The top of his skull craning back to give his headshape, funnily enough, something of a crescent shape. Or one of those 'scones that a French ****** would eat' in Tom's crude words. Two massive wings flickered and buzzed across his back. It was his hands that seemed strangely human-like while still veering off just enough to be disturbing. Having only three fingers and a 'thumb', G wrapped his mitten like extremities around a old Chicago Bears sweater, so old in fact that G brushed dust bunnies off it. It was more than a little snug as he tried, with a great deal of effort, to pull it over his head.

*RIIIIIP*

He was moderately successful.

Letting out a long string of curses set to the German language, G grabbed a scarf off from the top shelf in Tom's closet, a baseball cap, and a pair of sunglasses. He wrapped the scarf around his neck/mouth (which seemed to spit up wads of saliva every time he spoke, perhaps an explanation for G's habit to draw out certain wordsss.) and he placed the cap atop his head. Which meant that to prevent it from simply sliding off his strangely shaped head, G had to stand up with his chest puffed up and his head held high, which in turn meant that the pointed back of his head was shoved further down the back of his sweater. It hurt his neck something fierce but he'd have to deal with the pain. Grabbing a brown coat off a hanger, G threw it on and buttoned it up. His top half and face were all good. Looking down at his feet, G clicked his mandibles.

"Meine armen Füße..."

His feet were brown and looked to be covered in some kind of filthy brown carapace, nearly identical to a insect's exoskeleton and didn't resemble a human's feet in the slightest. Two toes which seemed more akin to talons than anything with razor sharp curved claws on a insectoid like foot. None of Tom's jeans would fit over G's unique body. His wings wouldn't be able to expand/his feet would scruff up the insoles of shoes. So, G grabbed a pair of grey sweats and pulled them up over his legs and grabbing some plastic bags that Tom likely just hadn't thrown away after buying a box of beer and wrapped them over his feet.

Then he made the mistake of looking in the mirror.

Bags on his feet, grey sweatpants, a brown trenchcoat, a baseball hat, black sunglasses, aaaand a red scarf.

"I look terrible..."

If no one thought he was a homeless bum, they'd think he was an escaped asylum patient. It pained G's heart. Before he'd become something of a recluse who barely left his room for years at a time, he'd throw on a pair of reading glasses or a bathrobe while he sat around his office, watching the news and taking notes/calls that Tom didn't want to. So, what had he been reduced to now over the course of just a few threatening comments? Little better than a rodeo clown. G rubbed at his face before putting on black winter gloves over his hands. He'd spent enough time in Tom's wardrobe. Now he had to go and call a cab. "No...Not before I make sure things are alright here." He trusted Acela even if Acela admittedly had her doubts and concerns about the mysterious 'G' who never left his quarters. She'd definitely have questions if she saw him up and about, like where Tom had gone and such. While in his heart, G didn't believe that Tom would actually follow through on any threat to seriously kill him, telling his sister when Tom had explicitly asked him not to blurb a word about Rot or the zombies to anyone didn't seem like a sound strategy.

So, she was out. G didn't want to frighten 'The Rookie' by dumping this all on his lap. The poor lad was a normal who for reasons that G was still very curious about had gotten himself wrapped up in all this. Out of everyone, G COULD see Tom killing the boy. G had a lot weighing on his soul, he didn't need this young man's life on it.

The children were all out at school. Tom would be absolutely furious if he learned that G had told his adoptive children about Rot's existence. Unaware of the undead problem currently plaguing the teenagers and preschooler.

Which left one other person.

Johnny.

G closed his eyes, sighed, and then moved to step out of Tom's room, only to bump right into Johnny.

"...John?"



".... Uh, who the hell are you?"

Oh, right. Nobody except for Tom had seen what G really looked like.

"John, listen to me. I'm a friend. I'm G. From down the hall, you see."

John nodded, slowly backed up and held up his right hand. The other holding a metal bucket by the handle. "Sure, right. Whatever you say, pal." He looked down at the bags on G's feet. "maybe mac could use two meals today..."

"...Mac??" Mac was the building itself. Or, well, to be more exact Mac was the 'consciousness' of the apartment building. So many lives had touched this place over the decades that they'd left something of a spiritual impact. This impact manifested into a strange existence that was bound to the building and it's faculties. There were certainly other places out there like Mac but you'd usually never know. Most of the places are either extremely hostile to outsiders and only wish to be left alone or are so passive you'd never suspect there was more than meets the eye.

Tom's team had made something of a bond with Mac. In exchange for food, Mac would use it's Gift [TUSK] to control the building. If a door needed to be locked then it was. If someone needed to trip down the stairs, then the floor would rumble until they fell, or the handrail would snap. Mac could repair itself, subtly, over time so it didn't fear mangling itself in order to do what'd been asked of it. But it was rare that it acted without some compulsion on the team's part. It'd only been by complete accident but one day while moving furniture around, John caught his hand on a rusty nail and some of the blood splattered onto a wall. While Tom berated his subordinate for getting hurt in such a trivial manner, the blood was absorbed into the wall. Much like how a plant would absorb water that fell into its soil. Having heard of a 'Party Pack' like Mac before, Tom tried to put a theory to a test and wiped away the last drop of blood on the wall before it was absorbed.

Then all hell broke loose.

"RRRRRRROOOOOOOOAAARRRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"

The doors began to slam open and shut, open and shut, over and over again. The windows slammed down with such vigor; you'd be surprised that the glass didn't just shatter into a million pieces. John screamed in abject terror but where he saw fear, Tom saw opportunity. If they could befriend this Party Pack then it'd make living here a lot more beneficial. Any loose ends that needed to be disposed of and couldn't be brought into [OCEAN MAN] for one reason or another? Tom would feed them to this building and in turn the building would keep an eye on the building's occupants. Sort of like an extra set of eyes aside from G's own cameras. It just meant that Mac needed to be fed regularly to keep that friendship going. But Mac didn't want vegetables or fruit. It wanted BLOOD and MEAT. Just like how a lot of former occupants at this apartment really only used it for skeevy meetups and business deals (sex acts, drug deals, etc)

"What do we call you?!" Tom called out.

A strong wind blew through the room and John fell to his knees, clutching at his ears. Tom didn't fall but held his hands up all the same. A voice so deep you think it'd sounded like the owner of it had been pressed down deep within the center of the Earth TORE through their psyche, positively screaming.

<"MA.....C....MAC! I'M MAC!" >

"JESUS!! OKAY, OKAY, MAC IT IS! I'M TOM GOREMAN!!!" Tom grit his teeth and closed his eyes. "Now why don't we use our INSIDE voices???"

There was a beat.

<"WE ARE INSIDE!!!! INSIDE ME!!!!!! MAC!!!!">

"Tom!!! My ears are bleeding!!!! Make it stop!!!"

"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM US, MAC??"

<"FOOD!!! FEED ME!!! FEED ME FRESH....FRESH BLOOD!!!">

The voice went silent and the furniture around the room stopped clanging around. John collapsed, sobbing as blood trailed out of his ears. Tom pulled away his left hand from his ear and noticed blood droplets splashed across his palm. "Blood, huh...?" He hesitantly rubbed his blood across the wall and quickly stepped back. The floor seemed to rumble and shake before quieting as the blood vanished into the paint on the wall. There was another noise in their heads but this one was thankfully, less ear-rendering and more like a big cat rumbling in satisfaction at a fine meal.

"..okay...Okay, I think we've got a good idea what Mac likes. Don't we, Johnny?"

Johnny sobbed but nodded. "y-yeah, Tom..."

"Good. Because we're gonna be splitting up who feeds him."

"What?!"


G was exempt from feeding Mac, mostly on account that he barely left his room and didn't want to risk muddying up his walls with blood and animal viscera to feed him from the sanctity of his own quarters. "You'd joke about feeding me to Mac??"

"s'not much of a joke if it's true, is it?"

"John..."



"Hehehehe, relax G. Figure that if you were up and about, something serious would have to be going down. Wanted to make sure you're on the up and up. Is that why I didn't see Tom's car in the parking lot?" John asked to which G shrugged his shoulders. "Who knowsss? Contrary to popular belief John, Tom doesssn't tell me everything he getsss up to. Now, if you'll excusse me." G stepped past and moved to head for the elevator. "Could you do me a favor, John? Call me a cab and tell it to meet me by the back entrance of the apartment. The BACK entrance, John. Can you manage that?"

John grumbled under his breath and waved it off. G was wearing so much junk that John hadn't even be able to get a good look at him. Guy had spent so much time in that room that John was genuinely dumbfounded that he hadn't fused to his chair ass-first through osmosis. "No, no go on. Don't bother filling me in about whatever's happening. Not like I'm a member of the team or anything. Just keep giving me grunt work like I'm just the fucking towel boy. I've been a part of this thing for years, G. You've sat in that room of yours forever and now when shit starts going down bad enough that you've gotta get up, I'm cut out of the loop??"

G paused.

"I-I mean, I know I'm...messed up. But I'm still here. I'm a part of the team."

"Pleasse call the cab, John."

G disappeared inside the elevator and the doors clicked shut behind him.



"Right. So, fuck me, I guess."

John hadn't accepted his lot in life with open arms. He'd been born aware of his Gift like most. Just like his parents, their parents, and so on. They'd even made something of a family history book that John had somewhere in his room. It was the only reminder of his family that he'd had after all. Well, aside from his elderly cousin. That guy was a total nutbag who believed that being Gifted meant that you were cursed, a total monster. Which if you looked at someone like G, sure, it was easy if rude to make that assumption. John was a touch more subtle about his monstrous nature.

He'd invite women over from local bars, mostly women old enough to be somebody's mom(30s-40s) and take them up to his room. From there he'd drug them, use his exacto-knife to cut wounds open on them, drink the blood and then kill them. Or well, in his mind, it was less killing and more freeing. From the terrible life that people like him had to go through day in and day out. They should have been thanking him really rather than struggling or cursing at him. He was doing them all a favor. People like Tom and Acela never saw it that way. Acela called him things like a 'serial killer' and a 'murderer'. Tom was more aggravated that he had to help John dispose of the bodies/dump them into [OCEAN MAN]'s depths. If any of the bodies were found or recognized, then the landlord or one of the normal tenants could report it to the police which would likely get kicked up the chain to UPROAR who would NOT look kindly upon one of Tom's miscreants being a slasher and possibly not even a Gifted at all! Tom had been keeping it very tight-lipped that Jeremy was normal.

But in cases when Tom wasn't home or busy? John took the bodies and held them against the wall. Mac, uh, did the rest.

"..." Well, if G wasn't going to tell him, maybe that new guy that 'The Rookie' brought in would. Swinging the bucket and sloshing around all the bright red gore in it from side to side with wet plorps and plops, John paused by Yin's door and rapped his knuckles on the door. "Heeeey. Open up. Need to talk to you."

No response.

The guy hadn't even been here a day and he was going to act as though he could ignore John too?

Fuck that.

He beat on the door harder. "Hey! Open up! Open up the goddamn door!! I-I'm not messing around here!!"

This time when no response was given, John had enough and kicked the door open.

That got him a loud growl in response as the floor shook under his feet. Nearly dropping the bucket, John wrapped both hands around it and fell onto his ass. Tom would have had his ass if he'd spilled fresh meat across the place. The smell would have taken months to get out of and if Tom had to hear any complaints from the non-fighters who also shared the floors reserved by the government (mostly federal employees who handled legal matters/procedures and just general day to day busy work that usually wasn't important enough to be commented on/they were thus mostly left to their own devices and rarely interacted with Tom's crew unless they all went out to eat/hang out.) it'd be a 50/50 if Tom didn't just kill John and wipe his hands clean of the whole affair.

"Okay, okay! Get mad all you want, Mac! It's not like I'm here to feed you or anything!"

