Hidden 8 yrs ago 8 yrs ago Post by Inertia
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Inertia Pretty Lackadaisical

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His reactive bullet had actually hit someone, albeit by accident. Though he tried to hide it, he was actually impressed at his own precision. He looked at his left hand as the wound made a fleshy sound and began closed, Jake made a 'not-bad' face after glancing at her. The group seemed to think he attacked them, well, someone who can control plant-life got attacked him first- without movies or dinner nonetheless!

“Just let me touch the fucker!” One of the prisoners within the treeline called out, the rustling of the leaves getting closer to him,

"Woah missy, I'd rather not be touched, I have notouchytouch-phobia, a real thing I assure you, my doctors told me about it." Jake replied in sarcastic ridicule. He mentally noted that this person wanted to touch him, for all intensive purposes, her powers were most likely touched based.

"Fuck! God-damn-shit-fuck!" said another voice, what a mouth.

"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth." he continued in jest, well he really should be stopping as they most likely already have bad initial impressions with 'good-ole' Jake, "Jeers aside, apologies for that, purely reactionary shot when your plantman entagled my leg."

"Nice aim."
"And Site Haeda? We're heading there too. We could let you come along but only if you plan on using those bullets on anyone besides us this time? It's a tough time on your own."

He weighed his options, going along with another group, who seemed to know the location as well, seemed to be the safest route. Well aside from being attacked... after a third time, they should be able to protect themselves. One seemed to control plants, the other touch-based and the final one he wasn't sure but she gave off enough heat energy to fry an egg.

"Hey thanks. The key is to practice on plastic bottles." he replied to the not-so pleased young man, "Hey it's no skin off my bones to restrict my powers, I actually prefer that, so no worries on that end. I'll tag along for now."

After those exchange of words he revealed himself to the three prisoners, his hands half-reaching for the skies,
"Lead on!"
Hidden 8 yrs ago 8 yrs ago Post by Ginger Kollie
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Ginger Kollie Young Hermit

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Estal Webb


"Woah missy, I'd rather not be touched, I have notouchytouch-phobia, a real thing I assure you, my doctors told me about it."

Arsehole. This one had balls, she’d give him that. He should be counting his lucky stars that she couldn’t manipulate fire, or she’d roast the sarcastic prick. Sometimes she wished that her powers were a little more... offensive. Because really, if she could get close enough to someone to be able to touch them, then she might as well stab them instead.

Her attention was brought back to her comrades, the spew of profanities that followed her question was more then enough insight that indeed, someone had been hurt.

"I've been better."

The smell of blood flooded her senses, that thick, metallic scent - she knew it all too well. Estal stared at Wednesday, whose arm was firmly gripping her wound with her body arched over. Her instincts told her to just grab the woman and transfer the wound, to heal it right there and then. She’d done it so many times before, it was almost second-nature to her.

But yet, she didn’t.

Her limbs started to tremble, her eyes panic-stricken as she just stood there, frozen. Her attention focused solely on the woman’s shoulder.

She could feel herself loosing it.

Let’s just say she’d been having some difficulties concerning her life absorption abilities. Frankly, they were a little out of control. It was to be expected after the emotionally intensive time being captured and shipped to some random island brought to someone. Her confidence of whether touching Wednesday would heal her, or kill her, was vastly dwindling.

“I, er, em... I, erm-” She stuttered, her words becoming little more then complete garble. Telling them of her healing abilities was the only thing she could think of, and even that she was unable to do. It was safe to say she didn’t react well to stressful situations, especially those that involved people. She’d lived a pretty sheltered life, up until recently, the introvert of the introverted being a fitting title. Or simply put, a socially inept mess. It was pathetic. She was pathetic.

Suddenly, Estal reached out her hands, ready to grasp Wednesday's shoulder in a fury of, slightly violent, frustration. She was but a mere few inches away before stopping abruptly, cut off by the harsh glow that emanated from the woman’s arm. And not just glow; heat.

Hell no. She retreated immediately. Her prior curiosity had been thoroughly abandoned, along with any notion of healing. Finding out Wednesday’s powers by getting her hands torched off was not what she had in mind. There was absolutely no chance. Perhaps later, was probably wiser.

Instead, she averted her attention towards the newcomer, their ‘attacker’, who of course, pleaded his friendliness. Believable. She shot a glance towards Rico, out of all of them, she probably trusted him the most, however odd he may be. She gave the man, who had just appeared into eye-shot, the dirtiest glare she could muster.

“Just give me a reason.”

@LazyEgg, @JunkMail, @Inertia
Hidden 8 yrs ago 8 yrs ago Post by JunkMail
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Wednesday



This whole situation was fucked.

"Jeers aside, apologies for that, purely reactionary shot when your plantman entangled my leg."

"Shut up."

That's all there was to it. Wednesday was tired of hearing this man talk. He said to much and did all the wrong things. She stood to her full height and turned away. She pulled her clothing to the side with the hand that was pressing the wound, and exposed her shoulder. She lifted her slackened hand and dug what was left of the projectile out of her shoulder, breathing heavily and slowly as she did so as to not cry out in pain. When she dug it out, she noted that the substance was like that of a large and hard scab.

"Disgusting." Wednesday said under her breath, dropping the projectile. She moved away to a tree, and leaned against it. She pulled a branch from one of it's limbs and put it in her mouth for her to bite down on. She sucked in a deep breath though her nose, and the brilliant orange and yellow tones returned to her index finger and thumb. Tentatively, she pressed the her fingers against the bullet wound and pressed together. Wednesday sunk her teeth into the stick and shut her eyes in pain, and let out a flurry of muffled and incomprehensible curses. The whole ordeal was only a few seconds, but they were grueling. The heat drained from her hand and her arm dropped. She reclined against the tree for a few moments, simply breathing. Then, Wednesday opened her eyes and took the stick out of her mouth. She breathed again for a few moments. She pulled her hand away from her shoulder, allowing the clothing she had previously been restricting with her hand to move back into place to cover the ugly burn scar she had left behind. It was replacing one even with another, but at least this evil didn't bleed.

She pushed off of the tree and stood up, rolling her injured shoulder. She winced, but powered through the pain.

"Lets just go." she hissed, shooting a glare back at the three of them. She wasn't mad at Estal or Rico. Rico had restrained the man, and Estal had shown enough concern to at least approach her before shying away. She understood that. It was dangerous being near her when she was like this. Despite this, she was angry.

"Follow me. And you-" she said, her eyes falling to Jack.

"One wrong move, and I will burn this forest to the ground. With you in it."

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Hidden 8 yrs ago 8 yrs ago Post by LazyEgg
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LazyEgg Lethargic but high in protein

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"Hey thanks. The key is to practice on plastic bottles. It's no skin off my bones to restrict my powers, I actually prefer that, so no worries on that end. I'll tag along for now. Lead on!"

