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Crash rolled over as he awoke in the cave, he brushed dirty from his face and arms as he sat up and stretched out his wings. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the light, the sun was so much brighter than his cage had ever been. He grinned as he took a few deep breaths of fresh air, free air, and he savored the way the forest and the cave smelled. The past three days had been the best of his life, although cold from the constant rain, half starved, and exhausted he was free. He stood up, here he could stand tall with his wings spread wide, at the facility his cage was too small for his wings to stretch, back there he could only stretch his wings when they permitted in training. Although his belly ached from lack of food it reminded him that his life was now in his own hands, it was up to him to feed himself and to survive. If freedom meant pain and discomfort he would gladly take it, even this was better than his life in the cage. He noticed the others were talking and he approached them.

“I want to go to the city.” Crash announced to the others who were talking about leaving the forest. The thought of exploring a new place was exciting, he wanted to know, to learn, about everything beyond his cage. “I could hunt for some breakfast for now though.” He offered, the other’s seemed hungry too and Crash was enjoying hunting, although he hadn’t quite perfected it, flying through the forest in search of prey was exhilarating. He hadn’t cared much for berries or nuts that had been savaged over the last three days but there was one day when he had caught a rabbit. The rabbit had been delicious and he wanted to catch more, but just about anything was better than the tasteless meal bars of the facility. He looked to Flick for instructions, the older boy seemed to have become the unofficial leader.
@Hushed Whispers





Name: Crash
Age: 18
Gender: Male
DNA: Red Tailed Hawk

Personality: Crash is incredibly stubborn; for years, he even managed to convince himself that living in a cage his whole life was his purpose. It’s not easy to change his mind once he’s set on something, but if you can convince him it’s his own idea he can be manipulated. At his core, he’s a lighthearted guy, he likes to have a good time and make people laugh but years of living in a lab had almost driven that out of him, for Crash, since he’s escaped, he is slowly starting to rediscover the parts of himself that the scientists never saw as useful. Crash is very loyal, and now that he has a family, his flock, he is very protective of them. Although he can be very selfless he can also be very impulsive, everything in the outside world is knew to him and self-control isn’t something that comes naturally to him.

Appearance: Crash is 6’ with broad shoulders and well-muscled and athletic build, blond disheveled hair, blue eyes, and pale skin from a lifetime in captivity. His wings are just like that of the red tailed hawk, long and powerful with the dorsal aspect being mainly dark brown in color and the ventral aspect being mostly white with black streaks across the ends of the flight feathers.


Other: Crash is an excellent flier, fast and able to turn on a dime but as his name suggests he’s not always graceful with his landings. He’s exceptionally strong, endurance unrivaled by any normal man, his eye sight is fantastic, as is his hearing. He can also let out an ear piercing and disorienting screech, much like that of a hawk, but louder and more powerful with his larger lungs.

History: Experiment 72521D was raised within a laboratory, that facility was all he knew for the vast majority of his life. Learning how to fly was easier than learning to walk and he took to it quickly, but he never could quite stick his landing. He was never quite as graceful as the rest of his flock and he quickly earned the nickname Crash. He embraced his nickname, sometimes crashing into things or people to get a laugh for the others, their lives were so glum that anything to lighten the mood for the others seemed worth the punishments it earned him. His captors didn’t like that, they stopped showing his video training and eventually he gave up on trying to make things better. His short stint of goofing off earned him extra training, meant to keep him so physically exhausted that his will would break, allowing them to fill his mind with whatever they wanted. They managed to take the once goofy and lighthearted boy and almost completely turn him into the perfect soldier.

He trained hard, grew strong and fast. This was his purpose in life, he was good at this, and he truly believed it when they told him they were going to make the world better through him. The thought of killing never bothered him, he learned to take orders well, and with all his training he couldn’t even think straight even if he wanted to think for himself. Eventually he was close to being old enough to be sent to battle and in preparation for that he was transferred to training facility. To get to the training facility they loaded him up in a cargo van and drove him there and for a brief few minutes he felt a taste of freedom. A part of his will was awoken the second the sun touched his skin for the first time and he felt the slightest breeze through his wing’s feathers. He could no longer be content with following orders from those who would keep him from freedom.

He failed his training exercises, rebelling harder than he ever had as a child, raging against a life spent in captivity. He was sent back to his original cage almost immediately. It was decided that his training had not been enough, he had not been properly broken. Lucky for him they never got the chance to retrain him, almost immediately after he was returned from the other training facility, Flick returned from battle and he and the rest of the flock managed their escape. For the first time in his life Crash knew true freedom, something he would die before ever giving up.




