The X-men run missions and work together with the NYPD, striving to maintain a peaceful balance between humans and mutants. When it comes to a fight, they won't back down from protecting those who need their help.
Haven presents itself as a humanitarian organization for activists, leaders, and high society, yet mutants are the secret leaders working to protect and serve their kind. Behind the scenes they bring their goals into reality.
From the time when mutants became known to the world, SUPER was founded as a black-ops division of the CIA in an attempt to classify, observe, and learn more about this new and rising threat.
The Syndicate works to help bring mutantkind to the forefront of the world. They work from the shadows, a beacon of hope for mutants, but a bane to mankind. With their guiding hand, humanity will finally find extinction.
Since the existence of mutants was first revealed in the nineties, the world has become a changed place. Whether they're genetic misfits or the next stage in humanity's evolution, there's no denying their growing numbers, especially in hubs like New York City. The NYPD has a division devoted to mutant related crimes. Super-powered vigilantes help to maintain the peace. Those who style themselves as Homo Superior work to tear society apart for rebuilding in their own image.
MRO is an intermediate to advanced writing level original character, original plot X-Men RPG. We've been open and active since October of 2005. You can play as a mutant, human, or Adapted— one of the rare humans who nullify mutant powers by their very existence. Goodies, baddies, and neutrals are all welcome.
Short Term Plots:Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
The Fountain of Youth
A chemical serum has been released that's shaving a few years off of the population. In some cases, found to be temporary, and in others...?
MRO MOVES WITH CURRENT TIME: What month and year it is now in real life, it's the same for MRO, too.
Fuegogrande: "Fuegogrande" player of The Ranger, Ion, Rhia, and Null
Neopolitan: "Aly" player of Rebecca Grey, Stephanie Graves, Marisol Cervantes, Vanessa Bookman, Chrysanthemum Van Hart, Sabine Sang, Eupraxia
Ongoing Plots
Magic and Mystics
After the events of the 2020 Harvest Moon and the following Winter Solstice, magic has started manifesting in the MROvere! With the efforts of the Welldrinker Cult, people are being converted into Mystics, a species of people genetically disposed to be great conduits for magical energy.
The Welldrinker Cult
A shadowy group is gaining power, drawing in people who are curious, vulnerable, or malicious, and turning them into Mystics. They are recruiting people into their ranks to spread the influence of magic in the world, but for what end goal?
Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
Adapteds
What if the human race began to adapt to the mutant threat? What if the human race changed ever so subtly... without the x-gene.
Atlanteans
The lost city of Atlantis has been found! Refugees from this undersea mutant dystopia have started to filter in to New York as citizens and businessfolk. You may make one as a player character of run into one on the street.
Got a plot in mind?
MRO plots are player-created the Mods facilitate and organize the big ones, but we get the ideas from you. Do you have a plot in mind, and want to know whether it needs Mod approval? Check out our plot guidelines.
There are numerous advantages in operating a vehicle specifically designed to pursue and essentially drive other car off the road in a manner akin to a cheetah chasing down its prey; one was a noticeably heavier reinforced frame which lent the machine much needed weight and allowed to plow through various obstacles, policemen for example, with little to no trouble. Another benefit was the V8 engine located under the hood which allowed the vehicle to accelerate at a rate which surpassed all but the top tier of privately owned automobiles, still being able to evolve from a stationary start to 60mph in under 9 seconds was rather useful, even more so because it meant one could go from 0 – 45 in about 5 seconds which, for a twisting back alley was more than enough. Perhaps the greatest advantage of possessing an appropriated NYPD cruiser though was the built in radio and computer, complete with GPS which allowed the driver to listen and track the movements of any pursuers.
There was however a rather vital flaw to such a machine and that was in its basic design, whoever had first crafted the vehicles specification clearly had no knowledge of how cars were meant to operate for they had foolishly included an automatic transmission in the design plans. It took away all the fun it really did, it forced the driver to rely entirely upon the judgment of a minute piece of circuitry for a shift in gear. Such a limitation drastically reduced the drivers ability to operate the machine and use the engines full potential. Such an oversight would, under more mundane circumstances, have caused Hull no small amount of vexation and likely would have led to him making a brief sojourn to the nearest manufacturing facility so that his dissatisfaction could be communicated in a memorable manner.
Today however was far from mundane, what had initially started as a cursory scouting and supply expedition had rapidly revolved into something far more intricate and entertaining, indeed the former soldier was currently being to relive the events of the past few hours as his mind attempted to re-assimilate the information which had somehow been temporarily removed from his memory. As the human mind is only designed to interpret events as they happen on a moment by moment basis the sudden inundation of new data required significant mental processing power and as such the twisted anarchist was only barely aware of his present situation as his body functioned on autopilot; haphazardly directing the speeding police cruiser out of the back alley and onto the multilane road which served as the primary transportation into and out of the city’s industrial district, managing to avoid lethal collisions only by luck and fortune.
