Fallenreaper

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

@Fallenreaper I just would have thought that something called the Agency which oversees the protection of Supernaturals and Meta Human containment would have numerous ways of controlling the media and events.

Anything from Mind Control, to realistic Illusions and Mind Wipes to just body doubles and Press and Police in their pockets. I would think that Ben's parents wouldn't have known anything was wrong, that Ben even left the party due to people casting spells or just re-writing memories.

Just random thoughts. They seem like the MIB so far of the CAH universe.

@VATROU

To be honest, some times the simplest methods are the best. In this case, it was.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

<Snipped quote by Fallenreaper>

That is true. I just kinda expected something a bit more sly I guess. Maybe a few lost hours where the parents forgot, or where they just assumed where Ben was without any actual proof. I mean they've probably been doing this whole misdirection and manipulation thing for a good while.

@VATROU

To be fair, the only one that would care where Ben is would be his step mother and not because she loves him either.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

<Snipped quote by Fallenreaper>
That's kinda anticlimactic. Well at least Ben didn't have to deal with his Evil Step Mother for a night.

@VATROU

Not every piece in a story needs to be climatic really. If every part was, the heroes would lose their minds and beside a missing DA kid would result in way too much media for them to control even over a simple dog bite.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

I wonder what the Agency told Ben's Parents. "Oh. He was attacked by a wild dog. Don't worry we have him in a secret underground Hospital. Totally normal." That last part was.a guess, but well I guess I'll find out.

@VATROU

There's actually a shapeshifter agent playing Ben at home, namely as far as they know is Ben took off and went home early without telling them. Which isn't unusual but he'll pay for that later.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

@Shard: Hope you don't mind me having Angelo coming in at a primary moment for interaction. :p

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

_{Location: NYC, Agency
Time of Day: Morning Next Day}

---

Within the alleyway.

Ben found it hard to focus. With each passing moment, his mind slipped in and out of consciousness as the fight continued within the alley. Everything seemed surreal when the wolf started to bounce off the walls to maneuver around the tight space and lash back at the man around his age, carrying a fucking sword of all things. Suddenly two adults turned up in a jeep to join the mayhem, the hispanic woman (at least he thought) pulled a deadly looking and pop the wolf in a obvious head shot. It should’ve killed him, but it didn’t. The wolf merely shook his head then snarled in frustration, his figure darted forward and over them.

He didn’t like this sensation of weakness as the virus rampaged and worked its hell on his systems. His vision became double almost immediately after Casper arrived causing the teenager to sway. Sweat started to bead across his pale skin and energy seemed to vanish from his body, his suit literally stuck to his very surface like a second skin. Pins and needles shot up his limbs, collected mainly at his joints and tendons, with each movement causing a new flare of pain. His muscles became jello, too flimsy to work correctly. He tried to move only to have the world start to spin and create instant nauseous, followed by a sourness that spoiled and stung the back of his throat.

His arm jerked out to press against the wall and to aid his warped sense of balance. No success. Ben knew he was going down no matter what and it pissed him off, his fingers curled and dug deeper into the brick wall. His head tilted upright to see Casper’s sword when it penetrated the wolf’s abdomen. The sensation of wetness and warmth dotted his face. He gradually realized it was the wolf’s blood as his free hand reached up to touch it, trembling at the fact for reasons he didn’t understand. There was a brief wave of hurt which melted into fury at the end result.

Just before Ben hit the ground, his upper lip raised in a soft growl at Casper. His shoulder impacted upon the alley floor as the filth and wetness seeped into his clothes, the boy’s feverish body prevented him from feeling the cold. His breathing was harsh with each inhale while black crept along his vision’s edges drawing in fear at what was happening to him. Finally.. darkness swallowed him completely.

Morning the Next Day

Ben’s eyes snapped wide open.

Cold sweat drenched his pale skin and aches settled in his joints, the only evidence of the virus that had ravished his system most the night. For several moments he didn’t move. Where am I? Ben thought through the confusing haze, his eyes squinted through the harsh light over head and raised a hand to shield himself from it. The scene back in the alley flickered in and out in his mind, like a fiction movie taped by an amateur. Gradually, he started to recall the last thing that happened before the present in pieces. An alleyway, a large dog of sort… then blood, pain and more as it started to come together, his adrenaline beginning to override the grogginess in his head.

Immediately his eyes flickered to his shoulder and expected to see it all bundled up in padding and gauze. Surprisingly, there was nothing wrong with it. Ben blinked and then stared harder at his intact shoulder. He tested his shoulder, studying each movement he put it through. He rotating it forward then back and finally reached his other hand to tenderly poke the area. His gut stirred uneasily about the experience and he recalled everything so vividly that was impossible to have been merely a nightmare. The boy was starting to wonder if he was losing his grip on reality, his eyes turned to examine the room itself instead for a distraction over the thought.

It was the worst place possible in his opinion worst. Of all places, why did he end up in a hospital room when he clearly wasn’t injured? It didn’t make sense in the least to him. It didn’t help that the memories of his mother lying in a comatose state, helpless and immobile, surfaced into his attention. His still queasy stomach started to flip backwards several times, enough of a reason for him to decide to get the hell away from this place. Benjamin turned to flip over the edge only to clash with the metal, guard bar blocking his way. Annoyance crossed his facial features as he tried another tactic.

He used the railing to pull himself upright and then removed the heart monitor from his finger, next came the wiring tapped to his chest. Shortly they all, alongside with the sheets, were tossed upon the floor in a hasty pile. The machine made a loud blare, likely alerting the nurses to something having gone wrong. Not the wisest action on his part, but Ben didn’t care. He wanted to get away from this room as fast as possible.