Rico bit his lip to keep himself from audibly chuckling in front of the others. Plastic bottles, huh. There was no doubt that he felt the slightest tinge of sympathy for Wednesday's wound, but at the same time he couldn't help but simply commend the man for his semi-upbeat spirit in such an environment. It was either he was extremely stupid, or just new to Arkos. The plant-bender truly hoped it was the latter, since he wasn't so sure how much more of this Jack's continuously-fired remarks the rest of them would tolerate. Someone's gotta learn, and this is one way to start.

“Just give me a reason.” Rico noticed Estal burning a hole into Jack. Yikes... better keep some more vines ready.

Just as he was about to turn on his heel, a stench that smelled too much like burnt hair and rusty metal wafted around his nose. Spinning a complete 180-degrees, he faced an exhausted Wednesday, who seemed to had just finished cauterizing her wound with - wait, what? With... Oh. Right. The lighting up of her arm earlier. That must have been where all those noises had come from. It was his first time meeting a heat-conjurer, however now was probably not the time to mention that. Dealing with Jack had him distracted the entire time she was struggling. Rico shook his head and gently placed his face in his palm. It's not that she needed either of them at all, but to imagine the kind of pain she must have endured made Rico's stomach do a backflip. What. A Day...

"Lets just go. Follow me. And you-" The elementalist said, shooting daggers at Jack. "One wrong move, and I will burn this forest to the ground. With you in it."

On queue, Rico followed, making sure Estal walked ahead before them. Amidst all the aerated tension, he took pleasure in the crunch of the dead leaves beneath his worn-out birkenstocks. They were the little things that brought him to familiar places - brought him back home. It was times like these that he'd always end up reminiscing, for some reason. As if his parents' words acted as a barrier among the wolves of Arkos. That's the thing, he thought. That's the thing about this island. Everyone who was brought here seemed to grow up ten times faster than they should. They're forced to. You leave everything you have behind because in the end it's baggage that slows you down. That's what everyone needed to do in order to survive, and someday people like Jack will realize it. Estal already seemed quite self-aware, considering how she had her guard up the entire time. The newer guy? He was... different. Rico cringed at the thought. Maybe different is what gets you killed. After all, that's how they all ended up here.

"Es, you can go ahead with Wednesday. I'll keep an eye on Jack, we'll catch up." he said, gently ushering her forward.

"So... blood's your thing, aye? I mean - it's all our things too, but, you can actually do shit with yours?" Rico figured if he was going to partake in the gang's trek session, he might as well have made some new company. In the back of his mind, he'd already forgiven the guy for unintentionally jumping them. Maybe he'd have thought differently if he was the one who'd have gotten hit instead, but Rico was naive that way. Trust either made him or broke him, and that's exactly what landed him on the island. Was he mature enough to realize that? Not quite yet. But to him, it was always worth the gamble.


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Hidden 8 yrs ago 8 yrs ago Post by Inertia
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Inertia Pretty Lackadaisical

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They looked pissed, well it was to be expected. Jake didn't really look to be liked by most people, but not extremely hated that they would look out and try to hunt him down. That aside, it was two females and one males. Both the females looked pissed and irritated, and the male had a more confused, muddled look about him. He just shot them a complacent smile in kind.

“Just give me a reason.”

One of the more fluffier-haired prisoner said, he shrug at her, "... Maybe later." he continued running his mouth off,

"Shut up."

"Yes Mam!" he replied, straightening his slack posture and shooting her a mock salute,

"Lets just go."

"Follow me. And you, one wrong move, and I will burn this forest to the ground. With you in it."

He followed the ragtag bunch, although he followed at the back, he doesn't bode well with crowds. The soft rustle of the leaves and the smell of the forest hit Jack's nose, a sweet yet myrthy scent. This realism just made the situation feel all the more real. Along with the soft crunch of the dead leaves and the crunchy sound of rocky earth with each longing step. He thought of his family and friends he had left behind, even through no choice of his own. Well he had steeled his own resolution so he tried to purge any lingering feelings.

"Es, you can go ahead with Wednesday. I'll keep an eye on Jack, we'll catch up." said mister plantman,

"Eh?" Jack said confused one eybrow upturned, "Do you have to go to the potty or pee, well I mean, I could accompany you but we're both adults here!"

"So... blood's your thing, aye? I mean - it's all our things too, but, you can actually do shit with yours?"

"... Yeah, something like that." he replied, opening up the wound on his left hand, the blood seeped out own command and beginning encircling his hand, akin to a the rings on Jupiter's planet. "I guess, I can manipulat-" He shot out a blood tendril from his already opened wound, and passed right the plant-user's cheek barely missing him. He noticed a dark figure hiding beneath the shadow of the treeline,

"You... you hiding there." he said, his voice darkening a little, "Are you a friend of that man who attacked me earlier?"
Hidden 8 yrs ago Post by Ginger Kollie
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Ginger Kollie Young Hermit

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Estal Webb


One could be surprised that the man didn’t turn to stone upon glancing at her wrathful eyes. That wrath, however, seemed short-lived as her attention shifted towards Wednesday, who seemed to be on a mission of her own.

No. No, no, no. She wanted to stop her, desperately, but the fear sweltering inside rendered her speechless. All she could do was watch as the woman, balancing herself against a tree, took a heated, yellowish index finger to her wound. The pain etched on Wednesday’s face was enough to make even Estal wince at her own phantom pain. Or was she wincing at the deathly guilt expanding inside of her? Or perhaps the legendary arse-whooping Wednesday was bound to inflict upon finding out that she went through all of that, unnecessarily. Oh. Oh, she was going to be livid when she finds out that Estal has the ability to heal.

Holy shit.

Perhaps it would be safer to just not tell her? But, but what if she asked what her power was? She seemed to have been the only one not to have used her powers, thus far, what happens when Wednesday gets curious? Maybe she should lie, tell them she has the useless ability to cry acid tears, then run off and claim some abandoned building, adopting a hermit-like existence? Possibly. It would be feasible that Wednesday might just let the pain of wound transferring be enough of a punishment.

The lethal glare that Wednesday threw towards them did not go unnoticed by Estal. In fact, she could feel her heart flutter, as if it had missed a couple dozen beats before continuing at the rate of a rabbit’s.

She knew. Oh shit, she knew. This. This was how she was going to die. Stuck on this damn island, surrounded by some completely insane individuals. One, who could fire bullets out of thin air like a freaking rifle, another who could probably strangle someone to death using the power of fucking weeds, and the other, the other was most certainly going to incinerate her. I mean, there were many injuries she could regenerate from, being burnt to a crisp, however, was not one of them.

Despite her fears, she continued to follow the others through the foliage, managing to linger a whole few metres behind Wednesday. It wasn’t clear whether it was obvious that she was keeping her distance, but the sound of her trembling breaths could certainly be heard from a mile away. In every. Single. Direction.

"Es, you can go ahead with Wednesday. I'll keep an eye on Jack, we'll catch up."