Survival instincts are powerful things though and in the case of the Canadian killer acted as form of emergency subroutine which immediately pulled the sinister wanderers thoughts back to the present the moment a pair of spiked hands curled softly about his neck and a light but tempestuous feminine voice imperiously stated its desire to leave. Now in such a situation the majority of individuals would likely be inclined to acquiesce to the request, Hull however was not most people and thus his reaction was somewhat… unorthodox; a short cackle of laughter issued forth from the confines of his throat as toxic emerald eyes glanced up into the rear view mirror and took note of the scantily clad brunette, immediately recognizing her and sending the malevolent foreigner into a burst of laughter just as his right foot collided with the gas pedal sending a surge of fuel into the engine which resulted in the vehicle accelerating with sufficient force that his impetuous assailant was taken by surprise and thrown backwards into her seat.
Undoubtedly such was perhaps not the most prudent course of action, however the demented anarchist had always had a problem with authority. It was an issue which had surfaced early in his military career but one which had been subdued by his benefits he received, there were very few occupations which legalized mass murder after all. In this instance however there was no such perk and as such the former solider had seen no reason to abide by the bonemancers command. Admittedly the sinister traveler’s efforts had left him with a series of aggravating gouges in his neck, however none of them were life threatening and thus were inconsequential compared to the advantage he’d just gained, which was the ability to reach back and slam shut the sliding caged partition separating the front and back sections of the police cruiser.
“Sorry about that, I panicked for a moment and forgot who was in control.” The sentence was delivered in a tone of false cheerfulness as the pernicious anarchist glanced into the rear view mirror once again and idly reached up a hand to adjust its angle. “Hey, do you think you could spread your spread your legs a little?” He swerved violently around another car, “Much appreciated.”
Isabel's plan had not at all gone accordingly. She couldn't quite figure out if the young man was used to the threat of having his throat ripped out, or if he was just completely deranged. For a moment she could only stare at him as his initial, short laugh quickly grew in volume, confused by the reaction that was the complete opposite from how most people responded to her. And then, without any further warning, she was promptly thrown into the back of her seat, her fingers curling for purchase in his flesh a little too late to get a good hold on it. She bounced against the leather seats uncomfortably, her breath escaping her a moment as her head snapped back with the force of the sudden acceleration.
As quickly as she was able, she brought her skull back to its proper position, her hands reaching around to press against her aching neck as the claws slid back into place, leaving smears of red against her fingertips and the skin they touched. She'd hurt him at least, but obviously not mortally enough. She wished she'd been granted a few more minutes in the spot she'd occupied back on the battlefield. Maybe then she'd have been able to reabsorb a more helpful amount of bone for her to use. Why had Jacen been there? Judging from his comment, he'd had something to do with the malfunction to her mutation. Had she landed somewhere else, she might not have been in her current predicament.
The following crash of metal hitting metal and the click of a lock quickly brought her back to her current situation, her attention turning to the cage of metal that had been slid in front of her, effectively creating a mesh barrier between her kidnapper and herself. She hadn't even realized there had been a way to cut her off from the front half of the car, and now there was a very limited amount of options she was left with when it came to persuading her captor to pull over so she could make her exit.
That thought in itself was more than a little disturbing. Kidnapper, captor. Isabel had only once before been carried off in the back of a law enforcement vehicle, and that was when her and a fellow Order member had been carted off to the Registration. Never before had anyone been capable of laying hands on her for more than a few seconds, nevermind tossing her in the back of a car and speeding away. It was extremely unnerving, especially since she didn't know the extent of her current enemy's mutation. Obviously he could do something, if her current state of dress was any indication, she just had no idea of the details. That, coupled with the fact that she now had a limited supply of bone left in her own body to use as she pleased was enough to get her panicking again.
The cheerfulness of his reply to her demands infuriated her, his following comment doing very little to help. It did, however, remind her of what her current state of dress was. Almost immediately her face deepened to a shade of crimson as she opened her mouth to protest before the car swerved. She had little choice in denying or obliging his crude request, the harsh jerking of the car sending her flailing into one of the doors, her shoulder striking painfully against the fixture as she struggled to right herself.
With only the bare minimum of hopefulness she gave the door's handle a hard yank, finding the door to be locked, as expected. The opposite door yielded the same result after she slid across the seat to test it. "Let me out!" she shrieked, slamming a fist into one of the windows and cursing when the skin on two of her knuckles split, leaving a nice red smear across the otherwise unharmed glass. "I'll kill you!" she continued to wail, moving to slam her foot flat against the cage behind the stranger's head, the metal door rattling, but staying firmly in place. Two, three more times she kicked at the cage as if with enough persistence she'd be able to knock it into the back of his head.
She felt like screaming, and very nearly did as she proceeded to tear apart the car's rear seat as her little claws reemerged from her fingertips, spreading bits of leather and foam padding all over the small compartment. It wasn't anywhere near as satisfying as tearing apart flesh, but it was a way to express her anger and frustration none the less.
A pause fell as her movements slowly ceased, leaving her to glare venomously through the black metal cage out the windshield, into the rear view mirror, at the back of the man's head. In another split second decision, four of the five claws on her right hand melted back into her flesh as the remaining one thinned and lengthened out into a sort of wire, which she made sure to strengthen as much as was possible. With any luck, the young man wouldn't be able to break or cut through the bone with any amount of ease.
Jerking back into action, her hands went straight for the cage, the wire slipping out through one of the gaps in the metal to hopefully wrap around the maniac's neck before it slipped back through the cage on the other side of his body, and buried itself into her opposite hand. Immediately she pulled back sharply. "Maybe you didn't hear me the first time. Pull this goddamn car over or I'll cut your f**cking head off!"
