Hidden 7 mos ago 6 mos ago Post by ZAVAZggg
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~P R O L O G U E~




~A Beautiful Lie~

~Location: N/A~



The year is 2026. Thirteen years have passed since the horrific event that caused the world to turn against Deviants, but the tragedy and fear of that day is still fresh in the mind of your everyday citizen. Because of this, Deviants, or Devo's, are shunned in normal society. Segregated from the rest of mankind, Devo's are forced to live out their lives in Peacekeeper Compounds, most of which are nothing more than small dilapidated slums that have been repurposed for use by the task force, where their powers are dampened and they are watched day and night for any suspicious behavior or activities while non-devo's are busy living it up in their pristine cities, willfully ignoring the injustices they not only allowed to happen, but supported as well.

Fortunately for Deviant kind, there does appear to be a glimmer of hope in the form of an underground resistance movement calling itself the D.R.M, or the Deviant Resistance Movement, which is composed of powered and non-powered individuals alike. Idividuauls who have, for the last four years, been openly fighting back against the unjust system that enslaved them and the military force that defends it. Be it through riots, such as the one in Times Square five days ago, the distribution of anti-governmental material, or direct attacks on the Peacekeepers themselves.

The D.R.M's campaign went well, for a time. But once the Peacekeepers acknowledged them as an actual threat and started fighting back in earnest, the member's of the D.R.M suddenly found themselves locked in a stalemate with the larger and more structured organization. One where neither side could get an advantage over the other.

The Peacekeepers, for all their technological might, couldn't completely eradicate the D.R.M, especially once a local group or branch of them went into hiding, due to the chaotic and unstructured way they operated.

And the D.R.M, for all their cunning and gorilla tactics, couldn't completely destroy the Peacekeepers. For any frontal assault on them or their forces, even with the powers they have at their disposal, would be sheer suicide. It'd be like a rabbit trying to go toe to toe with a grizzly.

So the two factions sit, each plotting the demise of the other behind closed doors and in locked rooms, while the rest of the world watches, waiting nervously for something or someone to ignite the metaphorical powder-keg and force the two groups into open warfare.

Something which might come along sooner than anyone expected...
Hidden 7 mos ago 6 mos ago Post by Lasrever
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Cameron


๐•‹๐•™๐•– โ„‚๐• ๐•ž๐•ก๐• ๐•ฆ๐•Ÿ๐••: ๐•„๐•’๐•š๐•Ÿ ๐•Š๐•ข๐•ฆ๐•’๐•ฃ๐•– | ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿš๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜

Cam had had better days.

Worse ones, too, mind you. At least she'd gone with avoiding the Peacekeepers this time, which definitely helped. If you ignored the persistent black eye, broken finger, and general pain, she practically felt human. And with her shades on, she could even change things around without it being too obvious - and that always made things more fun. 'Course, the peacekeepers had to go ruining that, too; sure, she could still be freaky, but the real fun was gone from it, especially when she had to keep constantly on guard. At least she'd made herself look old enough to grab a bottle of the cheapest whiskey money could buy. Healthy coping mechanisms; tasted awful, but she wasn't in it for the taste.

Whatever. This place was a dump, she was a mess, and no amount of pretending otherwise would change that.

Not that it meant she couldn't try, of course. The bruising stayed, so the colour changed to cover it up instead, a patch of deep purple on the right half of her face. Distracting enough that people wouldn't constantly bug her with the pitying looks, even if they were replaced with scowls and fears of upsetting the dear old Peacekeepers. "Irritating liability" was so much more fun than "victim", and this place needed all the fun it could get. Even the food was terrible, and the sleep, and the damned curfew. However many things were wrong with her time in the city, she'd had control of her own life and use of her own power. The resistance was almost as bad, but for different reasons.

God, but they were self-righteous about the whole thing.

Cameron had never done well with self-righteous. Yeah, yeah, big goals, important things to do, she was sure it all mattered to someone; but whether that someone had to be her, that was another question. Honestly, you needed to look out for the little guy, and also number one. Mostly number one, really. Numbers two through infinity... well, she wouldn't go out of her way to spite them, but honestly, it wasn't like they'd stick their necks out for you, either. Play the game, nod along, act your part as well as you can. Walk along the back alleys, because that way you wouldn't see anyone that you'd upset the other day.

Though there did tend to be more revolution types around here, they'd at least take the beaten-up look as a positive. Something something, sticking your neck out, standing up, which was overall a great spin on her inability to keep her mouth shut for ten seconds. Ugh. Even when she carried her head high, didn't hide, finally got the chance to mess around with her power without caring who saw...

Everything about this place was no fun.

She made her way towards a makeshift plaza, well, more of a clearing between the run-down buildings than anything. Nothing much interesting here, but now that the Peacekeepers seemed done taking shots at her, she could finally find some kind of entertainment. Lot of movement around this area, and so she took a seat atop a half-crumbled wall, a small smirk on her face as hawk-like eyes looked over the crowd. City or compound, she could always find some joy in people-watching.

Occasionally, when one looked interesting enough, she'd try to meet their gaze; whether they took notice of the strange girl on the wall and her inhuman eyes, that could be their decision.
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Hidden 6 mos ago 6 mos ago Post by ZAVAZggg
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ยท
Hidden 6 mos ago 6 mos ago Post by Shard
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The Compound - Main Square
Interactions - None

"Willow, for fuck sake!" Came an all too familiar voice, spindly fingers gently holding a pen as its tip fluidly moved across a white surface. Despite a curious, beaked mask worn by the ghostly boy, obfuscating his visage, large obsidian eyes hidden behind black lenses appeared to note every skillful stroke of the pencil. Thin leather gloves which might have hindered his movement ever so slightly did not seem to oppose the motions as the young mutant drew, his attention fixed on the image coming to life upon the pages of his sketchbook. "We should be fucking the system!" It continued, a slender hand pointing forth as it indicated Willow's book, "not drawing!" Of course, for an onlooker, the odd young man dressed in a hoodie draped over a black plague mask appeared alone. Because he was. However, it would not be a lie to claim that he had endured brain damage from the process of beatings and abuse.

