The Hunt.

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The Hunt.

Post by Alpha » Tue Nov 06, 2018 3:23 am

For maximum effect, only read your own. You're free to ignore this if you want, but I think it'd enhance the experience if you didn't.

Kat Stone wakes up handcuffed to a pipe.

The room she wakes up in is cold and damp. The kind of room you wouldn't be surprised to find a lot of mold in, if you looked around hard enough. It's almost entirely empty, save two important items. Firstly, a television. Flat-screen, and hanging from the wall on the other side of the room from the imprisoned fencer. Currently off.

The other item is an anvil. It sits in the very center of the room, and a sword is stuck inside of it. The very sword that separates Katherine Stone from an ordinary girl. The sword that qualified her for the Hunt.

Once exited, it becomes apparent that the room is less a room, and more a warehouse. One of many, anonymously situated in the city of New York, by the waterfront. Owned through a near-untraceable series of shell companies by the woman known as the Alpha.

Teja Docesznic and Hector Williams wake up tied together.

They're bound, not cuffed. Good-quality ropes, and expert knots, but nothing either couldn't escape easily, if they were so inclined. They're sitting on the floor of a tiny apartment- barely three rooms. One is the 'kitchen,' a stove and mini-fridge. The other is the bathroom, featuring a single toilet and none of the paper that tends to accompany it. They're in the 'living room,' which is a sofa, a rug, and a small ancient television sitting on a wooden table. The couch is a sofa-bed, so hypothetically someone could live here, but the site is not meant for that purpose.

The door and sole window are both boarded up. If one were to remove- or perhaps blast through- the boards covering the window, they'd find a fire escape, and a view out into one of the shittier parts of New York City. The door, if opened, reveals the stairwell of a low-rent apartment building.

The pair of governmet-sponsored 'capes' are sitting with their wrists tied together, as well as their ankles bound, with their backs to each other. Both are wearing civilian clothes, not their respective armors or other equipment. The sole, uncovered lightbulb in the room emits a faint buzzing sound as it illuminates the otherwise-dark room.

The metahuman fugitive known as Azra wakes up collared.

The collar in question is neither aesthetic or BDSM-based. Rather, it's a simple metal affair, with the glowing red light on the side the only indicator that it's anything out of the ordinary. However, it is anything but mundane. This device is designed to suppress the young woman's unique ability, the density-shifting power that would let her slip through any other restraint that her kidnapper could have applied.

Her particular place of internment, fr however brief a period, was tailored to her specifically. It's a replica of a prison cell. Iron bars block her exit, a single bench is on one wall, and a (non-functional) toilet is in the back. Specifically, the room is designed to evoke memories of the Facility, a government facility in which she, and other young metahumans, were held prisoner. The actual similarities are few, but it doesn't take much to evoke memories of trauma in one so young.

On the wall across the hallway from the cell is a television. Though the bars obstruct it somewhat, the screen is clearly visible, though currently off. When a certain monologue is completed, the light on the collar turns green, and with a click it opens, falling to the ground. When Azra makes her escape, she will find herself in an abandoned office building, with the bare essentials- desks, boardrooms, and chairs- the only remnants. Whatever company was once here collapsed, and the Alpha purchased the floor of this building they owned.

Garrick Valeria wakes up in bed.

Not his own bed, of course. This one is just a mattress on a bed-frame. And there are chains restraining the owl-themed metahuman to it. His wrists and ankles are cuffed to the bed, with enough slack to struggle against them. He's wearing his Owler costume, sans mask, which rests on the bedside table, just out of his reach.

The windows in the small bedroom are boarded up, but breaking them would reveal that this room is in one of the more upscale neighborhoods in Manhattan, on the higher floors of an apartment building. The door is also locked, but getting past that is a fairly trivial task for a metahuman.

Positioned across from the bed is a television, currently off.

Arthur Wright and Ezekiel Ambrose wake up in a truck.

The two young men(or young-seeming, at least) are handcuffed together, two pairs of cuffs binding both of their wrists to each other. They sit on chairs, backs to each other, and the chairs are themselves bolted to the floor of the truck.