He managed to reach the edge, his right foot edged forward and touched the sole to it. A chill from the tile reached him and felt pleasant to him causing the boy to press more weight into the attempt to stand. At seeing his leg remain upright, he tossed caution to the wind and brought his other foot to the ground. It was a mistake as the moment he did, his legs gave out from under him. Ben smacked heavily into the hard floor when his knees folded up causing his hands to jerk out in front of him and save his face from impacting.

Inhaling, Ben’s ears caught the sounds of someone opening the door then enter the room. His heart seemed to have frozen in place thanks to the sense of dread as his head turned to see a young boy around his age walk casually in, his arms holding more casual clothes. It suddenly made Ben very aware he was draped in nothing but a hospital gown and his boxers.

⊰Manifest Anima: Planes Divided⊱

My character sheet for Rico (leader of the P.S.F. minor villains) has been submitted.

Soon.

Soon all of you will feel his hate, and suffer... as he has suffered.

@Rumplestiltskin

Best I got.

⊰Manifest Anima: Planes Divided⊱

இ ℭ h a r l e s Λ e o n இ

_{~ Ominar’s St. Katherine’s Sanitarium for the Mentally Ill~}

---

“…..But love is blind, and lovers cannot see what petty follies they themselves commit.”
William Shakespeare

---

The rain began to sprinkle just when he arrived. Here, within Ominar, it wouldn’t stay like that for long so he wasted little time. Charles mumbled a few words as metallic colored wings erupted from his back then raised upward, folding over his head to shield him from the weather’s abrupt change. The drops grew in volume and pelted his molded Vis. Each one slid back to the black asphalt and started to form puddles around him while he stood there. Silently he admired the towering structure before him. His head lifted to stare into the giant of stone, brick and wood standing there and expected him to enter. Dared him almost with those empty windows staring back at him.

His expression became more grim than before as his hands lifted to prop up his jacket’s collar closer to his neck, mentally pushing away the chill bleeding into his figure and drove him to enter the institution. His shoes thumped hard against the stone steps, retracing the same path for years now, and his hand glided to the door just within reach. Charles gave it a sharp twist then pushed inward. The door didn’t move. His eyes narrowed in irritation as the frame stuck fast, the wood swollen by the moisture saturating the air causing his frown to deepen. He jiggled the knob roughly to get it to loosen, but he had little luck in his attempt. The rusty hinges merely screeched their protest for several moments and after a bit, finally gave in.

The door swung widened open without warning.

The immortal flinched at the loud bang echoing throughout the empty corridors and quickly he stepped inside. Wet impressions of his shoes settled on the marble floor while he edged deeper, his mouth mumbled a soft word. In the same breath, the metallic wings sucked back into his figure and vanished from sight after being dispelled. Thunder boomed behind him causing Charles to tilt his head backwards where he caught the flash of lightning as the streak split across the darken skies. The brighter light drenched his figure in a misshapen shadow for an instant.

Charles’ hand reached for the door then gradually shut it behind him. He didn’t flinch when it it closed this time and instead started to walk forward. The first thing he noticed was the remodeled scene. He realized it was due to the Prae’s occupation that these changes had been accomplished at all. He had been pouring funds and pleading with Ominar’s city council to fix up the place as it was deteriorating at its very foundation. This threatened the very residence’s who were deemed too mentally ill to exist outside these crumbling walls.

Nothing had happened. They ignored him, like usual, until their city’s control had been seized and changes finally made. His mind was slightly amused at the realization that for any changes to been made, it took the city's freedom away.

He let his mind idle as he walked. The scenes distracting his focus when his memory started to overlap the present with the past. Charles’ mind went into automatic while he edged deeper into the sanatorium, each step a familiar repeat of muscle memory. The present shimmered into the past within a blink of an eye. The comfortable looking chairs became long, cushion less benches along the wall. The paper covering the corridor peeled down to the brick underneath. Sickly, thin looking patients were seated on the few benches left outside. Men and women curled in upright balls. Every single face looked hollowed out, skull like, and eyes were glossed over thanks to the several pills forced down their throats daily.

The past was nothing more than a horror filled recount of mankind's cruelty and neglect over those who didn't belong in 'proper' society. It wasn't the first time in history this behavior repeated either. Shaking off the reminiscing, he came to a stop right at the receptionist’s desk.

Additional differences didn’t limited themselves to the building only, but included the staff too. His last visit he was greeted by a white, plump woman in her early forties with a kindly temperament. Now sitting at the desk, a young woman looked rather sour at having her work interrupted. Her dark skin, bright purple lips with a few layers of makeup and bouncy, tightly curled black hair were cut above the shoulders and the most remember-able features on her person for Charles. He noted them, then tuck the associated traits away in his memory so he could identify her later.

The woman paused in her typing, her right arm shifted upright to support her chin. Arching her eyebrow in question, her eyes stared at him for a few moments and appeared to be wondering why he was here. Skeptical that he was actually just visiting one of the patients, she jumped to the possibility he was going to make trouble. Charles couldn’t fault her for it since he barely looked a day over sixteen and it wouldn’t have been the first time a teenager had tried to pass themselves off as him.

Promptly, he reached in his back pocket and retracted a worn, leather wallet. He fingered through it until he came to his identification card and finally handed it over to the woman to prove his next words. Cautiously taking it, she read it carefully and checked for clear signs of it being a forgery.