I’m just a well-adjusted gal who likes to leave a serious amount of mayhem in her wake.
Despite his grinning visage and artificially cheerful demeanor the malicious murderer was not entirely satisfied for a number of reasons, one of which was the fact that he although he recognized and acknowledged how his current means of transportation had transpired he possessed very little recollection relating to the precise series of events responsible for him driving down the middle of a highway halfway through the afternoon. There was also the additional matter of his current passenger aka captive who, in spite of offering a rather attractive view, was rather lacking in terms of a bedside manner. She was also, apparently, a rather sore loser; and though at times such a trait can be entertaining the anarchists current situation only served to make such behavior incredibly irritating as the metallic cage behind his head rattled obstreperously with a piercing pitch which resonated to the centre of the sinister killers skull.
However, as any parent or deranged anarchist knows the last thing you do is pay attention to a child in the middle of a tantrum, thus to counter the twisted traveler counted the brunettes juvenile outburst by reaching out an argent tipped hand towards the cars main console, a few brief seconds were spent testing the various functions as switches were flipped, buttons pressed and dials adjusted. The cumulative result of such tinkering was an interesting and thankfully distracting display of electronics as headlight flashed, sirens wailed, computer screens flashed and then, finally, the radio activated and something resembling music filled the car, drowning out the majority of the bonemancers shrieks and threats as Hull himself began to hum and dance along with the song whilst taking full advantage of the view the girl was presenting as she repeatedly lifted her legs to kick against the cage partition.
Things were not going precisely as planned, however as the malicious murderer rarely bothered with such things as forward thinking this was perhaps to be expected. The demented wandered needed an hour or so to himself to process the aberrant repository of recollections remaining within his mindscape. They felt almost entirely alien and conveyed a sense of unease that, although not debilitating was enough to corrode the former soldiers customarily optimistic outlook on existence. Add to the situation the homicidal eye candy in the backseat and matters grew complicated; from what he had seen of the brunets mutation earlier she was able to manipulate her bones, however the ability seemed somewhat limited as she had yet to craft any attire or sizeable weapons, possibly the bonemancer had depleted her natural energy reserves, however she still possessed the capability to shred a tire and thus Hull was reluctant to release her.
Just as the twisted anarchist was debating the probability of success in persuading the corticated brunette to exit the car whilst at full speed an alien material swiftly snaked around his throat and the through the caged partition, effectively forming a garrote which proceeded to constrict and shut down the sinister travelers airways, cutting off his melodies contribution mid song as a strangle gasp escaped his lips and one hand immediately released the steering wheel to force its way between the unnatural wire and his throat with only minimal success. The consequence of this abrupt asphyxiation was that the police swerved wildly out of control, momentarily sliding into the opposing lane of traffic, lightly clipping a passing van and generating a shower of sparks as metal met metal, then the vehicles passed each other and the stolen police car swerved back to its appropriate lane.
The human body can survive a full three minutes without oxygen, however that is only under ideal conditions and excessive training. Hull, in comparison had roughly 30 seconds at best and it would only require 5 to send the vehicle hurtling into a concrete barrier, neither option was preferable and thus the former soldier settled for a third alternative; rapid deceleration by means of braking. Harshly. The car careened yet again, this time however its path led to a slightly safer destination as it came to halt along the right shoulder. Almost instantly the pressure surrounding his throat abated and the malicious murderer was able to fit his left hand between the noose and his neck while his right shifted swiftly to the steering wheel as he reapplied the gas in an effort to get the machine moving; his only true advantage currently was his control of the car and that only lasted for as long as the vehicle possessed momentum.
“If you want to die just say so, I’ll be glad to help, however I’m rather partial to breathing so leave me out of it.” As he spoke the sadistic wanderers left hand traversed the length of the cord about his neck, locating both its beginning and ending point on his side of the cage. The moment he ceased speaking his right hand abandoned the steering the wheel for a few precious seconds, thereby permitting him to simultaneously grip both ends with argent tipped fingers. The moment the slaughterers silver skin came into contact with the noose section at both ends vanished, effectively allowing the former soldier to rip the offending item from his neck and throw it to his feet as he inhaled deeply before a new thought struck him and he brought the car to yet another screeching halt
“You want out? Fine! Go on get! I’m sure some lonely truck driver would love a little company, hell I’m sure the school kids would enjoy the show too, it’s about the time for them to be heading home. Well? Are you getting out or not?”
Had Isabel felt herself to be in any kind of favorable position, she may have grinned over the feeling of resistance tugging back against the wire she'd created. However, she was feeling much too threatened and angry to do much else but tug a little harder on her makeshift weapon, the sudden cut-off of the strangers obnoxious singing by a sudden strangled gasp for air only minimally satisfying. She had only turned the tides for a moment, after all. She wasn't accurately able to gauge how much danger she was in, and therefore wouldn't feel at ease until either she was out of the car and away from the driver, or until he was lying in a puddle of his own blood. Both options were almost equally appealing to her, the latter pulling just a little ahead of the former. It would allow her to kill two birds with one stone, after all.