What? No, Rico, don’t lea- She twisted round, her eyes pleading, but it was too late. Rico had already fallen behind, distancing himself from the two women. Upon turning her head back forwards, she noticed that she had seemingly got a couple inches closer to her impending doom. She felt like a child, a child who’d lied about breaking an expensive vase and was awaiting an almighty spanking from her omniscient parents. It wasn’t like she was a coward or anything, it was just, who knew what an unstable, frightening woman was capable of? Okay... truth be told, she was a little bit of a coward. If it’s not in the heat of the moment, her bark is beyond any doubt, bigger then her bite. She hated to admit it, but it was so very true.

Could she be over-reacting?

Her thoughts returned to the moment she’d met Wednesday, how she’d, without even so much as a glimmer of hesitation, nearly swooped Rico’s head clean off. Estal glanced at the make-shift machete that hung from the woman’s side.

Yes, she was definitely going to kill her.

She could feel the beading of sweat running down her face and moistening her palms. Was it getting warmer here, or was it just her? Estal rubbed her hands together, attempting to quicken her pace and close the gap between the surely agitated predator and the soon-to-be prey. If she was going to come clean, she better do it sooner rather then later. Wednesday was plausibly a reasonable person, hopefully, she would just have to explain why she didn’t help out back there, then everything would be fine, right?

About a foot was all that separated them now. “Erm, Wednesday...” She whispered solemnly. “I, er, I, er...” She trailed off, attempting to gather her bearings. “I can... I can heal you.”

"You... you hiding there. Are you a friend of that man who attacked me earlier? "

Estal spun round, shooting a glance towards the voice and then to the direction he was looking at. At first, she couldn’t see anything but vegetation. On closer inspection, the outline of a figure seemed to unravel before her. Christ, she wouldn’t have ever spotted that, her eyes didn’t seem as sharp as the others. Nonetheless, she tensed up, eyeing the figure and then back towards the others, watching to see how the scene unfolded. She’d made sure she was ready to back them up, if need be.

@LazyEgg, @Inertia, @JunkMail
Hidden 8 yrs ago Post by Maxx
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Maxx Jamming

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Franco and Sierra


Franco wandered off back into the forest after Jack left. He watched him walk for a bit and then headed off back into the woods. He reached a small rocky stream, maybe a foot and a half across and six inches deep, that trickled through the forest. he knelt down at the water's edge and took a drink. The fast-running water was cleared of most of the salt, and so it tasted sweet and fresh. He followed the water's edge to a small rocky cave on its bank. Inside, it was about fifteen feet long and twelve wide, a small home all to his own. It was roughly square-shaped, with grey walls and a low ceiling. The floor was incredibly uneven, with a large drop-off in the center that had a puddle in it. Sitting around the room was a lawn chair, a dirty mattress, a cactus in a pot, a lamp, and a small electric generator. A small pile of books rested on a rocky shelf in the corner.

The generator was solar-powered and sat near the front of the cave so that the light would hit it during the day. Fraco had found it in a broken-down Adelon truck and had been using it ever since. He turned the generator on and hit the light switch on the lamp. It lit up for a brief second and then darkened slowly. Franco walked up to the generator. It wasn't emitting its gentle buzz like it used to. He cursed and flicked the switch again. Nothing.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck..." he muttered. He fiddled with the panel and then hit the switch again. A small wisp of smoke escaped the machine. He wanted to cry. Panicked, he snatched up the generator, knocked over the lamp, put the lamp back up, and walked out of the cave heading in the general direction of Site Borea. He knew a girl.






Sierra Alvarez stood over her workbench in her shop at Site Borea. She was fooling with the inside of an alarm clock, trying to replace a rusted gear so that it would work again. She smoked a cigarette as she worked. On the island, there were a few old workshops, places where machinery would be repaired and vehicles would receive maintenance. After the island had been abandoned, most of the equipment had remained in the workshops, completely untouched. Sierra found a workshop shortly after she had gotten to the island and decided to use her engineering skills to repair machinery and electronic on the island.

Her old iPhone sat in the corner, plugged into a stereo system. The stereo blared a Halestorm song. It was a lucky find, an old iPhone 6s with a cracked screen. A worker had left it in the shop before the island was abandoned and Sierra managed to find it again. What do you know, the owner of the old thing had her same taste in music. She bobbed her head and hummed along as she worked. The workshop was long and rectangular, lit by flickering fluorescent bulbs hanging from above. Sierra had figured out how to rig the lights to work again after she arrived. The workshop had solar panels, so she didn't need any kind of generator. The back wall contained a wall-to-wall shelf filled with mechanical parts and different kinds of wires. Much of the equipment was rusted out once, but Sierra went in and cleaned it out. The shop had three garage doors, two of which were rusted shut. Two long work benches nestled in the spaces between the doors contained all assortments of power tools, from lathes to circular saws. There was a computer in the corner of the room nearest to the working door, but it no longer worked and Sierra was missing half the parts for it. A mattress rested on a palette in the corner. A No Smoking sign hung next to one of the garage bays. A thick clod of sludge was stuck to it. The east side of the building, one of the skinny ends of the rectangle, contained a door with a small glass window and a bell.

The door opened and the bell rang. Sierra looked up from where she was working. Franco stood in the door, his hat tilted forward. The generator was under his left arm. Sierra turned down the stereo with a remote.

"How's it going, Franky?" she asked, still fiddling with the clock.

"Could be better," he said. "My old generator's stopped working. I flicked it on and jack shit." Sierra closed the clock back up and wound it. It worked perfectly. Franco watched for about thirty seconds as Sierra finished with the clock. Then she walked over and looked at the generator.

"Ya tried turning it on and off again?" she asked. Franco laughed.

"You're an ass," he said.

"Yeah, and you like giving me heart attacks. Did you leave this fucking thing out all day again?"

"What the fuck else am I supposed to do with it? It's solar-powered." She took the generator from him and sat it down on a work bench.

"Maybe if you didn't live in the middle of the fucking woods like a hippie we'd be able to connect it to the rest of the town's power grid." She took a pack of post-it notes from a drawer and stuck a note on the generator. She wrote a large "3" on the front of it. Next to it was a coffeemaker with a "2" on it.

"I don't need this shit again. Can you fix it by nightfall?"

"What? Fuck no. I have another machine in front of yours and it's getting dark. Plus I haven't done an actual diagnostic on the fucking thing. I don't know what the fuck to even fix." Franco looked down and gritted his teeth.

"Well what am I supposed to do?" he said. "I don't have another place I can stay. Sierra unscrewed the panel from the side of the generator, only occasionally looking back to Franco but listening. Franco clenched his fists. Sierra never acted like she was listening.