Not lingering on his anxiety, Charles spoke in a mature manner. “I’m here to see a Ms. Lilith.”

Her next words surprised him a bit when she smiled. Her hand placed his identification down for a moment and tilted her head, raising from her seat to get a better look at him over the desk. Something appeared to have clicked for her because her tone changed into something much more gentle.

“Damn… Mariam told me you were young, but I wasn’t expecting you to be an immortal teenager, Mr. Aeon.” The woman stated.

Her other hand gestured to his whole figure as if he had put it on display before her. He could hear her teeth blowing a bubble inside her mouth then snap it abruptly with a notable pop, chewing it loudly for another bubble. She didn’t waste anymore time. The receptionist shifted her eyes and hands back to her computer. Her fingers began to click away and brought up the visitor’s form, making one final tap upon the enter key in order to send it to the head office. In the background, a printer beeped. It began to print out a form slowly while she returned her attention to him and introduced herself.

“Name’s Claire Reagan as you might’ve noticed on the name tag, Sir.” Her hand raised a scanner’s lid, then set his identification card easily inside and snapped it shut. A light shone through the crack and it made a dull hum, fully analyzing it in a 3-D fashion. When it finished, she retracted the ID to hit a few keys on the computer causing the machine to create a temporary pass. She spoke while she worked. “Now, hun, I’m using your ID to create a temporary visitor’s pass for the day. When you head out the front doors, which I might add is the only exit, then the pass will be void. This requires you to come back here and fill out a new form before I can repeat the process. It also is standard procedure you pay a fee of 15 pounds for the second pass or you can extend the original by paying about 20 pounds per day up to 3.”

The receptionist placed the card in her lap and rolled back over to the printer. She snatch up the paper, clipped it on a clipboard with his ID card and finally slid back. She passed it over for him to fill out. It included a cheap, office pen wedged in there as well. Charles took the items into his hand and turned on heel, walking back to the nearest chair. His figure sank into the leather while he filled the form out in silence. The only sounds within the office was the sounds of the receptionist typing and the scratches of his pen against the paper. Occasionally joined by the sound of gum being popped.

Charles didn’t take long to wrap up his task then rose to deliver the form to the woman. Claire nodded and filed it away, pausing with a curious expression washing over her face. Her head turned toward him and seemed to study him before asking the question surfacing on her thoughts. “If you don’t mind me asking, but why do you come here every week?”

The immortal sighed and answered. “I made a promise.”

“Why put yourself through that? I mean, most people that come here aren't ever the same as they were in the past. ”

“Love is blind… in this case, it’s very true.”

“Oh, that’s sweet.” She commented then continued, reading the form’s information. “I must warn you, sir, she’s been reported as having episodes of violence lately and growing extreme with every passing week. There’s going to be two specialized nurses on standby to monitor the situation and the door is not allowed to be closed.”

The woman pulled out a laminated card from the same scanner. However, she didn’t hand it off until she knew Charles understood the reason he was forced to fill out a form every time.

“You’ve read the full conditions and disclosures about injury regarding visits?”

“Yes. I’ve been reading them for over a few years now, weekly. I appreciate the concern and worry.” Charles answered, hanging his pass around his neck after he took it from her.

“Very good, here’s your card. Now, do you need directions?”

“No, but thank you for the offer. What room is she in?”

“Recovery ward, number 16.” Claire said, her hand reaching into a desk for a paper map then pointed the route out to him.

After checking his understanding a few times, he took the map and again thanked her for her assistance. Charles paused long enough to ask if he could take the map with him. The woman smiled and nodded. She then added one last statement before he managed to get out of earshot. “Try not to upset her, hun. She sent one of our warders into a coma after an episode and demolished her room, so she was moved up a few floors.”

“I shall, Mrs. Reagan. Through pain is no stranger to me,” Charles stated in a calm, unconcerned tone then he vanished from sight into the stairwell.

Charles’ legs ached slightly on his way up, the stairs climb almost endless while he began to dwell on the last time they had seen each other. Only a week had passed but the rapid thumping of his heart and nervousness tingled throughout his system, building apprehension over the upcoming event. His stomach was flipping over itself before he even started. These symptoms seemed to scream that it had been nearly a lifetime. Charles found it amusing how time, despite how jaded he had become, still held her manipulative sway over him.

He wondered if it had more to do with human nature than with the many years he had lived. If that was the cause, some things might never change. The thought was a soothing one at best and gave him a sense of belonging with the rest of mankind. His feet continued the climb until it was no longer necessary.

Charles’ breath stalled when he took that final step, his figure paused on the landing. The door seemed to stare him down and bar his journey for a moment. He second guessed his wisdom in visiting her again. Was it right of him to put her through this pain even for a promise? The question stayed on his mind as he gripped the door, then entered into the lengthy hallway and walked toward the room labeled 16.

Two nurses, males and thickly built, eyed him suspiciously when he approached them. Instinctively he gripped his visitor’s badge and held it outright. Mostly to show them he was allowed to be here. The blond on the right stepped forward then took the badge, the other man peered at him with a cynical look and seemed to expect a dirty little trick. Satisfied, the blond handed the badge back allowing Charles to pocket it. The nurse stepped aside to allow the immortal through. Charles inhaled, still uneased at the situation about to come, while he heard them unlock the door and he walked into the room.