It was an upbringing shared by many denizens of the Compound, drawing Willow less unique than initially considered. However, it would be foolish to dismiss the lasting effects which had remained, as a result. Of these, Willow would point towards the shadowy creature accompanying him, an exact replica of the mutant, down to the most minute detail. The same mask, shirt and pants, the same shoes and the same voice, it was a reflection of Willow himself, one only he could see. One only he could hear. Now, that was quite understandable, if one considered the fact that the creature did not, in fact, exist.

Perhaps it had been one hit too many, to the head, but for Willow, this friend, this twin, was real. He was real enough to hear, see, touch and even smell. Real enough to be part of the waking world. "We're on break," came a response, Willow's voice a soft, raspy tune. He was sitting atop a large crate, its contents long since forgotten after being stacked alongside several others in a stone alcove. The accompanying bar was christened 'Wit's End', a name people had differing opinions on, clearly, which Willow was leaning against. It was one of the more significant attractions of the Compound's main square. A place where whiskey and beer tended to speak louder than words, Willow was rarely allowed inside for reasons related to his age, fifteen. Of course, this was where Bob made himself useful, the large man silent as death itself. A fitting metaphor, indeed. Bob had a story accompanying the muscular giant, his nearly seven feet of muscle relating to Willow in a past ending with a most ironic and elaborate twist.

A slave to the boy's will, Bob was no longer a person, no longer a creature who drew breath. He was merely a virus controlled by the smaller of the duo, a virus moving every dead limb now frozen in time. He was the accompanying adult, an excellent use of the undead servant, other than his more practical applications. "And we have no further orders," the boy shrugged as he spoke to the imaginary creature sitting beside him.

"Be self-sufficient," the reflection exclaimed, slapping his hand against Willow's shoulder. "Tell Bob to rip someone's spine out and bring it here like a fetch quest. It will be epic."

Pausing for a moment, the mutant boy halted his drawing as the words simmered within his mind. "Fetch.., oh right, video-games," he nodded before the rendering continued. It was quite a cozy corner, where he sat, Bob making himself known on an adjacent crate. Away from the busy movements of the Compound, but close enough to see the ever-fluid mass of people weave and shift in tune with passing time, Willow found himself most comfortable. It was a shadowy corner, by all respects, a place where one of a less honorable disposition would likely conduct adequately shady business. For Willow, the alcove was a good spot for relaxation amidst the buzz, as one would say. Indeed, despite enjoying the blanket of obscurity, Willow found himself drawn to others, as anyone would. For, what was a human, if not sociable? Indeed, human, the term was quite restricted, especially in the current climate. "And, I think there might be a few other issues with that," Willow continued, turning his masked visage towards the crowd, noting several Peace Keepers patrolling the area, "apart from the more obvious insanity."

"You call it insanity," Willow's shade crossed its arms, "I call it fun."

"I call you unstable," the boy returned, turning his attention to the imaginary twin, before feeling a pat atop his head.

"Says the guy who made me," the reflection finished.
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Hidden 6 mos ago Post by FailingForward
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Jenny




Jenny's neck snapped back into place, and she sat upright with a start.

What was she doing? She was in her same shitty room in the same shitty compound, lying on the seedy mattress she had in the corner. How had her neck gotten broken? It wasn't usually this hard to remember after a resurrection, though admittedly the empty bottle in her hand may also have had something to do with the gaps in her memory. She stood up, kicking aside a heap of electronic parts she'd dug out of the trash and left on her bed, and reflected for a moment on how fortunate she was to not have a hangover - a product of the whole 'having just been dead' thing. Maybe that was what had happened: she'd broken her own neck to give herself a forced several hour nap. "Next time, leave a note," she muttered to herself.

Her clothes had no clues either; she was wearing sweatpants and a stained Hello Kitty t-shirt, which suggested little beyond the fact that she hadn't had much to do yesterday (like every day). She quickly changed into a clean shirt, put a beanie on, and stepped out of her hovel into the courtyard of the compound.

"Hey," she called out, not really expecting a response, "Did anyone happen to murder me last night?"

Unsurprisingly, the answer was silence; either her neighbors weren't listening or they were all desensitized to her screaming nonsense at them. Honestly, it was 50/50 either way. Jenny shrugged, running a hand through her hair. Well, it wouldn't be the first time she'd woken up dead with no explanation. Maybe it was a sign that life in this miserable fucking place was taking a toll on her, but she'd done about all the investigating she cared to do.

Jenny turned and began skipping towards the compound's 'plaza', so denoted because it was slightly spacier and marginally cleaner than most of the Freak Slum. Might as well go see who else was around and what they were up to. She glimpsed a peacekeeper standing guard in full uniform on the fence nearby and extended a middle finger in his direction, calling out to him in her sweetest affectation, "Hey, good looking. Wanna come back to my place and strangle me? I bet you woooouuuld!"

He made no sign of having heard her, his eyes fixed ahead, and Jenny giggled as she skipped away.
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Hidden 6 mos ago Post by Cio
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Oxley



"Noo no no no no no, I swear you've got it all wrong here, mister Peacekeeper sir," a young, raspy female voice was babbling somewhere on the streets of the cramped compounds. "I uuuhhh- yes, right, I get what you're saying, uh, Mark, right? Your name's Mark. Sir. I promise I do have clearance to be out, I swear on your very beautiful MK-V Exosuit that - Oh wait, that reminds me your suits are super interesting, do you mind if I take a l- No? Okay, yes, fair that makes sense yes... Yes, right, I was about to say that I do not wish any trouble Mister Peacekeeper Mark Sir, I was just heading home, it won't happen again-"

"Ouch! Ow ow ow, okay 'kay 'kay I got the point, I got the point!"