A sharp wind blew through the hallway and sent goosebumps running up and down John's back.

Then a voice boomed in his head like a mental loudspeaker.

<"FEED...?? MAC....MAC HAS ALREADY FED!!!">

...What?? That wasn't right. It was John's turn this week to make sure Mac was fed. Had somebody figured he wouldn't have gotten around to it? Grabbing the doorknob, John went to twist it and Mac must have willed the door to unlock as it came open. The sight that greeted John was an absolutely grotesque one. Yin had been flung from his bed and was halfway consumed by the wall he'd landed near, his lower torso still sticking out around the fleshy outline in the wall as it gurgled and groaned and continued to pull him in.

The bucket fell from John's grasp, landing on the floor and spilling it's ensemble of assorted meat chunks that were likely pressed inside a traditional Oscar-Meyer's hot dog, all over the wooden floorboards. "Oh fuck, oh fuck! Stop Mac!! STOP!!!" Johnny grasped onto the bottom of Yin's boots and began to pull. "Tom....Is friends....With this guy!!"

Mac was usually pretty easy-going. Came with the benefit of having been around for decades, seeing different people from various walks of life stay in you.

It drew the line at having it's meals interrupted.

The floor shook, one board coming loose and nailing John alongside the right of his head.

"Ow!" John cried out as he staggered back, holding his hands up, and as he went? Yin's feet disappeared completely within the wall. The upturned board didn't have a nail protruding from it but the impact alone had still left John with something of a nasty welt on the side of his head. "Fine! Take him! But Tom's gonna be pissed!" A fierce wind blew through the room, at such a speed that it threatened to break the window which jostled in it's frame. John held his arms up in front of his face and peeked out as the wind swirled and swayed until it'd take on a human-like shape. No defining features or anything. It was more or less Mac's avatar when it wanted something of a personal touch with the meatbags who dwelled within it's abode. <"THE ONE KNOWN AS TOM. HIS ANGER OR LACK THERE OF DOES NOT CONCERN ME. THIS ONE WAS A STRANGER. HE SLEPT. FOR HOURS. STILL. LIKE A CORPSE. I FED.">

"He-" John looked at the wall. "-WAS a plant elemental! He was probably drinking in sunlight...or whatever! You couldn't even ASK before you just decided to say fuck it and eat him?!"

The avatar took a step towards John, giving off a weird 'whish' noise as the avatar was comprised solely of wind. <"ASK? YOU AND YOUR KIN LIVE WITHIN ME. I HAVE NO NEED TO ASK. I WILL TAKE. IF YOU DO NOT CARE FOR IT..."> The door opened behind John. <"THEN LEAVE.">

"...alright Mac, I get it. I'm sorry."

The avatar stepped back and nodded.

John glanced over in the direction of the board Mac had smacked him with. As it started to settle back amongst the others, John noticed something poking out from under the floor. It looked like a glowing, bright pink, pulsating mass. With some kind of thin translucent membrane placed over it. It was likely the physical representation of [TUSK]. John didn't want to get a better look at it and if he played his cards right, he hoped he never did. Blood and meat were absorbed in through the cracks in the floor as John winced and looked away in disgust. Not as though it were truly any different from when he drank the blood of the women he killed. "...So, you have any idea what Tom and G are up to?" Being that the entire building made up Mac, it was obvious enough that Mac could spy on just about anything it wanted to within the apartment.

The avatar lightly shrugged it's shoulders.

<"MUSINGS OF MATTERS THAT'RE OF LITTLE CONCERN TO ME. BUT THE ONE KNOWN AS 'G' WAS ASKED TO KEEP THE DIALOGUE BETWEEN HIMSELF AND THE TOM. IT SERVES ME NOTHING TO TELL YOU.">

"Aw, c'mon!! I just fed you! You got TWO meals today!"

<"YOU DIDN'T 'GIVE' THIS ONE ANYTHING. I TOOK IT FOR MYSELF ON BOTH COUNTS.">

Mac was technically correct. The best kind of correct.

"Tch, whatever. I'm done here now. I'm going out." John grumbled as he headed towards the open door. Only for it to slam shut before he could reach it. "What now?!" John screamed as he turned back only to see the avatar was holding a hand up for silence. "...Mac?"

<"...SOMETHING IS WRONG. THE ACELA. SHE'S PLANNING SOMETHING. TO TAKE THE NEW ONE AND CHILD AND LEAVE.">

"...Okay, so? We CAN come and go. Just gotta make sure not to do shit that'd catch Uproar's eyes." Easier said than done for John, given he was a murderer after all.

<"LEAVE AND NEVER COME BACK.">

"...oh."

John never got on well with Acela. Not for a lack of trying on his part but the two were just incompatible. Killing people had just never been something Acela 'tolerated', whether it was at the government's behest like was the case when Tom had to murder Karen's family or through some mental illness like John. If she got a bug up her ass to just walk out the door, there was little anyone but Mu and Tom himself could do to stop her. G wasn't much of a fighter and hadn't left his room, until, like today! "W-Who's here besides me??"

<"I BELIEVE THERE IS THE ONE THAT THE TOM HAS BEEN CALLING 'THE ROOKIE.' ">

"...oh no."

<"I DON'T CARE TO NORMALLY INTERFERE IN MATTERS BETWEEN YOU AND YOURS. BUT DEPENDING ON WHERE THE ACELA CHOSES TO GO, SHE COULD INVITE TROUBLE TO MY DOORS. I CANNOT ALLOW THAT. OTHERS LIVE HERE BEYOND YOU.">

"O..Okay! I'm gonna..."

John ran out of the room to try and track down the Rookie.

~~~

Acela had cried and cried.

It was absolutely pathetic.

This woman before her had suffered greatly. The extent of which she wasn't entirely privvy to but Tom was involved. There was no doubt in her mind. That burn scar on his arm hadn't just manifested out of nowhere. To have left such a lasting impact on her brother's body it had to have the power of a dead shot behind it. There wasn't anything that could be done for Karen's loved ones at this point. They were gone and Acela had been no stranger to such a loss. She'd experienced it herself. Another area where she'd differed from her brother. She hated the government for having her family killed. Tom wished they'd done the same to his.

A decision had to be made.

<"Karen..">

Acela gently took Karen's hand.

<"It is not salvation. It's not an end all be all escape. But I know of somewhere you and the child can go. To get away from the government's reach. But it's not safe for you to go on your own. You'll either be dragged back here or you'll be apprehended. I'll take you there myself.">

Thoughts were surging through Acela's mind. Tom would not let this go. It had enough repercussions to ruin the entire UFUP operation here in L.A. She'd had it out with her brother before but this would be different. She knew it in her heart.

As she went to go for the door, however, it wouldn't budge.

Then, Karen felt a voice hit her head like a hammer.

<"THE ACELA. YOU ARE NOT TO LEAVE. NOT WITH THAT WOMAN. NOT AT ALL.">

<"Mac. Please.">

<"NO. THE TOM HAS FORBIDDEN IT AND I AGREE. YOU'LL NOT INVITE TROUBLE HERE WITH YOUR ACTIONS.">

<"Mac. Please. I don't want to hurt you.">

There was a brief respite in the back and forth.

<"...IF YOU RAISE A HAND AGAINST ME, YOU'LL REGRET IT, THE ACELA.">

Acela's free hand lit up in a ball of blood red flames.

<"DON'T-">

Then all hell broke loose.

Again.

The lights flickered across the apartment and people complained about their TVs going on the fritz. The door to Acela's room had been set ablaze and bashed open. <"Come on, Karen!! We have to go NOW!">

<"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!">

Mac shrieked. Loud enough to wake the dead. If they weren't already stirred.

Down at the entrance of the apartment, G looked around.

He could hear Mac screaming and no sign of the cab.

What a terrible day...

rakshasa

~~~



"Cherie, you cannot STILL be mad at me...can you??"

'Mad' was the understatement of the century.

Cherie hadn't exactly lived a life full of luxury and riches. When she was but a little girl her family had been forced to flee Algeria, the land they'd known for generations, a territory that'd been declared as French as Paris itself. Growing up she went through suitors like a cougar goes through fresh prey. It wasn't until she'd met Andre that she finally felt she'd met someone she could truly give all of her attention and love to. On that she wasn't wrong. Bloody his methods to try and establish a voice for Gifted were, Andre's heart was as readable as any book from the library. His romance with Cherie wasn't built on any kind of expectation or devious reason. Elementals, especially fire elementals, were valuable to any organization for or against Gifted liberation. Andre didn't care about any of that.

He loved Cherie for who she was.

Which is why it disappointed her that when he showed Erika and her to the rather run-down looking apartment complex. Not much better than where Tom's crew stayed at, though you'd be wise not to call Mac rundown or 'crappy' while inside of it. It was where the same mysterious benefactor that'd helped Cherie and Andre get to the US without much hassle, had paid for him and any of his recruits to stay as Andre spread the good word. This of course didn't mean that they were entirely accepted within the 'birthday party' as groupings of Gifted were referred to. Young men, likely gang members of varying affilations, watched Andre with cautious eyes but left him and Cherie/Erika alone as they continued onto their room.

The room wasn't exactly trash on wheels but it wasn't what Cherie was generally used to either.



Okay, scratch that, it was pretty bad.

Cherie gingerly stepped over a pile of discarded clothing and knocked over some boxes so she could sit down.

Then she let Andre have it.



"Cet endroit est une zone de déchets absolue et je me sens dégoûtant à chaque seconde que je passe ici."

Andre sighed and pulled off his hat, he took a gentler touch and set some stuff off the counter before placing his hat down. "My love, don't you understand that to live at...a more established locale would serve to only turn those we seek to help, to liberate, against us?? How can we claim to be fighting the opressors when we live like kings amongst men??"

Cherie rolled her eyes.

"André, réfléchissez-y une seconde. Ma famille ne « vivait pas comme des rois ». Nous sommes ici pour apporter de grands changements pour Gifted et pourtant je suis à deux pouces de toucher les innommables ignorés d’un étranger. C’est inacceptable!"

"Love, love! Cherie, the apple of my eye-"

Cherie's eyes flickered yellow for a brief second and the room felt hotter.

"Ne me « prunelle des yeux », Archebeau. C’est un foyer pour les cochons et rien de plus. Je ne demande pas la lune, André. Je demande un endroit chaud pour poser ma tête et NE PAS qu’elle soit parmi les ordures!"

"...Cherie, please. I could only do so much. This is the room that-"

"-Que votre ami américain pourrait trouver pour nous? Vraiment? Avec l’argent qu’ils avaient pour nous amener ici sans être inquiétés par le tumulte ou l’UFUP, je ne peux m’empêcher de trouver cela un peu difficile à croire." Cherie shook her head and stood up. Andre, even with the mask on, looked to be seconds away from pulling his hair out. Lounging against the door that'd took them into this room to begin with, Erika finally decided to chime in. "I don't know, I feel the decor lends something of a charm to it all. It'll give us all motivation to work harder, no? To improve not only the conditions for our people but for ourselves as well. Thank you, Andre."

Andre rubbed the back of his head. "Ahaha, well, thank you Erika but..."

It couldn't have been a more ill-timed gesture. Or perhaps, Erika knew full well the reaction her input would have.

Cherie's eyes flared and she slammed her foot down, a ring of blue flames rising from beside her shoe.



"Je ne me souviens pas avoir demandé VOTRE avis, salope orientale! Pensez-vous que je suis sourd, aveugle ET stupide?? Je sais pourquoi vous avez choisi maintenant d’intervenir! Pour me faire paraître déraisonnable! Comme si je me disputerais avec mon bien-aimé André sans raison! Vile misérable!"

"C-Cherie, please! Calm down! I don't think Erika meant any offense at all!"

