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6 yrs ago
Don't leave me, baby! Middle of winter, I'm freezin' baby! - It's cold, and Gucci Mane lyrics work for most any context when slightly edited.

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Oshea Jackson and Allison Andrews



It was a long month. Every day was one of rehabilitation and solo danger room situations; his training regimen consisted of light jogging once he was out of his cast, and then light leg presses, he also focused on maintaining his core strength so his trunk muscles did not entropy while he dedicated much of his workouts to re-gaining and improving his leg strength and the muscle imbalance caused by elongated bedrest during the early parts of his recovery. Chin ups, push ups, sit ups, all sorts of light upper body workouts made sure he kept his upper body toned and in shape. When the aches weren't present or the entire leg wasn't stiff, he made use of the danger room, combatting simulated enemies of varying strength levels and power sets. Most of the time he lost--much of the speed he once had was gone as of right now. To get back in mission shape, it would take a push.

To this end, he utilized the campus grounds. For hours each day and each night he would run. At first, it was speedwalking--quite the strange sight, watching a grown man move with the ferocity of a soccer mom with errands to run on a Sunday afternoon with no end in sight--then more light jogging, until finally his leg had gotten strong enough to sustain running at cross country speeds for a few minutes. All of this was followed by a full body ice bath, R.I.C.E. (rest, ice, compression, elevation) and working on a large painting of an Edo era Japanese farming village. It was the banality of the village and yet the underscored importance of the farmers to the society which resonated with Oshea. To the X-Men, he wasn't of much use in the field right now, but he would find other ways to be useful.

So, he began reading about great war generals, tactics, the use of space, kinetics. Night and day he read and trained until his psyche was cured of the growing sense of inadequacy he had begun to feel; he trained until his body once again matched the speed of his mind. But the aches were still there, and his reflexes were still not quite up to par. The days he was not training or locked in his room painting and reading, he could be found in the common area playing video games and competing with himself in a game of chess.

Allison was trying to remain positive.

Ever the ray of light in the darkest of times, it was harder now more than ever to be her normal, bubbly self. To that end she tried not to think about the impending doom of either the mutant population or the humans. Instead, she tended to practice her powers (especially her new one) as well as talking to Professor Xavier whenever possible. After all, the Professor’s own abilities closely resembled hers and she wanted to learn as much as she could in order to learn how to be helpful should another mission come up.

Still, it was always in her head. So when she was making her rounds, she noticed Oshea playing chess. She felt bad for the man who got extremely hurt during their last mission, but he seemed to be doing all right. She took a breath in and made her way over. Hey Oshea, mind if I play? I’m not very good, but I am eager to learn!”

Oshea leaned back in the chair as he noted Allison’s approach. With a genuine smile he welcome her to the seat situated across from him.

”Aight, no problem. First thing you gotta learn is how to use ya pawns, the li’l small joints” he grabbed a single piece from amidst its brethren and wiggled it around in the clutch of two fingers.
”they only move two spaces from their original spot and can only move forward or back one space after. You can use ‘em to capture other pieces by movin’ ‘em diagonal, tho’. People think the pawn is the most useless part of the board, right? But nah, nah, see they ain’t limited like a Rook or a Bishop, right? You can use ‘em as lure and bait, you see?”

He displayed the pawn’s freedom of movement and used one of them to capture an erroneously placed Bishop.

”Real easy, y’know? The pawn always gone first, but wit’out sacrificin’ them you can’t win the game. You learn that, you’ll be a master in no time!”

”The Knight is prolly one of the most versatile pieces in the game. He can cover a whole petimeter ‘round himself--he moves two up and one to the side or he moves one to the side and two up. He like me an’ Quicksilver, right? He gets in an’ out fast, and you gotta aim to get him off the board early to take away ya opps movement.”

”Boom. Boom.” He demonstrated again, showcasing the interchangeable horizontal-vertical and vertical-horizontal movement of the Knight in each direction two spaces horizontally and one space vertically and vice versa.

”Now the Bishop, him and the Knight is wild similar. Both of ‘em sorta kinda move diagonally, but the Bishop can only move diagonally. He can’t go forward or backward or side to side, nothin’. But he comes outta left field though, right? Like Cassandra and Starkette. He jus’ be sittin’ there, waitin’ for you to come in his path and BAM! Gotcho ass. He a real sniper, one hit kill for real and the best distraction you got.”