The sudden swerving of the car, while irritating, wasn't unexpected and could really only work in her favor. Because of the current state of the back seat, she wasn't sliding across it quite as easily as before, though her body was still roughly jolted around by the sheer force of the sudden turn. Since both ends of the wire had anchored themselves through her flesh and into the bones of her hands, any such jolting only put more pressure against the driver's throat. She didn't mind that in the least.
However, she did realize that the possibility of a car crash was very real, something she hadn't taken into consideration prior to her most recent demand. The sudden sound of her car colliding with another with the following sparks that resulted dragged a surprised yelp from her as she struggled to keep to the opposite side of the car, not wanting any part of her to get crushed, should they collide with something else.
As she worked to fully correct her position as the car swerved yet again, she was abruptly and unexpectedly thrown forward into the cage, the corners of several gaps in the metal gouging as many bits of flesh from the right side of her face as the car and her body shifted while control was regained and acceleration returned. She wined pitifully as the cuts and now bare spots of skin began to sting angrily and blood welled up to run down the side of her face. Irritably she rubber her injured skin against the sleeve of the borrowed shirt she wore, aiming to redirect the blood flow from her forehead so it would stop dribbling into her eye. The last thing she needed on top of all her other current problems was to be half blind.
"You'll be lucky if breathing is your only problem," she shot back before spitting on the floor of the vehicle to prevent herself from swallowing too much of her own blood as it continued to ooze down her face. Absentmindedly she pulled the chord a little tighter, as if to emphasize her point, the wire only remaining taut for the briefest of moments before there was suddenly nothing there for her to tug on. Her hands snapped back as the connection was severed, confusing her for a short span of time in which she brought her digits up for inspection. Two neatly cut ends of the line were all that was left. But how? She hadn't seen him wielding any kind of weapon since they left the collapsing stairwell, and she was sure he couldn't have cut the bone with just any blade. Concerns over his mutation quickly surged back into her mind.
Her slightly outstretched hands quickly made themselves useful again as the car once more screamed to a halt, her palms slamming against the metal grate in front of her and helping to prevent her head from colliding with the cage door for a second time. Attempting to counter the force of the braking car, she quickly shoved against the uneven surface so she could correct her position and place herself properly on the back seat, thankful when the car finally lurched backward and then fell motionless as the stop was completed.
It took a second before she realized the young man was actually screaming something beneficial at her. Well, partially beneficial, anyhow. He was going to let her exit the car immediately. That hadn't been so hard, now had it? It would, however, require her to break the window in order to reach the door handle on the outside of the car, since they would remain locked. She had no doubt that demanding the stranger to open the door for her would only end badly.
The other issue was that they had stopped on the highway in the middle of rush hour. Any attempt to cross several lanes of very busy, high-speed traffic could only end disastrously. There was also the fact that she had no idea how far away from KP they'd driven by now and could be walking for hours in the wrong direction for all she knew. Her outfit had completely disappeared, and with it her cell-phone and only current means of contacting anyone in the Order that could come find her. The comment about truckers and school children didn't help, either. She might not have minded too much if she'd been wearing more than just a shirt.
Was she getting out or not? For a short time she could only just stare between the stranger and then what was past the window in front of her. In or out? It wasn't an entirely complicated decision. She would prefer being outside to being locked into the back of a police cruiser. It was an issue of what she'd do once she was out. Both her aggressiveness toward the stranger as well as the defensiveness that grew from her situation were struggling and mixing together into a dangerous concoction that caused an unnecessary amount of confusion on her part.
Finally her warring feelings and instincts on the situation came to an agreement. While the remaining ends of the wire retracted themselves, a short spike emerged from her palm and was quickly thrust into the window several times in order to crack and splinter the glass to a point where she could push the remaining pieces out of her way. She hoped some of the smaller shards landed on the driver, particularly in the cuts along his neck.
Rather than trying to fuss with the outer door handle and prolonging her stay in the car, she made use of the only available opening at the moment. Though honestly, did the idiot in the front seat truly think she'd leave quietly and cooperatively? She was angry beyond belief, she was in a highly threatening situation, she was bleeding, and she really felt like venting her frustration on something other than the interior fixtures of the police cruiser. She just had to move quickly. For all she knew, the young man would only wait for her to get halfway out of the vehicle before taking off again. He didn't exactly come off as the considerate type.
Carefully wriggling her way out of the broken window, and obtaining numerous new cuts and gouges because of it, she rushed to brush and break away the remaining edges that lined the bottom of the car window. As the majority clinked against the asphalt below or bounced against what remained of the leather seat, she turned her body in such a way that while one hip rested against the edge of the open window's bottom ledge, she could lean toward the driver's door. While one hand shimmied several little hook-like spikes from her fingertips down into the seam between door and vehicle, the hand with the spike slammed into the driver side window, aiming to shatter the glass. She hoped it landed all over him.
When the window had at least broken enough for her hand to fit through, the one spike divided into innumerable little needles and splinters and were forced from her body, her aim being to embed as many as she could into the driver's face and neck. He couldn't drive very well if his eyes had been rendered useless. She wanted a chance to rip his face off before she made her escape.
((OOC: If I need to change anything, let me know!))
I’m just a well-adjusted gal who likes to leave a serious amount of mayhem in her wake.