Two large tablets are attached to the interior of the truck. Currently off, but when they turn on, they will provide the only sources of light in the otherwise pitch-black vehicle.

As for the driver... there isn't one. It's a self-driving vehicle, stolen from a testing facility by the enigmatic Alpha. It's programmed to drive around Manhattan in a wide, winding loop, and won't stop until both of its occupants are far away.

Anika Burman wakes up inside a box.

Not a literal box. However, that is what one tends to assume when they wake up in an enclosed, pitch-black space. In reality, she's inside an empty water tower. The kind it's hard to miss, if you look at the New York skyline from a rooftop. There are air holes in it, of course, but it's night-time, and no light comes through.

The Numinous is not restrained, save for being inside this particular trap. For someone of her capacities, escaping should be relatively trivial.

There is a large tabled affixed to the interior of this water tower. Its' screen is currently dark, but when it turns on, it will provide the only source of light in the dark 'room.'

All at once, the screens turn on. The face of a woman appears. There's a white hand-print on her face, and her expression is... serene.

"Hello," she says, her voice almost perfectly unaccented. "I am the Alpha. You are all here because you are strong. Strong enough to merit my interest. But the question is... are you strong enough? Are you predators, or prey?

"I invite you to write me your answer in blood. The blood of the seven other individuals of interest I am speaking to now."

Eight images, taken all at roughly the same angle, of six unconscious individuals, appear on the screens. They linger, even as the Pack Alpha's voice returns.

"It does not escape my notice that some of you are not inclined towards... violence. As such, I have provided... motivation."

The screens now display what appears to be a live video feed. It shows around fifty people, all with black bags over their heads, lined up on their knees against a wall. No details that might betray their location are shown, as the feed only remains on-screen for a few moments.

"You will have twelve hours for one of you to elimate the other seven, and prove your strength to me. For every hour that passes without blood shed, I will execute a hostage. Steel sharpens steel.

"Your contest will be restricted to the island of Manhattan. If any of you leave the perimeter of the island, I will murder multiple hostages, and then you. If you make an attempt to 'foil my plans,' I will murder all of the hostages, and then you.

"Whosoever survives this trial will have a standing invitation to my Pack. I wish you... the best of luck.

"Remember. There is only one sin: defeat. There is only one grace: victory."

Upon those parting words, those participants in the Hunt who were bound by chains or cuffs would find themselves released, free to move throughout the city. To hunt. To kill.

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Re: The Hunt.

Post by Requiem » Tue Nov 06, 2018 3:48 am

Anika opened her eyes to darkness, and for a moment, she was calm.

Confused, but not scared -- more disoriented than anything else. Her mind raced through the last memories she remembered, trying to piece together some sort of logical explanation for her current situation. The more she tried to think, though, the more the possibilities seemed to haze. She wasn't at home. That much was certain. The floor she lay on was cold, and the faint sound of wind echoed hollowly. The girl sat up, rubbing at her head, and cautiously rapped her finger on the floor. A metal clang bounced around the room.

"Hello?" she asked, tentatively, but with enough confidence to ring. A television turned on, before hidden by the darkness.

This had to be a joke. Some sort of idiot prank, like one of those hidden camera shows her little brother spent hours watching. Any moment now, a crew would turn on the lights, laughing about how pale and stretched her face looked, how wide her eyes got. She watched, rapt until the video ended, then continued to stare at the screen for a few moments after.

"This isn't a joke, is it?" No reply. Of course there was no reply. Her stomach felt heavy, weighing down her core, fingertips buzzing with an electric charge. She'd expected things like this when she took on the Requiem mantle, or at least, she'd told herself she expected them. It was time to act, whether she wanted to or not. With a deep breath, she clasped her hands, then swept her hands out as if parting the air.

"Night falls."

A subtle change. Her clothes shifted, now draping over her in a silky cascade, and the cool air touched her leg through a new part in her dress. Inside, too, she felt the icy touch of something fill her blood, mingling with the chill of fear.

"I don't suppose you're going to tell me what to do?" she asked out loud. This question was not directed at the television, but it merited no reply either. She bit her lip and sighed. "Not even when things are like this? Do you hate me that much? I know I'm not what you wanted, but look at this! Look at me! Did you hear what that woman said? How is this not serious enough to get you to say anything?!"