”Now this jawn,” Oshea swaddled a Rook in his hands, “she a bad one. She can move forward and backward from one end of the board to another, but she can’t go side to side. Her and the Bishop compliment each other, right? But the Rook, she ya bulldozer. She gone come right atchu wit’ no fear; s’like yew wit’ the mind-movin’ thing. She can crush anything in her path so long as its right in front of her, it’s what she don’t see that is usualy her death.”

”Not sayin’ you gone die or nothin’ but… you know what I mean..” Oshea hoped she knew what he meant because he didn’t.

He continued on, “Now, the Queen is the second most important part of the game, right? She can move wherever she wants on the board, she the one with all the power, like in a real relationship. She more like Ayita and Damon an’ nem, right? They can shift to fit any moment before em. She can take any piece on the board, she blend in. If you lose her early you done already lost the game."

Oshea had his hands clasped together behind his bald head and rocked the titled char back and forth ever so slightly, and one time he almost fell over.

"Now last and least, the King, the big dog. If you lose him, it’s game over no matter what. This here” he picked up the King, “is our Professor X, our Beast, our Marygold. One of them go down, the whole operation dead. Problem wit’ the King is he can’t do much fa himself. He can only move one space in any direction unless it mean he gone get put in check. Technically he is the most important piece in the game, but he wouldn’t survive at all wit’out errbody else.”

"That all make sense?”

Allison took it all in and thought it was kind of cute showing how each of the pieces of the game correlated to one of them. She had to admit, it was all a lot of information, but she got through it. ”Yeah, I think I got it. So when there’s a check, that means that the king can be captured in the next move right? And a checkmate means there’s no way and they lose? I remember my grandpa playing and trying to teach me when I was little.”

She studied the board, gathering all the pieces in her mind. It was always a complicated game. You compared me to the rook, but I wonder if I’m just a pawn. Something without much use other than to be there and be sacrificed. I mean, everyone at the plant seemed to be doing something useful, whereas I just kind of...was there. Other than gaining a new power, I didn’t do much.” She hadn’t admitted it to the others really, but it’s what she had been feeling since she left the plant.

Still leaning back in the chair, he took in her words. He never imagined someone like Allison having doubt or struggle of any kind, her cheer had seemed so impenetrable until now. Nonetheless, he could relate and he didn't have the pride to tell the others how he felt either. Inadequacy was easy to bury, it was hard to be free from.

"Everybody got a role to play, you know? If somebody think they better than the team, everybody lose. The biggest and strongest nigga can still be beaten by a li'l dude if the li'l dude got a better mind. I mean, tsh, you see what happened to me, right? I'm all types of messed up--it don't even matter, right? Plus now you'll be knockin' errbody out ya way."
Will be posting later today (since it's 12:17 AM where I'm at).
Character Type - Cannon Inspired
Name - Massai White
Alias - Power Man
Age - 27
Social Class - Downtown
Allignment - Good
Archetype - Mutant
Powers -
Diamond Hard Skin: Like his grandfather, Massai has skin which is impenetrable to a degree; unlike his grandfather, however, Massai's skin is hardened beyond that of Titanium. His is hard as a diamond and can only be lacerated or pierced by substances as hard as diamond and of course anything harder than diamond.

Superhuman Durability: Because his skin is hard as it is, Massai can withstand most forms of gunfire, and even has a resistance to low grade energy based weapons. He can withstand extreme heats and colds, electric shock, etcetera. He can withstand falls up to ninety feet.

Enhanced Strength: He can lift a maximum of six tons.
Skills -
Smooth Talker: Massai has mastered the art of persuasion and rhetoric.

Intelligent: Massai has done his fair share of reading in a variety of subjects.

Brawler: Though lacking refinement, Massai is a fine brawler who is at home with brute force more than honed martial arts.

Connections: As a former bodyguard, Massai has greased palms and formed relationships with some of Nueva York's seediest business men an women.
Weaknesses -

Vibranium and Adamantium: They can cut him.

Hot headed: He reacts with great violence to indignation at times.

Women: He loves the ladies.
Arch Enemy - Depending on what we get in the villain department...
Appearance -

BRIEF Bio - Grandson to Luke Cage, Massai has taken up the mantle of Nueva York's bulletproof protector. He has since retired from his life as a bouncer and has used his earnings and his connections with members of the underworld to help fund his rent-a-hero service where he loans out his capabilities to the average man and woman suffering under the bleak existence that is Nueva York. He spends a lot of time in his office when not on contracts, and can be found frequenting the seediest bars in the most disreputable parts of town as well as the most respectable establishments found in Uptown. As such, he has a vast knowledge of what happens on the streets, and he has his proverbial ears everywhere.
Notes - TBA
Sample Post - I'm in your other RPs, you know lol.