Incoherent mutters escaped the malicious murderer’s lips as viridian orbs tracked his troublesome passenger through the rear view mirror, taking note of the fresh array of wounds decorating her the right side of her face and the crimson blood flowing over her skin, gradually trailing down her neck to the white collar of her shirt which was quickly stained pink and then scarlet. Due to the large amount of oxygen required by the brain the skull is surrounded by an intricate weave of blood vessels and due to this head wounds have a rather nasty habit of bleeding quite profusely if left to their own devices. Still the brunette hardly seemed to notice the her injuries as she stared open mouthed at the back of the Canadian travelers head, apparently the girl was having second thoughts about her request once her situation had been redefined for her.
“I ain’t got all day girly, either get out or shut up, I have better things to do then deal with you.”
A sudden revving of an engine behind the parked police cruiser along with a series of hostile horn honks signified that other commuters were less than satisfied with the current state of affair as traffic rapidly began to back up behind the stolen vehicle. Still the impatient actions seemed to penetrate the bonemancers shell-shocked state as she finally began moving under her own power as she positioned herself to face the door and an ivory spike slipped forth from the palm of her hand, a maneuver which caused the bombers eyes to narrow as his eyes failed to spot any blood trail accompanying the action. The brunette was clearly proficient with her mutation, if nothing else that increased her potential threat level, still though provided he himself stayed within the confines of the driver’s seat there would be relatively little danger. After all the vehicle had been designed to withstand gunfire, surely it would be able to endure the efforts of a half dressed brunette?
As the back window shattered in a rather impressive shower of glass Hull swiftly revised his estimate of the car’s worth as he twisted his head in order to catch a glance of the girl shimmying herself out of the broken window, presumably in order to crawl out onto the asphalt of the surrounding road. That assumption however was rapidly dispersed the moment a petite palm slammed against the deranged bombers own window, a jagged spike colliding against the reinforced glass with sufficient force to weaken the overall structure and create a twisted pattern of cracks which weaved to together, forming an almost bizarre resemblance to a spiders web. The foreign fiend was given almost no time to appreciate such a comparison though as a second strike rapidly followed and burst through the fractured glass causing miniscule razor fragments to rain down upon the sinister killer even as he threw his upper half into the passenger seat.
With one arm covering his head and the other still partially gripping the steering wheel the former soldier was unaware of the splinters of bone emerging from the brunettes hand until they imbedded themselves in his upper shoulder and a string of expletives escape his throat as his free hand swiftly slammed down upon the command the short array of buttons wedged on the side of the door which immediately caused the shattered window to roll down, effectively trapping the bonemancers hand in place long enough for a shiny pair of handcuffs to be slapped across the petit wrist and then the steering wheel in quick succession. In most cases such a measure would be more than enough to immobilize an individual, however considering the girl’s mutation Hull was unwilling to take many chances and so he hurriedly crawled over into the passenger seat in a bid to exit the car.
Bad idea. Very, very bad idea. While Isabel was disappointed that the man in the driver's seat had ruined her plans to destroy his face, she had very little time to dwell on that disappointment. Before she had a chance to retract her hands and climb the rest of the way out of the car, the jagged glass around the opening she'd created in the glass pressed down on her arm at an alarming rate.
Rapidly she pulled the armor in her arm up through the skin to create a solid band of bone that would rest between the shards of glass to prevent them from sinking into her flesh and causing any serious damage. Trying to wriggle out of the awkward position only served to throw her further off balance. For a moment all she could do was wiggle and squirm until the managed to drag one leg and then the next over the edge of the door and down onto the asphalt.
Retracting the little anchors she'd wedged between the car and the rear door, she worked to break up more of the glass on the window that was holding firmly to her other arm. "Son of a bitch!" she muttered, trying her best to avoid cutting herself on the growing number of broken pieces the window produced, occasionally wiping at her eye again as the blood from her head continued to seep out of her newly acquired wounds. The revving engines and increasing number of honking horns were giving her a headache and making it hard to concentrate.
She didn't know how much longer she'd be able to keep up this demented game with the young man. She was getting tired, she was still bleeding, and everything ached. She bit down on her tongue as bits of glass scraped against her hands and the bottoms of her feet. She hoped those nice shards in her captor's shoulder hurt a whole hell of a lot.
Speaking of which, her mind was sluggishly processing the fact that he was doing some wriggling of his own as he worked to shimmy into the passenger side seat. There was no way in hell she was going to let him ditch the car while she was left locked to the steering wheel. With a little time she may have been able to work her way out of the cuffs, but by the sound of the sirens that were cropping up, her time was quickly becoming limited. If she was going to get caught up in a fight with the police, she wasn't going to do it alone.
"I don't think so," she growled, struggling to lean the upper half of her body in through the window and reach her free hand out to get a hold on the stranger. If she could just get her hands to brush against any of the numerous spikes jutting out of his shoulder, she could anchor an attachment to them. From there it would be exceedingly simple to drive them deeper into his flesh as well as barb them. If he was in enough pain, perhaps she could halt his attempted exit and keep him in place.
If she could just get him to unlock one ring of the handcuffs, she'd be able to get herself out of there and leave him to his own devices. By the sound of sirens and cars slowly moving to pull out of the way, the police would arrive rather soon.
I’m just a well-adjusted gal who likes to leave a serious amount of mayhem in her wake.
((OOC: godmodding done with prior approval from Isabel.))