"Fuck if I know," Sierra said. She kicked her leg up so that her left foot was on the bench and her leg was bent. She found this quite comfortable. Franco thought she was just trying to show off her ass. Or maybe that's just what he wanted her to be doing. "Look, Franky, you're my friend, so I'll do your machine first. But I'm not a fucking miracle worker. Why don't you just try to stay with someone tonight? You'll have your generator back by tomorrow and then you can go slink back into the fucking jungle." Sierra took off the panel. A bit of smoke wafted up. She picked up a flashlight and shined it inside of the generator.

"I don't know no one well enough around these parts for that," Franco said. "Can I stay here?"

"I got one bed, brother," she said. "And hell if you're gonna sleep in it."

"It's not like I'm gonna try to fuck you or anything," he said. Sierra started playing with some of the wiring inside of the generator.

"I'm not worried about you trying to fuck me," she said. "I'll snap your dick off bare-handed if you tried that. I'm afraid of your dumb ass getting a nightmare and impaling me. Go find somebody else. Or go up to Site Haeda. I'm sure they can find you a room for the night there. Now buzz off and I'll get to work. You got payment?" Franco took a bent cigarette out of his pocket. Sierra smiled devilishly. "Good," she said. "Give it to me tomorrow when you come to pick the generator up."

"Roger," he said. "I'll be back around noon. You got time to grab dinner in a bit?"

"Not if you want this thing done. Either way, I'm having a girl from Aber over tonight for dinner. I'm covered." Franco shook his head and opened the door.

"Use protection," he said as he stood in the doorway.

"Don't tell me what the fuck to do." Sierra said.

"Alright, have good evening!" Franco shouted. Sierra didn't respond. He closed the door and looked around. It was getting late. He began to walk southwest, towards Site Haeda. It was as good a place as any to look for shelter.
Hidden 8 yrs ago Post by SepticGentleman
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SepticGentleman 𝙼𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙼𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎

Member Seen 2 yrs ago

- Comm link established, active -

[Did your sweep?]

“Yes, sir.”

[Good. I want you posted outside the northwest facility by the time we arrive. Site Aver, right?]

“Aber, sir.”

[Ah, who the fuck came up with these shit names?]

“I don’t know, sir.”

[Whatever. Just be there, and be ready. Get a good night’s sleep, sharpen your blade, the good stuff.]

“Yes, sir.”

[You know, you never sound excited for anything, and I think that’s unhealthy. I want you to enjoy this, alright? Have a little fun.]

“I will try, sir.”

[That’s all I could ask for.]

- Comm link terminated -
Hidden 8 yrs ago 8 yrs ago Post by LazyEgg
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LazyEgg Lethargic but high in protein

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"... Yeah, something like that. I guess I can manipulat-" Almost instantaneously, his expression turned grim. Rico barely had any time to comprehend what was going on, the blood-bender released a stream of solidified blood that he assumed was for him, considering it was a mere millimeter away from maiming his cheek. Instead, it hit the ground right next to a figure that seemed to have been there during the earlier scuffle, considering he hadn't heard or noticed its entrance. Come on... another one?

"You... you hiding there. Are you a friend of that man who attacked me earlier?"

Rico surely didn't appreciate yet another rude interruption. First they thought they were being attacked, and now they were being followed? Why do people here think it's a decent idea to tail superhumans? Shaking his head, he patted the man on the shoulder, who had his blood still stretched out towards the unknown prisoner, clearly as a warning shot. The sun was setting faster than ever, what with all the expected interceptions going on. I mean, Arkos, right?

"Hey, don't waste that stuff." he whispered to the haemo-manipulator. The gardener inhaled a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, picturing all the plants he had left unguarded for the past couple of hours he'd been gone. To be fair, the boy didn't think it would take this long to help a couple people out. Might as well hurry the hell up. He slowly knelt down and pressed his palms face-down into the dirt. Soon after, a slight rumble erupted from beneath the group. The tremor was minor, but enough to knock the darkened figure back onto the ground with a loud yelp. Rico took this as a good enough time to extend his arm in the man's direction. A few seconds was all it took for the fully-grown umbrella plants next to the figure to burst from the ground, spewing debris in all directions. The flora had begun to mutate and with the Grower's help, its stems grew larger and thicker, followed by the umbrella leaves that expanded until it was wide enough to accommodate a human body.

All the while the man just sat there in horror, Rico allowed the vegetation to keep growing at a rapid pace, coiling and wrapping itself around the man until he was satisfied with the man-made cocoon. A second later, his fists clenched, and the deed was done. Rico opened his eyes and lightly gawked at the human-lettuce roll he'd managed to conjure up. It was his first time handling an umbrella plant, out of all things, so he hadn't expected it to have gone that smoothly... and without a fight.

Before turning around to leave, he made sure to leave a couple breathing holes, and used his ability to cut off the flow of nutrients from the core of the plant, guaranteeing the withering of the gigantic leaves within the hour. That way, he wouldn't die - not unless someone or something else got to him first. By leaving him here, he was leaving behind a potential murderer, and free bait. A good distraction. Killing him was not the answer, Rico decided. If anything, a little entrapment would've been a quick fix, one that could ensure a safer trip to Haeda without being followed by the same dude.

The brunet got back on his feet, and dusted away the crust of the earth from his ripped jeans. His fingers felt a slight cramp coming on, but it was something he could worry about later. For now, the prisoner that had presumably attacked the blood-bender was of no issue, and that's all there was to it. Even now, while looking at the plant cocoon, he'd realized the aggressor either hadn't bothered to use his powers to escape, or he had no such ability. Both cases were in their favor, and he was fine with leaving it at that.

"Onwards to the promised land!" he yelled at the group, while raising his arms towards the sky.


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Hidden 8 yrs ago Post by JunkMail
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Wednesday



Wednesday had been steamrolling through the jungle, very much intending on taking as much of her anger out on the foliage over her followers as possible. With her good arm of course. However, she had to stop herself mid swing as Estal approached her. She had that scared tone of hers and she stuttered. This would normally indicate some form of nervousness. Unfortunately for Wednesday, Estal had stuttered through nearly all of her sentences thus far. She couldn't get a read on her like she could normally.

“I, er, I, er... I can... I can heal you.”

Oh. Well, that was awkward.

Wednesday narrowed her eyes for a moment as if she was going to say something, but shut it, seeming to have changed her mind halfway through. She didn't know much about Estal's powers. The pain she felt could be transferred to her, or she could take the wound instead. Some of the healers on this island were like that. Even if she wasn't like that, Wednesday couldn't rightly tell.

"Right, well, next time." Wednesday said dismissively. It didn't hurt or upset her that Estal hadn't helped. If Wednesday could heal someone, she knew that she wouldn't assist anyone she didn't know. Or at least without compensation. Estal, at the moment, owed her nothing. Wednesday shook her head and continued chopping through the forest. Soon, the woodland began to thin, and then seemed to disappear into civilization. Site Haeda was a large, relatively circular site, centered around some fields of farmland, which the local botanists had cleared of trees of for use. Office and maintenance buildings used for housing stretched around the circular high wall. A large, ruined glass dome rested upon the fence which someone much have smashed a while ago. The whole site was generally grey in color, but it's interior was home to a lot of decorative overgrowth. As they entered the fence, it could be noted that inside the circular fence was a mess of botanists' creations, twisted vines and whatnot.