It creaked loudly as if to warn the inhabitant of his coming. The room was completely dark. No shred of light present, either to give him comfort or aid him in locating Lilith. It didn’t take a genius to know this was a dangerous situation, his right foot lead the way deeper into the room while his eyes flickered from one dark corner to the next. She was in here. He could easily conclude this because the hall’s bright light illuminated the door paneling, revealing fresh scratches with blood lacing the grooves. It was as if someone had tried to claw their way out and escape. His shoes creaked along the wooden floor, his weight pushed the boards down and caused them to protest. The sense of being watched raced along his flesh. Goosebumps raised along his skin, made his calm start to stretch thinly with his eyes still rapidly seeking the source in a fruitless search. He forced the door wider.

“Lilith… I know you’re here. It’s Charles Aeon. You remember me, don’t you?”

A rustling sound occurred above him and drew his head upward. Someone moved in the raptors above, the room actually a remodeled attic, when a voice whispered a single word.

“Murder…”

The door clicked shut with a loud snap! Charles eyes widened in surprise, his standing figure now suddenly pinned against the door back. He could hear the nurses shout and try to kick in the door, their concerns muffled by the wood and became background noise in their struggle to get inside. The immortal’s mind had trouble putting together what happened. One moment he was standing, calling out to Lilith then he was abruptly tossed into a close door. At first, the shock of what happened had numbed the pain. Still, he had the sensation of something buried deeply just under his shoulder.

A warm and wet liquid spread from his jacket. It followed the crinkles and grooves then dripped down to the ground. When the first drop hit, it became the loudest. It was followed by another.

The pain kicked in at last around the third drop. The agony seared through his nerves and caused Charles’ awareness to jerk himself back into awareness. Even being immune to death, his basic instincts never failed to react to both injury and fear in the most humanly way possible. No amount of time could change that.

Gingerly, his opposite arm raised to his shoulder. He touched and briefly examined it, feeling something sticking out from the wound’s opening. He hissed whenever he jarred it in the slightest causing him to tilt his head downward. He spied the narrow, wooden and bloody table leg sticking out about an inch from his shoulder joint. It angled into his ribs and, he suspected, broke one or two from how deeply it went.

Charles knew pulling the chunk of wood out now would cause more damage than doing himself any good. He made the decision to leave it as he forced his feet to move, his back started to peel off the surface he was pinned to. He left bloodied footprints behind him with his progression toward his target. The Prae merely stood there. Either she had forgotten him or was locked in a memory, which one Charles couldn’t fully be sure of. Namely as she kept mumbling over and over.

“Murder. . . killed him. H-how could you? I trusted… Murder… filthy murder!”

Charles could still hear the nurses struggling with the door, their fists pounding and bodies slamming against it. His eyes shifted behind him and noted the frame was unnaturally swollen, his mind suspected Lilith had infused it with her Vis. It made sense since she had had plenty of time.

His attention returned to Lilith. A dim, creamy light poured into the scene and illuminated both their conditions. Her feminine silhouette stood nearby and shrouded by the poor lighting within the room. Charles eyes quickly adjusted and saw the details shortly afterwards.

It was obvious she was mentally disturbed. Any fool could easily see that by looking at her.

She swayed in place, her toes balled with each movement she created. Her fingers were covered with an off color, his first guess was blood, from where she had likely clawed the door over and over. His imagination adding her screams to be let out alongside the mental picture. The strait jacket restraints dangled from her too thin frame showing how neglective her nurses had been with her care. Her long locks cascaded down her milky colored skin and covered the pretty blue eyes he recalled lied behind the wild curtain of red. The arms were spotted with vivid bruises, both new and old, clearly seen even by the faint light.

Each new discovery stabbed into Charles’ heart, evidence she had suffered such longanimity, and added to his shame. He started to approach her. He had to stop her from hurting herself anymore and perhaps calm the rage he created, his voice trying to reach her broken mind. His eyes softened while his hand reached to brush her hair from her eyes when he came within range.

“Please… Lilith, don’t do this. You’re hurt. You need help, let me-”

“Get… stay away. . . MONSTER! Murder!” Lilith started to scream, her volume carried in the small room. Her hand rose before him causing Charles’ step to halt from fear at what she was about to do.

The table leg within his side started to jiggle and shake, then shoved forward. Charles grunted in surprise as his head lowered, his eyes spied the source instantly. His teeth gritted when his opposite arm seized the end in hopes to delay her attempt to ‘kill’ him. She clearly either forgot his immortality or just wanted to create the most pain possible on him.

Gasping, Charles tried to reason with her again. “Lilith, please. Stop this… it hurts. I don’t… I don’t want to hurt you.”

“...Liar… killed my ward! I trusted … Never again!”

It began to become clear, finally, to him that Lilith would never listen to his pleads. She was lost, confused and locked in the past to hear him as she reacted on the echoes of memories years ago. Her eyes glossed over in a furious fog when she tightened her fist and tried harder to shove the table leg farther into him. The realization she wanted to inflict agony on him hurt more than the actual pain in Charles' mind. He had no choice now because if she damaged herself or killed someone, the Prae’s attention would be drawn. They would lock her away within a prism and he would never see her again. This was something he wouldn’t allow to happen.

Charles let a familiar numbness settle inside him. For a moment or two, his heart fluttering in pain and panic at his actions. It feared he would never release the emotion he was locking away as his eyes lowered, hidden from Lilith’s sight. His grip on the wood loosened, now soaked with blood. At last, his whole figure went slack but remained upright.

Lilith stared and stood there, the manipulation of the table leg ceased when she started to walk over. Her balance wobbled and her legs appeared ready to give out from under her at any moment. She paused inches facing him and examined his all too still form. He was saying something.

