[center][colour=SlateGray][h1]Jason "Echo" Reed[/h1][/colour][/center]

Someone had a temper. The explosion and light show that followed would have blinded Jason, but he was facing away. He turned back in the aftermath just to see the explosion vanish into her person. [i]Pyrokinesis? Energy absorption? Energy manipulation? Destruction manipulation..?[/i] there were too many abilities. But, it was clearly one. Her eyes were alight for that brief second with a burning gold light; illumination her face in the lightest of ways. 

But the Scientists were prepared... 

And Mal was still up to his old tricks. The screams, the torture, the pain. Every scream, every whisper, every sound. All their heartbeats. They flickered - shifted, bounced and spiked with sharp breaths and momentary inclines. The fear was uncanny. And every single little sound made a tiny line in Jasons' head. It rose and shrunk in varying patters, reflecting those very sounds as single wavelengths. Even the breathing of the shadows, the pumping of blood in the soldiers and the dripping of sweat from every person in the theatre was displayed.

And it was an incredible sight.

The shadow wanted him for desert... How kind. Truly, though, he did not taste the best. But, by deduction, it wasn't eating. Mal was physically merging with the bodies and feeding his power. There were sounds for that, too. Anybody would be shaken to the core; ripped away from sanity just by hearing a single, ten second clip. But not Jett. He had already seen everything he could have seen. Murder, rape, poverty, suicide, drug overdose, gang wars. Killed hundreds of people to an end clearly invisible. Squandered money unrighteously earned. A child so devoid of feeling; emotion, he had given up humanity itself.

But he wasn't human, was he? The Scientists believed otherwise. It wasn't your mind, mentality, that made you human. It was what you were, not who. Supernaturals? They looked like humans, acted like humans, were made up of the same basic components as humans; but they were't humans. They were monsters, beasts, irregularities, anomalies. 

[colour=SlateGray]"Sweet gesture Mal, I'm flattered. Though, I'm not a particularly tasty desert..."[/colour] a mocking tone; symbolic of his distaste for that side of humanity despite working with them on countless occasions, [colour=SlateGray]"... why not try Jane instead?"[/colour] a light joke in the face of adversary. He didn't really want to throw her under the bus, but it was best to make light of a situation than fear it. The Scientists truly were prepared.

Then that other man played his card. The brightness of his power; the energy contained within it. It cast aside the shadows and bathed the theatre in a light it had long since witnessed. And Mal attempted his own card. Much less of a trump card, but more of a desperate last attempt before violence. Perhaps he did not want to commit mass murder on his own, perhaps it was simply his job. But as much as Echo wanted that recruitment speech - that propaganda - to fall upon deaf ears, there was no guarantee that it would.

His voice was still audible. He was attempting to create a blockade; a way to prevent people from escaping. It was nothing more than a kill on sight order. Everyone knew that the Supernaturals wouldn't go willingly. They would fight until their dying breath to stop a future worse than death. But everyone was only in it for themselves. The number of people out in that crowd who shared the same mentality as Jane were few and far between, and the chance of them banding together for that common interest was low. Very low. Too low.

Another. It was quite, faint, but there was another heartbeat; another set of footfalls. It was low, inaudible, behind the soldiers. Another Super, most definitely. And they ran to the theatre. Their sounds were lost in with the general rabble of heartbeats and sweating and foot steps - into a mess impossible to distinguish, but still very individual. 

His eyes darted from the stage upon which he still stood and saw the energy. Such precision, such power. So it was Energy manipulation... She had taken the grenade's destructive force and channelled it into a destructive beam of energy powerful enough to burn a hole through the wall. Perhaps now was the best time to attack.

There was still a large crowd of people. He couldn't risk using his power in such an area... They needed the man power. If the soldiers had truly prepared, then every man, woman and child would be needed to fight back. But there was a nagging feeling. What were they hiding in those vans? They had to have brought something; some creature with them. Something strong enough to wipe out a force of Supernaturals hellbent on destroying their opposition. 

There was no sound. Was the van soundproofed? They had beefed up their containment facilities because of him, so it made sense. That niggling sense of curiosity that burrowed into the recesses of his mind. He had to find out. And so, Jason lept off the stage. He rolled as he hit the ground, and jumped once again over the chairs. Then again. And then again. Every jump was perfect, every landing was perfect. His body swung over every seat with precision and skill - like someone who had trained for a long time. 

One last jump, and he was outside. He was already running before he landed. And Jett sprinted. If the soldiers fired, there was no point. The knife was already pocketed; that drag, hindrance, removed from play. Now it was time for his own trump card.

Echo dropped to the ground, sliding across the concrete with his momentum. The soldiers were in front of him already. And as he came close, his heal kicked at the ground and his being lept forwards. That speed; it was unnatural. But before any reaction, presumption, could be made, he clapped. But there was no clapping sound. The very foundations of the theatre shook and trembled and crumbled as the air filled with a deafening, roaring, thunderous boom. It was like someone had just detonated a missile right in front of them. The pavement shuddered and cracked, splintering under the force. The vans buckled, warped and denatured from the immense air pressure. Blood. Destruction of the land. Ear drums ruptured and metal splintered under the weight of such force.

And Jett simply smiled. He stopped feeling this kind of pain a long time ago. How was he not deaf already? Maybe he already was. Who knew?

[hr]

[center][@Unknown100][@Orlan][@Helo][@Nomad]

[hider=Quick note]
Yes, I know, that explosive sound was pretty OP. Just note that using such tremendous sound manipulation takes a lot of energy out of him. It drains his stamina, lowers his skill level. He can still fight, but he won't be able to use his power to such great extent for a while. Think of it like a slow recovering mana pool, if you will.
[/hider][/center]