"Welcome to Haeda. You'll be resting in those buildings over there." Wednesday said, pointing to the aforementioned office buildings. "Just find an unclaimed room. Or share. Doesn't matter much. Find me in the morning. I'll help catch us breakfast before I'm on my way." Wednesday stated. She shifted the weight of her travel pack to her good shoulder and said her goodbyes to go and get food and to get her wound looked at. Their first nights here would be long, but Wednesday was a big believer of learning on the job. They'd make it.

She was confident in that.

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Hidden 8 yrs ago 8 yrs ago Post by SepticGentleman
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The next day. Early morning, before the sun begins to rise.

An Adelon trooper walks along the deck of one of the sixteen primary defense vessels stationed around Arkos’ perimeter. His rifle is in his arms. As he walks along the length of the ship, his eyes turn toward the island. His movement comes to a halt, and he stops to gaze at the several lights coming from the various Sites, and elsewhere. The prisoners were resourceful, that much was undeniable - energy quickly became no issue to them, when this whole operation started.

It was of no consequence to Adelon what they managed to pull off, as long as-

“C’mere!”

A pair of arms reach past the trooper, covering his mouth with a rag soaked in some form of liquid. He is lowered to the deck, as he slowly ceases his struggling, and falls into unconsciousness. Above him, a young man dressed in a mismatch of clothes and combat gear, all painted in some variation of black, gray, yellow, and orange. He picks up the unconscious trooper by his armpits, and starts dragging him away. “Happy birthday, shitlord.” He mutters, as more similar occurrences transpire across several of the defense vessels.

Nearby, another man dressed in similar colors speaks into an earpiece.

“Deck’s swept up. We’re moving everyone down to the cargo bay.”

[Good! You’re the last one. Get your techs on the controls, mask our birds. We’re comin’ in!]

“Gotcha.”



Site Aber. Morning, around 10:00 AM.

A gathering of some of the prisoners occupying the large, and relatively empty grounds, stand out in the open as an Adelon aircraft flies by and above them, leaving behind a segmented line of supply crates, descending towards the island with azure parachutes. The group stands around the outside pavement, waiting for the crate to reach them - full of food rations, pure water, fresh clothes, and other boons. Their waiting, however, was quite rudely interrupted as a loud bang sounded in the distance, and a shot rang through the air, striking the crate and blowing it to smithereens. The crate, its contents, and the parachute all go up in flames, falling to the ground much faster than before. The prisoners all turn their heads westward, in the general direction of the sound. They see nothing over the Site’s surrounding fence, but they hear…

Hush.

Suddenly, over the walls, aircraft begin to rise. Not Adelon’s, they weren’t blue or white in any regard, and not quite as advanced. Adelon’s had thrusters, these were older helicraft units. They were gray, with bright orange symbols sprayed on their hulls, in the shape of…

Sunflowers.

Most of the prisoners just stand there and watch, others immediately begin to run, either into Aber’s facilities or out into the wilderness. The song playing from one of the helicopters’ loudspeakers increases in volume as they all simultaneously fire a barrage of missile clusters at the whole of the Site. The prisoners have little time to react as the armaments strike down on them, outright killing a good few of them immediately. Some dodge the explosions, others make use of their powers in defensive maneuvers - force shields, jutting rocks from the ground, the like. The helicopters approach the Site, their numbers proving undeniably intimidating. More missiles and bullets begin to reign down on the surviving prisoners, clearing the grounds as the vessels descend. Some attempt to retaliate, bringing down a few crafts, but it is ultimately futile.

Armed men and women jump from the helicopters, dressed in the same range of colors, who immediately begin firing upon the prisoners with a myriad of weaponry, some arms more advanced than others - assault rifles, pulse shots, grenades, sniper fire, everything they could think of in that haphazard moment. This was nothing like Adelon, so uniform and tidy - these people were here for war.

The familiar blue light of nullifier signals came into view, as heavy troopers jumped from on high with bulky emitters strapped to their backs. They spread out, covering the grounds with the nullification signal, quickly beating down any retaliation from the prisoners. Those who hadn’t yet been shot begin to retreat, either into the nearby buildings, or out into the jungle. The latter quickly came to regret their choice of direction as the troops unleashed yet another weapon of theirs - dogs.

Dobermans, rottweilers, German shepherds, pit bulls, and more. Ferocious canines barking so loudly, they could even be heard over the gunfire. They were armored in black vests and padding, with the staple sunflower symbol. Nullifier signal emitters rested on their backs, fully operational and glowing bright and blue. They dash into the wilderness, quickly closing in on most of the runaways, jumping them, biting at their throats. Some attempt to throw them off, but in such dismay, they seemed so hopeless without their powers. Blood is shed quickly on the surrounding green.

Back at Aber, troops began moving into the facility. They were tossing nullifier grenades left and right, covering as much of the interior as they could. Prisoners were shot on site, dragged out into the open and quickly fitted with collars - a mixture of their own, much more uncomfortable-looking devices, and Adelon’s, no doubt stolen for this very occasion. The soldiers - many of them look to be enjoying themselves throughout all of this. Some of them seem actually quite young, only in their teens, but still seeming so committed to this act of war. Their whooping and yelling is horrible.

Before long, Aber is completely and utterly dominated, there being few who escaped from the onslaught. The troops quickly begin to celebrate, as more helicopters arrive from beyond the coast, Adelon’s defense vessels seemingly allowing them to pass unhindered. Troops are dropped off left and right, as well as vehicles - armored trucks and jeeps. Some vessels set down around the Site, while others return to the outward perimeter. Other Adelon ships begin moving away from the cluster that seemed to be under these soldiers’ control - four primary defense vessels, and seven of the smaller ships.

The troops now occupying Site Aber quickly begin turning it into a base for their own utilization. A great deal of them have captured prisoners planted down on their fronts, rods and hoops taught around their necks. Nullifiers, on dog and man alike, are standing by, weapons drawn.

A man walks before them, with others following behind him. He is dressed in an orange shirt, black trousers and boots, fingerless gloves, and plenty of appropriate combat gear. But strapped around his torso and limbs are humming devices, with glowing blue hexagonal plates along them, emitting some manner of protective force. The man is of a sun-beaten complexion, devoid of any strand of hair, with dark brown eyes, and the wryest smirk upon his face. He and his supposed subordinates stand before the line of restrained prisoners.

“Alright…” He starts to say, “Alright!” He turns his head left and right, smiling. “Solid lineup! But you’re gonna have to hold on for a minute, I… got a call to make.”