@Member 00492 He's done finally, lol.
Bandanas tied, teeth picking strings, Jimi Hendrix on my radio. It's funky.
Oshea Jackson


"When I was broke, sleep was my only friend--I've made a few more since then, but it still has a special place in my heart."



Location: Hanson Power Plant



Oshea was carried to safety alongside everyone else, the bone still sticking out in his leg. He was glad medical costs wouldn't come out of his own pockets. He watched the building explode, and it hadn't dawned on him they had 'failed' the mission The Brotherhood don't get to take control of the Plant. . . though now no one got to take control of the plant. It was a success in some sense, then. Waves of subtle aches followed by large stints of deep pain coursed along his leg. Hopefully they would get back to the mansion soon so Oshea could get some medical attention.

Damon helped him back on the Blackbird, Oshea did what he could not to scream. He let out a grimmance, and once on the Blackbird, sat in the front of the jet. Something told Oshea this would be a much longer ride home than before. Pain always had a way of making time appear to move slower than normal; it was likely Oshea would pass out from shock once again long before they reached the mansion. At this point, he didn't resist, he just let the unconsciousness take him again--this hadn't been his best day anyway, so passing out was morbidly enjoyable.
Posting tomorrow morning.
What are days but a construct of a subjective calender? All goes to dust, and none return.



7:30 p.m., November 30th, 2019




After the speedbag, it was a full circuit rotation: jump rope, mittens, 100 sits ups 100 push ups, chin ups, heavybag, squats, knees to elbows, laps around the gym. Repeat. Since becoming the champion of the Middleweight division barely three weeks earlier, his training had intensified sevenfold. Unlike past champions, and unlike many of his peers, Hayes hadn't been part of the public eye. Aside from immediate post-fight interviews following his KO over Chris Ives, Hayes had gone completely silent which was uncharacteristic of the man who's mouth was near big as his left hook. He had another fight coming up February-- a mandatory defense against the No. 1 contender, Jerome Whittaker: someone who was fast as Hayes and the best counter-puncher in the division. Odds were in Whittaker's favor 9:1. Hayes only hoped he would be around long enough to see the day when it came.

While Marvin worked on the heavybag, the gym's proprietor of 25 years--Archie "Uncle Red" Gaines, a creole man and New Orleans native who, for as long as Marvin could remember, had no variance in fashion and often dressed in soft tan silk shirts and sharply pressed slacks, watched his third pupil work on the bag from afar. Uncle Red, who was blind in one eye, felt it a good time to antagonize the first champion his small gym ever had. Unaware of Archie's approach, Marvin continued hammering the side of the bag at different angles and he threw each new punch while acquiring a new position whenever he loaded up to spring the hook into the bag. The heavybag's chain rattled with a persistent iambic beat in tune with the sequence of Hayes' punches.

Archie made his approach and sauntered to the back of the bag where his wrinkled hands held each side of the bag as Marvin hit it.

"Mo' smack in that thang, babeh", Archie rifled off in hard Louisiana drawl.
"I can't go no harder, Red! All'ese workouts killin' me!" Hayes retorted.
"I used to wrassle big ass thuteen foot alligatas, you gon' sit up in my yell'ass face an' tell me you can't punch a muhfuckin' heavybag wit' a li'l mo' pop? Soun' like ya bullshittin', nigga." Red doused Hayes' rebellious flame.

Marvin gave one final heave into the bag's side, enough power to snap the entire heavybag from its hanged position. Both Hayes and Gaines went eyes wide! Either Uncle Red's stringent training regimen was beginning to pay off, or the strange tingling in his body was indicative of something else. It was probably the former.

"Well gahtdammit boy, y'un got a good ole thang neh", one could feel pride's pulse against Red's golden-yellow teeth. Marin stroked sweat from his forehead. His hands were still fitted with white tape, his hoodie soaked in sweat.

"Think I'm gon' hit the showers and get on up outta here, Unc'."
"You be safe out deh, bo'" Red's reply was riddled with worry, though he seldom expressed such a feeling. He was a man of a different time, where a man had to handle his problems with stoic silence and closed fists.


Marvin left the gym, drenched hoodie and all and headed to a hole-in-the-wall diner. Luckily, not many people frequented this old and rugged retro diner much anymore. It was the perfect place for a mild celebrity like Hayes to eat and relax.

Until the black vans pulled up outside.
*rubs hands together* hehhehehehehehhheh.
You all have no idea what I've got planned for your characters clearly. Mwahaha...


I think my son Oshea has already had enough torture, si? Si, si, si, si.
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