Slap across the face, a kick to the ribs. That would leave a bruise. Oxley had simply been minding her own business. Well, technically she had been outside of her compound without a valid notice, alright. But it was only by half an hour. Her notice had been valid 30 bloody minutes ago. (Okay, maybe 32 and counting, but that was beside the point.)
Oxley was usually very much punctual. Her mind worked that way, it had no other way of working. Mathematics, numbers, compartments. That's what kept her sane, what kept her from getting lost in the huge mess that was her overflowing mind. This time she'd simply lost the track of time for a while too long. It wasn't fair, Oxley thought. Her mind was racing a hundred miles per minute and she couldn't get it to stop and now she got punished because she forgot to be punctual for literally like the first time ever? Unfair. Totally.
Nose now bleeding from the punch she hadn't been able to avoid with a quick tongue, Oxley clutched her face as she scrambled to the safety of her leaky apartment. If you could even call it that.
'Relax, relax, just do whatever you do whenever you feel overwhelmed. Focus on one thing. Focus, Oxley, focus. Three point one four one five nine two six five three five nine two six five three five eight nine seven nine three two six... Breathe.'
"Now take care of that nasty nosebleed and remember to do better next time. Okay? Okay. Yup yup yup. You're not crazy, you've just got a lot on your mind - pun intended - just take care of that nosebleed," Oxley speed-mumbled to herself as she rummaged through her crappy little space, trying to find a tissue.
"This fucking sucks," Oxley cursed aloud even after finding a crumbled tissue to cover her nose with. Greasy hair fell on the girl's face as she sat down onto her scrappy sofa with a huff. "One day I'll show 'em," Oxley promised to herself.
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Hidden 6 mos ago 6 mos ago Post by Randomness
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Randomness Of Ridiculous Awesomeness

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Edmond Grandure

Location: Unknown, New York


Edmond was settled in front of a computer in a dark room looking through spread sheets. There were no windows in this room, and the only entrance was a door held slightly ajar at the far end of the room, opposite of his desk. As he flipped between the pages absorbing the data they contained, strategizing his next course of action soft foot steps broke the silence. Without looking away from the computer screen Edmond spoke, "I see that you have returned with my package."

A figure stood silently just inside the room, leaning against the door that was now wide open. The room was too dark to make out anything identifiable of this individual other than he was male and shorter than average. Holding up a briefcase that shined ever so slightly from the little light illuminating the room. Turning around in his chair, Edmond looked at the case.

"Perfect."

"Have you found any new prospects worth investigating?" the mysterious stranger finally spoke. He walked into the room and placed the briefcase on the desk just past Edmond. He then walked around to the couch that sat in the middle of the room facing the wall.

"I have found a couple, however, unlike this last one they'll be harder to reach. Surprisingly they are the sort who don't care to leave. And if they do, they're pretty good at hiding it." replied Edmond with slight sarcasm. He turned back to his desk and opened the metallic briefcase, whatever was inside glowed brighter than all the light in the room. Smiling, he closed it again, and tucked it at his side just under his desk.

"So we will have to go in after them?" the mysterious figure spoke. turning his head so he could see Edmond in his peripheral vision.

"Not yet. I have no need for them immediately, so there isn't a reason to risk exposing ourselves. Besides, it's not like we don't know where they are. The walls of the compound are good at keeping in the cattle." Edmond turned back to his computer screen. He switched the screen to another page. There displayed was a 2D aerial view map of the entire city. Sprinkled across it were little red blips. Zooming the map to focus on the compound, this was where a majority of the blips were conjugated. One of the blips was blue, and it was currently meandering around what looked to be a plaza.

"But if things keep progressing as they are, we might have to act sooner."
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Hidden 6 mos ago Post by Lurking Shadow
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Richard West


Location: The Compound




The day started with a somber tone for Richard. Not for any particular even that happened but more of a mood that comes and goes from time to time. With little to do, he often elected to think philosophically about the situation. This could vary from the grandiose โ€˜What is the purpose of life?โ€™ to โ€˜Why are things the way they are?โ€™ with many topics in between. Currently he was having a bit of an existential crisis. What is the meaning of his life? It is simple to think of the purpose of life in general as, in a sense, one removes themselves from it. It is thinking that applies to everyone. But when one thinks of their self, the connotations can get more frightening.

Does his life have no purpose, and by some random chance his life had to have this condition? Was his life merely a game of chance, one that he lost (or won, depending on the perspective). It is quite depressing to think that because of this unlucky hand he was dealt, he is in his present circumstance. Confined away from a society that hates him merely because he exists.

Or is there a purpose to this madness? Is there some forgotten prophecy of old that he is somehow meant to fulfill? Was this all designed by some unseen hand? If this is his fate, can he defy it? Or is he only able to succumb to it. If life is a play, is he the actor that plays the role that is assigned to him or is he the writer that can alter the story?

All those prospects were equally unnerving to him, though others might have a favorite. As much as he enjoys philosophy, this topic tends to leave a feeling of hopelessness and despair. Looking for an exit, he decided to head for the plaza. It is a sunny day, and he woke up in his usual cold, cramped โ€˜roomโ€™ (which was more like a closet given his size than a living space). There are a few places he likes to bask in the sun and do a little more thinking. After a short saunter to the plaza, he found one such spot in full view of the sun, near the center. Flanked on one side with a short two foot wall, and a large indention in the stonework big enough for his body. After a brief stretch, he lied down like a cat would when taking in the sunโ€™s warmth. Except this cat would be much, much bigger than you and could probably rip your face off in one swipe.

Given that appearance, most people tended to avoid him, walking around if he was near rather than risking a collision with his path. Despite probably just about everybody in the area at the very least knowing of him, few bother to interact with him. Maybe itโ€™s just his monstrous appearance, or maybe itโ€™s that he appears to lack any way to talk that deters people. Most people were oblivious to the fact that he actual could communicate (after all, physical contact is an action most would rather avoid with him), something that spooked just about every peacekeeper he โ€˜talkedโ€™ to resulting in multiple accidents.

Satisfied with his position curled into a semi sphere and with the sun on his back, he turned his thoughts to something a little more upbeat. Focusing his vision on the crowd around him (though with little movement of his head), he wondered what everyone else was doing. They all probably have stories of their own. Some of them were probably content with the life they had, others no doubt still harbored the same malice over the last 13 years. And there were doubtless more in between who did not care anymore or had little hope beyond just living. Some of them hurried along their path, others took it slow, and there were even a few who clearly were trying not to draw attention to themselves. Before letting his mind wander, he wondered if anyone would try to talk with him today? Probably not, but who knows. Maybe today is the day something interesting happens. Perhaps there is still more to add to his own story.
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Hidden 6 mos ago 6 mos ago Post by Shard
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The Compound - Main Square
Mentioned - @Lurking Shadow


With somewhat creaking movements, Willow climbed down from the old crate which had acted as comfort for the young mutant. If one put consideration into the boy's minuscule weight, and the creaking wood, a conclusion of decrepit material would soon rise to the forefront. None had wondered what there was in those boxes, because it didn't matter. Because in the Compound, one would simply assume that whatever used be harbored by these old, splintered crates had been robbed clean, already. Willow had noted their only remaining purpose, to act as chairs. "So, what now?" The boy's shade asked, a word Willow himself had adopted for the creature. Shade, it was what he called this imaginary friend, which was rather fitting.