A snarl and teeth sank into her legs giving her a start, Lilith’s head whirled about to attack what she thought was something humanoid behind her. The mentally unstable Prae never got the chance o when two, large wings sprouted from Charles back and slammed into the back of her head full force.

Lilith’s figure crumbled, caught by his arm before she hit the floor and prevented any more damage. Two large hound like golems stood in wait before he dismissed them.

The nurses managed to enter through the door, Lilith’s control over it now gone with her consciousness. Both stood there in stun silence over the scene that greeted them. Charles could feel the weakness settling into his very muscles and moved to set her upon the untouched bed hidden in the corner. One of the men came forward to take her from him causing Charles’ wing to twitch defensively, reading to beat the man senseless for the thought. His eyes glared hard in warning as he stopped in place.

“Stay where you’re at, I think you’ve done enough damage with your treatment methods.” The immortal spat in rarely shown anger.

His words reflected his venomous mood and were spoken loud enough to ensure either man couldn’t ignore it. They looked at him, worry and fear etched across their faces. It only increased his contempt toward them. Charles didn’t bother being courteous or patient, not after what he noted on Lilith’s very skin, and resumed to gently place the Prae upon the bed. His hand tenderly checked her head for the damage he had caused with his stunt. There was a vivid, purple bruise staining the back of her head. The sight would usually sprout guilt within his core but he stopped it, fearing his temper would get the better of him. Last thing he needed to do was unleash it upon the very source of his ire.

Neither one of the fools would live to see the next dawn... He didn't have time or energy to cover up the murders at this present moment. Charles was honestly surprised he was even able to stand now.

After covering Lilith up with the thin sheet, Charles turned toward the two nurses. His lips tightened in a frown as he began to move toward the door, his wings curled and sucked back into his form. He muttered another word and this time two metallic arms appeared in place of his wings, their base sprouted from his back. They reached for the table leg still stuck in his side. Inhaling deeply, Charles braced for the painful experience to come. The new limbs struggled a bit at first to remove it. They moved and jarred the object, causing his expression to twist in obvious discomfort then faded into relief when it was finally jerked out. He looked at the damage. It was much worst than he originally assumed, his skin already becoming pale from the blood loss. More blood dribbled heavily down his shirt and coat in rivulets, gradually tainted it redder as he let object drop.

The hollowed thump was soon followed by his words. “If you ever want to work in this career ever again then resign your positions at this sanatorium and never return. If I find you here… for each bruise you put on her again, one almost identical will show up on you at the day's end until you do resign.”

Letting those words linger in the air, Charles decided to briefly stop at the infirmary on the way home. He needed to be patched up and afterwards, he intended to drown away his turmoil of emotions boiling under the surface. The effort it took to keep them locked up was exhausting, showing he had to actually focus and force them from clouding his mind. Something that wasn’t like that until recent centuries and displayed how far he had developed since his toxic up bring. Sadly, now it was more a burden than it had brought him any good.

Mass Effect: Borealis

<Snipped quote by Fallenreaper>

Lemme know when you're ready for part three.

@Zombiedude101

No problem, give me a day or two unless someone else wants to start that. Than I would be grateful.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

and

Arcadian Jones

_{(( @VATROU @Shard @AbandonedIntel))}

---

There was a throbbing pain, as the wound swelled to stop the bleeding the warmth leaving his body through the gaping wound on his back. He would heal that was certain although what mortal side the wolf had in him was terrified, desperate even stealing from his boss seemed such a good idea at the time, fool proof even. There were stories floating about Barron, violent ones. Arcadian Jones didn't heed the warning signs, like a blasted idiot he believed he could make away scott free with Barron's money; that just put a target on his back from one end of the states to the other. Fatigued; no rest, no food his mind whitered away starved and psychology tormented from the unrelenting hunters. The beast within had nothing left to cage it, no mortal mind left save a base identity.

The Wolf's claws clipped asphalt heavy panting filled the air as the hunter was hot on his heels.

”Even wounded, he manages impressive speed.”

Raziel commented on the chase, his words directed at the werewolf they were getting closer to. Even in human form, werewolves had a few interesting perks putting them above the mundane, but this chase could only end one way. The wolf was bleeding, the pain echoing through his frame with each step. Fatigue would claim him sooner rather than later, something the undead were quite immune to. Revealing the fluid movements of a highly trained assassin of the old world, Casper moved like a wind across the streets, easily leaping over the obstacles in his path with a deadest focus on his target.

Almost there, the vampire was catching up with the wolf, just about to end this chapter. Had this werewolf not involved others, innocents, in his mischief, Casper would never have been involved. Whatever happens within the confines of their packs, or whatever organization they roam around is far below Casper’s or the Agency’s interests.

Underestimating your opponent is however a fool’s demise, no matter the high ground beneath your feet. The puppy was smart enough to run into traffic, several cars passing him by. One, two and three cars were avoided by Casper’s agility as he leaped over them and gracefully moved around the rapidly moving vehicle but a fourth incoming car would sing a different tune. With his eyes locked on the target, the world would disappear around Casper, his focus on catching the wolf who was now an arm’s reach away, a mistake.

---

A minute ago, and a few miles down the street, drove an innocuous black Jeep Cherokee, headlights on and driving fast with the rest of the traffic heading out from the NYC suburb districts, heading up north back to Hudson Tactical HQ, which was situated up north in the Hudson Valley. Carmen and Hakeem recently completed a small contract, which was to intimidate two corrupt NYPD detectives to stop extorting local store owners, with or without violence. Carmen and Hakeem went the violent route as the officers never took the two seriously. Just one of those odds and ends you gotta do. And now they were heading back to HQ to turn in a contract and write a report, so they are properly paid and could keep one for the records.