"No, no. I was merely trying to add another voice to the discussion is all." Erika clarified as she walked up and casually slung an arm around Andre's waist. "As a member of the [BLUE OYSTER CULT] am I not entilted to give my opinion, hm?~"

ANDRE! SI VOUS PRENEZ SON PARTI, VOUS POUVEZ OUBLIER QUE JE RESTE UN MOMENT DE PLUS DANS CE TAS D’ORDURES! JE SUIS VOTRE AMANT! ELLE PEUT DONNER SON « AVIS » DANS LES FOSSES DE L’ENFER!"

Erika's own eyes shined and Andre put his hands between the two women.

"Ladies! Please!! This is not the time nor place for more internal conflict! We've already lost one member! I'd prefer we not lose another!"

Erika had disposed of the Duke. Or at least 'put him away for the time being.'

Andre was optimistic, Cherie was less so. She believed the bitch had killed the Duke.

Oh well, the man smelled terribly, and Andre was far too quick to trust others.

Something that broke her heart.

Placing one hand to her chest, Cherie sniffled.

"Est-ce tout ce que tu me vois maintenant, André ? Juste un autre coéquipier ? Pas plus qu’un partenaire dans le crime?" Andre froze and could see where he'd went wrong. "Nonono, Cherie! Mon ceur. I LOVE you! I'd never say otherwise! But what good does it do us, ALL of us to fight like this?? I'll stay up all night and clean the place up if it'd help you feel more comfortable! Please, don't make any more of this than it is! I can fix this!" Cherie listened and then slowly shook her head, tears twinkling at the ends of her eyes. "Non, non, je ne sais pas si tu peux, André. Tu me dis que tu m’aimes, mais on m’a fait passer pour une sorcière déraisonnable. Ça fait mal." She stepped away and towards the bedroom. She didn't care how messy it was or what she'd have to burn up to try and get her frustration out. She just knew she couldn't be around Erika any longer for the time being.

If they came to blows, Andre would be caught in the crossfire and no matter what, nothing would change one thing.

Cherie loved him with all her heart.

Watching as the love of his life ignored his pleas and slammed the door shut, Andre slumped to the floor.

"Cherie..."

"Ah, there there. You did your best. I'd even say it went well all things considered." Erika complimented, leaning over to place an affectionate hand on Andre's shoulder. "Just give her some time. That's all. Moving from Paris, one of the most renowed cities in the world, to here? It'd obviously take a toll on anyone." Andre didn't brush away the hand but quickly stood up and Erika recalled it. "She wasn't from Paris. Cherie's family retreated to Toulon after Algeria rebelled."

"Ah. I don't see how my point changes any, regardless."



"No, it doesn't. You're probably right. I shouldn't have just dumped this all on her." Reaching for the backstrap that held his mask securely over his face, Andre went to undo it. The leather strap went slack and Andre pulled the mask off over his head. As he set the mask down atop a pile of old newspapers, Andre ran a hand through his hair and turned to face Erika. She made something of a small 'oh' as he did so. If you'd asked the man himself, he wouldn't say he was anything remarkable. He had a nasty looking scar that stretched from his bottom lip down to his adam's apple. With smaller ones pocketed around his face. Though when recalling the nature of his Gift, one couldn't help but wonder if the smaller ones were 'real' scars or just markers to indicate where it was ok to 'cut' and not seriously injure himself.

Most women didn't see that though. They looked at him and saw a young, handsome if a bit marred, war vet in his late 20s. He couldn't visit any of France's overseas territories without having a local call him out on his looks. At the start it'd been flattering but once he fell in love with Cherie, it became irksome. Thus he came up with the idea of wearing a bandana around his face when not in uniform. People looked at him oddly but he didn't care. Nights out with the woman he loved were fine enough, more so if they weren't interrupted by some patron making a quip about how 'handsome' he was.

"I'm going to go make it up to her. You've lived here longer than I've been. Know of any good flower shops in town?"

...That took a turn. Erika couldn't help but smile though.

Though anyone but Andre would have seen the abject venom in that expression.



"...Well, there's one place I'm aware of..."

~~~
​

Meanwhile, in a basement across town, Major Tom had had just about enough of this. Helping out some wannabe revolutionaries was one thing, people dying was entirely another. And then there was... whatever was in that barrel. "Ok- y'know what? Y'all just told me you were stealing a barrel of some shit, you didn't tell me the shit would be alive." He strode forward and snatched the cash from 'Darkstar's' hand. Then, he closed his eyes, held his breath, and thought of home - and when he opened them, he was there, like he'd never left. It had been a good idea, earn a little cash while he was grounded, help out a good cause, maybe catch a movie later... except for the part where he materialized right in front of the icy stare of his mom. "And where, exactly, did ya just come back from, young man?"

*thud thud*

There was a knock at the door.

If either MT or his mother had deigned to answer it, they'd find Erika standing there with a bright and ready smile on her face.



"Ah! Hello there! I'm so sorry for the sudden intrusion. My name is Erika Fukuhara. I recently moved in with some friends of mine. They're both busy at the moment so I thought I'd go ahead and introduce myself to some of the other people living here." She explained while also holding a hand out towards whoever had deigned to answer the door.

"Would it be quite alright if you invited me in?~"

DoctorDunno

~~~
​

Lifting her hand towards the browning plant, she grabbed hold of something invisible. It was hard to tell exactly what was happening, but when the process was over, the plant seemed invigorated. The single blossom atop the stalk, as well as the few lingering leaves underneath, unfurled, giving way to a small, but brilliant pink flower. A smile broke across the woman's face.

"See now, isn't that better?"

Her voice almost seemed prideful. Preoccupied, she barely twitched when she heard the bell above the shop door chime.

~~PRESENT~~

The door swung open.

There was the hobbling sound of, perhaps a cane, touching against the floor as it's user walked in.

The door slowly slid back into place.

"Hey, kiddo. Been a while."

If the woman's eyes drifted over at the familiar voice, she'd see the one member from her former UFUP unit that still remained in touch.

Mostly because the others had all been ordered to kill her on sight.

The man's shadow receded from his feet and spread it's arm across the store window like a dark shower curtain. Those standing outside wouldn't be able to see inside the store and if they tried listening in, the audio would sound muffled. As though they were trying to listen through a particularly sturdy wall. [I THINK WE'RE ALONE NOW] wasn't used much in combat nowadays as The Shade had been getting on in years. Typically he passively used it to half-mask himself in darkness and to hide his physical weakness like the cane he tended to use to get around. He'd had a bit of a stint as a boxer in his teenage years and during it he'd pulled a muscle that never quite healed right. Or at least that's the story he always told to new and upcoming UFUP recruits. He wasn't by any means a bad looking man, he had slightly sunken in features and wrinkles, some of which may have just been stress marks. Likely enough given the 'job' he'd been impressed into.



"Sorry if I have to disrupt your plant-tendin for a moment or two." He said while gesturing back to the sign he'd flipped to [CLOSED] on the walk in. "But I'm in town on business and something's come to my attention. Somethin I figure you ought to hear directly from me before anyone else tries putting in their own two cents."

He hobbled over closer to the counter, his shadow not straying too far while keeping it's left arm over the window.

"...But first thing's first. How ya been, kid?"

rakshasa ​

 

[DoctorDunno]

Hot shame flashed across Major Tom's face. "M-ma! The hel- heck are you doing here? I thought you said you were gonna be out shopping until like four!" His eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. 4:15. Shit.

"L-look I was just popping out to grab some groceries, I know I'm grounded but a guy's gotta eat right?"
Her eyes looked to him, then down at the floor, then back to him again. He followed them, to see the spots where acid had eaten into the carpet. Fuck, had whatever that thing was really gotten that close to him? "Alright, alright, alright- I'm sorry, ok? I just- I can't stay cooped up in here forever!" He waved towards the window. "I can make a difference out there! I can! I can do stuff, and I'm getting better every day with it!"

Her gaze softened as he spoke, and he trailed off as he saw it happen. For a moment, everything was silent save the sounds of the clock ticking by. Then, she spoke up. "I know, petie Tommy, I know. But this ain't a world that gives a damn about you or what you can do. I keep comin' back to an empty house an' I have to wait for you to come home, an' I just know if you keep this up one of these days you're gonna keep me waiting for a long, long time. That one of these days you're just not gonna come home at all." She paused for a moment, blinking the beginnings of tears out of her eyes. He opened his mouth to reply, but it died in his throat, like a fish out of water. The moment hung in the air until it died, shattered by the knock at the door. Both MT and his mother looked to the door, then back to each other. They couldn't have caught up to him *that* fast... could they? A gentle, fearful nod was exchanged, and then Major Tom went to the door, opening it just a crack.

"O-oh- just- er, new neighbors?" Smooth, MT, real smooth. "C'mon in, I'm sure we've got something to drink around here." There was probably no hiding the lingering color in his face, but this new stranger seemed perfectly innocent...​

 

[DoctorDunno]

Things got very quiet all of a sudden. Mu stared at the... thing holding Dean. This wasn't good, these things were way smarter than he had been expecting. They had to be controlled from somewhere, by someone, but there was no telling by who, or where they were. [SUPERMASSIVE BLACK HOLE] was powerful, there were dozens of ways he could tear the walking corpse in front of him limb from limb... and pretty much all of them would involve tearing Dean limb from limb, too. Gravity was not terribly discriminate. Still, you didn't put your weapon down during a hostage situation. If he complied, the thing would probably kill Dean anyway, and he'd be next. It was go for broke time.

"Fine. I don't need him." Was all Mu said, before waving a hand out - and Dean went limp. Five gees - right around where even trained fighter pilots start blacking out. Unconsciousness would be immediate, but death wouldn't. But, Mu hoped, the thing holding him wouldn't know that. Five gees felt a lot like the lethal ten he was currently crushing the other zombie with to the untrained body, and with any luck the creature before him would think that he'd just killed the hostage he'd taken, and loosen his grip every so slightly. And that would be when Mu hit him with a table.

The furniture smashed into the zombie from behind, hitting with enough force to break in half. At the exact moment of impact, Mu would reverse the gravity on the zombie and Dean, sending them fllying through the air at zero gees on different trajectories. Dean would regain consciousness right as he flew by Mu, the little guy grabbing on to dean, kicking off the floor, further launching the both of them towards the doors. "C'mon, it's time we beat this joint. Place is a dump anyhow."​

 

[rakshasa]

As Acela's own memories of being captured flooded her mind, she shuddered and covered her eyes with her hands. Her thought-speak messages broken up as though she were crying, something she physically could not do. <"so...so sorry...">​

Karen's mouth hung open slightly- for the first time in an hour or so, it didn't precede a scream of terror or fearful sobs. Instead, all she could do was gaze blankly ahead at the blubbering woman before her, eyes still blurry with tears. She couldn't tell if the feeling of pity outweighed the rage in her mind, or if both were overshadowed by the shameful feeling of reflection she saw in Acela's face.

Grinding her teeth for a moment, she looked down at Chandler, now alert, cooing and gurgling peacefully in her arms, ignorantly blissful without knowledge of his late father's fate. She brought up her palm to wipe away the itchy feeling of tears dried to her cheeks, and for a moment her hand hovered at her shoulder, contemplating bringing it down upon Acela's in an attempt to comfort her, but nothing came. She could dig up no sympathy that would warrant such a reaction. Typically, seeing such a display of raw, vulnerable emotion would pull the same feelings from her, but instead, all she could do was sit there.

Her sisters husband was dead. The only person who knew beat-for-beat what happened the night her sister had her life taken from her. Chandler would grow up without parents. A pang of guilt hit her as she realized she felt little sorrow for the life she now knew was lost, in it's place, fear and frustration knowing her half-baked plan of escaping with him was unattainable.

Would grief come in time? Or did the man deserve any at all?