"I'm hungry," the mutant offered, patting his flat, scrawny belly through the fabric of his hoodie, a muffled voice trickling through the mask. There were times, indeed, where he cursed himself for not being able to feel the sun's rays against his skin without the added layer of pain accompanying the process. Seeing others bathing in its light warranted a somewhat jealous disposition. Alas, for this young mutant, or freak as it were, the sun was an enemy. His pale, ghostly skin was unable to handle the blanket of UV lights falling over its shape, causing pain similar to holding one's hand too close to an open flame. It did not immediately hurt the boy to the point of excruciating agony, but feeling that heating burn at a consistent level would grow worse with every passing second. He was not a vampire, after all, he wasn't going to melt beneath those rays, but the same could not be said for Bob.

Willow's powers were a virus, incredibly dangerous to be sure, but a virus weak to sunlight. If the boy was some form of a fantastical entity from the old stories, he would likely have been found in a dark, remote cave, beneath ancient ruins. The thought brought a small snicker to his lips, though, he was quite fortunate to be so small, and spindly. The lack of body fat prevented the boy from sweating or absorbing too much heat beneath his clothes. Where another would have thought it intolerable, being entirely covered during a sunny, summer day, Willow deemed it a norm. In fact, due to the draining nature of his powers, he felt fairly cold more often than not, warranting his choice of attire. Such was the life of a sickly boy, scrawny and tiny.

"It's that guy," Willow commented, motioning towards a large, winged creature who had made its way into the square.

"Oh yeah," Shade grinned beneath his mask, placing an arm around Willow's shoulder, "want to go bother him?"

"Why?" The boy returned, crossing his arms.

"Because it's the one guy who's more of a freak than us." Shade finished, slipping away from Willow before pointing towards the creature a distance from themselves. "Look at him.., er.., it. No face!"

"I wonder how he breathes," Willow considered the thought for a moment, leaning against Bob like the pillar of a man he was. A fitting end, for a bad memory.

"I wonder how he fuc-..," the imaginary creature began before Willow cut him off.

"Let's get out of the crowd. Bob," Willow slapped his hand, albeit lightly, against the large male under his command, before the boy was brought to its shoulders, away from the mass of people making their stride through the square. Casually resting his elbow against Bob's head, Willow placed his chin on the flat of his hand, a leg on each side of the undead creature's neck as Bob walked through the crowd.
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Hidden 6 mos ago 6 mos ago Post by ZAVAZggg
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EPISODE ONE: STIRRINGS OF REBELLION








~Bartholomew Durant~


Location: NYC Compound - Main Square
Mentions & Interactions: @Lasrever


The sound of a cane tapping against concrete could barely be heard over the throng of people bustling about in the makeshift plaza sitting in the center of a small clearing between buildings. Pushing his way through the crowd, Bartholomew briefly glanced down at the smartphone he held in his hand. Displayed on the somewhat dusty screen was a screenshot of the Peacekeepers digital Deviant database, the security of which was laughable considering how easy it was for him to hack into it, more specifically a bio containing all known information on a blue haired shapeshifting Deviant named Cameron Clark. The name had a question mark beside it in parentheses however, so Bartholomew assumed it wasn't her real name. But that was of little consequence to him.

The D.R.M needed her for her power's.

Not her identity.

Using his power to scroll down the page a little bit, as he didn't wish to waste time removing his gloves in order to use the phone, Bartholomew carefully began reading through all the information the Peacekeepers had on her. First up was her appearance, or rather the one she had assumed during her last run in with the Peacekeepers. At the time of her capture, she appeared as a twenty year old, 5'9", 193.4 pound Caucasian woman with bright, almost neon colored, blue hair and grey eye's. As for her clothing, she was described as wearing what appeared to be a charcoal colored hoodie with white stripes on the bicep area of each sleeve, followed by a dark colored shirt, torn blue jeans, and a pair of black lace up combat boots.

The next thing on her bio was behavior, and from what he read it seemed like she was a bit of a troublemaker. She had multiple counts of illegal power use and vandalism, mainly of government property. A small smile crept across Bartholomew's face. If he could direct that troublesome energy towards the Peacekeepers, then he could disrupt their efforts here considerably. Shifting his attention back to the phone, he scrolled down to the last part of her bio where her status was listed as "neutralized and detained."

"Hmph. Not for much longer." He mused, shutting the phone off before sliding it into his coat pocket. Lifting up his head, Bartholomew began to carefully scan the area, his mind quickly analyzing and processing the appearance of each person in the immediate vicinity. Their hair, clothing, heights, facial features, skin tones, etc, until he eventually found her sitting nearby on a crumbling stone wall in desperate need of repair.

Rolling his shoulders to get the kinks out and straightening his clothes somewhat to appear more presentable, making a good first impression was always important regardless of if it was for a job interview or recruitment, Bartholomew tucked his cane under his arm and strode towards her. Once he was within a respectably comfortable distance for holding a conversation, Bartholomew let the bottom part of his cane fall to the ground before leaning on it in a nonchalant manner.

"This is rather boring isn't it?" Bartholomew remarked in a thick British accent, gesturing to the crowd around them with his free hand. "Just sitting here people watching. Wouldn't you rather be doing something more...I don't know...fun?"
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Hidden 6 mos ago Post by GrizzTheMauler
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Dion





Dion was tired. Forced to take the midnight flight to meet the ridiculous demands of the Peacekeepers he made his way through Customs, huffing when they demanded three different searches and even attempting to pull him aside to do a strip search in front of everyone and when his mother and father yelled at the man for even attempting it, he finally was allowed to make his way to the car to head back his father's home. "It's a damned Concentration camp, Okฤsan. We're searched every other week and we can barely go anywhere much less see Dad for more than a hour."