Name: Crash
Age: 18
Gender: Male
DNA: Red Tailed Hawk

Personality: Crash is incredibly stubborn; for years, he even managed to convince himself that living in a cage his whole life was his purpose. It’s not easy to change his mind once he’s set on something, but if you can convince him it’s his own idea he can be manipulated. At his core, he’s a lighthearted guy, he likes to have a good time and make people laugh but years of living in a lab had almost driven that out of him, for Crash, since he’s escaped, he is slowly starting to rediscover the parts of himself that the scientists never saw as useful. Crash is very loyal, and now that he has a family, his flock, he is very protective of them. Although he can be very selfless he can also be very impulsive, everything in the outside world is knew to him and self-control isn’t something that comes naturally to him.

Appearance: Crash is 6’ with broad shoulders and well-muscled and athletic build, blond disheveled hair, blue eyes, and pale skin from a lifetime in captivity. His wings are just like that of the red tailed hawk, long and powerful with the dorsal aspect being mainly dark brown in color and the ventral aspect being mostly white with black streaks across the ends of the flight feathers.


Other: Crash is an excellent flier, fast and able to turn on a dime but as his name suggests he’s not always graceful with his landings. He’s exceptionally strong, endurance unrivaled by any normal man, his eye sight is fantastic, as is his hearing. He can also let out an ear piercing and disorienting screech, much like that of a hawk, but louder and more powerful with his larger lungs.

History: Experiment 72521D was raised within a laboratory, that facility was all he knew for the vast majority of his life. Learning how to fly was easier than learning to walk and he took to it quickly, but he never could quite stick his landing. He was never quite as graceful as the rest of his flock and he quickly earned the nickname Crash. He embraced his nickname, sometimes crashing into things or people to get a laugh for the others, their lives were so glum that anything to lighten the mood for the others seemed worth the punishments it earned him. His captors didn’t like that, they stopped showing his video training and eventually he gave up on trying to make things better. His short stint of goofing off earned him extra training, meant to keep him so physically exhausted that his will would break, allowing them to fill his mind with whatever they wanted. They managed to take the once goofy and lighthearted boy and almost completely turn him into the perfect soldier.

He trained hard, grew strong and fast. This was his purpose in life, he was good at this, and he truly believed it when they told him they were going to make the world better through him. The thought of killing never bothered him, he learned to take orders well, and with all his training he couldn’t even think straight even if he wanted to think for himself. Eventually he was close to being old enough to be sent to battle and in preparation for that he was transferred to training facility. To get to the training facility they loaded him up in a cargo van and drove him there and for a brief few minutes he felt a taste of freedom. A part of his will was awoken the second the sun touched his skin for the first time and he felt the slightest breeze through his wing’s feathers. He could no longer be content with following orders from those who would keep him from freedom.

He failed his training exercises, rebelling harder than he ever had as a child, raging against a life spent in captivity. He was sent back to his original cage almost immediately. It was decided that his training had not been enough, he had not been properly broken. Lucky for him they never got the chance to retrain him, almost immediately after he was returned from the other training facility, Flick returned from battle and he and the rest of the flock managed their escape. For the first time in his life Crash knew true freedom, something he would die before ever giving up.





Ivan studied the man who entered the police station, he recognized him as someone he’d seen around the motel before, his beard was rather memorable. Jack easily bypassed the somewhat grumpy office at the desk and headed straight for the office of the man in charge making Ivan wonder why he was wasting time talking to an underling. Jack seemed to know the man inside the office; Chief Detective Archeletta according to the name plate affixed to the door. His heighted hearing made it fairly easy to make out what the two men were discussing, the Roxbury murders; the same topic most of the town was obsessing over and the reason why he was at the police station. It didn’t sound like they had too much to go on.

“Like I said, we’re all very busy here working to solve these murders, you’ll know just as soon as everybody else when we have any more information.” The officer behind the desk told Ivan who was more focused on what they were discussing inside Archeletta’s office. He heard mention of Troutdales, the Pinkerton’s of the supernatural world, a group of hunters in it for the money which, in Ivan’s mind made them basically pond scum. Hunter’s that fought for a cause they believed in, protecting humanity for everything supernatural were understandable, there was nobility in that, Ivan had once been that and while his current state of being now made those hunter’s his enemy he could still respect them. Ivan glanced back at the officer who stood between him and what he wanted to know.

“I had this vision of…a horrible murder, blood everywhere and in it an owl told me I needed to come here, to help you stop these…horrible atrocities.” While Ivan was trying to sound convincing and only slightly dramatic, in reality, to the office in front on him, he sounded like a lunatic.

“I don’t know how much television you’ve been watching, son, but real police departments don’t actually work with ever nut case looking to involve themselves with police matters.” The officer was losing patience.

“Fine, let’s be real here, you’ve got steadily rising body count and no leads, don’t you think maybe, it’s worth taking a chance on someone who might be able to help, it’s not like I could make you guys look more incompetent.” Ivan continued wearing down the annoyed looking officer. “I mean you let that other guy help, right?”