Silence. Anika rubbed at her eyes, and her fist came away damp. She drew a shuddering breath, then turned away from where the television had been, facing where the light had shown a curved wall moments before. A flick of her wrist, and a series of metallic clangs followed. Gathering her confidence, she grabbed the darts, and began to climb.

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Re: The Hunt.

Post by illirica » Tue Nov 06, 2018 3:50 am

Another night, far too late. One of these days, Teja Docesznic was going to do something about her schedule, but it wasn't likely to be any time soon. She'd been in the lab again, fiddling with another bit of tech. Not a personal project this time, just one of the interminable series of creations that got passed along her way by people hoping she would turn them into something usable.

This one hadn't been looking likely, but she'd been seeing what she could do. Time passed, like it almost always did. She'd come to appreciate the fact that this was a very good thing. Eventually, though, she'd realized she probably ought to stop and go home. She'd tried that, but with diagrams and circuits buzzing around in her mind, she'd been far too wired to sleep, so she'd gone out running. It was good for keeping in shape, which was particularly important when one spent multiple hours a day in a laboratory.

She'd slowed down a bit, walking the rest of the way back home, when there was a hint of a tingle in the low-grade magnetic field she'd put up around herself. Something passing through it, metallic. She didn't have much time to react, no time to get out of the way - the field wasn't a large one, it only extended out six inches or so from her person. She hit the object with a quick charge, altering its polarity to flow with the field, veering it off course from where it'd been about to strike her in the back of the neck.

It pierced her shoulder instead, above the shoulderblade - not enough to do any real damage, just enough to sting. She could...



The last thing she was vaguely aware of was the lightning aura of discharge, and then there was nothing.

She awoke later in a room. She wasn't alone. That was a problem - she'd need to get away from the other person before her B-field recharged. Contact was dangerous, and this was far too much of it. She had a knife in her pocket - not a military one, just a utility blade. It'd do. She had a little bit of charge, and she tapped the metal knife in her pocket and pulled it out, carefully aligning the field to drop it into her hand, opening the blade.

Above, a screen came on. A woman, apparently playing some sort of game. And the answer to the question of her mysterious partner. Great. If she could have picked anyone to be in this with, it would have been anyone but Hector Williams.

On the bright side, at least he wouldn't be able to act superior about this since he'd obviously gotten himself in the same situation. She sliced the blade through the rope at her wrists, then her ankles, and moved away as it fell, calmly folding the knife back up and turning to her... co-worker. "Well," she commented. "This is interesting." She didn't offer to release him just yet. She kind of wanted to see if he could burst his own ropes with the sheer force of his ego.

The room was somewhat barren, but it had enough to start. Teja walked to the television and moved it to the floor, then slid the wooden table over below the light bulb. Wood was a good insulator. Hopping up on the table, she reached up and unscrewed the bulb, holding it in one hand and then doing exactly what all children were told never to do, and sticking her fingers into the light socket. In her hand, the bulb lit up again as she absorbed the charge from the electrical system. "So, run of the mill psychotic, hostage situation," she said, calmly conversational, "Let's cap acceptable losses at twenty. Time limit of twenty-four hours due to untrustworthy parameters. Primary target is Alpha, strike to kill. Does that cover everything?"

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Re: The Hunt.

Post by Oculus » Tue Nov 06, 2018 6:44 am


As Ezekiel's eyes fluttered open, they gazed around the dark interior of the truck. It took him barely a second to soak in his surrounding, the true sight granted by his eyes giving them the strength to pierce beyond the veil of shadows. He barely even thought about how they had arrived in this situation, as every instinct pushed him to figure out what to do next. His head quickly turned to the side, relieved to find that Arthur was next to him slowly beginning to stir and bound to him by what looked to be handcuffs. While their situation was still unknown, it would be easier to proceed knowing that he was indeed both safe and with him.