----------

Bare feet padded along a cold linoleum floor. The clock read half past 1, keeping time against a backdrop of humming linoleum and croaking frogs from the bog sitting outside the trailer. It'd gone unnoticed for hours. In a dim kitchen, a telephone cord was pulled back and forth incessantly, following Karen, who with her other hand clutched the prickling skin on her opposite bicep, exposed by her sleeveless cotton nightgown.

"Why do you think they would know about Gifted in the first place?" Her voice was quiet and trembling, as if trying to hide it from someone in the other room. She was alone.

"Believe me, they know. This goes deep. I didn't believe it either until James and I started digging but this has been being hidden from us for years. Can you believe it, right under our noses!"

"You're putting us in danger. Ho- How are you going to start a family if you're under investigation? If you're being chased?"

"You act like I haven't thought this through. James and I are willing to take any attention that comes with this. Once I start telling other Gifted, think about how many people we'll be able to protect. Isn't that worth more than being ignorant?"

"Not to me."

"You're so selfish. This is going to save lives."

"What about you, though?"

She heard an indignant sigh from the other line. "James is making plans to visit the Library of Congress tomorrow. He's going to try and find anything that mentions Gifteds. You might not like it, but this is more important than either of us. We're following this rabbit hole as deep as it goes."

She said nothing.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow. Get some sleep. You have to get up early don't you?"

----------

​

Why would God take a young mother from her child? What merciful God would allow this?

The last thing I did was argue with her, I wish I could've told her I loved her...

It's all the new babies fault, they would've gone out if it weren't for him.

My back hurts and this suit is itchy. I didn't even know this woman, can't I just go home?

This place smells awful. How can such a beautiful woman have such an ugly sister?

Damn kid won't stop messing with his suit.

I have to take a piss.

I should go shopping after this. We have nothing for dinner.

This was the unabating background radiation that pervaded every moment of Karen's waking existence. No matter where she was, these thoughts followed. Others perceived security within their own head. With her, nothing was safe.

Karen focused hard on the carpeted steps. Along with a fear of tripping, she bit her tongue, trying to step up to the podium as quietly as possible, desperately trying not to make a scene, no matter how warranted it was. Her jaw was tight within her face. If there was any occasion where her ever-present emotion of doubt and dolor would be appropriate, it was here. But strangely, she had to fight to appear forlorn past the simmering fury that clung hot to her chest. It was Tracey's funeral. She should feel sad, and she was, but...

She glanced down at her casket. A white pallor was cast over her face, a hazy grin barely visible on her lips. She didn't look peaceful at all. Her sister wasn't a peaceful person. Even at her most mellow, a tight-lipped smile was ever-present on her face, as if she always had a plan, something darker that no doubt she intended to make Karen a part of. Unlike her, Tracey was always on, at full attention.

Karen continued to stare down into her sisters face. Whenever they were together, Tracey would always shoot nonverbal comments her way, even if it was a catty remark about another woman or undeveloped plans for later on. For the first time in her life, she was completely silent. But it couldn't be her. If it were, she would've already shot her sister a glance, maybe to comment about the amount of people at her funeral, even just a quiet acknowledgement, letting her know that she was still at her side, even if she was preoccupied. She wasn't quiet like this. Karen fought through the funeral home's cacophony, trying desperately to isolate her sister's voice. She knew it by heart. Even in Time's Square she'd be able to hear it. Her nails dug imprints into the wooden podium. She wasn't saying anything. Her sister was silent. Completely silent.

Before she could even process what had happened, her mother was dragging her out of the parlor by a vice grip on her arm. The background noise of her loved ones' concerned whispering was drowned out by her own sorrowful shrieking. There was blood under her nails, a stinging sensation on her cheeks, and Karen had lost her heels.

She never gave her eulogy.

----------

Acela had cried and cried.

It was absolutely pathetic.

This woman before her had suffered greatly. The extent of which she wasn't entirely privvy to but Tom was involved. There was no doubt in her mind. That burn scar on his arm hadn't just manifested out of nowhere. To have left such a lasting impact on her brother's body it had to have the power of a dead shot behind it. There wasn't anything that could be done for Karen's loved ones at this point. They were gone and Acela had been no stranger to such a loss. She'd experienced it herself. Another area where she'd differed from her brother. She hated the government for having her family killed. Tom wished they'd done the same to his.

A decision had to be made.

<"Karen..">

Acela gently took Karen's hand.

<"It is not salvation. It's not an end all be all escape. But I know of somewhere you and the child can go. To get away from the government's reach. But it's not safe for you to go on your own. You'll either be dragged back here or you'll be apprehended. I'll take you there myself.">

Thoughts were surging through Acela's mind. Tom would not let this go. It had enough repercussions to ruin the entire UFUP operation here in L.A. She'd had it out with her brother before but this would be different. She knew it in her heart.

As she went to go for the door, however, it wouldn't budge.

Before Karen had the mind to respond, she was being dragged towards an exit. She barely comprehended Acela's remarks about escape; based on what she had already said, it was too inconsequential to be processed, like a judge's diatribe after giving a death row sentence. All she could sense was that she was leaving the woman's room, and for a split moment, a spark of hope set off in her chest, before a voice crashed into her head like a freight train.

Then, Karen felt a voice hit her head like a hammer.

<"THE ACELA. YOU ARE NOT TO LEAVE. NOT WITH THAT WOMAN. NOT AT ALL.">

<"Mac. Please.">

<"NO. THE TOM HAS FORBIDDEN IT AND I AGREE. YOU'LL NOT INVITE TROUBLE HERE WITH YOUR ACTIONS.">

<"Mac. Please. I don't want to hurt you.">

There was a brief respite in the back and forth.

<"...IF YOU RAISE A HAND AGAINST ME, YOU'LL REGRET IT, THE ACELA.">

Acela's free hand lit up in a ball of blood red flames.

<"DON'T-">

Then all hell broke loose.

Again.

The lights flickered across the apartment and people complained about their TVs going on the fritz. The door to Acela's room had been set ablaze and bashed open. <"Come on, Karen!! We have to go NOW!">

<"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!">

The sheer sound of the voice brought her to her knees. As Chandler began to cry again, disturbed by the sudden movement, Karen's head spun as she tried fruitlessly to regain her footing. It felt as if she was facing auditory assault from every angle. Her ears still rang as the voice spoke again. She was nearly sick on herself.

"Wh- What on Earth is that??" She managed to spit out when the voice lulled, allowing her to come somewhat to her senses and clutch her nephew even closer to her chest, muffling his cries with her nightgown.

She could feel her brain rattle in her skull as the woman before her lit the door aflame. Stunned, she had no choice but to stumble out by Acela's side. There was no time to think about her actions. The voice had sent her running like a frightened deer.

MidwayLives​

 

[rakshasa]

"Sorry if I have to disrupt your plant-tendin for a moment or two." He said while gesturing back to the sign he'd flipped to [CLOSED] on the walk in. "But I'm in town on business and something's come to my attention. Somethin I figure you ought to hear directly from me before anyone else tries putting in their own two cents."

He hobbled over closer to the counter, his shadow not straying too far while keeping it's left arm over the window.

"...But first thing's first. How ya been, kid?"

​

Sandy didn't turn to acknowledge the sudden disruption. Her eyes darted to the edge of her vision towards the entrance, hands hovering limply over the ground. Her expression didn't falter for the most part, but her eyes gained a certain sharpness, a look of focus and fear rolled into one, a prey animal spotting a hunter from yards away. When darkness overtook the shop and the light from the outside faded away, her mouth dried.

It was true he was one of the only UFUP agents that had treated her with humanity, and that they kept in touch despite everything, but at her core, she held an unshakeable fear of anyone in his position. As long as she could still picture him in that uniform, peering down at her from between barred windows, as long as she had any memory of her sentence within UFUP at all, she would always be prey. He would always be the hunter.

She silently rose to the ground and turned on her heel. Without the light from the outside to accentuate her dark circles her face her face grew softer in the shadows, wide, ghostly eyes popping out from the shadows. Without the light falling on her face to confirm she was real, she resembled a night terror more closely than a human being.

"That depends." Her voice was no higher than the one she used to speak to her flowers. She faltered for a moment before moving on. "You seem worried. They're not back, are they?"

MidwayLives

 

[MidwayLives]

Things got very quiet all of a sudden. Mu stared at the... thing holding Dean. This wasn't good, these things were way smarter than he had been expecting. They had to be controlled from somewhere, by someone, but there was no telling by who, or where they were. [SUPERMASSIVE BLACK HOLE] was powerful, there were dozens of ways he could tear the walking corpse in front of him limb from limb... and pretty much all of them would involve tearing Dean limb from limb, too. Gravity was not terribly discriminate. Still, you didn't put your weapon down during a hostage situation. If he complied, the thing would probably kill Dean anyway, and he'd be next. It was go for broke time.

<"Well, what's it gonna be?? You'll condemn your friend here to walk amongst the LIVING DEAD IF YOU DON'T-">

Dean slumped in the zombie's grip.

There was a brief lull in all the chaos.

Crystal slumped against the bathroom door she'd sealed shut with her own Gift, a hand cusped over her mouth. Ink couldn't see what'd happened, but all the noise had caught his attention. Hanging up the phone, he rushed out of the office and towards the front of the restaurant. The main zombie that Rot had been communicating through froze and lost it's grip on Dean. <"...Idiot!"> His voice chided, scratching at Mu's consciousness like nails on a chalkboard. <"...All you've done is sped up the process. If you thought you were going to spare your friend a miserable afterlife, you're wrong! [THE DEAD WALK!]"

The green smoke flowed towards Dean's downed form. But unlike the thousands of zombies that were currently pinning down Warren and a chunk of UPROAR's forces in L.A., the smoke just drifted over the teenager. Much to Rot's consternation. <"W...What's happening here?! What did you do?! He should have become a zombie!"> The zombie snapped it's head towards Mu. <"YOU SON OF A BITCH! WHAT! DID! YOU DO!?">

Five gees felt a lot like the lethal ten he was currently crushing the other zombie with to the untrained body, and with any luck the creature before him would think that he'd just killed the hostage he'd taken, and loosen his grip every so slightly. And that would be when Mu hit him with a table.

The furniture smashed into the zombie from behind, hitting with enough force to break in half. At the exact moment of impact, Mu would reverse the gravity on the zombie and Dean, sending them fllying through the air at zero gees on different trajectories. Dean would regain consciousness right as he flew by Mu, the little guy grabbing on to dean, kicking off the floor, further launching the both of them towards the doors. "C'mon, it's time we beat this joint. Place is a dump anyhow."

The zombie's eyes, what remained of them after the amount of damage it'd taken, grew as wide as they possibly could. The table smashed into the zombie with enough force to break it's back with a very audible *CRACK*. It's arms and legs were left splayed out to the side as both it and the zombie Mu had been hoisting in the air were flung to the back of the restaurant. One of them fell down earlier than the other, skidding and rolling across the floor, breaking bones, tearing ligaments, spraining muscles as it went. It came to a stop near the grill, it's left arm bent into an acute angle, bone rupturing out of it's right leg and it's head twisted off to the side. The original zombie was still flying back, soaring over Ink as he ran to the front.

The smoke that'd been trailing around Dean began drifting over towards the mangled corpses. <"I...can't believe it. That little bastard TRICKED me!"> Rot roared, alone with his thoughts only to catch a glimpse of a familiar looking child running under him. He'd heard the name 'Damian' earlier. This child had quite the, well, disturbing was being awfully generous. Skin was missing in certain spots, muscle was visible. As the kid ran, Rot could have seen the ill-fitting sunglasses jostle around on the child's face, revealing two glowing yellow eyes.

....It couldn't have been.

