@LadyRunic - seems reasonable. But he is nothing if not good at making a comeback. Guess he will have to take on the little kitty... (cracks knuckles) Let's do this! Unless Charles or one of the staff interferes... let's hope not.
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@LadyRunic - So mean... but I guess he deserves it according to her understanding. As for weakness... I thought animals, especially cats have very good senses when it comes to the invisible forces of the world - electromagnetic, spectroscopic, and even potentially Gravitational forces. I must have been mistaken because even with that light display she must have noticed that he is - if not powerful, not weak at least.
@pyroman - I hope the other people don't hate poor Christopher. He does not mean it!!!
@Master Crim @bluetommy2
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Before the other could answer his question - Malacoda could feel a slight vibration from his breast pocket. He looked down, his brows raising while two small frown lines formed next to his mouth, making the grimace all the more pronounced. He held up a hand, politely showing that he needed a moment, before he took out the phone, opening the message with an elegant tap of his finger. Few people called him ever... and even less now that the few people he almost liked seemingly up and went.
A secret auction... Chris rarely sent him messages, and when he did - he made sure to include a list of items he thought Malacoda would be interested in. The location seemed off as well - He closed his eyes and tried to recall the coordinates. They were not in any major city currently holding anything he might want. To say his interest was peaked was a bit of an understatement.
"While I would love to stay and chat - it seems that..." He felt an irregular pattern cross the threshold of his home. One would normally associate this with a... scrambling device? His head quickly flicked to the radio in the corner of the room, and with a flick of his wrist the thing went on.
"..................Penitentiary: Killers, thieves, and general scum. Here is the game... There are bombs in all three areas, and each one will go up in flames in... 1 hour. Complete this game, and we will talk again soon, don't and... that will be your problem.........."
His still outstretched hand pointed at the radio, and twirled in a counter clockwise direction - a gravely sound was heard before - "..................These areas symbolize three very different aspects of our society. Uptown Central: Wealth, influence, and business. Midtown West: Criminal shadow fronts, mobs, and gangs. Pe.........."
He snapped his fingers again and the radio went quiet. He looked at the cloth wrapped man, as he put his phone back into his breast pocket. Before he could go to that, he needed to calm this shitstorm before it broke. "I have a bit of a treasure hunt to go on... care to come along?" With his left hand he snapped his fingers and his umbrella flew over. with his right he snapped and a small onyx dog statue flew over from one of his shelves - quickly turning into a very large, pitch black Great Dane - which walked over and sat next to Malacoda. Still looking at the seated man, he twirled his umbrella and a portal opened Uptown. If he was going to save anyone, he was going to start with the people worth saving. He reasoned that the people in the more criminal areas would make their own investigations anyway.
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Dr. Malacoda Zatanna
Malacoda Penthouse. Gotham
Before the other could answer his question - Malacoda could feel a slight vibration from his breast pocket. He looked down, his brows raising while two small frown lines formed next to his mouth, making the grimace all the more pronounced. He held up a hand, politely showing that he needed a moment, before he took out the phone, opening the message with an elegant tap of his finger. Few people called him ever... and even less now that the few people he almost liked seemingly up and went.
A secret auction... Chris rarely sent him messages, and when he did - he made sure to include a list of items he thought Malacoda would be interested in. The location seemed off as well - He closed his eyes and tried to recall the coordinates. They were not in any major city currently holding anything he might want. To say his interest was peaked was a bit of an understatement.
"While I would love to stay and chat - it seems that..." He felt an irregular pattern cross the threshold of his home. One would normally associate this with a... scrambling device? His head quickly flicked to the radio in the corner of the room, and with a flick of his wrist the thing went on.
"..................Penitentiary: Killers, thieves, and general scum. Here is the game... There are bombs in all three areas, and each one will go up in flames in... 1 hour. Complete this game, and we will talk again soon, don't and... that will be your problem.........."
His still outstretched hand pointed at the radio, and twirled in a counter clockwise direction - a gravely sound was heard before - "..................These areas symbolize three very different aspects of our society. Uptown Central: Wealth, influence, and business. Midtown West: Criminal shadow fronts, mobs, and gangs. Pe.........."
He snapped his fingers again and the radio went quiet. He looked at the cloth wrapped man, as he put his phone back into his breast pocket. Before he could go to that, he needed to calm this shitstorm before it broke. "I have a bit of a treasure hunt to go on... care to come along?" With his left hand he snapped his fingers and his umbrella flew over. with his right he snapped and a small onyx dog statue flew over from one of his shelves - quickly turning into a very large, pitch black Great Dane - which walked over and sat next to Malacoda. Still looking at the seated man, he twirled his umbrella and a portal opened Uptown. If he was going to save anyone, he was going to start with the people worth saving. He reasoned that the people in the more criminal areas would make their own investigations anyway.
@GrizzTheMauler@LadyRunic@rocketrobie2
Christopher Harris
Christopher's eyes flew to the young man in front of him - seeing the other's concern and offer at help. Immediately, almost as if it were real - he felt a wack across the back of his head, and he could hear his older brother's voice in his head - 'pull yourself together, retard! If you are going to be pathetic, do so when you are alone!'. He could feel the sneer grow on his face, as he looked the other in the eye.