“Fine,” The other man said. “You go talk to Archeletta and see what he says.” The annoyed man was more than happy with passing off the problem to his superior.

Ivan, finally passed the officer that acted as Archeletta’s gatekeeper, made his way towards the Chief Detective’s office and without bothering to knock he entered the room. The first thing he noticed was that both men were smoking so he immediately lit one of his own cigarettes glad to have found a place that was a bit less rigid about rules. He took a long drag on his cigarette; although he’d lost any taste for human food long ago, the robust flavor of tobacco and the effects of nicotine still satisfied him. A habit carried over from his mortal days that subtly reminded him of what it was like to be human.

“Sir, I have decided to offer my help in solving these terrible crimes.” He announced, before exhaling the smoke from his rarely used lungs; as a vampire his lungs only functioned when willed to. “The name’s Ivan, I happen to have a connection to the supernatural, as I was telling you’re associate out there,” Ivan paused and gestured through the doorway, as he had left the door wide open when he entered the room, to the exasperated officer at the desk, “I have abilities that could be of use to you in this case. And I am willing to help, free of charge, just think of me as an unpaid intern. Without the bringing you coffee part, I’m not doing that.” Ivan explained before taking another drag on his cigarette. He was sticking with the psychic lie as it was much easier to go with than the truth, that he was just a bored vampire.

“Nut-job thinks he’s psychic.” The officer from the desk exclaimed to his boss without looking up from his paperwork.
I'd be interested, not familiar with Maximum Ride but Dark Angel was pretty cool.
interested






Dark red eyes shot open in a dark room, what little sunlight that snuck in through heavy curtains glinted of a pair of white fangs; Ivan Weston awoke from sleep with a hunger that made his throat burn. He was having the dreams again, the ones that felt like they were pushing him toward madness. He couldn’t call them nightmares because in all honest, he enjoyed them. Dreams that were vivid memories of his past kills, and tonight’s was no different; this memory of an entire family he’d slaughtered while his humanity was turned off, the euphoria gorging on blood used to bring him. It made him wanted to give up control, either through turning that humanity off once again for good, or even just through drinking blood until he didn’t care about anything else. Every time he slept he wake up and have to fight to keep control, to remind himself why he couldn’t just let go.

Ivan rose from the lumpy and stiff mattress inside his room of the Vertigo Motel, his feet felt the uncomfortable tickle of the dark green shag carpet. He didn’t bother to turn on the lights, he could see just fine in the almost darkness and he didn’t have it in him to look at that hideous wallpaper, a cross between a psychedelic trip gone wrong and what it would look like if a rainbow could vomit, in the light of day. As unappealing as the Vertigo was aesthetically it was cheap and the owners were decent people who didn’t bother him too much. Ivan grabbed the one glass in the room as well as a bottle of whiskey from the end table and a bag of human blood from the mini fridge. He poured himself a drink that was two parts whiskey and one part blood and allowed the mixture to quench his thirst. He drank it slowly, focusing on calming himself down, controlling himself. He headed to the small bathroom within the room and washed his face with cold water, setting his drink down on the sink, and starring at his reflection. He tried to focus, tried to see whatever it was in him that she had seen within him that made him worthy of a second chance. He figured if he tried enough he would eventually see a better man looking back at him in that mirror, but today, just like every day, he saw the man that was just one moment of weakness away from causing a massacre.

Although he had slept for almost two hours, more than enough for a vampire, he was still so tired. His sleep, when he got any and it had been almost a week since he had, was restless. His dreams scared him, and every time he did sleep he either dreamed of his kills or even worse he dreamt that she was still around. For some people the initial loss of a loved one is the most painful thing imaginable, for Ivan there was something worse. There were the nights he dreamt of Amelia, his lost love, still alive and then waking up in that haze after a beautiful dream. Then there was living in those few seconds where he wasn’t sure if the dream was real or not, followed by the realization that it was just a dream. It was losing a person all over again, having hope snatched away, it was his own mind betraying him.

He finished off the remains of his drink, showered, and dressed himself in a dark jacket, black t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. He made himself another drink, this one a bit more whiskey heavy, before the remaining bagged blood was placed back into the mini fridge. The whiskey helped with the thirst, it helped keep him calm, and it look a lot more alcohol to get a vampire drunk so watering down his blood with booze was Ivan’s current drug of choice. He rinsed the glass off in the bathroom sink and set it back by the nearly empty whiskey bottle by the bed. The room was cluttered with undone laundry, empty bottles, and a small trash can with empty blood bags inside. He needed to buy more whiskey and eventually he would need to do laundry but the latter would likely be put off until absolutely necessary.