Before he could think on it any further, he kept going and going. Crashing right through the window in the manager's office and only coming to a stop in his flight when he'd careened through the locked gate to the dumpster behind the back of the Burger King. Wood chips flew everywhere, and the zombie's upper neck area had been reduced to a fine red paste with chunks of skull ripping through the scalp and cheeks with gore seeping through the newly made cuts. Ink didn't even pause for a second, vaulting over the counter and leaping onto Mu. "Daddy!!!"

The zombie's bones cracked, the limbs bent in all kinds of unnatural ways, and it wouldn't have been hard to confuse the zombie with a fog machine with how much of that toxic green smoke was shooting out of every open orifice on it's mangled body. <"My....son....GIVE ME BACK MY SON!!!!!"> The screams went unheard by Ink, the very person that Rot would have loved to have heard them the most, as Crystal hurried along with the others to the establishment's exit. "UPROAR is going to be here any minute now. The last thing any of us..." She eyed Dean for the briefest moment before tearing her eyes away. "...Is to be put under investigation. Truth be told I'd rather face whatever the hell these walking dead freaks are than get held in an UPROAR detention facility."

Dean, was understandably, more than a little taken aback by everything that'd had happened. What with the whole 'zombies are apparently real, dude!' business, not to mention being forcefully thrown out of someone's mind-the negative feedback that created, and oh yeah! The fact that the people you'd spent a good chunk of your life calling friends and hanging around with were also Gifted, just like you. "...Damian...." Dean muttered so softly you'd have to had focused in to hear it. "...it's not...it's not just a 'skin condition' is it...?'

Crystal frowned but otherwise didn't answer. The revelation of Dean having a Gift was something they'd have to come to terms with AFTER they were out of the proverbial fire pit. Everyone had been lucky enough to run out of the place when the zombies first arrived. Crystal had heard most of the cars screech off. If left alone it'd be written off as mass hysteria/a drug addict attack and little more. That's how it always was. But just because those people had been able to get away didn't even come close to ensuring their safety, oh no. Crystal still didn't fully understand the logistics behind it but somehow, UPROAR as a whole must have had a mental-type Gifted that could track people down just by 'sensing' their energy in areas that they'd been. Which meant that when officers came snooping around this abandoned Burger King, they'd bring in their 'bloodhound' and track down all the civilians and either kill them or if they were Gifted that'd managed to up until that point stay under the government's radar? Impress them into service and if they resisted? Death. Same as if they'd been a normal all along. But what if the place they were looking around was gone, blown to pieces?

"Aunt Crystal...?" Ink called back, looking over his shoulder while still clinging tightly to Mu's waist.

"Mu, get Dean and Ink all settled in the car. The less there is for UPROAR to look around in the better..." Crystal held her hands out, palms facing eachother, as a bright sphere of light began to manifest in the space between them. Blowing stuff up wasn't anything that Crystal herself was a stranger to. She'd cleared out entire buildings before on orders from Tom. Whether they harbored innocents or normals never factored into the equation. Reports of gunfire exchanged between rebellious Gifted and UPROAR officers had been sent around and Tom was ordered to take care of it. To let one group of Gifted think they could rebel and openly defy the world at large was simply and utterly unacceptable. She could still picture it clear as day. Tom and the previous handler for L.A's UPROAR unit/the current one's father, standing side by side with a whole battalion of UPROAR officers at the ready to seize an abandoned factory that Gifted rebels had taken over.

~~~

'Well, can the child perform as instructed, Gorman? The other one was a touch disobedient." Warren Sr. looked over his shoulder at a young feminine looking boy sitting near Tom's prized car, the passenger door having been ripped free from the car's frame and pressed into the ground with such force you'd think an elephant was pressing it into the very Earth itself. The child sat looking away from the scene. Another of a similar age stood in front of Tom and Warren Sr. and had small beams of light shining from around her body, black hair that reached the nape of her back, and her clothes a simple schoolgirl's outfit.

'My daughter will do just fine. Now, go on kid. Strike up the band.'

Crystal, only around eight or so at the time stared blankly ahead at the building. Full of lives that she was going to have to snuff out. They hadn't harmed her in any meaningful way. Some had taken shots at her with bullets and other types of projectiles. Dad said some of them were mental types. They were the worst he said. Could read your mind, make you do things you didn't want to do. One of them had gotten into the head of one of the UPROAR officers and forced it to shoot itself. Some of it's blood splattered on Crystal. It smelled like formaldehyde. That was the stuff they put into the officers to keep them from smelling bad and from falling apart. When she'd asked her Dad why that was, he told her that the officers were 'unnatural.'

Things That Should Not Be.

Made with organs from other Gifted, it was as though the very act of the officers using Gifts that weren't their own displeased the universe at large. They'd continually decompose and grow weaker over the steady course of continuing to use their stolen powers. Still, she couldn't help but feel a bit sad when that one had crashed to the ground, the clear liquid spilling out from it's shattered skull.

'Crystal.'

Crystal turned to face her Dad. Well, of course, he wasn't her real dad. She wasn't sure what'd happened to them apart from the fact that they were dead. Had they been murdered after refusing to give her up to the government? Or did they toss her away without a second thought and the story of their deaths was just a cover up to help her fragile young mind? In the end she supposed whether it was true or not it didn't matter. The reality was that the man before her was the closest thing she'd ever have to a parent. It could always have been worse. She could have been killed and her parts used to make another officer.

Things That Should Not Be.

Kneeling down by his adoptive daughter, Tom placed his hands on both of the child's shoulders. 'Hey, kiddo. Listen. I know this is a lot. But a lot's riding on getting this done. My...My bosses want to know they can trust you. That you'll be there for them like I am. If you do this then it'll be smooth sailing from here on out. You won't have to worry about anything ever again.' Crystal slowly turned her head to look at her Dad's face. It wasn't really his face. He'd based it on an actor he really liked growing up or something like that. Normal people would have been horrified if they'd seen what he really looked like. A walking ocean with glowing yellow eyes, no mouth, small slits where a nose would be, and a booming voice that cut through your thoughts like a knife through butter. He was a water Elemental and one of the strongest that the government had. When they'd more or less dumped Crystal and her 'sister' Mu onto his lap, Thomas Gorman had only just gotten back from serving a tour in Vietnam. Direct orders from his own adoptive father who was one of the big shots, a Military Gifted.

'Why?'

'...Why what, kiddo?'

'Why do we have to hurt these people? They're like us aren't they? Gifted?'

'..T...They..' Tom paused and looked aside. 'No. They're not like us, Crystal. You and me and your sister? We're better than them. We listen, we do the right thing.' Tom gently took Crystal's right hand and held it out towards the building.

'Gorman...' Warren Sr. called out, his arms crossed impatiently.

'Keep your shirt on.' Tom snarled before looking back to Crystal. 'These people think they can live how they want. Without consequence, kiddo. That's...That's just not the world we live in. They've gotta go before they hurt other people.'

Crystal's bottom lip trembled but at the edge of her index finger a small ball of light appeared. 'Ok Dad.'

*VVVVSHHH*

*BOOM*

The ball shifted into a massive beam of light which lanced straight through a window and left a debilitating explosion in its wake. Crystal wasn't as powerful as a full-on Light elemental would be but as a mental type with the ability to control light and shift into differing forms such as beams or swords worked just as fine. Warren Sr. shook his head and adjusted the headset he'd been wearing. "About time. Officers, hurry and secure the interior of the building. Inspect it for any survivors. If they refuse to surrender, neutralize them." The officers grunted in response and moved on enmasse, guns held at the heady, and their expressions unreadable behind their helmets. Following in step behind his officers, Warren Sr. paused to look down at Crystal and Tom. "Next time, I'll make a note of any future hesitation. They could have ruptured a gas line and taken out half the block while you waste time proselytizing to your child. No quarter is to be given to these terrorists. Remember that."

"Leave her alone. She did what was asked of her."

"Tch, so do my officers." Warren Sr. continued on.

Crystal was quiet as Tom took her hand and began to lead her back to the car. 'You did enough for tonight. I'm gonna go help UPROAR clean up and then we'll be able to go home. We can even stop and get something to eat. Just the three of us, ok?'

None of it reached her.

'Crystal?'

Nothing.

'Crystal!'

She finally noticed as Tom grabbed her shoulder and shook her. "...What's wrong, kid...?"

Crystal's bottom lip trembled and shook before she broke out into a full sob.

Mu stayed where he'd been sitting, staring off into the night sky.

Tom awkwardly patted his daughter's back. "What's wrong, kiddo?? You've gotta talk to me here!"

"m...mr...mr warren. what he said...."

"...What-"

"i'm just like his officers. *sob* something that shouldn't be..."

Tom frowned.

"...No." He affectionately patted Crystal's head and held her close.

"No. You're right where you need to be."

Some Thing That Should Not Be.

~~~

As he was helped to the car, Dean slumped into the passenger seat, tossing the keys onto the dashboard. "here...the keys. can't use em. too...tired."

Reluctantly letting go of Mu and climbing into his carseat, Ink glanced over through the window at Crystal.

"Auntie Crystal, come on!!"

Sirens wailed in the distance; people began to clear off the streets.

UPROAR was on it's way.

Crystal curled her fingers and began to compress the ball of light she'd been forming. It rattled and shook like a pop bottle about to blow it's top. She threw her hands forward and the sphere went flying like a rocket. Smashing right through the front doors of the establishment and crashing into the deep fryers in the back. Burning oil spilled across the floors and ignited a massive explosion. One that would have consumed Mu, Crystal, and everyone else within a five-mile radius if Crystal hadn't immediately put up a shining barrier around the perimeter of the building. The vibrations from the building proper could not contained however and windows across the street were blown out, people who'd been standing around, curious as to what the hell was going on fled for the hills, some yelled for the police, others screamed for UPROAR. With the doors blown free, Mu and the others could have seen the two zombies squirm and howl as the flames ravaged them. Flesh melted off the bone with the consistency of hot sticky cheese, muscle fried and boiled, and the creature's howls died out as they collapsed to the floor, lifeless as they'd been just moments ago, the green smoke vacating their bodies and retreating out the back of the restaurant.

...In the same direction of the 'head' zombie that Mu had smacked with a table. The smoke coalesced together into a foul-smelling cloud that hovered over the zombie as it rose to it's feet and seemed to glare across the burning wreckage, straight at Mu, it's body battered and bloodied.

<"This isn't over. I will have my revenge...AND my son. Mark my words...">

The smoke drifted across the zombie and he was gone.

Crystal was out too, like a light, no pun intended. The force of the explosion had thrown her head over heels the back of Dean's car. She lay prone on the street beside it, the glow around her body dim. Likely from the massive expenditure of energy it took to keep that explosion from likely harming dozens of innocents.

"...drop damian off at school....then we can just go. try to pretend we had nothin to do with this until...we can talk..." Dean mumbled, his head and thoughts still fuzzy.

The sirens grew louder.