"I know, Dion." His mother patted his arm. She smiled gently at him. "Leif works hard to make sure we're well off. Don't let them ruin your mood. You ranked up! We're both so proud of you. You keep doing your lessons and focus on finishing your degree. No matter what happens we'll support you." She kissed his head.

Arriving at the building, Leif stood outside, smiling as his son and wife exited the vehicle. "Congratulations, son. I'm so proud of you." He pulled his son in for a hug. He kissed his wife and pulled them inside, the Peacekeepers following. "I'm in a bit of a mess. As you can see I just got off duty." He lets them into their old home. He gets their bags dropped off and ushers them out. "Come on.. We'll get some nice pizza if we hurry, kiddo!" He grinned and herded his family out to the streets.

The streets were busy as usual. Dion had always loved the city. The vibrant feel had always called to him and he loved the mixing of cultures. He especially loved the New York Pizza. Greasy and delicious he grinned with every bite. They had known the owner of this Pizzeria for a long time, Tony Barelli. The large Italian man was known to deliver fresh pizzas to the Compound. Even though none of his family were Devos, Tony and Leif were longtime friends. With their bellies now full they walked back to the apartment. Dion was happy but saddened that he would have to leave his father.
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Hidden 6 mos ago Post by FailingForward
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Jenny




Jenny had been sitting on the ground around the corner, her eyes shut, when she heard the cane hit the ground nearby. She opened her eyes as the man with the accent spoke, and when she heard what he said, she scrabbled upright in a flash. "Depends what you consider fun," Jenny said, leaning out from behind a shack wall to grin at the British man and the blue-haired girl he had approached. The blue-haired girl was a familiar face; they'd never met, but she seemed tough and hard-done-by, two things Jenny could always respect in a girl. She stepped out fully, hands behind her back and a broad grin on her face, and closed the distance between herself and the pair in two quick strides. "Hi, I'm Jenny, I can't die. I'm guessing you're not from around here." She put on a mock british accent. "'Ow do you know he's a king? E's not covered in shit!"

That much was true; this guy was a good deal cleaner and less worn-out looking than every other person in the compound. Either he was a new arrival, in which case, poor fucker, or he was someone very, very interesting to know. "Because, if you're talking about Monopoly... actually, I would be interested in that, I'm super bored." She tilted her head. "Buuuut, if you were talking about something more interesting, then maybe you'd be interested in talking to the girl who's memorized the guard rotations." Jenny shrugged. It had occured to her, of course, that this might be a setup, that this guy was a plant attempting to suss out rebellious attitude by encouraging false hope, but the thought wasn't enough to dissuade her. What would they do if they discovered she was plotting to escape? Kill her? All they could do was lock her in increasingly smaller boxes, and that was not enough of a threat to keep her from latching onto any chance she could see.
Hidden 6 mos ago 6 mos ago Post by ZAVAZggg
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~Bartholomew~

Location: NYC Compound - Time 12:10 PM
Mentions & Interactions: @FailingForward


Bartholomew heard a woman's voice coming from somewhere off to his right. Calmly turning to face the mysterious newcomer, he watched, eye's briefly widening in surprise and recognition, as she leaned out from behind the wall of a nearby shack and answered his original question before stepping out into the open, allowing him to see her better. She was a little bit shorter than he was, light skinned with short black hair, what appeared to be light grey, blue, or cerulean colored eye's, he couldn't really tell from this distance, and a delicate looking face.

There was no mistaking it. She was Jenny Steban, another one of the Deviants he'd set out to recruit today. Admittedly, while he hadn't originally planned on meeting her this early, Bartholomew easily took the sudden change of events in stride. From what he knew of her through the Peacekeepers database, it seemed she was unable to stay dead for very long. A very useful ability if he ever saw one.

Turning around fully as she strode towards him, Bartholomew chuckled slightly at her sarcastic mimicking of his accent. "I hate to admit it, but I am indeed from around here." He said, absentmindedly nodding towards some dilapidated buildings nearby. "As for my exceptional clothing and excellent state of personal hygiene...well, I find ways to keep myself filth free." He said, pausing briefly to watch a flock of pigeons fly by overhead before returning his attention to her and continuing the conversation.

"Now back to what I was speaking of earlier. The "fun" I mentioned would have more to do with the second scenario you brought up, rather than the first. Of course, there's nothing stopping us from playing a board game or two either, if that's what you're in the mood for." He said in a slightly playful tone as he moved the cane into his other hand and leaned on it, patiently awaiting her response.
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Hidden 6 mos ago Post by RedVII
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RedVII Magnificent Bastard

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JACK PERKINS :+: WIT'S END, NYC COMPOUND :+: MENTIONS: NONE


"'Ey Jack!" shouted the grumpy older man behind the bar. "Table six ain't gonna clean itself, ya?"

"O-on it," Jack stammered. A plain white T-shirt and some old faded blue jeans. This was Jack's work uniform for the day. He had been in the compound for nearly a week and learned that it was nearly its own contained ecosystem. His job on the outside was gone as soon as he was labelled a deviant. Now that he was a resident of Devo Town, he had to find a way to make money if only to pay for the meager helpings of food he needed to survive. He was not a large man. A polite way of describing him would be to say he was slender. A more accurate way was to say he looked like a walking skeleton.

As he went to table six, he noticed upon the dishes that the customers had left a quarter of a sandwich behind. Jack stared at it intently and checked the bar to see if the old man was looking. He wasn't. Jack quickly scooped up the sandwich and shoved it into his mouth, masticating furiously so that he could get rid of the evidence as quickly as possible. It was despicable and he hated himself for doing it. For having to do it. He felt so awkward and alone in this hellhole. Pickles hadn't made a peep since the day he was tranqued, kidnapped and delivered here. Despite Jack trying to reach out to his other half, there was no response. It was maddening.

As himself, Jack was powerless. That was one of many notions that scared him most. He was a sheep in the land of wolves. Everyone around him was extraordinary in some way. Everyone was potentially dangerous. If any one of them decided that Jack looked like delectable prey, what was he to do against them? Each waking moment was a lonesome nightmare.