---
Things could, admittedly, be going somewhat smoother than they currently were; parked in the middle of a highway in a stolen NYPD cruiser with a barely dressed berserker bonemancer capable of literally clawing you to death would not meet most people's definition of a good day... well, assuming most people didn't posses some type of kinky fetish. In any case the point, sadly not literally but metaphorically, was that Hull was having a blast, again metaphorically. After all from the demented wanderers perspective it wasn't every day that one was able to acquire an ample supply of toxic material, confront a pseudo maid with a hidden exhibitionist streak, fall from a multi story building with relatively little damage and then fight for one's life against the same pseudo maid. Today was turning out to be anything but dull and considering the relatively minor injuries, bullet wound not withstanding, he had acquired thus far the Canadian anarchist was thoroughly enjoying himself.
Then things changed.
It was quite an impressive leap if one stopped to think about it; by the time the brunette bonemancer had noticed that she was attached to the steering wheel Hull had managed to crawl/maneuver most of his body into the passenger seat, by the time the disrobed girl had succeeded in removing the glass from the door on her side the malicious murderer had arranged himself into a sitting positioned and kicked open the jammed passenger door. The twisted traveler had been less than a second from diving too freedom but the stripped brunette had been swifter still; lunging through the broken of the drivers door the bloodied bonemancer managed to leverage her entire upper half into vehicle, leaving her legs dangling over the outer side of the door just as her questing fingers found purchase in the foreign killers injured shoulder which brought everything to a sudden, and rather agaonizing halt.
The experience , if it must be described in literal works, would be akin to having a steel pole instantly welded to one's shoulder, any thoughts of escape or temporary freedom became laughable concepts as the wounded woman's hand refused to release its grip, Just as the former soldier was contemplating the removal of the meddlesome limb the pain set in as the multitude of osseous shards began resonating to some unknown signal, burrowing deeper into blood and flesh, tearing muscle with indiscriminate ease until an agonizing grating sensation racked the killers body as a portion of the shards tunneled into his shoulder blade while the rest sunk further into the anarchists flesh. This was then followed by the sensation of fire racing across the ex-soldiers shoulder as the brunettes hand began to follow the path of the shards worming their way through wounded tissue until fingers brushed against the top of the scapula and the burning agony was replaced with a torrent of grinding pain as the bone began to shrink under the bonemancers touch and rapidly dissipated as it was absorbed.
It should, perhaps be mentioned, that Hull was far from silent during these proceedings, on the contrary he was rather vocal, issuing every expletive he heard from birth in addition to a few he simply made up on the spot. Psychological studies have found that swearing is actually therapeutic and can in some cases reduce pain, this was not one of those times, still pain was not an alien concept to the Canadian killer, his previous occupation had almost made it a requirement and so he'd been taught how to deal with it thus the foreign fiend had experienced no hesitation in summoning a knife and driving it into the brunettes offending hand... only for it to strike a glancing blow as it skirted off a plate of bone lodged just underneath the skin. Repeated attempts yielded no further success and so the deranged bomber swiftly changed tactics as he replaced the knife with a second pair of handcuffs and wasted no time in wrapping one end around the girl's wrist and the other to joint between the chair main body and headrest thereby preventing the brunette from digging her hand any deeper into his flesh.
This turned out to be a rather ill conceived idea as the restrained bonemancer than endeavored to utilize her osseous shards to drag the anarchists humerous up through his arm. The experience was, to put it mildly, excruciating beyond belief and only the neighboring wail of sirens drowned out the former soldier cry of pain. Still though, Hull had no intention of conceding and so rapidly attempted to put a halt to painful proceedings by swiftly inserting his own into his wound, thereby managing to sever whatever connection the woman had possessed over his flesh and finally allowing him to tumble out of the wrecked vehicle, onto the asphalt... and under the barrel of a gun.
"Hands over your head pal."[/color]
Weary viridian eyes struggled to glance upwards at the owner of the gun, however there was no real reason to glance past the knees, all the NYPD uniforms were essentially the same after all, even down to the shoes. Still though eye contact was always important for a look can sometime communicate more than words ever could, and so it was that Hull glanced up at the officer standing over him and sent the man a look full of weariness, disbelief and no small amount of pain. "Yeah sure, pull the other it's got bells on, what the hell took you f*ckers so long? She nearly killed me!" The last part of the killers retort was injected with additional venom which caused the other man to startle slightly and his gun to drop a fraction as his eyes flickered towards the drivers side of the car where the chained bonemancer, dressed only in a rather ragged and revealing shirt, was vainly struggling against her bonds.
'How the hell did he not see her first? I don't care if he parked on my side he can still through a damn window.'
"Jesus Christ."[/color] the words were barely audible as the astonished officer took a step back and hurriedly withdrew his from its place on his shoulder while switching his aim to the bound brunette.
"Hey Sarge, you gotta see this." The voice echoed from the other side of the stolen police cruiser, from his position on the floor Hull could just make out the feet of the other officer and was momentarily tempted to fire a pair of rounds into the oblivious mans ankles, however considering his current condition he quickly rethought the idea despite its appeal.
"Corporal Wedge get the hell away from her! She's a damn mutie and she's killed more officers than you have years."[/color] The commands were forced out in a barely authoritative yell as the sergeant quickly began murmuring into his radio for some type of support even as he kept his eyes resolutely fixed on the girls face... for about ten seconds, then the man's gaze dropped significantly lower.