Bass blasted through the interior of the vehicle as Carmen sat driver side and Hakeem riding shotgun. Her stereo was on and playing a song that complemented with the drive in some weird way. However, while she was thoroughly enjoying it, Hakeem was using it as background noise for his thoughts.

"I saw what happened in there just now. You never cease to amaze me." Hakeem said. "You beat someone up with a fucking cookbook. A cookbook." Hakeem looked quite bewildered about it. "... H-how?"

Carmen shrugged. "Simple, used reflex mode and used the book as a weapon. It was hardcovered and heavy so it kinda helped." She said simply. "And don't take any credit away from yourself... I wasn't too careful in there. Had you not disarmed Blondie I probably would've gotten shot."

"Well... gotta protect your... uh... homies, you know?"Hakeem said awkwardly.

Carmen gave him a soft smile. "You don't have to talk like that. Besides, your powers are awesome anyway, you just never had enough time to train them because the countries you lived in are filled with persecuting assholes."

Hakeem sighed. "Yeah, I know..."

"So stop comparing yourself to me, okay? I had plenty of time getting used to my powers and I had plenty opportunities to train. That's unfair for you, hermano. Don't be too hard on yourself, okay? I'll help you out."

Hakeem gave a little bit of a hopeful smile. "Thanks." He said.

"No problem, buddy. Just don't mention that we had this talk, Victor's already on my ass for going soft." Carmen sighed. "Oh well."

Hakeem gave a soft trolling grin. "Maybe you have gone soft." He chuckled before using his bassy boom telekinetic burst power to fling a coin at Carmen's face.

The quarter bounced off of her. "Ow!" She flinched. "Pendejo!" She lightly punched him in the shoulder, which Hakeem laughed at.

"Hahaha! Victor's right, you are a little bitch! Hahahaha!" Hakeem laughed.

"Not funny!" Carmen objected. "Well... maybe it is a little funny, but still..."

"I still would rather not challenge you to a rap battle though, you always kill the shit out of those-"

"SHIT!!" Carmen then interrupted the both of them as the headlights of the Cherokee revealed a smaller figure dressed up in a dark outfit right in front of them. Carmen, entering reflex mode, immediately braked and turned, the Cherokee skidding to a stop, but she felt and heard the *THUMP!* of someone getting it, something she was all too familiar with when fighting in the hood and in Syria. Once the Jeep came to a stop, Carmen immediately looked to Hakeem before unbuckling her seatbelt and rushing out to see what happened, running to the front of the Jeep while Hakeem ran on the other side.

"Casper!" Raziel’s voice echoed through the vampire’s ringing head, the full collision with a moving vehicle having thrown him off his feet.“Casper, are you well?” The voice continued, Raziel’s concern mellowing out once he was certain that the swordsman was still able to move.

"Shit..." Casper clenched his teeth, turning his large red eyes towards the car which had collided with him.

“Yeah, I’m fine…” He responded, wiping the blood from his forehead, his wound now healed due to his vampiric nature. Not another moment would pass however, before his attention jumped back to the wolf he had been chasing. “Damn, I lost sight of him.” Ascending to his feet, Casper dusted himself off, the sword vanishing from his hands as a response to the accident.

“That looked painful.” Raziel shot back, a soft chuckle escaping him.

“Only to my pride.”The vampire finished with a soft sigh, shifting his focus to the individuals who had ran into him. Stopping the car, they left their seats to check on the result of their carelessness. A man and a woman, whereas the male appeared to hail from a similar ethnicity to Casper himself, or rather, Asad, as was his true name.“Great driving, there…” Casper frowned softly, his healthy frame and annoyed rather than terrified nature hinting at something quite obviously supernatural, given the collision.

Carmen stepped towards him. "Shit, I am so sorry about that... are you hurt?" She asked, stepping towards him while Hakeem observed the damage on the Cherokee. Hakeem looked up to Carmen, giving a thumbs up do indicate that there was no damage done to the vehicle and this doesn't have to be spoken of. Carmen nodded to Hakeem before turning back to the vampire. "Listen, I'm sorry, but you shouldn't be running across streets like that... there's no crosswalk here... and you dressed in black in the middle of the night didn't help things either." Carmen sighed. "So if you're gonna file a lawsuit, you got another thing comin'."

“Casper, the wolf.” Raziel reminded, forcing the vampire’s focus back to where it should have remained.

“Oh shit, gotta’ go.” Picking up his pace, Casper darted away at an impossibly fast pace, something akin to the velocity of a speeding car. Celerity, they called it, a vampire’s ability to dart from one location to the other at blinding speed. As it was, Celerity and Vigor, the ability to command supernatural strength, were the two vampiric feats available to a Lamia, but what they lacked in vampiric tricks they made up for in a lack of weaknesses.

Casper had lost sight of his quarry and it could mean disastrous outcomes. A rabid wolf like that would snack at whoever he came across in an attempt to regenerate the wound Casper had left on him. A starved wolf was a dead wolf. ”That puppy isn’t gettin’ away…”

Carmen and Hakeem looked at each other. "What the fuck was that!?" Hakeem shouted, throwing his arm out in the direction Casper ran.

Carmen shook her head. "I don't know, but I do know a potential contract when I see one. C'mon, we're gonna track him down and see what's going on. Get in the jeep."