"No thank you (he took a deep breath, and began lowering to the ground) I don't need you help. A slight over reaction at best." As he said that he touched down on the ground and straightened his tie.
Looking at the others in the room, his mind raced - years of maintaining image taking over. Step one - if humiliated, direct focus towards others and point out their flaws so as to distract from your own. Grandmother was always to generous with her advice. He could feel the sneer finally forming entirely, and being joined by a disapproving scowl.
"This had better not be something that happens often. I was assured this would be a quality establishment, and I shan't humor pests... or the fleas they carry." He lifted his nose and pointed his chin in the Tiger's direction. "furthermore, I was told this room was only for two people - and while I do have to share with one, I demand a modicum of privacy - and thus would not want the rabble (He turned his gaze to the man who teleported into the room, clearly what his parents would consider an undesirable) barging in without due notice!"
As he said all of this, he could feel the nails of his fingers digging into his palms, desperately trying to keep the trained responses at bay. The effort at trying to remove his continued scowl had him clenching his teeth, probably making him look even angrier.
Christopher Harris
Christopher's eyes flew to the young man in front of him - seeing the other's concern and offer at help. Immediately, almost as if it were real - he felt a wack across the back of his head, and he could hear his older brother's voice in his head - 'pull yourself together, retard! If you are going to be pathetic, do so when you are alone!'. He could feel the sneer grow on his face, as he looked the other in the eye.
"No thank you (he took a deep breath, and began lowering to the ground) I don't need you help. A slight over reaction at best." As he said that he touched down on the ground and straightened his tie.
Looking at the others in the room, his mind raced - years of maintaining image taking over. Step one - if humiliated, direct focus towards others and point out their flaws so as to distract from your own. Grandmother was always to generous with her advice. He could feel the sneer finally forming entirely, and being joined by a disapproving scowl.
"This had better not be something that happens often. I was assured this would be a quality establishment, and I shan't humor pests... or the fleas they carry." He lifted his nose and pointed his chin in the Tiger's direction. "furthermore, I was told this room was only for two people - and while I do have to share with one, I demand a modicum of privacy - and thus would not want the rabble (He turned his gaze to the man who teleported into the room, clearly what his parents would consider an undesirable) barging in without due notice!"
As he said all of this, he could feel the nails of his fingers digging into his palms, desperately trying to keep the trained responses at bay. The effort at trying to remove his continued scowl had him clenching his teeth, probably making him look even angrier.
@burning kitty - Awe damn... Malacoda is not very good with necromancy, so he will not be able to resurrect them for the cyborg. He is rather good at therapy though - and formatting if that does not help 
@GrizzTheMauler - of all the people who I assumed to intervene - I did not expect it to be your character. In the description he does not seem the concerned type. - PS: What is he doing in the room? We are in his and Hive's room at the moment. Is this like a general gathering place for most students?
@rocketrobie2 @LadyRunic
Christopher Harris
Christopher had been about to answer his roommate when he heard the growl from behind him. Almost instinctively he jumped into the air - re-orienting himself so that the wall furthest away from the sound behind him became the direction he was gravitating towards. Now, almost against the roof, and horizontal to the ground, he looked down where he saw the beast which had entered the room. His head flicked towards the other boy, but he found that he was very much paralyzed with fear.
Behind his wide, panicked eyes memories from when he was younger flooded back over his consciousness - for his fifteenth birthday - his father taking him to a game reserve... being given a gun. Being directed towards a lion. Not wanting to shoot it, where it lay in a drug induced haze. His father insisting that it was tradition in their family. The rangers taunting and aggravating the animal until it started running towards him. His father screaming at him to shoot it. His father's proud smile as he washed blood off of his hands later that afternoon...
The objects in the room began to vibrate, and some of the lighter things began floating upwards, the smallest making small orbits around the larger ones. His eyes never left the beast, and his mind kept screaming - this is not a lion, this is not a lion, this is not a lion... but the panic and short breaths he took did not seem to allow him to clear his brain enough for him to consider that this was school full of mutants and that one of them might be able to turn into animals.
Christopher Harris
Christopher had been about to answer his roommate when he heard the growl from behind him. Almost instinctively he jumped into the air - re-orienting himself so that the wall furthest away from the sound behind him became the direction he was gravitating towards. Now, almost against the roof, and horizontal to the ground, he looked down where he saw the beast which had entered the room. His head flicked towards the other boy, but he found that he was very much paralyzed with fear.
Behind his wide, panicked eyes memories from when he was younger flooded back over his consciousness - for his fifteenth birthday - his father taking him to a game reserve... being given a gun. Being directed towards a lion. Not wanting to shoot it, where it lay in a drug induced haze. His father insisting that it was tradition in their family. The rangers taunting and aggravating the animal until it started running towards him. His father screaming at him to shoot it. His father's proud smile as he washed blood off of his hands later that afternoon...
The objects in the room began to vibrate, and some of the lighter things began floating upwards, the smallest making small orbits around the larger ones. His eyes never left the beast, and his mind kept screaming - this is not a lion, this is not a lion, this is not a lion... but the panic and short breaths he took did not seem to allow him to clear his brain enough for him to consider that this was school full of mutants and that one of them might be able to turn into animals.
@LadyRunic - IF she gets hair on Christopher's blazer she will however have to take a time out while in low orbit...
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