However, their time kept in the figurative and literal dark quickly ended as the screens mounted within the truck, began to play a video. A woman began to speak, she spoke of a hunt, of hostages. She displayed pictures of others, in the same situation as they were, bound in various locations. Furthermore, she made it very clear what she wanted, she wanted them to all kill each other. To appeal to her, to prove to her that they were strong. He wasn't sure if he should feel honored or amused. Either way, before the video ended he quickly turned his attention to the more pressing matter, getting out of their current predicament.

Quickly yanking his cuffed arm he let the Shade Cloak surround his wrist, becoming immaterial as it passed through the metal and setting him free. Hopping to his feet he instinctively tried to rub his chaffed left wrist before he caught himself, instead simply shaking his hand out. His eyes looked back to the screen, it was clear that the woman who'd spoken to them was capable of watching them. The pictures proved that, so it was likely she was able to hear them as well. So rather than risk divulging plans or info to an unknown attacker, Ezekial merely let his mind wander for a brief moment. He reached, focusing his consciousness on one point before he let a thought ring out.

You can finish listening to her but I'll be right back, see if you can free yourself.

With that, he lept, higher then what seemed physically possible. Gliding through the top of the truck with ease until he stood outside, standing motionless upon the roof. Despite the movements of the vehicle below him, he seemed unaffected, as if his feet were locked in place.

Night had fallen, however, it was clear that the voice had spoken true, they were in Manhattan. With the resources to drag them around such as that, he was starting to believe perhaps this contest was no farce. The most curious thing about it was those she had wrangled up, it seemed she had managed to grab a couple of big shots. Interesting.

Fading through the roof he landed, finding that Arthur was bound no longer. Looking up at him he transmitted his thoughts to his friend once more.

She was telling the truth, we're in Manhattan. In a truck, one that seems to be driving itself, not sure where it's heading though. However, I guess that doesn't matter, for it sounds like she wants us to go out and look for the others. So... what's the plan? We partaking in this little death game of hers or no?

Ezekiel himself wasn't all too moved by the motivations provided by their captor, however, he supposed there was some merit in testing his mettle versus some of the other fighters. At the end of the day, however, he'd follow Arthurs lead.

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Re: The Hunt.

Post by The Broker » Tue Nov 06, 2018 6:44 am


It was suddenly dark, and cold. Arthur's eyes weren't... special like Zeke's were, and so he had a harder time figuring out what precisely was going on. He quickly realized however that he was not alone, his wrists were cuffed to someone else. He hoped it was Ezekiel. If his best friend was indeed with him that means that he was safe, he knew that harm would never come his way as long as he had his trusty Oculus by his side. Shortly afterward noticing the hum of an engine and the bumps of a road,
he realized must be in the back of a large vehicle.

Then there was a bright light, a screen switched on infront of him. There was a woman speaking to him and evidently others who must be in a similar predicament to him and his fellow captor, who he was now able to identify as Ezekiel. He focused his attention on the tablet, listening to what the woman had to say. A fight to the death over being allowed to join her "pack" and the lives of some civilians? Arthur found these two stakes to be conflicting. The lives of the civilians seemed like an interesting way to challenge a heroes morals, have a hero be forced to murder a fellow hero to save the lives of many individuals. But the other part, if a hero did fight and killed other heroes, there would be no way he'd be inclined to join forces with the one who forced him to do so.

He then felt a tug on his restraints, and turned to look behind him just as Ezekiel shot upwards and phased through the roof of the truck. Zeke's voice echoed softly in his mind. Arthur promptly stood up, with no one else's wrists bound to his, he was able to move about freely in the truck. He found a spot on the wall to lean against while he waited for his soldier to return.

Ezekiel came back down through the roof and transmitted his thoughts to Arthur.

Manhattan, huh? Seems like we're a long way from Kansas, Toto. Doesn't matter where this truck is headed, because we won't be in it for much longer.

Arthur walked to the back of the truck, and pulled the door open about halfway, just enough for him to peak out and spot a nearby rooftop. He closed the back and with the wave of his hand he created a portal towards the front of the truck, which stood still as the truck moved forward with the two friends standing inside it. They were sent through the portal and arrived on the rooftop he had spyed a few moments ago, along with a rectangular cutout of the backdoor to the truck.

And to answer your question, I think for the time being we will join in this game. I can't way to see who else was picked out as contenders!