“Four primary vessels and seven secondaries reported captured.” Said Eli, in nothing like his usual smarmy tone. He was with Haliat in the observation bridge, personnel all around them in a rush. A display of the island and all of the ships was on the surface of the flat console before them. The ships that had been reportedly captured were glowing red instead of their normal cyan. “Personnel aren’t responding, no distress signals have been sent out.” Eli continued, “An assault on Site Aber was reported in by several defense vessels before they pulled away. They say it’s-”

“The Sunflower Group.” Haliat said, finishing his adjutant’s sentence.

“Sir, there are breaks in the perimeter, some prisoners could be escaping as we speak. We may have to launch CDF Proto-”

He was interrupted, again, by an ‘INCOMING VIDEO MESSAGE’ display on the map.

“It’s coming from Aber.” Eli said, “One of our mobile technician signals. PDV-4, one of the captured ones.”

“Put it on the main console.”

Eli complied, moving towards and upright screen by the line of technicians’ stations. He singled out the receiving feed, and accepted the message. On the screen was a live feed from Site Aber, showing the line of restrained prisoners on the ground, and the SG troopers surrounding them. The camera, whoever was holding it, was moving down the line, passing a glance at each of them.

[Can do all kinds of damage, on a massive scale… but you flash a little blue light on them, they’re suddenly shit outta luck.]

The camera was turned to show the face of its current operator. The bald man from before. Their leader.

“Frank!” Haliat called out, very much angry, even though he knew full well who it was.

[Alex! You remember me! That is such an honor.]

“What the FUCK are you doing, Frank?” Haliat yelled.

[Putting a stopper on your little, island enterprise here. You’ve got most of all the superhumans on the face of this earth in one spot, and we’re gonna fucking slaughter every last Goddamn one of them.]

“Son of a bitch!” Haliat called out, turning away and moving towards another console.

[Before you go giving the order to bomb our ships!] Frank continued, [Gotta tell ya, most of your men ain’t dead yet. We’ve got ‘em locked up, restrained, ready to be put down at any moment I say the word. You really wanna sink ‘em with the rest of us?]

Haliat stopped, but he didn’t look at the screen.

[Now we’re gonna sweep this island. Burn it to the fucking ground. You’re welcome to come ashore and try to stop us. But I’ve got my whole army on the reserve, and you can be damn sure you’re gonna lose plenty no matter how this ends. And no matter how it ends… you’re fucking ruined.]

The feed was cut from Frank’s end. Eli approached Haliat and said to him, “What do we do?”

“We are not launching CDF.” Haliat responded, “We do that, we’ll lose all of our assets, and our credibility. People will know we failed, and we will never be able to come back to this.”

“But if we let Frank rage his fucking war across the island, we’ll have nothing then!”

“Listen to me.” Haliat said, raising a finger at Eli, “We do not let word of this reach beyond these waters. No one will hear of this, and we are going to fix it.”

“Fucking, how?” Eli responded.

“Send in our forces, all retrieval teams, everyone. Start recovering as many assets as possible and move them off of the island. We need to clear the field so we can deal with the Sunflower Group without having to worry about losses to our stock.”

“What about our forces on the mainlands? Call them in?”

“No, not yet. Only when I say so, if we can’t handle this with what we have on hand. Understood?”

“Understood.”

“Good. Get to work.”
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Franco





Franco was roughly awoken from his late sleep when the earth under him abruptly shoved his teeth down his throat. He was tossed from his bed at Site Haeda by the shockwave and landed on the hard dirt floor. The island continued to shake. He crawled to his feet and ran out of the front door. His quills instinctively rose as he looked to the northwest, towards what was once Site Aber. He could see fires burning over the treetops and helicopters raining down explosives. The island shook again as a missile impacted. He cursed and grabbed onto the building to steady himself. From the distance, he could vaguely make out an orange-ish blob on the side of the choppers. He knew one thing for sure: that wasn't an Adelon symbol.

Franco looked around the site. All around, others were emerging from their cottages and were staring out at the warzone. The high stalks of corn trembled with the shockwaves. A fencepost cracked. Some people began to run northeast, towards Durahe and Borea. Franco stood his ground and watched the fires burn. A few workers began to bustle about the site, their colorful parachute-cloth robes and dresses blowing in the wind and quivering with the shockwaves. Franco recognized one of them, a pretty, blonde girl named Eve. She was standing above the pig pen, holding her hand out and talking gently. She was a pretty girl; pale skin, long platinum blonde hair, cool blue eyes, a real southern belle. She wore a dress made of a rainbow-colored parachute, like the one kids would play with at recess. her skin was covered in lines of different-colored paints. There were two stripes of light green under each of her eyes and a stripe of pink going from her bottom lip down her chin to the base of her neck, where it diverged into two streams and followed the lines of her collarbone. She was barefoot, and her nails were painted an assortment of colors. As she held out her hand, the pigs calmed. They sat down in the mud and stared up at her as if in a trance. She whispered something softly to them. Franco walked over to her and put his hand on the corner post of the pig pen.

"Have you heard anything from Aber as of yet?" he asked her. She turned from the pigs and pouted at him.

"Nothing yet," she said. She had a pleasing southern accent. "A few men are heading that way to scout out the damage. We're sending as much of our supplies to Borea as we can should those troops start marching this way. Clay is out strengthening our defenses. We're hoping that if we have enough supplies, the boys at Durahe will let some people in."

"Not likely," Franco said. "Worth a shot, though." The earth trembled again, but this time for a different reason. An exceptionally tall muscular man in a tattered white tee shirt was pounding the ground nearby with his fists. A three foot wall of nine-inch rock began to resurrect itself around the site.

"Can you do me a favor, sweetie?" Eve asked. "There are some new prisoners here, ones who don't really know the island all that well. I want you to take them over to Borea and relay what happened to the folk over there." Franco sighed. He hated dealing with newbies, but Eve was hard to resist. Sometimes he wondered if she had influence over him because he was a plant. Or maybe it was just because she was real pretty.

"You like putting me outside my comfort zone, Eve," he said. "But I'll do it." She pointed him in the direction of the newcomers.

"Thanks sweetie," she said. "Good luck." Franco walked off towards the newcomers.

I'm gonna need it, he thought.

---

Sierra was already at work, messing around inside of Franco's generator. A cute redhead girl was lying in her bed, wrapped up in the sheets. A Beastie Boys song was playing on the stereo. The island rumbled ever so slightly. Sierra looked around the room and then shrugged.

"Must be a meta freaking out or something," she mumbled. Then she went back to work.
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Aber was no longer a simple settlement for the prisoners of Arkos. It was now the rummaging grounds for a band of warmongers and lunatics. In such a short amount of time, vehicles and aircraft were posted everywhere, and the interior facilities were stocked with reserve equipment and supplies. A field HQ by the simplest definition.