Once Jack gathered up all the dishes, he loaded them into a tub turned to go deliver them to the dishwasher. Except he wasn't paying attention when he made the move and found himself running into a rather massive patron, the tub clashing up against them, spilling the dishes and their remnants all over the giant of a man.

"What the fuck! What the fuck is this shit!" The man roared. Jack looked up at him and met his eyes. They were slit like a reptile's. The skin around his eyes seemed carved and hard like scales, though it smoothed out into normal skin the further you went. The man's check was as big as a barrel, covered in a red flannel shirt and some tattered overalls.

"I'm, I'm s-sorry. I didn't see-"

"Sorry doesn't clean my fucking shirt, you little shit!" The flannel-clad behemoth grabbed Jack by the front of his shirt with both and and pulled him in, lifting the skinny guy into the air as he let out a primal growl.

Pickles! Pickles, please! Come out here now! He's going to hurt BOTH of us if you don't do something! Jack's forehead began to bead with sweat, his heart racing. Panic set in completely and he started finding it hard to breathe. The reptilian patron threw Jack backward, causing him to land hard on his back, the latter's lungs were immediately robbed of air as he laid there, curling into a ball, trying to inhale as much oxygen as he could as quickly as possible. His assailant took one more look at him and spit, covering Jack's cheek with a vomit inducing amount of warm saliva.

"Next time watch where you're fucking going, kid!" Those were the giant's parting words as he left the Wit's End. Jack reluctantly pulled himself to his feet and wiped off his check as best he could with his bare hand. His face was stuck in a perpetual grimace as he leaned down to pick up all the dishes he had dropped. Before long he noticed the old bartender standing beside him.

"Y'know, ya really ought to stick up for yourself, boy. You keep letting them push you around, they're gonna keep doing it." Jack gave a wordless nod and pushed his way passed the man, wanting to eject himself from the situation as quickly as possible. He dropped the tub off in the sink with a loud clatter before dashing into the restroom reserved for employees. He was sweating all over now. His skin radiated heat as he felt his temper and anxiety flaring up. We looked at the bathroom mirror and stared at himself.

"Where are you!" He shouted, accusatory. This was his fault. Pickles was supposed to be his friend. He was supposed to stick with him forever. "Why... why did you leave me when... when I need you the most!" The last word was shouted out with rage as Jack send his right fist flying into the mirror, shattering it. He immediately recpoiled, pain shooting through his hand. The mirror had bitten back. Blood began to drip down his torn knuckles, flowing into the separations of his fingers, down his digits to his fingertips. Jack looked at it in dismay. Just another thing that had gone wrong. As he stared for seconds longer, a notion hit him. An idea.

Jack raised his bloody hand to his face and touched his nose. He gave it a slow, steady swirl, painting it in red before moving onto his cheek. In one smooth arced stroke, Jack covered his mouth in his own crimson fluid. He looked at what was left of the mirror again and saw the vessel of his friend starring back.

"Please... please, Pickles..." His voice faded toward the end, as did his hope.

HAhaHAhaHAhaHAhaHAAAA! It rang out in stereo within his own mind. He knew that laugh. His eyes grew wide. His frown went agape with excited anticipation.

"Pickles?"

"Ha! You see!! You need me, Jackie Boy! You're nothing without your Friend For Life! Haha!" The voice was not Jack's, but it nevertheless came out of Jack's mouth. It was shrill, and disturbing. The octave of his speech fluctuated to extremes. Some words were very deep while others sounded like they were induced by helium.

"Y-you're right, please. You've got to help me survive out there. These... these deviants, they-"

"Shushushushushush. Hush your pretty little mouth. Here's the deal. The one and only. You can never try to disown me again, Jackie Boy. You can never try to shut me out. I get to drive, too, you see? I get to live!" Jack was scared to make such a deal. When Pickles was in control, bad things happened. "What do ya say, old sport? Fifty-fifty?" As much as he wanted to resist the proposal it was true; he was going to need Pickles around if he were to have any hope of anything. A necessary evil.

"Ok-okay," he said simply, looking defeated as he did so.

"Ho-Hoooo! Happy Day, Jackie Boy! Now, my friend! Now it's time to plaaaAAAaaayyyy, HAhaHA!"
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Hidden 6 mos ago Post by Cio
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Cio A dumb DnD maniac

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Oxley

Location: NYC Compound
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'Imagine there's no heaven / It's easy if you try / No hell below us / Above us only sky // Imagine all the people / Living for today (ah ah ah) // Imagine there's no countries / It isn't hard to do / Nothing to kill or die for / And no religion, too...'
The melody played out from Oxley's neon blue headset, drowning out the harsh noise from outside her scrappy apartment. The nosebleed had stopped, leaving bits of dried blood on Oxley's nose. The woman lay splattered across her dusty beanbag chair, woolen stocking clad legs tangling from the edge. The rainbow socks were baggy and worn, much like Oxley's other clothing. Her ribcage was sore from the kick she'd recieved before. Whatever. It was midday now, safe to go out.
If she wanted, that was.
'Imagine all the people / Living life in peace // You may say that I'm a dreamer / But I'm not the only one / I hope someday you'll join us / And the world will be as one...'
Jumping up, the young woman with a messy braid gathered her belongings into a satchel made of denim before heading out to the cloudy noon.
"'Sup Oxley!" Oxley's neighbour quipped as she exited her apartment. Oxley paused her music and beamed.
"Hi Dean! How's the goldfish?" she asked. It had been a while since she'd seen a sight of her neighbour.
"Matty's good. Hey, actually... I meant to ask you something, if you don't mind. Do you remember if we spoke on March second two years ago?"
Oxley scoffed at the man. "Uh, obviously. Who do you take me for? We did, yes. We were talking about the campaign I was going to DM. I-" Oxley paused. Then she frowned, scrunching up her nose in confusion. "Why... why do you ask?" she questioned. Something seemed off. It was a strange thing to ask, even if Oxley happened to be a walking data bank of information. Dean laughed it off, but that didn't ease Oxley's nerves.
"Just... Testing you. See ya, Oxley," the man waved before quickly disappearing into his apartment. Oxley frowned for a second before shaking her head and taking off. It was probably nothing.
"Okay, okayokayokay soo... here's the plan, Oxley. You're doing some shopping today. You're literally out of food and you need more nachos for today. Okay? Okay. Adulting time," Oxley talked to herself as she walked on the street, earning a few strange looks. Okay, maybe she was a bit lonely. Not really.
Well, maybe a bit more than a bit. No big deal.
Oxley often talked to herself anyway, it helped her keep track of her thoughts. There was so much information all around her, it required some sort of compartmentalizing to keep track of it.
Walking on the street with her trusty blue headset, Oxley tried to shake off the feeling that something wasn't quite right.
Hidden 6 mos ago 6 mos ago Post by Shard
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Shard I write stuff, and things.

