Ves

The Dark Arts Society

Sorry for interrupting, but is this still open? I have to work Color Guard at the Mardi Gras parade today, but I can make my CS before than. @Gisk

S.H.I.E.L.D: New Heroes Initiative

Yep. Also, my mom got me a chocolates... I'm stuck between being happy and realizing that I should probably kill myself. Kidding. Sorta. Anyways, happy Valentines Day.

S.H.I.E.L.D: New Heroes Initiative

Jason D. Hunter eventually succumbed to annoyance; his ears were still rather sensitive, and the occasional screams and gunfire that the two idiots forced out was grating on his nerves. Feeling his biomass shift with his annoyance, the hooded young man finally spoke up, his dark, cold, and rather young voice showing an ample amount of self-restraint. "Can we start this back up...S.H.I.E.L.D grunt?" There was no tease to his voice, but for some reason, you can practically hear the sarcasm. Why were they waiting? Were those two gun-toting rejects back there actually a part of this team?

The Elder Scrolls: A World Torn

I'm interested. Have a few characters in mind, that involves an assassin, a prodigal, yet exiled mage student that was supposed to become Archmage, and a unique Vigilant Of Stendarr. Don't know which one yet.

S.H.I.E.L.D: New Heroes Initiative

Alright, coolio. No harm done.

S.H.I.E.L.D: New Heroes Initiative

Ye, I think so. I did the hole assuming that the plane was supposed to rigidly stay on course.

S.H.I.E.L.D: New Heroes Initiative

Jason approached the ground at a blurred pace, having not tried to soften his fall. His feet crashed against asphalt with a cracking roar, dust blasting up around him as he bent his knees slightly with the force, his hands still in his pockets. Straightening, he glanced down. A splintering and cracked crater, he stood in, and he quickly analyzed the space. "A dozen feet around." he murmured, looking back up at the sky. He didn't fall too far, apparently. But he did fall fast. Walking over to the Agents, he paused mid-step, his form shifting with fleshy crimson and black biomass. he now wore a form-fitting, seemingly armored black hoodie with some sort of glowing, pulsing red tribal emblem on the back, with the hood up, along with dark jeans and combat boots. He took the hood down, and continued the short walk.

S.H.I.E.L.D: New Heroes Initiative

The rotten, scarred, burned, and diseased look of his face and body makes me lack any romantical love...but he's pretty badass.

S.H.I.E.L.D: New Heroes Initiative

Jason was still sitting in his seat as the plane began going faster towards their destination. Even as the others began jumping out, he simply stood there, waiting for the perfect moment. Finally...a minute passed, and he simply stood, absolutely no panic in his form. Rather, a small grin could be seen on his lips. He rested his hands in the pocket of his exterior jacket, and tilted his head. With one stomp, the floor underneath him collapsed in sharp shards of metal, and Jason was suddenly freefalling completely straight, his hands still in his pockets. What seemed to be streams of crimson, sharp, haze-like biomass began to stream from his feet and elbows, even as he stayed ramrod straight. At the figure of a flying, winged female flying towards him, he shook his head once before turning his eyes to the disappearing plane. "Now this is more like it." He grinned to himself, the wind seemingly having no effect on his skin or mouth functions.

S.H.I.E.L.D: New Heroes Initiative

Jason mentally cursed as he died once more on the patronizing game. As he clicked out of the app, a black, futuristic screen meeting him, he was suddenly bombarded with the thousands of voices of the people he had killed. They had their own little, shitty city inside of his mind, and immediately, he mentally organized them, making sure that he could only hear the voices of the relatively 'sane' residents he had killed. There was a German scientists voice - a man he had killed whilst snooping through a rather shady underground base. 'Zat girl,' the Scientists murmured, immediately hushing the voices from others, 'Ze one with ze 'eadphones. Ze must have zomethin' to do wit' sound. And zat one - the bathroom one. She must have zomethin' to do wit' Zpiderman; her outfit zays it all. Gaudy 'tings, zuper'ero ou-' Even though the information was useful, Jason already knew these things; his tentacle eye, which had just sunk back into his jacket, had already been busy sending information about these people to his main brain. Yes, technically, Jason had dozens of brains, but only one - his 'main' one, was flesh. The other brains were the prolonged, stasis brains of his victims. As the scientist's voice faded away into grumbling complaints about the gaudiness of superhero costumes, Jason sat his phone on the table and finally looked up, his blue eyes nearly glowing in the light. His first glance was at the sound girl a table away, and then to the 'spider-chick', and finally to the other two nondescript teenagers. This was supposed to be his team? He smirked, looking back down at his phone, his elongated canines briefly on display. Yeah, right. They were prey.