Hakeem put his hands up. "Alrighty Phoenix. You're the boss." He said begrudgingly. He had no clue what was going on and he kind of wanted to go back to the safehouse and try out the new hot tub Laurent got him as a housewarming gift. When you have mad mercenary money, hot tubs are considered housewarming gifts. Climbing into the passenger side of the Cherokee, he closed the door and buckled up.

Carmen got inside as well, buckling up on the driver's side and starting it up."If this leads us nowhere, I'll take all of the blame."

Hakeem looked to Carmen. "You're the founder and CEO of Hudson Tactical. Who's gonna be yelling at you for following a dead end?"

Carmen thought for a moment. "Yeah... good point. Been used to having a commanding officer since Syria." She chuckled. "Now that I'm in command of this outfit, I say Wagons Ho, hermano!" She grinned, shifting the Cherokee into gear and driving off in the direction that Casper went.

---

Ben wasn't quite ready to deal with his step-mother. His figure leaned heavily against the wall he was hidden behind when his pocket started to vibrate, the movement drew his attention and he reached in for his cell phone. His thumb immediately swiped upward to reveal a single name: Lorrie (the Harlot) Hart. He mentally groaned. His thumb slammed in frustration against the touch screen then turned it off, shoving it into his pocket one more. Ben felt his space again being invaded while he turned down the hall and went deeper into the restaurant's staff area. Several workers, mostly waitresses and waiters, casually gave him a look only to return to minding their own business.

He slipped into the kitchens. Almost instantly his eyes spotted the sights of popping grease, sizzling chunks of meat, and more being prepared for the evening’s charity event. The kitchen was an overactive place with several chefs of different variety shifting between stations or fulfilling their tasks with great determination, bring Ben’s lip into a wicked smile at being somewhere he wasn’t suppose to be. It wasn’t going to last as he knew his step-mother was hot on his trail and would likely drag him back to the party.

Wasting little time, Ben darted through the moving bodies. One or two paused to shout at him but he didn’t pay it any mind, instead he moved deeper and found an exit. His arm pushed across the bar into the cold night air. It washed over him causing the boy to gasp softly in surprise and happy to be free finally, his eyes adjusting to the sudden change in lighting. Sounds of cars blared in the busy street several meters away, their horns rang out in the background and was more accepted than the idle conversation back in the building. The side door clicked shut behind Ben causing him to turn and check it. It jiggled but didn’t come open. He pressed harder and still it held fast to its position, making him realize it was locked.

“Fuck.” Ben mutter low. He gave up shortly after the second try and stepped back into the flickering lamplight, the only light source within the alleyway he was strayed in. His eyes shifted down the alley. He spotted the main street just a small stroll from his location, the flickering lights and moving car shape blurs.

Naturally, he started to move that direction in hopes to get back into the building without Lorrie noticing his absence. He didn’t want to give her an excuse to force him to stay within her eyesight or promptly call the cops over his disappearance. Unfortunately when he drew near, Ben noticed something that was about to give him serious issues. A large, wrought iron gate. It was taller than him and stretched from one building to the other, creating a barrier designed likely to prevent any hobo or thief from treading down here.

Either way, it obstructed his way back to the front much to his irritation.

The sounds of a car screeching was all the beast heard not bothering to look back at it's
pursuers it charged forward looking for that needed meal. For but a moment sweet smells filled the night air, grease coming from some nearby building. And it followed that scent, back through the alleyways and with it's exceptional eyesight there was someone, a boy on the way to a larger meal. He was covered in that sweet scent and before the boy could react the wolf charged over the iron fence and was prepared to pounce on him.

Ben's feet came to a stop when something dark and furry rushed over the iron fence. His eyes shifted to see it ahead of him and looking menacing, white teeth glistening in the flickering yellow light and clearly was the biggest dog he had ever seen.

He froze. His heart thumping in his chest and rattling his ribs while his mind tried to rationalize what exactly happened, including the most logical way to handle this unpleasant surprise. Benjamin's left foot took a step back, followed by his right before jerking to run retreat back to the staff door. Any intelligent thinking was tossed away in favor of a flight behavior thanks to his fear, his figure stopping just at the metal door and pounded with all his might. "HEY, SOMEONE. HELP! LET ME IN. THERE'S A RABID DOG OUT HERE! HELP!"

Excitement ran through the wolf's blood, a chase. His prey flailed away at a door and his claws extended outward in a leap so inhuman few could escape pinning the boy underneath. Teeth tore down into his right shoulder tasting the meat; the blood rich in iron before tossing him against the wall standing looming over the boy with an out streched paw. Claws popping one by one. His size was far beyond any creature found in the wild save a Bear and there was a primal hunger glimmering in those golden eyes. The boy crawled backward along the wall. And for a moment the Wolf let him; toying with his prey before grabbing his leg and tossing him against the iron gate. Saliva dripped from his jaw as his massive mouth filled with rows upon rows of teeth moved in for the kill.

Benjamin screamed when the white teeth bite into his shoulder. His suit, flesh and muscle tore under the jaw causing his fist to whip out at the wolf’s head. He didn’t manage to hit the muzzle as it let go, flinging him across the alleyway. The breath was knocked out of him for several moments but his body kept moving, scrambling to get away. It didn’t work. Now the beast was breathing down his face, his body pinned against the iron biting into his back and looked ready to rip it apart. Benjamin’s head tilted away and braced for the end to come, his eyes scrunched tightly shut.