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The Compound - Wit's End
Mentioned - @Marrok

Standing at the entrance to a bar all too known throughout the compound, Willow instructed his thrall to lower itself to a knee, allowing the boy to slide off, a pair of small feet hitting the ground with a weightless thud. A mount like any other, Willow often found himself atop the undead servant in an incredibly lazy display. Beyond the walls of the compounds, one would likely view the development as an oddity. However, within the circus of freaks so often called Devo Town, it fell into the local norm. The compounds were nothing if not colorful. Also, of course, as one would call them, shit holes. It was, however, the only reality Willow had known since early childhood. He was all too familiar with every nook and cranny within Devo Town, New York. Such was the life of a mutant orphan. Willow's appearance gave off his nature as a deviation from humanity at first glance.

Ghostly white skin, large, black eyes, claws, albeit small, atop fingers and toes, and of course razor teeth would fundamentally indicate the result of this most failed pregnancy. A mutant, clearly, Willow's size also indicted a miniscule, sylph like creature rather than a human in both height and girth. This set him apart from his kin, even before powers manifested, which for Willow, was at the age of nine. He could not imagine how it must have felt for those who built themselves a life in the surrounding city, only to be ripped from those they had learned to love, from their very existence, and dropped in the concentration camp Willow had known as his home since birth.

It was a depressing thought to be sure, comfort swept from under one's feet, and left to fend for oneself. The fine folk of New York's pristine venues could not imagine life within the compounds. To be thrown into the nightmare so abruptly was not a scenario Willow had little empathy for. These thoughts reached the front of his mind once Willow pushed the bar doors open and saw a waiter he had not witnessed in the past. He must have been new. At the very least, newly hired. "That dude looks like he's about to break," Shade laughed, his arms circling Willow's shoulders from behind the boy. "Oh, that's rich! New meat!" of course, where Willow displayed empathy, Shade found laughter.

"Let's have a seat," the mutant boy commented, before pulling a chair out in the safety of a shadowy corner, alongside Bob and made himself comfortable. It was ironic, in a way, or perhaps a sad revelation, that despite all the company Willow had accumulated, he was well and truly alone. Bob was a husk, a creature controlled by the boy and Shade was a figment of Willow's very fractured and damaged mind. The sad part found itself displayed in the fact that without this schizophrenia, he'd be lost. Without that voice clawing at the back of his mind, without the imaginary touch he had grown so used to, Willow could only see himself growing mad.

Pulling his hood down, slender fingers worked on the buckles keeping his beaked mask in place, before finally revealing the boy's young, androgynous visage to those within the establishment. With a soft breath, Willow shook his messy, raven hair loose, and tugged his gloves off. It was not often that the boy exposed his face in public, merely out of habit, rather than a more insidious intent. He oftentimes forgot himself, even when indoors, and thus only took his mask or gloves off when he retired for a night's sleep, or well earned meal. Porridge was what Willow considered his norm, and also what he could afford. Working for the resistance movement had allowed for some income, but nothing to consider impressive.

Willow's main source was tailoring, where he repaired clothes or crafted new vestments. It was the one labor he excelled at as a child in the orphanage, and a skill which had come in handy more than once. Willow tailored his own masks, and had made several options available in the hole he called a house. With a stretch and a yawn, the young mutant unzipped his hoodie, before a pair of large, obsidian eyes fixed their attention on the new hire. He seemed scared, lost, out of his element. This wasn't a man who had grown to understand the compounds. Not yet. Willow's gaze intensified somewhat as the server was apprehended by a patron, but the situation quickly simmered out. "Pff..," Shade's voice trickled into Willow's ear, "what an underdog."

"That used to be us, you know," came a soft whisper in turn as Willow shifted his attention to Shade. "He's the reason no one messes with us," Willow finished, motioning to Bob who sat silently on a chair by the table.

"And that's a fucking shame," Shade offered with a sigh and roll of his eyes, "when was the last time we melted someone? Admit it, you fucking love the feeling."

Willow's silence hinted at a response, one he wasn't necessarily proud of, before turning to look at the menu on his table. Using his powers was, in a word, bliss. It was exhilarating, conjuring forth the energies swirling within. What Shade said was true, even though Willow was less than prepared to admit it.
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Hidden 6 mos ago Post by Lasrever
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Lasrever

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Cameron


๐•‹๐•™๐•– โ„‚๐• ๐•ž๐•ก๐• ๐•ฆ๐•Ÿ๐••: ๐•„๐•’๐•š๐•Ÿ ๐•Š๐•ข๐•ฆ๐•’๐•ฃ๐•– | ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿš๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜

Interacting with: @FailingForward @ZAVAZggg

Well, that was interesting. Before Cam could reply, someone else jumped in - the โ€œnot dyingโ€ thing was enough to get a raised eyebrow from her, but it was good to see how the guy responded. Get some idea who they were dealing with. She was glad to have โ€˜funโ€™ cleared up; there were a hell of a lot of things he couldโ€™ve been suggesting, and most of them werenโ€™t up her alley.

He hadnโ€™t given a name, but she didnโ€™t bother to pry. Werenโ€™t many things she wouldnโ€™t tolerate for a chance to get her powers back properly, and if her suspicions were right - because who other than the rebels would be trying to recruit for this kinda thing, really - that was what this was. Worst case scenario, sheโ€™d pick another look and be outta there. Good thing about having a regular look; people got used to it. Ditch it, and disappearing was even easier.