Arthur wondered if Ezekiel was one of the seven other contenders in this competition, or if they were meant to win as a pair. Not that he cared what it was meant to be, Arthur would never consider the possibility of betraying his best friend, and he knew neither would Ezekiel.

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Re: The Hunt.

Post by Aether » Tue Nov 06, 2018 11:30 am

Hector, like on any reasonable Saturday night, was getting shitfaced.

Maybe an exaggeration. He didn't always get drunk on weekends— his slightly high opinion of himself prevented him from becoming an alcoholic— but he never shied away from partying with friends if the situation presented itself. It just so happened that a few old drinking buddies had visited D.C.

So, it was little surprise that Hector had woken up with a headache in a place unknown to him. Probably an apartment his friends were renting, upon first glance— the rustling at his back, however, as well as the sight of his bound hands and ankles completely contradicted this assumption.

Well, maybe I'd gotten robbed.

Then, Teja, of all fuckin' people, spoke from behind him.

"Oh, no way," Williams said coyly.

"Either I got really fucked up last night, or we've been kidnapped."

The latter part was a joke, initially; there were a thousand other explanations coursing through his mind. Maybe Capacitor was finally attempting to kill him. Maybe—

Oh, shit. Maybe she found out about the snooping. Fuck. Fuck—



"I am the Alpha."

Bit of an overcompensation, naming yourself that, Hector thought to himself as he rubbed the ropes on his wrists back and forth to generate friction and, inevitably, produce thermal energy.

But then again, I'm called Akhilleus.

As the long-winded explanation of a Saw-like murder game was spoken through the loudspeakers, Hector was busy with the friction-generating; with him re-absorbing much of the work he'd generated, the excess thermal was also leeched off of the ropes and added to Williams' reserves. Teja restated the information given to them, and he responded by pushing outwards and snapping the ropes with the energy he'd gained from the friction of the ropes.

His wrists hurt, but it was better than asking Teja for help— God knows if she would have even given it to him. Judging from the situation they'd been placed in, as well as Capacitor not trying to jab the utility knife in his jugular, she didn't know about the eavesdropping in Los Angeles. Good. He'd try to keep it that way for as long as possible.

"You forgot the part where she wants us to murder everyone else who got nabbed," Williams muttered dryly, stepping over to the lightbulb in the center of the room and placing the tips of his fingers at the bottom of it. Thermal and electrical energy coursed into his body— not much, but it was something.

"What Escape From New York type'a shit..."

After a moment, he withdrew his hand from the bulb.

"Couldn't get anything from that picture of the hostages besides the fact that they're probably inside a building. Look, I know how much you'd like to kill me, but I hope that you'll consider the fact that I'm not going to kill you. Obviously. It'd make for a great press conference, though," Williams continued, looking to the boarded-up windows while trying to desperately retain some sort of levity.

"I say we get on the rooftops, try to scout out what's happening. All of Manhattan can't be on lockdown, can it?"
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Re: The Hunt.

Post by Reyn » Tue Nov 06, 2018 12:42 pm

"Katherine? Are you awake? Oh, please tell me I don't have to find someone else this early..."

Linaria's voice was recognisable, yet strangely muffled. Kat could barely understand what she was saying; it was as if she had just woken up from a year-long sleep or something. How bizarre. Still, that didn't stop the sword from talking. Of course it wouldn't. That thing could talk for days on end- it was one of her most defining features. She talked a lot about violence as well, which made her a pain to listen to for someone like Kat who was still afraid of accidentally pushing someone in a crowd.

Well, until that fear faded.

