Hillan — Roleplayer Guild

Gregory and George had finally managed to quell the anger of the booze-induced Pirate, he had given them both more than a couple of bruises and a black eye each, but once they told him they had beer on their little schooner, he calmed down - chugging every bottle they had during the half hour it took for the small boat to make it's way back to land. 

Chester's foot was placed firmly on the pier, his stolen boot tapping on the wooden planks, water squelching under his foot inside of the boot. It felt good to be on solid land. He began walking, he had to find the Breeze and figure out where the rest of his crew was - and if they knew anything about the location of the bastard Cerulean.

Squelch, Squelch..

He continued walking.

Squelch, Squelch..

He let out a loud sigh, smacking his hand into his forehead, he jumped onto his one leg, pulling off his boot and turning it around, out poured water - and a small fish. Then he did the opposite, puting his boot back on his right leg, standing on it. While doing so, he slipped on the fish that had landed under his foot, falling off of the pier - getting hung by his foot on a bit of rope hanging off of the side. He soon untangled himself, and made his way towards the docks, where the Hinnon Breeze laid in wait for him.

Gregory and George sat in their boat, spectating, drinking the last two beers they had. 

"We sure he ain't no fish?"

"Ye, he's too stupid to be a fish."

"I 'spose you are right. He couldn't swim much, either."

 Hub City, 2 years ago:

 The alleyway was dark and messy, like all of it's kind in this filthy city. The garbage bins were filled to the brim with trash from the apartments above, the garbage overflowing onto the street. The sour odor of month old food mixed with rain and alcohol invaded the nostril of the three individuals who had been placed here by fate, it would seem. Two of them, men, mid 20's, stood on the deep end of the alleyway, one of them had just finished relieving himself, while the other had been smoking.

On the other end, near the entrance, stood one figure, a little shorter than them. A black leather jacket and a blue hoodie pulled over his face. His hand was trembling, as he spoke up. 
”I know what you two did. You thought you got away with it. You deserve what's coming to you..” He told them, his voice shaky as he spoke, his foundation was based on the two gentlemen being serial rapists who had avoided the long arm of the law by intimidating – and killing a key witness in their trial. A knife was produced from his sleeve, the blade was pushed out thanks to the spring mechanics in the knife with a satisfying click. 

”Hey, bro. I think we got a hero over here.” The smoking one said to his older brother, whom just turned around, smiling at the young man ahead of them.

”And he's got a big ol' knife. Ooh. So scared, aren't we.” The older brother taunted. ”Get lost, kid.” They told him, as the man in the hood shook his head. ”No way.”

”All right, if it's a fight you want..” The younger brother said, as the older one pulled out his piece.
”You brought a knife to a gun fight.” And the older brother shot the revolver three times. The arm that was not holding the knife turned into a quick blur, leaving only streaks of black behind, the motion almost invisible in the dark night.  The momentum of his movement had pulled his hood back, revealing his face, masked by a cheap domino mask from a costume store. 

”You brought a gun to a speedster fight.” He smirked as his outstretched hand opened, the three bullets falling to the ground.

”What the fuc-” His sentence was not even finished before he had the switchblade deep into his thigh, piercing the bone and he cried out in pain, his brother had no chance to respond, 25 rapid bodyshots shattered his ribcage like glass, and the final uppercut sent him into the heap of trash where he belonged, knocked out cold. The older brother, still screaming tried to limp away.

”You can run. I'll catch you.” Appearing in front of him, his arms folded in front of his chest, the criminal folding over backwards. 

”W-Who are you!” He shouted, as the darkly clad vigilante walked over to him, slowly, puting his hand onto the knife still in his leg, twisting the blade to make the man cry out in pain. 

”Call me Accelerate.” The police was arriving, sirens could be heard. 
”Confess to your crimes. You'll be a lot safer from me in prison than on the streets.” He continued to slowly twist the knife, until the criminal nodded his head, too much pain to say anything.

As soon as the police arrived into the alley, the vigilante was gone.

Midway City:

Rufus had deliberately skipped out of the introduction to the mansion, there was no point for him to participate, he had already gotten all the information he needed about the mansion beforehand, he had reconed every inch of the place a hundred times already, he had organized his room with his training equipment, the Mach 3 treadmill, the one thing he had recieved from The Flash that was worth anything was in the corner of the room, in the middle was a hook in the roof, for which he'd hang his punching bag. His room was adorned with a Fight Club poster, a Guns N Roses banner, and a couple of anarchist punk band's merchandise. On his bed laid compiled dossiers on his teammates, compiled from every scrap of information he could collect from the internet and the various databases he could hack into – which was just about all of them. It wasn't difficult when you could compile millions of lines of code in no time.

All of this moving had burned through his callories. He changed his clothes from his tank top and sweat pants to a pair of ripped up jeans and his ”Death Murder” band T-shirt, running his hand through his face. Putting on his shoes, a quick zip, he made his way to the kitchen. Seeing the stocked up energy bars in the fridge, a label on the container said ”Rufus”. The protein bar were under the guise that Rufus had a rare food allergy, while in reality, they were just too many callories to be safe for anyone else's consumption.

He grabbed one,  and a bottle of water and went over to the sofa, in the dark corner of the room, next to the bookshelf, picking up one of the news papers leaning his back against the side cushion, chewing on his bar peacefully.

That is, till the door was kicked open, the door swinging open a couple of meters in front of his face, and in stormed the Amazon, the one there was rather little information about, the Kryptonian, as well. He chuckled.

”Nice entrance, princess.” he said with a smirk. Julien and Karlie made their way, the former was on paper not that unlike himself – trained by Nightwing. That made him, what? The Grandsidekick of Batman? Sure, let's go with that.

Karlie, on the other hand, was exactly the kind of 'hero' Rufus despised. All cheerful and preppy. It was all a game to her, no real concerns to be had, and she sure liked to flaunt the fact that she didn't care.

”Oh, it's Queen Bee and Boyband.” he greeted them, upon rolling his eyes at Karlie. 

”I think I'm gonna be hashtag sick.”

I miss the doom and gloom of Hub city.

Hillan Member

I'm a writer - Lying's what we do.

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