Not that she couldnโ€™t pull off the โ€œdedicated rebelโ€ schtick for a while if it helped smooth things along. Down with the Peacekeepers, yadda yadda, so a few salutes. Simple.

But for now, disruption, troublemaking, and the possibility of a chip removal suited her fine. Smiling dangerously, she looked to him, and then to the girl. Jenny. Anything seemed risky, itโ€™d be good to have someone there that could take the fall.

โ€œAnd whatโ€™re we getting from this? Nothing against Monopoly, but if thereโ€™s compensation, we can talk.โ€ Cam stretched, reaching up to rub at the back of her neck - the hint clear enough. โ€œNever been much for tattoos, though. They kinda mess with my whole deal.โ€
Hidden 6 mos ago 6 mos ago Post by ZAVAZggg
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~Bartholomew~

Location: NYC Compound, Main Square - 12:15 PM
Mentions & Interactions: @Lasrever and @FailingForward


"You mean besides the satisfaction of giving those Peacekeeper shit heads a taste of their own medicine and laying the groundwork for the downfall of places like this?" Bartholomew asked, gesturing with both arms at the surrounding area in a wide sweeping gesture.

"How about a safe place to stay with some halfway decent food, and most importantly..." He paused, letting his arms fall back to his sides as he leaned on his cane once more. "No I.D. chip in your neck. So what do you say? I can't make any promises on the tattoo, but surely it's a small price to pay for some measure of comfort and peace?" He asked with a slight smirk as he shifted his gaze back and forth between the two women, carefully taking in their reactions to his words. He honestly hoped this worked. It hadn't been his strongest or most convincing of lines but it was true. For the most part anyway. They would be living in a relatively comfortable and secure place. The safe house within a blocked off section of the Compounds sewer system, which was less disgusting than one would think thanks to Bartholomew's meticulous nature and insanely high standard of personal hygiene. A standard that he demanded everyone else in the safe house follow as well.
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Hidden 6 mos ago 6 mos ago Post by Randomness
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Randomness Of Ridiculous Awesomeness

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Edmond Grandure

Location: Compound, New York
Interaction: @Cio


"Whatever happened to not exposing ourselves unnecessarily?" a voice spoke softly through a small earpiece. Not much time had passed since Edmond's companion had returned. In the short time since their conversation, Edmond had made his way into the compound through the usual method: He signed some paperwork, and spoke to the Peacekeepers. Sure Heidis was a help in streamlining the process but how much influence do you expect to have when you're not even the main supplier of equipment. Even so, the process was leagues easier than if any of the devo ever wished to leave, even for a short while.

Wandering the streets in various states of disrepair Edmond stopped at a small cross street. The remains of a bank behind him facing a series of marketplaces that once upon a time were small businesses, one of which was a grocer. He took pause looking at the various people who walked by. Dressed in slacks and a clean dark blue button down while carrying a metallic briefcase. He stood out. While that got him the occasional glance, he was mostly left alone.

"I'm holding off on our prospects for the time being. It would not do to have so many gathered in one place. Once they scatter and we establish a schedule then we can move forward. For the time being this is more of a personal project. Useful, insightful, and to collect as needed, I'm sure we could benefit from each other." spoke Edmond silently to himself, but just loud enough for the earpiece to transmit. He leaned against the fogged glass of the abandoned bank looking at either side of the moving crowd, searching.

"I get what you're going for, but the usual method is not going to work."

"I know, which is why I'm going to try reason."

"And you think she'll just let you?"

"I don't see why not. You're familiar with this place. You and I both know what generally goes down here. If I can offer something that is outside her realm of possibility, then it could be worth it for her." The conversation paused for a minute as a couple of passersby walked in front of Edmond towards who knows where. Edmond watched them go as they stared back at him in return. As the distance between them grew, both parties attention fell back to themselves.

"She probably knows who you are and what you've done." said Edmond's mysterious friend matter of factually.

"Most definitely, even if only in passing." Edmond smirked.

"If you reveal too much, there is no going back."

"No. There are ways to bring about forgetfulness. No one is invincible to my touch." Edmond took a glance at his watch. Looking back up he looked out over the crowd to see if he could spot who he was looking for. Finally coming down along the way was Oxley. Ending his conversation, a parting word of "don't blow it" Edmond jogged across the street to meet up with her. He stopped just in front of her path so she would also. Taking a moment to composure himself, Edmond stood professionally before her.

"Greetings, Ms. Oxley, my name is Edmond Grandure." he said clear and politely placing a hand over his chest. He smiled. "I have come to speak to you about a proposal I expect will help improve your quality of life. Would you care to listen?"
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Hidden 6 mos ago Post by Lasrever
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Lasrever

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Cameron


๐•‹๐•™๐•– โ„‚๐• ๐•ž๐•ก๐• ๐•ฆ๐•Ÿ๐••: ๐•„๐•’๐•š๐•Ÿ ๐•Š๐•ข๐•ฆ๐•’๐•ฃ๐•– | 12:15

Interacting with: @FailingForward @ZAVAZggg

Well, she supposed it was tradition, but traditions were usually stupid. The tattoo, though, was a specific inconvenience for her. She couldnโ€™t be sure what itโ€™d do. Nothing about her appearance was really permanent, precisely because of that uncertainty - there was something patronising about her leisurely manner as she drawled out a retort.

โ€œHoney, normally Iโ€™d agree to something that small, but if I canโ€™t get rid of the thing...โ€ Cameron shrugged. โ€œWell, thereโ€™s no point in having a shapeshifter you can always identify. I can keep a mark on when Iโ€™m around the place, if it makes you feel better. Iโ€™m lovely like that, yโ€™see.โ€

Without waiting for an argument - it seemed pretty clear there wasnโ€™t one sheโ€™d actually bother listening to with her mind made up - Cameron jumped to her feet. Yep. It suited her for now, and as changeable as she was, that was the main thing that mattered to her. Right now. She didnโ€™t wanna be tied down, that was for sure, but it was the best option she had.

Cameron always did like to make things happen.

โ€So, where do we find this food? Or is it one of those โ€˜blind truck rideโ€™ deals? Because if youโ€™re gonna knock us out, I vote you hit her first. No offence, Jenny.โ€
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