Atop one of the helipads, Frank was seated on a crate, holding a tablet in his hands, with a displayed map of Arkos and its surrounding waters. Standing next to him was another man - shorter, darker, scarred on his face and arms, with filthy brown dreadlocks and a pair of sunglasses. And beside them was yet another man, seated on the floor of the helipad beside the crate, staring into the distance, petting an armored pit bull’s head. He was undoubtedly the largest and most well-built of the trio, blue-eyed, bald like Frank but still retaining his eyebrows, and with much lighter skin. His face was - for lack of a better term - torn open. From his right cheek running to his mouth was an unsightly wound, boring a hole into the lower right side of his face.

“So it’s east of us, lots of vegetation.” Frank said, “Their primary source of food. You know what that means.”

“Fiyah?” The dreaded man replied, “Oh, Kaal, fiyah would be good right ‘bout now.”

“I’d expect nothing less, Baba.” Frank replied, “Set up your war gang and burn it down, preferably by tonight.”

“Not comin’?”

“Nah, got a few other things to plan out.”

Baba turned his head towards the large man seated beside the crate. “You wan' in on this one, Cliff?” To which Cliff paused his petting of the pit bull, grunted, and shook his head. “What, ya dun feel like ‘andlin’ some heat?”

“Hhhhggg.” Was Clifford’s only reply.

Just then, someone came up the stairs leading up to the helipad - a young-looking Caucasian girl, with piercing blue eyes and braided blonde hair, wearing a black-and-yellow striped beanie. She was pulling along a prisoner by his neck, collared and restrained. And the girl, she looked furious.

“Jasmine!” Baba called out, “What’s it?”

“This FUCKING ASSHOLE keeps regenerating, and someone locked a broken collar on him!”

“Jasmine, just get some fucking bolt cutters or something.” Frank replied.

“I fucking did! But Adelon built these things with fucking DIAMOND apparently, and the bolt cutters FUCKING BROKE.”

“What about a nully-sig?”

“I AM TOO ANGRY FOR RATIONAL DECISION-MAKING RIGHT NOW. And besides, I wanna see this cocky little piss-bucket SUFFER.”

“Calm down!” Frank responded, “Just go get one of the truck pumps and put a tank of riot foam in there, shove it down his throat.”

Jasmine smiled and nodded, turning to the prisoner and saying, “Oh you’re gonna get your pussy tucked in good and proper, you little shit. Let’s go!”

“Ay wait up, Jasmine!” Baba called out, “I’m gonna get da gang up an’ fly over to them freaks’ food stuffs, burn it up. Wan’ in?”

“Yes!” Jasmine replied, approaching Baba with the prisoner slumped on the ground, “But I’m picking the music!”

“RPS.” Baba replied, holding out his hand. Jasmine raised hers, and the two shook their fists. Three shakes, and then they played their hands - Baba went paper, Jasmine went scissors. She immediately raised both her fists and called out, “RRRNNNGGG YEAH FUCK YOU, YOU OLD SHIT!” She then kicked her prisoner in the head, grabbed his busted collar, and dragged him off, leaving the three men to their devices.

“She is just delightful.” Frank said, smiling.

“Bah…” Replied Baba.
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Wednesday




It hadn't been the first time she had seen fire and explosions come from the skies. She doubted it would be the last time either.

The first time she had ever seen such a sight was when she was very young, when the war on superhumans was fresh and new. When fighting those of alien ability was the next great thing. The fervor in those early years was a towering tidal wave of energy, gathering speed and strength as it tumbled out from the source. With this surge of change, there came a great many rules and instructions. Those rules made no sense to her, but everyone quite unanimously agreed that they were to be obeyed. Or maybe they just knew the futility of resisting such a force. At the cost of one, insignificant pocket of the populace, they could buy back... whatever it was. Whether that was safety, or pride, or something else altogether, Wednesday did not know. A lot of people did believe in the cause too, or in the very least they made themselves believe it. They were wise to do so. If they hadn't, they likely would've perish with the rest of the superhumans as a sympathizer.

She had heard it grow. She had seen it all from those early embers and watched as the flames consumed her city in a rapturous, patriotic blaze. First came the shouts, then the guns and finally the trucks, dark and greedy. People were swallowed up by those trucks. Sometimes quietly in broad daylight, and sometimes in loud midnight feastings. The outcome was aways the same- those people were never seen nor heard from again. Then, she got tired of being quiet. She wanted to strike fear back. And she did. With fire and flames of her own. But then, one day, fire and flames did little more than to prolong the inevitable. Eventually those dark, greedy trucks came for her too.

She saw the same change in the distance, rumbling towards them in a tidal wave of fire.

Wednesday had always been a fighter, the kind who fell and claimed it was only making her chin strong. But coming to this island had made her a runner. She was a cornered animal on this island- trapped and surrounded by hundreds of other criminals just like her. She had become a a loner because of it. A survivor, who saw this great movement of imminent, destructive change and had seen the likes of it before. Who's first instinct was to turn tail and run, as far and as fast as she could. For the first time in years, Wednesday was sweating. She was trapped in that awkward stage between zero and one, that uncomfortable stage where her mind worked to decide between fight or flight.

When Wednesday rushed towards the shelters, anxiously looking for Estal, Jack, and Rico, she didn't know what she was doing. She was absent, even as she shouted at them to get up, and to get moving. She didn't stop to think about the consequences. She didn't care that Jack was dangerous, or that Estal didn't heal her, or that Rico didn't know his head from his ass sometimes. Something in her drove her to help them, at least before she ran. Something told her to make them run with her.

Haeda was so close to Aber. She could smell the death in the air already. It likely wouldn't be long before she could see those who brought it. Her mind continued to race. Borea and Praxum were the furthest from Aber, but Borea was three thousand strong. They had people. They had a small army. One large enough to be worth warning.

"Borea!" she had yelled to them. "To site Borea! Hurry!"

The dangerous in the jungle would be little compared to the dangers on their doorstep. It was worth the risk.

MENTIONED: @Inertia @LazyEgg @Ginger Kollie
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Francisco Browning and the SG War Gang



(Written with @SepticGentleman)



Screams echoed across site Aber as dozens of metahumans were slaughtered. The unholy roar of flamethrowers occasionally complimented the symphony of human anguish. Gunfire. Flames. Screams. It was a vicious cycle. Prisoners sprinted through the woods, running any direction to escape the SG soldiers. Some were shot in the back as they ran. Others were pulled to the ground by dogs and were torn to pieces. Some fought back, but a neutralizer grenade would put them in their place. They, too, would join the dead.

Francisco was in his element. He tore through the trees like a savage ape, machete in hand. He let out a loud war-whoop as he sprinted. The other soldiers around him responded similarly. A small pack of dogs ran ahead. A few soldiers with grenade launchers fired nullifier grenades up ahead, removing their prey’s abilities to fight back. The dogs would drag them down and Francisco would, in a single fluid motion, end them. This was his element. He was an artist and this was his masterpiece. He bounded off of a tree trunk like a man chimpanzee and tackled a victim to the ground. He pinned them to a fallen log and slashed away at them, sending blood soaring through the air like so many splashes of paint. After he was satisfied, he got up, leapt over the log, shouted out his “Eey-HI!” again, and then rejoined the fray. He leapt for a very large reptilian man. The lizard jumped out of the way and scampered through the woods, right into the line of fire of a flamethrower. Francisco sliced his back open for good measure and watched him burn to death.