UPROAR was getting closer and closer....

~~~

"O-oh- just- er, new neighbors?" Smooth, MT, real smooth. "C'mon in, I'm sure we've got something to drink around here." There was probably no hiding the lingering color in his face, but this new stranger seemed perfectly innocent...

"Oh my! What a polite young man you are! Many thanks. ~" Erika cooed, stepping past the threshold and rolling her shoulders. "With an attitude like that, I can't help but imagine that the ladies fall head over heels for you." She teased, before kneeling forward slightly to plant a gentle kiss on the middle of MT's forehead. Leaning back and flashing him a winning smile, she moved over to the kitchen table and both mother & son could see what appeared to be a shadowy tendril of some kind reach out of Erika's shadow and wrap itself around the leg of a chair and pull it out. Sitting down on the offered chair, she folded one leg over the other and let her jacket hang over the back of the chair.

"As grateful as I am to have been graciously allowed to enter your abode, I'm afraid I haven't been entirely truthful with you two."

The lights began to grow dim across the room, the bulbs shaking within the sockets.

"My name IS Erika Fukuhara. But I'm afraid I'm not just a simple neighbor. Forgive me but I couldn't help but overhear you two speaking before I decided to knock. Sounds as though you ran into some trouble, young man. Trouble that your dear mother might be afraid of attracting attention. The wrong kind of attention perhaps." Erika posed, clearly hinting at UPROAR or UFUP catching wind of MT's involvement with the murder of the two guardsmen and the capture of Rot. "I believe you Americans call these domiciles...'birthday parties', yes? Docile enough name and a fair enough hiding place away from the prying judgmental eyes of the authorities. After all, the risk of major Gifted activity being exposed as a result of any action they might take against an occupant here could verge on levels seen as unacceptable by their superiors." Erika held up a hand.

"Now, before you say anything..." Erika's warm smile returned. "I'm not intending to snitch on any suspected behavior. In fact, a couple of colleagues of mine are, shall we say involved in some 'troublesome' activity themselves." The lights started rattling and burning out until only one hung over Erika.

"How would you like to help change the world, my friend?~"



DoctorDunno

 

[MidwayLives]

Mac's screams echoed through the floors of the apartment that'd been reserved for Tom's crew. Doors opened and slammed shut, members of the unit's medical and legal staff poked their heads out and complained/tried in vain to get Johnny's attention as he raced down the halls, nearly tripping over himself as he grabbed the handrail for the stairwell and started sprinting down. This was all way above his head. He had no practical advice to give beyond for people to STAY in their rooms and for SOMEONE to try and call Tom. For all his faults, and believe you me, Tom had plenty of them depending on who you asked, he was a born leader. He'd know what to do about this.

But someone like Johnny? A pathetic murderer who preyed on innocent women and prostitutes. Trying to lead some kind of defensive stand against Acela as she calmly walked hand in hand with Karen down the halls, politely requesting that the non-gifted/normals hired by Tom return back to their rooms? It was simply out of the question. He'd angered Acela before, and it was usually only through Tom's intervention that she was prevented from at least scarring the murderous delinquent. The last thing he wanted was to try tangling with an elemental without SOME kind of backup!

Jeremy, aka, The Rookie was down in the laundryroom doing his own clothes. It was bad enough that Tom disrespected him, worse that he couldn't even contact his family without some kind of prior approval and supervision, he had to wash his boss's clothes before his own. Still, as he leaned against the all and folded his arms across his bare chest while he watched the spin cycle, he had to admit that it WAS kind of relaxing. Nothing but yourself and the low rumble of the washing machine.

"ROOKIE!"

...And there went the peaceful atmosphere. Jeremy turned towards the owner of the shout, his hands raised up defensively. "Hey, you're that fella from before, Johnny, right? Look, I don't want any trouble. I'm willin to forgive and let live about the whole 'you kickin me down the stairs' business. Just leave me be is all I ask-" Before Jeremy could finish his apologetic forgiving business, Johnny closed the distance between the two and propped both hands on the younger man's shoulders. "You fuckin idiot, that's all in the past now! You haven't heard all that screaming??"

"Screaming...?"

"The BUILDING, Rookie! It's in pain! Mac's in pain!"

"The buil-Wait, what in samhill are you talkin about???"

"Agh, look, there's no real time to explain ..." Johnny stepped back and spread his arms out. "Tom explained to you what a Gifted is, yeah? Ok, so this entire BUILDING is a Gifted! A bound Gifted! Egh, basically if enough people live in a place for long enough, their prescence leaves some kind of spiritual residue that eventually comes together and makes an entity out of it! That's what we've been calling Mac! He IS this apartment and Acela's burning him down and we've gotta stop her!!" Jeremy stood there, listening politely, and once Johnny stopped, Jeremy held up a hand again and shook his head. "Okay...so, Mac is the building's name...?"

"Come on!" Johnny exclaimed, exasperated as he grabbed Jeremy's wrist and began pulling him out of the laundryroom, right past the building's landlord/manager. "Hey! What the hell are you freaks up to?!" She screeched but the boys were in no position to stop and explain. The entire building was in danger if they didn't do something fast. Unable to grab his t-shirt, Jeremy grabbed his bolt action hunting rifle from where he'd hidden it behind the washing machine and slung it over his shoulder as Johnny practically yanked him up the ascending flight of stairs.

<"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!! YOU WILL PAY FOR THISSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!"> Mac bellowed as the floor rattled and began tearing itself apart as Acela with one hand around Karen's while Karen used the other to support her nephew, the elemental floated slightly above the floor. Hurting Mac had never been the goal but with the building's stubborn refusal to let her simply take Karen and go, extreme measures had to be taken. "We'll be out of here in no time. Just...try to ignore the yells. Nobody's going to get hurt." Acela said attempting to write off Mac's indignant cries of pain as nothing more than the shouts of an inanimate object. Those who'd poked their heads out quickly shut their doors and locked them as they saw Acela move past them. Most of the staff were run of the mill normals that the government trusted enough to keep their mouths shut for one reason or another.

Nobody it seemed would stop and stand up against her.

Except for two young men.

"That's...That's Acela??"

"Yup!"

"You didn't tell me she was like Tom!! All..." Jeremy didn't know how to phrase it. Tom had called himself an elemental which sure may have been a simple enough label, but Jeremy didn't feel it was encompassing enough. Physical blows, bullets, none of the things that Jeremy had grown up accustomed to use to defend himself and those he cared about did absolutely nothing to someone like Tom. To find out that the source of all the trouble and the yelling was another Gifted just like him? Well, it wasn't exactly encouraging. "Well, of course she is, man! I mean, she's his sister!"

"You didn't tell me THAT either!!!"

"Am I supposed to just spoonfeed you everything, man?? This is kind of a 'need to deal with now' type of situation! Not the 'let me take an hour and a half to explain to you' beat!" As the two began arguing, Acela cleared her throat. <"Johnny, Jeremy, please step aside. I'm leaving." >

Johnny scoffed. "Yeah, f-fat fuckin chance! The Rookie's right here and he's gonna stop you!" Giving Jeremy a hearty slap on the back, Jeremy's eyes nearly bugged out of their head at that grandiose reveal. "I'm gonna do WHAT??! What are YOU gonna do?!" At that question, Johnny merely smiled and smoke began to spread out across the hallway. 'That's the best part, Rookie. I'm gonna just sit back and watch. Good luck and all that y'know?" Stepping back into the smoke, Jeremy noticed that the smoke had basically spread itself across the walls across the length of the hallway leaving a direct unclouded path between Acela and Jeremy.

That slimy son of a bitch! If he wasn't so peace lovin, he'd have socked that weasel right in the nose before he'd done his whole disappearing act! The nerve of him to go and get Jeremy all worked up and then run right as things were getting red hot. Speaking of red hot, Jeremy stared down the way, past Acela and at Karen and the infant she had bundled up under her arm. Drawing his rifle from over his shoulder, Jeremy worked the bolt but didn't raise it up. "M...Miss Acela, I know you said you don't wanna hurt noone and I don't wanna hurt anyone neither. But..." The smoke that both Johnny had conjured and from Acela burning chunks of the building that Mac threw in her way filtered throug the air. "...I'd be doing a disservice to my job to just let y'all walk on by after what you've done."

Acela's eyes lit up as she floated back as though Jeremy had physically punched her. <"What I've done you say? Was it not Johnny who turn tail and ran when he was the one who came to fetch you to 'stop' me? Was it not my brother who abuses you and treats you like dirt simply because you're a normal? I...I regret how things have transpired but this woman doesn't deserve to be here. I will take her and I WILL leave. This is the only warning you'll get, Jeremy. Please...Please take it and move aside.">

Jeremy felt his legs trembling, threatening to give way and have him collapse on the floor. His stomach was doing twists and turns that would have made an Olympic gymnast blush. He'd signed up for the UFUP to try and make something of himself. To prove his father and grandfather wrong. That he didn't need to join the military to do a service that'd make his country proud of him. Sure, he absolutely detested Tom and the elemental seemed to take some kind of perverse delight in knowing he could say whatever he wanted and there was little to no recourse that Jeremy could take. Not to mention that Tom had laid it out clear as day if Jeremy tried reaching out to his family and spilling the beans on the existence of Gifted or otherwise even hinting at 'The Big Secret'.

He'd kill everyone of them.

...He'd probably do the same if Jeremy just backed down and let Acela go without a fight. He didn't know Karen's story and he felt terrible about leveling a gun in the proximity of a lady, especially one who looked so understandably frazzled.

"I'm sorry, miss. I can't do that."

He raised the rifle so the barrel was level with Acela's face.

<"Don't-">

He pulled the trigger and fired.

*BANG*

The shot tore through Acela's forehead and came right out the back, soaring over Karen's own head. For a normal person or even an non-elemental this normally would have been sufficient enough. Just a shot straight to the head. Not for elementals. Acela's forehead rippled with crimson red flames before closing the split that the bullet had caused. She glowered down at Jeremy who paled and took a step back, working the bolt and inserting another round in the chamber. He fired again, this time through Acela's chest. The front of Acela's dress was torn as the bullet ripped it's way out Acela's back but the woman of fire quickly closed up the 'wound' without any sign of discomfort. It wasn't any fault of Jeremy's, frightened as he was, and upset at what he'd been forced to do. Bullets of any kind just didn't work on elementals. As Acela started to close the distance between them, she left Karen unguarded, and even just for that split moment, it was enough for someone to take advantage.

Leaping out of the smoke with a switchblade in hand, and wrapping his other arm around Karen's neck, Johnny called out to Acela. "STOP RIGHT THERE!!" Acela did indeed come to a halt right as Jeremy pressed the barrel of his rifle against her stomach. Looking over her shoulder, the heat from her flames was enough to make Jeremy dizzy as she flared up. <"Romero! You filthy wretch! Step away from her NOW!"> Johnny flicked the blade open. "Whoa, WHOA! That's close enough. Stand down and I won't...I won't have to do anything nasty, ok?? Just stop for a second. Think about what you're doing! You think Tom is gonna just let this go? That he'll come home and see what you've done to Mac, that you took another member of the unit out of here and just ran off? You don't THINK UPROAR will do anything about this?? You're absolutely nuts!"

<"It doesn't MATTER what Tom thinks. This woman didn't ASK to be here and I'm taking her away. Whether Tom, UPROAR, or anyone else likes it or not. Now, step away from her!"> Acela shouted, her thought speak so intense it nearly gave Johnny a bloody nose as she hammered his subconscious with it. But he didn't loosen the grip on the switchblade or on Karen's throat. "...What the hell are you saying?? That you'd risk your life for just some lady you JUST met?? I..I just don't get it or YOU!"

Before the two could argue further, the sprinklers overhead creaked and began to spray down, localizing solely on Acela. As the filthy foul-smelling water streamed down upon her, Acela cried out. Mac then called out to Jeremy and for his part nearly gave the poor boy an anyerusm with how much power he put in to single out Jeremy. <"BOY. SHOOT HER NOW. I'VE MET HER CONDITION BUT SHE CAN GROW HOT ENOUGH TO EVAPORATE THE WATER. SHOOT HER NOW BEFORE SHE GETS THE CHANCE.">

Her condition? Tom hadn't really explained that. Probably because he didn't want Jeremy getting any wise ideas on how to try and get back at him. Didn't take being a rocket scientist to try and figure it out what Mac meant though (still was incredibly weird. The building had just talked to him?? What???). Acela was a fire elemental and this water was dampening her. Raising his rifle, he took aim as Acela levied her right hand towards Jeremy.

*BANG*

<"Aaaaah!!!"> Acela screamed as the bullet hit and left her with a quarter sized hole in her hand. The fireball she'd been manifesting flew off course and slammed right into Johnny's face rather than his hand and he fell back, clutching and screaming at his face, the knife falling on the floor beside him. Blood streamed from the hole in Acela's hand and she looked towards Jeremy, tears running down her mouthless face. Jeremy dropped the rifle and nearly tripped, as he took a step back. It was the first time he'd ever seen blood spill out of something he'd shot. Cardboard targets didn't bleed. But most of all he forgot the most important rule that came with firearm use.

Don't point it at something/someone you don't intend to kill.

Acela thrust out her uninjured hand and blasted Jeremy right in the chest with a stream of fire. The flames were cool yet looked as red as a ruby. They licked at Jeremy's exposed flesh while singing it at the same time. He didn't cry out, unlike Johnny who rolled on the ground in agony, and stared down Acela as she turned up the heat and put such weight behind the blast that it pushed Jeremy across the floor. He refused to falter or stop. When Acela finally brough the stream to an end and the sprinklers overhead ceased, there was enough water to come up around Acela's ankles. Jeremy panted and the smoke faded from the hallway and it wasn't until Acela started to calmly walk past Jeremy that he fell to his knees, his chest a bloody mess from the burns Acela had left on it.

As blood dripped down from her hand, Acela looked over her shoulder at Karen.

<"we're almost there. you'll be safe soon.">

"you won't get away with this you crazy bitch!!! Wait until Tom finds out!!!" Johnny screamed as he dunked his face in the water to remove any remaining flames. "Oh my god it hurts!!!"

Jeremy didn't say anything. He collapsed against the soaked floor, his eyes closing.

rakshasa

 

[MidwayLives]

The authorities had managed to track down the approximate location of Andre and his known associates. 'The Duke' had been strongly assumed to have been killed by the others, no signs of his corpse had been found. Likely destroyed in some method in order to try and throw investigators off their trail/not leave any clues as to the full extent of [BLUE OYSTER CULT]'s Gifts. No information had surfaced on Erika Fukuhara either. Beyond that her name appeared to be little more than an alias. It was a frustrating situation, and it certainly wasn't helped by the mayor of Santa Clarita breathing down his neck to try and get it wrapped up before things escalated any further.

Howard Humphrey wasn't a conventionally handsome man. He was short, had a pudgy face, a receding hairline (he'd snap and call it 'thinning' to anyone in earshot though) and lacked the respect from the UFUP unit he was tasked with coordinating a response with. Decked out in a grey longcoat, identical to the one that Warren Fairweather wore (though it wasn't a contest at all upon who wore it better), Howard ran a hand through what was left of his quickly greying hair and looked across at the desk at Santa Clarita's UFUP unit. If one was to be frank, they weren't much to look at:

-Snowball/Alex Vincent-41 years old, German American, curly black hair, a long-sleeved t-shirt with Che Guevera's face on it and bright blue slacks and worn-out red sneakers. His Gift was [SNOW PATROL] but despite what the name would imply, he wasn't a snow elemental. He was, well, of a weaker variety of elemental. He was a milk elemental. Wasn't much use in battle or really most scenarios truthfully. But it allowed him to become so pale that he could generally sneak by most places without too much suspicion though he'd like to note that it isn't ACTUALLY invisibility or even being translucent. He could also blast a stream of milk down someone's throat and if they were lactose intolerant? Look out!

-High Octane/Jonesy Bluesummers-30, African-American, a red t-shirt with 'MEN'S MY BLOOD TYPE' printed across in huge, bold, lettering. The sleeves were cut off, rather shoddily, at the sides and he wore bright blue jeans with a thick brown belt and a very visible buckle. He wore brown cowboy style boots. His Gift was [CALIFORNIA DREAMIN] and allowed him to emit short bursts flame from his heels and elbows in order to increase both his running and punching speed. This in turn requires him to eat heavy portions of food to make up for the energy imbalance however!

-The Rearview/N/A-31, Rearview is adorned in an UPROAR officer's style fatigues. Black outfit with a opaque helmet. His Gift [FEAR OF THE DARK] allows him to heal his wounds when in cover of darkness/shadows. It also increases his physical prowess which in turn means he typically acts at night/dusk. Only Howard and the leader of his UFUP Unit know what he looks like behind his mask.

-Empress Madeline/Maddie Kurtz-Irish-American, Maddie while in her 'role' as an UFUP Agent wears typical punkish attire. Acid washed jeans, long shaggy black hair, piercings, black leather jacket and boots. But in private she preferred to dress more modestly with long-sleeved blue cardigan and grey sweatpants. [GIRLS JUST WANNA HAVE FUN] was a bit less 'visible' than her comrade's Gifts but it allowed her incredible physical strength. Enough to flip cars or dent steel doors.

-The Treacherous/Cameron Nicholson-29, the second youngest of the unit and also perhaps the least respected. Cameron's Gift [BLUE WATER LINE] is a Mutation Type and gave him gills/thus the ability to breathe underwater. But that's about where the utility of his Gift ends. He can hold his own decently in a fight and has been trained by government forces but he's no more or less strong than your average soldier. He also tends to regularly wear his uniform-a green and aquatic themed leotard with fake scales plastered across it and a buttoned up blue t-shirt over it.

But their leader and the strongest of them all was missing...

"Okay, so, let's go over this again. NONE of you have ANY ideas to where Tra would have gone off to?" Howard asked, leaning across his desk and pulling his glasses off to squeeze at the bridge of his nose. Maddie shrugged her shoulders and leaned back in her chair. "I don't know why you've got yourself all worked up over it. The last time somebody tried to track Tra, he put them in the hospital. He makes damn sure that he's left to his own devices."

"Besides, if we're being honest the five of us plus the officers should be enough for this right? I...I mean it'd be great to have Tra along! Amazing even!... Um..." Alex chimed in before frantically looking around the office as though he were worried Tra had somehow heard him.

"The mayor of Santa Clarita is resting his hopes that we succeed and apprehend Beaumont with little to no civilian casualties. I'd like a little more guarantee than what you can offer, milk boy." Howard snapped as Alex winced and leaned back in his chair. "Thankfully, our contacts in France were willing to share what they could of Andre and his partner. He's a physical and she's an elemental. Blue fire elemental to be exact."

"Well, then, I mean that's perfect. All we've gotta do is get her in the water and she's done for. Fire elementals suffocate if their fires go out." Treacherous pointed out, his hands splayed out as though he'd just blown everyone's minds.

"...Okay, but how are you gonna find a body of water to throw her into? Or stop her from frying you before you even get close enough to touch her, Einstein? Did you think of that?" Maddie asked to which Cameron's face grew red and he settled back in his seat. "I, um, take back my statement."

"Ugh..." Howard wiped at his forehead with a handkerchief and folded it up before setting it down atop his desk. "...If worse comes to worse, we shut down power to the apartment complex Andre's hiding around in. Our officers rush in, you four provide backup, and I'll have The Rearview try to take down Andre and Cherie before they get a chance to catch their bearings. The dark should provide enough darkness for you to work with, correct?" Howard asked looking towards The Rearview who sat in the back away from the others.

He quietly nodded.

"..Alright, alright. So we've got SOMETHING. But where in the hell IS HE???"