The seconds lost from being hit by that car could have led to an end no one wanted to consider, but luck was on Casper’s side for the moment, or rather, Ben’s side. Accelerating his full dash, Casper sped forth and grabbed hold of the iron gate. Pulling himself up, the vampire placed his foot on the cold iron, vaulting over the gate to land between Ben and the rabid wolf. “Gonna’ stop ya’ there, pup…” The swordsman spoke, Raziel’s lethal edge appearing in his hand. As rabid as the werewolf was at this point, speaking would do little. He was too far gone, and the boy had already been bit. The least Casper could do now was to allow the kid his life. There was no coming back from the curse which was about to claim him, but his life was still his own. Raising his blade, Casper sped forth with an attack towards the wolf’s stomach.

"Remember, Casper. His strength is beyond yours. Don’t try to win with brute force.” Raziel commented, offering his advice as he always did.

“Yeah, weres are up there…”

Taking advantage of the fact he was in a tight alleyway right next to the iron gate the wolf in a feat of agility he flipped up and clawed at his pursuer before jumping off the walls and leaped a significant distance, perfect for the Wolf these narrow walls allowed it to bounce around surprisingly well for it's size.

Sliding beneath the clawed attack, Casper would find himself in front of the bleeding boy, just where he wanted to be. Given the tight space, a werewolf could easily use their strength to dart around the walls, and Casper wouldn’t get anywhere if he was going to chase after the wolf. Rather, Casper would need to wait for his prey to come to him while barring the path between Ben and the rabid werewolf. Raising his blade once more, the vampire narrowed his eyes on his enemy, his grip around Raziel’s hilt tightening. “Kid,stay behind me.”

Benjamin, still in shock, managed a faint nod. His back pressed against the bars, trapping him, as he pressed his now redden hand against his shoulder. His heart thumping pounded against his chest and seemed to threatened to burst right out of it. He didn't seem to notice the fact the wound was burning unnaturally, his attention focused on the battle for his life. his figured moved closer to Casper but not enough to hurt the man's (his thoughts still unclear if that was true) mobility and get them both killed.

Coming from a nearby alleyway, the small SUV made its way into the area and screeched to a halt, drifting for a second before stopping in a large clearing between multiple buildings. After the vehicle was put in park, Carmen took to keys out and both her and Hakeem immediately hopped out from the vehicle, closing the doors behind them and running towards the scene. Once they arrived at the other side of the the iron gate, Carmen and Hakeem could barely believe their eyes. "Holy shit!"Carmen's eyes opened wide.

Staring at the back of a werewolf, a hostile looking on at that, at the other side of the iron gate, Carmen entered reflex mode to assess the situation carefully before acting. She saw the aggressive stance of the werewolf, with its claws out. Her eyes darted towards Casper, the emo kid that she hit with the Cherokee by accident. She looked towards Ben, the wounded boy that was laying against the wall... she knew what was up. While she didn't exactly believe werewolves existed, she saw one with her own two eyes... one that appeared to be hostile, with intent to kill. She had to act, and act fast.

"Magnum! Take cover behind the truck!" Carmen shouted, pointing to the truck behind her as she drew her .45 pistol, aiming the RMR sight down up on the wolf's head. Almost immediately, her gun jumped back with a loud *POW!!!* and a bullet would've hit the werewolf square in the back of the head, either wounding him, impairing his brain until it healed, or whatever... either way, Carmen was unaware of how werewolves worked, and was hoping that her FNX-45 Tactical would end the threat as quickly as it could.

The bullet slammed into the Wolf's skull cracking it in the process, it's head recoiled back but due both to the immense strength the Wolf innately possessed it's arms dug even deeper into the walls surrounding it as the Wolf was hit with the force he looked back at the shooter with annoyance as the bullet was swiped away from it's resting place on it's forehead bits of compressed lead hitting the ground. It leaped forward jumping from the walls to reach the sword wielding hunter across the chest if he could get it to connect.

The bullet had dazed the wolf for but a moment, though it disoriented the beast enough for Casper to calculate his next move. As the creature leaped from one area to the other in a path towards Casper, the vampire raised his blade, analyzing every move the werewolf was making. Skill would meet brute force. Instead of dodging to the sides or jumping back, Casper moved forward and accepted part of the blow, the wolf’s claws traveling across his chest to leave a gaping wound. The pain was nearly unbearable, but it gave him the opening he needed, allowing his blade to penetrate the werewolf’s abdomen and consume the blood within.

Again the blade warrior slashes at the beast and again it reels back in pain. For but a moment it stares back into the Hunter's eyes with primal rage before it's survival instincts took over causing the beast to flee by bounding off the walls looking to make it's escape and find an easier meal. Blood leaving a trail for those who should follow, however with an impressive speed the beast will soon vanish from sight.

Carmen and Hakeem stood there for just a few moments, blinking. They couldn't even believe their eyes. That werewolf motherfucker survived a shot. To the head. By a supersonic .45 ACP lead bullet. A bullet known for stopping a human in one to two shots. And even though he took the hit, he shrugged it off like a smug asshole getting a ticket on his Corvette. And apparently werewolves exist now, and they only thing that seems to hurt them are these weird fucking swords. Man... things just got a whole lot more difficult.

"What the fuck was that!?" Carmen looked around, bewildered and shocked, holstering her pistol. "Uh... guy? Emo kid? Could you explain what the fuck just happened here?" She asked.

With the blade vanishing from his hands, Casper fell down to his knees, clenching his teeth at the pain. The wounds across his chest were beginning to heal, though the battle had taken a lot out of him. Werewolves were always trouble. “A werewolf…” The vampire responded, struggling back to his feet as he continued towards the now unconscious Ben and picked him up, careful not to hurt the poor boy more than he already had been wounded. “We’re in a hurry, get in your car. We can talk on the way.”