A short time later, he exited the jungle and walked back to Aber. He was covered in blood. It stuck to his forearms and vest and dripped from his beard menacingly. He had an enormous grin on his face. In his right hand he held Martha, his beloved machete. He dragged a decapitated body by the collar of its shirt in his left hand. It left a trail of blood on the ground as he dragged it. It moaned ever so slightly. When he got a few feet away from where Frank was sitting, he tossed it towards him. It moaned and its skinless face twitched.

“Can you believe this, man?” Francisco said. “It’s still fucking alive! I ripped it to pieces and it’s still alive! This is amazing! I want one of these things for target practice!” Frank looked down at the severed, flayed head for a moment, before looking back at Francisco and saying, “And you thought this was important to bring to me, right away? I mean…” He nudged the head with his boot a bit and said, “Impressive work but, you’re leaving a fucking mess around our new field HQ. Go clean up.”

Francisco’s smile faded a bit. He looked over at a few of the men who had followed him into the jungle. They were standing around the body which belonged to the head. It was still twitching and trying to move, despite its total lack of limbs.

“Hey! You three little bros there!” he shouted. “We’ve had our fun, now clean this shit up!” They looked at him, their faces flushed, and quickly ran off to find cleaning supplies. Franciso picked up the head. It moaned weakly. “They’ll clean the blood up, boss. I’ll go take care of this little guy.” He walked off of the platform and over to the small beach. When he got about knee depth into the water, he took out a grenade, shoved it in the mouth of the severed head, pulled the pin, and launched it into the air. It exploded in a lovely shower of blood, like barbarian fireworks. Francisco watched the blood drift through the air for a few moments. Then he washed the blood out of his beard and walked back to the staging ground. Jasmine was dragging a regenerating prisoner into the jungle for execution. Francisco’s smile returned.

“You need some help with that, maaan?” he asked.

“Not from you, shit-hippy.” She replied, stopping for a moment, scanning the grounds, and then turning to take the prisoner towards a section of supply crates and tables. “Free to watch, though.” Francisco looked over at the men who he told to clean. They were hurriedly mopping up, some even trying to mop up the dirt. Francisco tilted his head to one side. One of the men dropped a bucket of soapy water in the process. He laughed.

“Eh, sure,” he said. “I think the little bros are busy right now.” He followed her towards the supply area.

“Pretending to be scared of you to feed your fucking retardedly huge ego?” Jasmine responded, setting the prisoner under her boot as she searched through some supply bins.

“Eh, I think they’re just coming down from the high,” Francisco said. “Killing at close distance really gets your blood pumping, you know what I mean, man? They haven’t got a reason to be scared a’ me. Well, unless someone passed around that stupid Afghanistan story again.” He stuck Martha in the ground and leaned up against a wooden supply tent. Then he took out his ukulele, which he called Caroline, and began to strum a song.

“Ugh…” Jasmine said as soon as the strumming started, “I’m about to put this little fucker in a world of pain, and you wanna riddle his ears with that noise?”

“Ah, chill out bro. I’m sure it’ll hurt just as much as you want it to. It’s nice to have ambiance when you’re ending someone’s life. It’s such a special moment, y’know man?”

Jasmine didn’t respond as she lifted up some form of pumping device, and after it a tank of black fluid. She set the device on the ground and held the fluid close to the prisoner’s face. “See this, you little shit?” She said, “This is Borman Brothers brand riot foam. Police use it to subdue targets and field-repair armor. It’s rapid-solidifying, and it tastes like rancid ass.” She then proceeded to lift up a hose from the device, pop open a cap on the top, pour the riot foam into the canister, shut the lid, and start it up. She looked to Francisco and said, “Get useful and hold his mouth open!”

“Sure thing, bro.” Francisco placed Caroline on a table and pulled Martha out of the ground. He knelt down above the prisoner and smiled. “How’s it going, little bro?” he asked. The prisoner opened their mouth the slightest bit. Francisco pounced. He ripped the prisoner’s jaw open, holding it wide, and then stabbed them through their bottom jaw, breaking it and disconnecting the muscles. He stabbed Martha into their left arm and then pulled the lower jaw back. “Couldn’t move it if he tried,” Francisco said. “Let’s do it, bro.”

“Fucking overdoing like always…” Jasmine replied. She held the hose over the prisoner’s head and said to him, “Let’s see you regenerate from this, asshole!” She then shoved the nozzle down the prisoner’s open throat, and activated the pump. The riot foam began channeling through and down into the prisoner’s gullet, overflowing his stomach, piercing his various organs. The thing with regenerators is, they can’t heal around obstructions. Traces of the black liquid began to seep from his pants, navel, and every orifice on his face. His eyes ruptured, his movements ceased. He became still. Jasmine deactivated the pump and pushed the prisoner aside, his body now completely stiffed - rigor mortis and then some.

“Alright…” Jasmine said, “Good work.” Francisco burst into laughter.

“Holy shit dude!” he shouted. “That was great! You’re a fucking artist!” He pulled Martha out of the corpse’s arm. A bit of foam seeped out with the blood. He cleaned the machete blade on the corpse’s shirt and then sheathed it.

“Yeah. Whatever.” Jasmine replied, wiping a bit of sweat off of her forehead, rubbing the 37 pin on her beanie. “Thanks, I guess.” She said to Francisco.

“No problem, bro,” he said, smiling. “Anytime. So you know what our next move is?”

Jasmine paused for a minute, looking around the Site. “Actually, uh… Baba just told me about his assault on the next place over. Site… Haeda, I think. He’s getting some of his regulars, the incendiary gang, gonna burn the whole place down. Want in?”

“Sounds good to me, bro,” he replied. “I’ll do whatever as long as I get to kill stuff! What time are we leaving?” He picked up Caroline again but didn’t start playing.

“Whenever Baba says so. Just be ready soon.” Jasmine replied, turning to walk off, get… something else done.

“I’m always ready, bro!” he said. “I’ll be around.” He paused and began to play a song on his ukulele. “You wanna light up with me tonight after we burn it down? I’ve got some high-quality weed on me from back home! Celebrations only!”

“I don’t SMOKE you fucking idiot!” Jasmine called back without turning her head, her usual angry tone storming right back. Francisco watched her walk away. He was playing “What a Wonderful World” on his uke. One of his men walked over, a bloody mop in his hand.

“What a babe, eh little dude?” Francisco said to him. The soldier turned around and looked at her.

“Yeah sir,” he said. “She’s a catch for anyone who can deal with her temper.” Francisco sighed and went back to his ukulele playing.

“And I think to myself…” he hummed. “What a wonderful world…”
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