~~~



G wasn't blind or deaf. He'd very well heard Mac's screams even from outside on the curb.

He didn't know what exactly was going on in there but if nothing else it was a terrible omen. That things were going to get a whole hell of a lot worse before they got better. He had to reach the children and a taxi just wasn't going to be quick enough. Not with the influx of traffic and all. So as the cab started to roll in from around the corner and the driver saw G standing at the curb, he raised an eyebrow and rolled down his window. "Hey buddy! You uh looking for a trip to the nearest shelter or something??" Where else would a guy wearing grocery bags on his feet be going right? Except maybe for the nuthouse.

G glanced over and shook his head.

"Nein, my friend. I'm ssssorry to have wasssted your time." Digging his feet into the ground, G leaped into the air and began to sprint off in the direction of where he'd known the kids took their usual route to school. If he was lucky they'd have managed to get to school with little issues. But given how today had been going that didn't seem incredibly likely. The driver watched this strange hulking man wearing a trenchchcoat and bags on his feet hop into the air and run like he was the Flash down the street and slowly rolled his window back up. At least he'd already been paid...

"I'm coming, kinder. Please be safe..."

Most people honked at G or waved out their car windows at him. Some weirdo running in the street, hopping from car to car like he was some kind of nutjob wasn't anything too unusual in the city but G's weight meant the roofs creaked here and there as he bounded across the city.

Off to the side, a youth wearing a black t-shirt and matching jacket raised his foot and kicked out at a parked car near the sidewalk. To the plain eye the kick was lighter than a feather. But the car's passenger side door was completely caved in and the car was left skidding across the pavement at high speeds. Right at a mother and her child who were just trying to cross the street. Catching the soon to be disaster out of the corner of his eye, G hopped down and thrust his gloved left hand out. The incoming car rattled and quaked. The car toppled back down on all four wheels and G pulled his hand back, leaving a extremity shaped imprint on the car's passenger side door.

"You almost killed innocent people."

The youth smiled and laughed.

"Gonna hang me for a crime that I 'almost' committed?"



"You're...Well, I gotta be honest. I don't know who or what you are. But you're clearly pretty strong. I gave that car the lightest kick I could manage and you stopped it dead in it's tracks." The youth glanced down at G's feet. "The bags are a nice touch."

G clicked his mandibles and balled hi hands up into fists.

"I know exactly who you are."

The youth smiled and adjusted his jacket. The mother that G had stepped in and saved teared up and called out to him.

"Oh thank god! Tra! Save us! This maniac nearly crashed right into me and my daughter!!"

G was taken aback, bewildered even. Had the woman not just seen what had happened with her own eyes?? G was the one who'd saved her, Tra was the one who kicked the car!

"Confused, huh? That's okay. I'll explain it as we go along. The accent's telling me you're a Kraut. I'm gonna go out on a limb here and assume you're the German from Gorman's crew. What's he up to, huh? What's he doing?"

"Austrian, and Tom's businessss isss none of yoursss, Tra."

The man laughed and tucked his hands in his pockets.

"Really? That's a shame. But I'll get over it. Because you're here and I figure, hey, maybe if I kick you around for a bit. Gorman will come running..."

G didn't have time for this but just running away wouldn't secure his safety or those of the civilians gawking at the scene.

For the man standing off against him was a local hero in Santa Clarita much to the government's dismay.

He was T.R.A. (The Real American) and his Gift?

[MONSTER]

 

[MidwayLives]

Sandy didn't turn to acknowledge the sudden disruption. Her eyes darted to the edge of her vision towards the entrance, hands hovering limply over the ground. Her expression didn't falter for the most part, but her eyes gained a certain sharpness, a look of focus and fear rolled into one, a prey animal spotting a hunter from yards away. When darkness overtook the shop and the light from the outside faded away, her mouth dried.

It was true he was one of the only UFUP agents that had treated her with humanity, and that they kept in touch despite everything, but at her core, she held an unshakeable fear of anyone in his position. As long as she could still picture him in that uniform, peering down at her from between barred windows, as long as she had any memory of her sentence within UFUP at all, she would always be prey. He would always be the hunter.

She silently rose to the ground and turned on her heel. Without the light from the outside to accentuate her dark circles her face her face grew softer in the shadows, wide, ghostly eyes popping out from the shadows. Without the light falling on her face to confirm she was real, she resembled a night terror more closely than a human being.

"That depends." Her voice was no higher than the one she used to speak to her flowers. She faltered for a moment before moving on. "You seem worried. They're not back, are they?"

The Shade leaned against his cane and shook his head.

"No, nobody knows you're here but me. I've made sure to keep it that way, kid."

It wasn't easy. Meant having to lie to your co-workers, your direct superiors who could order you dead if you went against the grain in any way.