"But sarge, she's all tied up, she aint going anywhere"[/color] The response was issued in a questioning and dimwitted tone which whilst carrying the cadence one would attribute to life on a farm. despite this though his words were logical and judging by the stance of his feet the corporal had his weapon drawn and ready for action. "If she was going to get loose she would've done something by now."[/color]
The discussion went back and forth for a few moments, with the sergeant attempting to impose authority he clearly didn't have while the corporal repeatedly asserting that the bonemancer was largely harmless in her current state and if she were going to "kill them all", she would have done so by now. Hull, for his part was largely left alone, mainly due to his disabled arm and the lack of resistance he put up when the sergeant handcuffed him to a car door in order to walk over to his partner and get a new perspective on things. The former solider had no qualms with this as it allowed him a few minutes with which to dismiss the handcuffs and treat injured arm; extracting what shards he could before than applying a light bandage. Just as he as completing the dressing though a new engine heralded the approach of another vehicle and the former soldier swiftly summon the handcuffs and lashed himself to car door once again just a SWAT van rounded the corner.
A quartet of armed and armored officers emerged from the back and swiftly spilt up, two heading for the passenger side of the car while the other two went to drivers side. Again Hull was largely ignored after his apparent restraints were acknowledged though a brief reprimanded was directed towards the sergeant for failing to indicate the presence of two suspects. In either case the former soldier was free to observe as the leading SWAT member unhooked a metallic collar from the back of his belt and, with little to warning surged forward to slap the device on the girl's wrist.
The application of the strange collar seemed to be a signal to relax as all the armed officers took a collective breath and then gradually set about releasing the bleeding brunette from her bindings. The moment the woman had been extracted from the car however her arms were swiftly wrestled behind her back and locked in place with an obsidian pair of restrains, her feet were likewise enfettered with a rather durable looking pair of manacles which prevented the girl from taking anything but short strides. She was then all but frog marched into the back of the van.
During this time Hull was questioned by the initial two officers on the scene and, despite his portests that he'd simply found the stolen NYPD vehicle in the possession of the disrobed brunette the sadistic slaughter was also marched into the van and placed under the watchful guard of two armed SWAT members.
The cries and screams of pain from the young man that had moved to the passenger seat were like music to Isabel's ears. It felt so good to once again be the one inflicting the pain, rather than receiving it. She hadn't ever really thought about what a painful process it could be to rearrange the bones in someone else's body. The symphony of agony that grew increasingly louder quickly cleared it up for her. Unfortunately for the young man, he was not anyone she held any concern for, and as such wasted no effort in trying to be careful in any way.
The knife he attempted to discourage her with was annoying, but in the end easy enough to ignore. It hurt, of course, but not quite enough to discourage her from continuing. On the contrary, she dug a little harder in response. She would be sure to use that absorbed shoulder blade of his to gut him later. Her quest to then go after the bones further down in his arm were quickly made more difficult by a second pair of handcuffs and then halted entirely as his fingers interfered with her own.
It was the cuffs that confused her. She hadn't seen any extra pairs lying around on the seats or the dashboard, so how had they come to be in his possession? She didn't think he'd be carrying them on his belt. He'd have needed to have them in his hand already before using them, but it had been occupied in trying to stop her attack from advancing. Just what exactly was it he could do with his mutation?
She swore rather loudly as he finally managed to collapse out the door while she was stuck inside, her attention easily drawn by the sound of an unknown voice barking orders. She struggled to readjust her body to make it easier for her to spot the face of the officer that had put her captor in his line of fire. She hoped the guy was easily startled and accidentally pulled the trigger on her tormentor.
The startled look on the officer's face wasn't entirely surprising. She'd gained herself a rather unfavorable reputation with the numerous police officers around New York. She was, however, slightly surprised the the gun wasn't immediately trained on her. It was soon made clear that he'd be using his radio, though. She was used to cops calling backup whenever she ran into them. It usually just made things more fun, but at this point in time she was growing increasingly more tired and wasn't quite up to killing any more people that showed up. She would, however, be able to at least kill the man outside the passenger door. She did not appreciate how low his gaze had dropped.
The sound of another voice issuing from behind her startled her a bit and caused her to begin wriggling in an attempt to drag the rest of her body into the car, so she'd be able to see anyone that approached from the driver's side. Unfortunately, she couldn't find good enough purchase with her hands to giver her something to push or pull against. It was also increasingly painful to try and drag her legs in over the shards of glass that remained in the door's window frame. All that twisting and turning was starting to make her dizzy, anyhow. She wanted to go home and crawl into bed to fall asleep.
She didn't much care for the view of the officer that had stepped up behind her. She most certainly was still dangerous, she had just found herself in an unfavorable position was all. As soon as the idiots unlocked one of the cuffs, she'd show the young man exactly what his superior was talking about. That was, assuming the would unlock one of the cuffs anytime soon. They couldn't very well try to arrest her in her current state. They may still be able to use the car, but there was no way they could drive it effectively with one of her hands chained to the wheel.