"Oh, so you are awake. That's good."
Linaria's voice slowly came into clarity
"Look, I understand how hard it is for you to stay calm in a crisis, but I want you to listen to me now. DO NOT PANIC. Okay?"

oh shit boy
"Wh... what?" Kat mumbled, still trying to get her bearings "Linaria, why would I be panicking now? It's just a-"


Her voice caught in her throat. There was something around her hand. Something cold. Something... metal. Kat found she was unable to move her hands at all; trying to pull them out from behind her back only caused the metal to dig painfully into her wrists, and there didn't seem to be any way for her to untangle them. Was she handcuffed to something? Had she been arrested? This was about that mall thing, wasn't it- it had to be. Kat was walking around with a sword in a public space, protecting a known criminal from a group of murderkids, of course she was going to face repercussions. It was just a little strange that her arrest had led her to... well, the set of a low-budget horror movie, by the looks of things.
oh god
"Don't try to escape from those, by the way."
Linaria sighed, walking towards Katherine in her all-too-familiar human form
"They had me trapped as well, the bastards. Thankfully, I could get myself out of the little anvil they threw me in with only minor damage. You, on the other hand? You will have to wait."

kat's bad day
"They... arrested you too?" Kat said, trying desperately to keep her voice level "Why would the police want to arrest a sword... this doesn't make sense... Linaria, do you know what's going on?"
"Well my educated guess is that you've been kidnapped, Katherine."
Linaria shrugged
"If they come in at any point, I'll kill them for you. You don't need to panic. I suppose we should wait until-"

The screen flickered to life.

Each word the woman said felt like a knife cutting into her back. Hostages? Time limits? Murder? This was far beyond her capacity- far beyond anything she could cope with. She didn't see this as a kidnapping anymore. She didn't see this as a game. No, Kat saw this as something far simpler, far more frightening to a child like her. She saw this as an execution. Her execution. Deadly and inescapable.

She was released once the broadcast ended, but she almost wished she wasn't. Starving to death in a creepy old room was a better fate than this, even if it was equally as deadly. Kat didn't want to kill anyone, and she certainly didn't want any super strong metahumans trying to kill her either. She lay down on the floor next to the metal pipe she was once tied to, staring blankly at the empty anvil in the centre of the room. She was going to die here. She was going to die now. She didn't want to.
"Linaria, we have to go." She whispered "Those hostages are dead anyway. We're dead anyway. I'd rather spend my last moments at home than in this shithole of a-"
"We're not leaving, Katherine."
Linaria shook her head
"We're not giving up this soon into the game. This is an opportunity for you! This is a chance to show the world what you're really-"

"WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT THAT?" Kat snapped at her, standing up sharply "Don't you take anything seriously? We have been fucking KIDNAPPED and you want to take this opportunity to talk about proving myself? God, I have had enough of your shit, Linaria!"
She found herself moving towards the anvil in the centre of the room- almost involuntarily. Linaria followed her and the two began the slow, painful process of pushing it against the door to keep it shut. Of course, it was more than likely that some of these other metahumans would be able to get in with relative ease, but it should at least buy Kat some time whilst she gathered her thoughts together. She was no strategist, and Linaria wasn't much of one either, but she wasn't going to play this game if she had anything to say about it. Threats were a poor motivator.

Kat didn't care much for innocent lives.

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Re: The Hunt.

Post by illirica » Tue Nov 06, 2018 1:20 pm

Of course he thinks that's what this is. Williams' tone on the first statement made very clear what he thought the implication of their being here together happened to be. Notwithstanding was the fact that just because he went out and got himself drunk almost every weekend (and occasional intervening weekdays, according to some sources), Docesznic hadn't done anything of the sort in... nearly eight years, come to think of it. She didn't like anything that interfered with her self-control.

Unfortunately, she was in a room with Williams, which was an interference with her self-control all by itself. He'd managed to free himself, which made it even more difficult. She did give him grudging credit for using the available options to get his powers set up, as she had. Hopping down off the table, she cut the cord to the television, opening it up to expose the wires inside. It would take a bit of work to get them out, but she had wire strippers on her knife. "We're government officers," she commented, getting to it. "We don't murder anyone." No matter how much we might like to.

Of course, she didn't say the last. She was much too professional for it. That made one of them. "The rooftops is a decent starting point to get our bearings," she admitted. "If we're in Manhattan as she says, I want to stop by a police department. We can requisition some equipment and you can call in to Command and appraise them of the situation. They might also have some information on Alpha's locale, as well as the locales of the other individuals." She glanced at the now-defunct television, frowning slightly in memory of the message. She'd already committed the images of the other 'contenders' to memory. "Some of them look like they're just kids," she said, softly. She liked kids. They shouldn't be caught up in this.