Before he left the room, he made sure to hand the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on his door, he knew it was likely driving Mrs. Harrison crazy not being able to clean the room every day but he certainly couldn’t have humans poking around and finding blood bags in the fridge. He never ate with them, he couldn’t really stomach human food, some vampires could but he hadn’t eaten it in centuries and lost any taste for it long ago. He did stop to chat with Mr. Harrison, a man who kept insisting that Ivan call him Jimmy instead, about old western movies. The conversation seemed to please Jimmy who kept commenting on how most kids these days never appreciated the classics. It amused Ivan some to be referred to as a kid by a man who was likely a hundred year his junior. The first thing he did when he got outside was light up a cigarette, it had always brought him that small window of peace, ever since he shared his first cigarette with his father as a mortal boy. It was getting harder to find them unfiltered, vampires certainly weren’t worried about getting cancer, so he rolled his own now. He found it incredibly annoying that he couldn’t smoke indoors anymore, people these days were too sensitive.

Ivan had spent the past few days acclimating himself to the city of Erehwon, or Nowhere as supernaturals tended to call it. Nowhere was a fitting name; it was quaint, people were unnaturally friendly, and worst of all it was boring. For the past century, he’d spent his time in major cities; Chicago, Los Angeles, New York, and Dallas, cities where there was always something exciting going on. The nightlife of this town seemed to consist of a barn called The Shack, he got a job here as it was the closest thing to fun this town had. He hadn’t made up his mind yet, whether or not he was here for a fresh start or to place himself in some sort of purgatory. Today was apparently the Fall Festival, something every person in the town seemed to be excited for, in fact he was pretty sure there was more talk about the night’s festivities than there was about the series of murders happening around the town.

The murders sounded like vampire attacks, so at first he thought of it as something to avoid. Being around other vampires brought out the more animalistic side of Ivan, he was too easily influenced by others, something he was well aware of, so staying away from any vampires actively killing around town was a must. Not to mention with it being so obviously supernatural, hunters would flock to the town to investigate and he didn’t feel like crossing paths with hunters either. Stay out of trouble, try and keep hold of his humanity, and learn to live like a person; that was the plan. On the other hand, if it was vampire’s maybe he could see if he could help stop them, find something useful to do with his time, maybe this was the right kind of trouble. If they could put a stop to this before any hunters came to town that would certainly be in his best interest, and stopping a murderous vampire would be easy on his heavy conscious as well.

Shortly after Amelia had died he’d tried to channel his grief and anger into hunting down his sire, Marius, the vampire who had turned him almost a hundred and sixty years ago. He spent months looking for the ancient vampire, he’d convinced himself that he’d find some kind of closer through an epic quest for vengeance, he’d clearly watched too many modern action films, only to find the vampire had been slain over a century ago. Back when he was busy tearing through every neck he could sink his teeth into some Guardians had taken the old psycho out. It made sense of course, Marius was vicious with no regard for other supernatural or whether or not he was risking exposure, turning as many and as often as he wanted, not covering his tracks. It had been foolish to think that he’d still be out there somewhere, and even stupid to believe that killing one vampire would solve his problems. There was no cinematic arch of redemption through vengeance for him, only the mundane every day struggle of trying to better than he was, all while knowing there would be no absolution for the things he’d done, he’d have to deal with his past by learning from it and by doing better.

Later that night he had a shift at The Shack during the costume party but he figured he’d check out the fall festival before that, try and enjoy himself a little bit, it was the human thing to do after all but before all that he thought he might poke around the police station, see if there was anything he could do to help. He wasn’t exactly sure how he was going to convince a mundane police department that he could potentially be helpful in tracking down the person responsible for multiple homicides, but since planning was never his strong suite he was just going to wing it and see what happened.

Upon arrival at the police station he wondered around the front for a bit the way a customer would wander a store. “Can I help you?” A slightly confused man at the front desk asked. Ivan paused for a bit before responding, he couldn’t exactly go with ‘Hi I’m a 158-year-old vampire looking to help you track down whatever supernatural, and probably more specifically vampire, you have murdering campers and folks just outside town’.

Instead he went with, “Yes, I was just wondering how the investigation was going, any leads on the Roxbury murders or those missing campers?”

“Are you with the Report because we already gave you our statement.” The guy responded, thinking Ivan was with the town newspaper.

“No, more of an independent investigation.”

“Like a blog or podcast, you’re not one of those true crime nuts, are you?” He asked annoyed.

I don’t think so.

“You wanna tell me why you’re here then?”

"I think I can help you with solve the case," Ivan paused, trying to think of a reason why he’d be able to help. "Because I’m psychic, I was thinking I could get a vision from any evidence you might have or…” Ivan went to plot of a tv show he’d seen once but was cut off by the man’s exasperated sigh. The guy behind the desk did not seem to be buying it one bit.



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