But he'd been in the game so to speak, long enough to have known the woman standing before him since she was a young girl. People came, they went, god only knows what happened to them. If he could save at least one soul in this corrupt unjust world of theirs? Then maybe all the daily hardship would be worth it after all. Though this one was an outlier. Not only had she committed the taboo of trying to LEAVE the UFUP once the government had deigned it appropriate to put her into the program, but she'd also killed/injured fellow agents on the way to freedom.

Or, well, as much freedom as you got in the bustling streets of California.

New York was the Shade's usual stomping grounds and visits like this weren't terribly often for UFUP agents. States didn't want the potential mess of their agents getting mixed up in another's business and risk spilling the beans on the 'Big Secret.' Still, the Shade had some kind of leeway and when the chance came for New York to send one of their boys to go be nosy around L.A? He jumped at the chance. Anything to check on a dear friend.

"...No, I came here for something else that's come up lately. There's a Gifted goin around. French fella, a physical type. Seems to be that his blood's explosive. He popped up in Santa Clarita with a couple of friends and blew up a bar. Killed nearly everyone in it. Left a few survivors just to pass on what exactly had happened. Word on the street is that he's holed up in a nearby 'birthday party.' Probably figures that UPROAR will be hesitant about wanting to go in guns blazing in that kind of place. Could stir up all kinds of nastiness. Crafty fella." The Shade nodded before stepping closer and gently pressing a gloved hand to the counter, next to the register.

"I'm here to warn you. That if this indivdual tries approachin you in any kind of way? That you'll shut him down and get in touch with me." Sighing wistfully, The Shade leaned back. "There's enough blood shed in just our day to day lives. This guy might think he's got all the answers and that he can change the world just by blowing up a few buildings and giving the folks in charge an aneurysm. But you and I both know it ain't that simple, never has been."

He looked over to Sandy and met her eyes with his.

"Never will be."

rakshasa

 

[MidwayLives]

"*cough cough* I...I hate to be the one to kill the mood here, but, man I'm really feeling like shit guys..." Herald croaked, leaning back against the couch with both arms draped off to the side. He'd barely even exerted himself since getting back to Darkstar's mom's place but just by looking at him, you'd have thought he'd just got done running a marathon with the sweat rolling down his face and neck. "Yeah *cough cough*, I'm not feeling too good either. I think it was that stuff from the tank. It hit us right in the face, didn't it, Herald?"

"Yeah, I dunno man...who knows how long that stuff's been sitting in there..." The two men continued to cough and wheeze as Darkstar stood apart from them, still looking over his decaying guest in a cocktail of fear and awe. "...Rot, huh? So...what're you going to do?"

Rot blinked and for a brief second, Darkstar saw a flash of yellow eclipse the man's eyes. Resembled an elemental's eyes. "What else IS there for me....to do...? I'm going to....take back my life." He reached up and adjusted the collar of his jacket. ".....No matter how many bodies I need." Stepping past Darkstar without so much as even a thank you for the trio releasing him from his makeshift prison or an acknowledgment that stepping upstairs looking as he did probably wasn't the BEST idea, both Herald and Crimsonwing exchanged worried glances before looking towards their leader for guidance.

"um, danny...far be it from us to tell you *cough cough cough* what to do..." Herald started.

"....but if your mom sees that guy...?" Crimsonwing finished.

They didn't feel any further elaboration was really needed.

Darkstar cursed under his breath and turned towards the departing Rot. Reaching out and placing a hand upon the Gifted's shoulder, he didn't even so much as get a split second to voice his concerns before Rot had turned and grabbed him by the throat. His touch felt horrific at first. Wet, slimy to the point that you worried if you even tried moving at all, you'd hear the flesh or whatever just slide right off his bones and plop onto the floor. Darkstar grabbed at Rot's arm but he couldn't budge his grip, or even disturb it in the slightest. Rot's bottom shifted and his eyes shined yellow as he began walking back, forcing Darkstar to do the same.

"Who...are you...to try putting your filthy....pathetic....normal hands on...ME??" Rot snarled, rubbing two of his fingers around the nape of Darkstar's neck. The captive man winced in pain and cried out, muffled as it was, as he felt the acid splotches burn across his flesh. "....I heard the other two...make mention of someone....your mother was it...? Are you afraid of what she might think....upon seeing me...?" The green smoke from before swayed around Rot's feet and both Herald and Crimswing nearly fell over themselves in a desperate attempt to try and crawl as far away from the noxious fumes as they could.

Despite his self-appointed 'heavy research' into Gifted kind and the differences between each types, Darkstar was at somewhat of a loss when it came to what exactly Rot was. He had a mouth which already by itself was unlike elementals as they typically lacked mouths unless wearing a glamour, instead preferring to nourish themselves by drawing in energy from their surroundings. But his flesh was absolutely horrid to look at. It looked like the end result of a man having a blow torch held against his skin for hours on end and it burned his nostrils to even be near him. The man radiated acidity from every part of his person much like well, a full-blooded elemental. What WAS he?!

"mmf...." Darkstar eventually mumbled out, a 'yes' by any other name.

Rot scoffed.

"....If I learned nothing else from my time in that...that...drum. It's that you normals....are a scourge. A toxin that burns worse than my acid ever could... I'd give a thousand lifetimes to see your kind pay...for what it's done to those like me....what it'll continue to do." Rot threw Darkstar back, leaving him on the floor at the feet of the couch that Herald and Crimsonwing were currently too fatigued to even try getting up from. Upon being released from his grip, Darkstar began wheezing and panting as though he were having an asthma attack. Rot's grip, brief as it'd been: just a few seconds at best, had left a series of burn marks across every inch of Darkstar's neck.

Seeing no one else willing or able to interfere with him, Rot continued up the stairs, the wood creaking under his every step as he calmly walked up and up, his right hand smoothly sliding across the handrail, charring the wood in the process. Up in the kitchen where the door the basement was only just around the corner, Darkstar's mother heard the door slowly opening and peeked her head over. "Danny, are you done playing with your-" She froze upon seeing the eight-foot-tall abomination that was most definitely not her pride and joy. Throwing her hands up in fright, she screamed her lungs out. An understandable enough reaction. "AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!! MONSTER!!!!!!" She immediately raced for the phone. She needed anyone! The police, UPROAR, the Coast Guard, anyone!

Rot merely gnashed his teeth and moved towards her.

Placing one hand around the receiver of the phone, the smell of burnt plastic wafted through the air as it melted like silly putty in Rot's hands. Once it was sufficently goopy enough, he ripped it out of the wall and threw it to the ground. Watching as her only attempt at salvation was melted right before her eyes, Darkstar's mother continued to step back until she was pressed against the sink. Reaching back and flailing around in the depths of the sink, she eventually grabbed the hilt of a steak knife and plunged it straight into Rot's chest. The steel blade ripped through the fabric of his jacket and bit flesh. Rot paused; his stride broken as he slowly glanced down. For a second, it'd looked as though it'd worked. That she'd managed to save not only herself but her dear little boy as well as his friends.

*ssssssizzle*

The knife handle was starting to get hot, rather, unbearably hot. Yelping in pain, she leaned back and let the handle go. Pulling at it, Rot revealed that the blade of the knife had melted into a silvery goopy mess. As droplets of superheated metal slag fell onto the floor, Rot reached out towards the terrified woman with his free hand as she quietly trembled and whimpered, pleading for her life.

There wasn't even enough time for her to scream before it was over.

Stepping back down the stairs, steam hissing off his hand, Rot looked towards the three men.

"Car. Which one of you....has one..."

The ruckus upstairs said enough. None of them were stupid enough to ask Rot IF he'd done what they'd assumed. Better to react to that when they weren't within earshot of the murderous acid man. Herald weakly held up his car keys after fishing them out of his pocket. "I...uh...got a Firebird...outside..."

Rot lurched over and grabbed the keys, taking care not to melt them in his clutches. "Get up. We're leaving. Got somewhere I need to go."

Crimsonwing coughed and nearly fell over from the effort of it all. "...go??? go where???"

Rot gnashed his yellowed teeth again.

"...To get some friends of mine..."

~~~



G disliked fighting, which wasn't to say that he was by any means a pacifist. He'd defend himself or those he cared about if he had to.

But when facing a man that you couldn't conceivably budge let alone hurt? What did you even do in a situation like that?

Well, whatever the answer was, he'd have to figure it out and fast...

"Getting tired yet?" TRA asked as he batted away trails of smoke.

A translucent liquid with all the same consistency of blood oozed out of a fresh wound on G's side. He'd been left with little recourse but to dodge TRA's attacks as they came in while still trying to keep his makeshift costume in one piece and avoid the gaze of the quickly growing crowd. Unfournately, one attack had managed to clip him and it hurt like hell. "How...How are you able to sssso fragrantly ussse your Gift...? UPROAR could not have approved thisss...."

Tra blinked and shook his head, ignoring the cries from the citizens for him to 'DO SOMETHING' and 'TRA, TRA, TRA'. As if they weren't even there, mere white noise for him. "UPROAR? You think I take orders from them? Please. No, no, it's something more....well, I dunno, how do I put this? You a religious man, kraut?"

"Still Austrian." G corrected, a bit more snippy than usual. "...Never took to it mysself. Why?"

"That's a shame. See, I'm REALLY into it. But it's probably not what you're thinking. Crosses, Christmas, church all that stuff? Not really my gig. You ever hear of a thing called the Primordial? The 'First Gifted' and so on. Whole deal is supposed to be that God created them and they gave us what we now know as Gifts. " TRA explained and G couldn't help but remain skeptical, believing it to be little more than the delusional preachings of an narcissistic madman. Still if Tra kept talking, G could inch closer and closer. If he focused all of his strength into one good punch, then just maybe... "...I ssseee. Ssso, what are you sssaying then? That your belief allowsss you to do all of thisss without repercussionsss?"

"No, no...well, I guess yeah in a sense. But you don't sound like you believe what I'm sayin, do you? See, one of these entities? You know the story in the Bible...Adam and Eve. Well, ADAM is supposedly one of those Primordials. The first ever human with a Gift. The first of firsts. Kind of a big deal. Well, story goes that if you give him faith, believe in him? He'll protect his flock, his worshippers and not a thing anyone can do about it. Not UFUP, not UPROAR, and well not anybody."

"...Perhapsss it's the pain in my ssside but I grow tired of thisss, Tra. Isss there a point to all of thisss?"

"Heh. I must just be wasting my breath. Well, here, why don't I just show you what I mean?"

At that moment, TRA held out his hand towards a nearby building, purple lighting crackled around the length of his extended arm.

G followed TRA's line of sight and tensed up. "TRA, don't!"

The lightning coalesced into a shining sphere of energy flowing in the palm of the Gifted's hand.

"STOP!!!"

G had to do it now! He had no other choice! He reared back his fist and threw a punch with as much strength as he could muster. His fist collided with the side of Tra's face. The resounding shockwave was enough to throw people off their feet, shatter a store's front facing windows and crack the ground under both men's feet. The sphere dissipated and Tra lowered his arm. His head had been sharply turned to the side with the impact of G's blow. Turning his head back, a smile on his face despite the insectoid fist resting against his cheek. "See what I mean now? I was just about to blow up that building and yet listen to the masses, bug boy." G paused and listened as people screamed for UPROAR and for someone, anyone, to help TRA as he was 'fighting this BRUTE, THIS MONSTER!' "That's ADAM's influence. As long as I believe, as long as I give my dues. He'll protect his own." Grabbing at G's arm with all the force of a vice grip, he slowly pulled the arm back from his face and held his free hand against G's chest

"Sit laus ADAMI, mors inimicis suis."

The light from before reappeared and despite G's attempts to pull away, it looked as though it'd be in vain! The grip on his arm was just too strong!

He couldn't get....

*BOOOM*

away.....

rakshasa DoctorDunno