She shook her head, to dispel the illusion that there might be any permeabilities in her aloof demeanor. "Let's move, this room is more likely to be bugged than outside. Door or window?" Both had been boarded up, but Docesznic didn't think it would be too difficult to remove the boards. Alpha was out there somewhere, toying with all those kids she'd kidnapped, waiting for them to do something they'd regret, or die trying.

Government officers didn't murder.

They executed.

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Re: The Hunt.

Post by Aether » Tue Nov 06, 2018 3:50 pm

"Glad we're on the same page then, Teja," Hector replied, looking around the room. As his colleague bent down to strip wires from the television, Williams busied himself by stepping into the shithole of a kitchen area and approaching the stove, turning the burners onto max heat and pressing his splayed palms into the metal stovetop. His advanced durability stopped him from outright screaming and receiving third-degree burns; instead, it was merely an uncomfortable amount of heat. Something he could live with, though as the temperature climbed, it began to hurt just a little bit.

The energy leech from the flames into his body was enough to keep the flames low, a constant waver and flicker to their bodies from to the constant starving of their product.

"Window, since it probably has a fire escape. Alternatively, you can see if anyone else lives in this building and ask if they saw people putting us in here, see where they went— it's a fat chance, but the window and door's boarded from the inside. Meant she might have actually been in here." He stated, taking his hands off the stovetop after his explanation and watching the burners' flames grow in size. After a moment of examination, he shut the dials to OFF and stepped back into the living area, heading towards the window and gripping the boards with both hands; after holding his palms over open flames for a good half of a minute, the skin made a hiss upon contact with the wood, searing it momentarily before Williams began ripping the planks from their place upon the wall.

"If you build up charge and need to ground it, just hit me or something and transfer it— I can handle a little shock," Hector grunted, tearing the last of the wooden boards from its nails and exposing the shattered, broken-down window. He stepped aside, gesturing towards the view out into the New York City shitscape.

"Ladies first, or should I check to see if it's trapped?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

Haven't tried to kill each other yet. Productive.
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Re: The Hunt.

Post by Requiem » Tue Nov 06, 2018 5:58 pm

When Requiem first tested the hatch at the top of the tower, it held firm, and she almost lost her precarious balance on the ladder of darts. The girl shifted, bracing her shoulder against the door. After a few seconds of pushing, it gave way, opening with a rusty screech that was soon drowned out by the sound of wind. She pulled herself onto the - ceiling? Was it called a ceiling? - staying as low as she could while still inching forward. Heights weren't one of her prominent fears, but...

She was really, really, really high up.

Internally, she cursed her spirit for being a bird but not having the forethought to grant her wings. Her powers were useless here, and while that didn't impede her ability to get to the ground, it certainly didn't help. In the dark around her, the lights of a foreign city stretched far into the distance. Swallowing hard, she crawled away from the far edge, peeking over the opposite side of the tower. Not nearly as far a drop, and a line of rungs lead down to the rooftop. With deliberate caution, she lowered herself step by step to the roof below, only relaxing when her feet were on (mostly) solid ground.

New York. She had no reason to believe the woman was lying about that, even though she didn't trust her in the slightest. In the distance, she could make out the familiar landmark of the Empire State Building, recognizable even though she'd only ever seen it in shows and postcards. It was a far way from home. But she couldn't go home, could she? If she walked out, that horrible woman would kill a hostage -

And worse, try to kill her

- and she couldn't live with herself knowing she'd caused that. No, she had to try and stop the villain, had to do what she was supposed to do. She was so tired of having to make that choice, but here, it wasn't even a choice. The choice had been made for her.

"I suppose we should start looking around. New York is a big city, isn't it?" she asked. She'd gotten into the habit of talking to her Numinous, even though it rarely even acknowledged her, let alone deigned her with a reply. She'd never told her parents this. When her mother had borne the mantle, she and the spirit spoke frequently, and doubtless her grandmother before her. If they'd learned the spirit seemed to pretend she didn't even exist - well - she couldn't imagine their disappointment. Their frustration. She'd already been difficult about continuing tradition, they didn't need the added burden of knowing she was unfit for it too.

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