Her assumptions were correct, however, there was a very unexpected twist to them. She'd been expecting someone to have to join her in the vehicle briefly. What she hadn't expected was to have another device slapped around her wrist. Familiar little prods quickly stabbed into her skin and delivered a painful shock, causing her to screech and immediately dismiss the armor that lay beneath her skin and shift her skeleton back to normal so the shocks would stop.
When the hell had the police begun carrying shock collars? She sat in dumbfounded disbelief as the handcuffs were unlocked and she was dragged back out of the car. When had the SWAT team arrived? All she could do was glare murderously at the individuals that handled her as her arms were cuffed behind her and her ankles were also restrained. A bad reputation, indeed.
She hated sitting in police vehicles, her most recent adventure in the back of one not helping any. She didn't appreciate the two SWAT members that accompanied her and her captor, either. Did they really have to sit in back, too? What the hell did they think she was going to do with all those cuffs on her? This was no fun at all.
She glared venomously, albeit wearily, at her fellow prisoner as he made his comment. Her response was to spit in his face. "Do it again and we'll gag you," the officer beside her warned, though the young man that had been seated next to Hull couldn't seem to hold back his grin. She was also able to note how freely his gaze wandered. She debated trying to kick his face in, but wasn't so sure how well she'd be able to fair against the guns both officers were holding.
"Keep it up and I'll rip your eyes out," she cautioned the officer seated on the opposite bench. His grin only seemed to grow as she spoke, a reply coming to her from the individual beside her, rather than the one she'd been speaking to. She didn't appreciate the elbow that hit her in the ribs, a pained gasp escaping her as she tried to regain the breath that had been forced out. She would have said something to the kissy face the other officer made as he laughed, had she been able to gather enough air to spit the words out. If only she didn't have that goddamned collar clamped around her wrist.
A grinning wink was the last straw. They couldn't very well shoot her in an enclosed area, now that she thought on it. If one missed, it could injure or kill an unintended target, after all. Determination set her expression as she lurched to her feet and smashed the top of her skull into insulting officer's nose, grinning maliciously as she felt the splash of blood erupt from the broken extremity and the young man's pained yowling.
The movement of the car and the dizziness that accompanied the sudden action easily knocked her off balance an onto the floor of the van as the other officer responded as quickly as he could, putting as much weight down on her body as was possible as he produced a can of pepper spray and put it to use. Eyes burning, she screamed in pain and anger as she kicked and wriggled in a poor attempt to get away from the officer. "A little help would be nice!" she shouted, not yet able to open her eyes and locate the young man that had been arrested along with her.
I’m just a well-adjusted gal who likes to leave a serious amount of mayhem in her wake.
’Hi-diddle-dee-dum They tried to stop my fun A set of shackles to halt my glee A pair of guards in case I flee A lovely effort but I’ll soon be free’
The asinine aria flowed silently through the chaotic expanse of the sinister slaughterers deranged mind with little more than a low hum escaping the former soldiers lips as he rested his head against the vibrating metallic wall which comprised his current cell, durable though the vehicle may be it was clear that such resilience had come at the cost of comfort, in this particular instance the apparent lack of any and all suspension, either that or the current driver was taking pains to meet each and every pothole, crack and dead cat littering the road. Whatever the cause the end result left the ill-conceived SWAT vehicle rattling with more force than a tin can over a cobble street making balance something of a trial for all parties.
Despite the distorted equilibrium though the exposed bonemancer somehow succeeded in spitting across the length of van, striking the corner of the twisted travelers lips, venemous emerald eyes narrowed as the demented wanderer raised his bound arms to wipe away, a low hiss of pain escaping his throat as the action aggravated his butchered arm. In spite of the impromptu first aid he had conducted moments before his arrest the anarchists injury was far from copacetic; blood had already soaked through the bandages and was steadily creeping down his arm. He could still control his fingers, however anything above his wrist was, for all intents and purposes, dead meaning he could do little more than swing the wounded limb and hope his hand came in contact with something.
Such thoughts however were better reserved for another time, he needed to focus upon the present, how could he best instill a touch of chaos and turn the current situation to his advantage? One option would be to assault the two SWAT members himself however considering his state it was unlikely things would go in his favour; even if he managed to take down the first one the rocking of the van would leave him in an unfavourable position to deal with the second guard. An alternative would be to somehow goad the corticated brunette into attacking him, the girl had already displayed a rather volatile temper and despite her bonds being somewhat more restrictive than his own the former soldier was confident he could provide the woman with suitable motivation.
There was also a third possibility; he could simply play the role of wounded malfeasant and hope his condition secured him professional medical treatment once the van finally completed its journey, considering their current progress however it could take some time, yet it was by far the simplest choice for it required nothing from the macabre murderer beyond remaining in his seat. There would be no need to further exacerbate his wound, little to no chance of death, all he needed was to… sit still and… stay silent… for an indefinite period of time… it was easy.
Easy, but boring.
"Keep it up and I'll rip your eyes out,"
A pained gasp followed the futile threat as the guard across from Hull rammed his elbow into the brunettes ribs which left the woman doubled over as she panted to regain her breath. Slowly twisting his head to avoid drawing the attention situated upon the corticated female Hull’s viridian eyes shifted to the bare bonemancer, momentarily taking in her rather ragged appearance before following the girls furious gaze and briefly pondering the lewd individual opposite the brunette. It was all too clear what the man had done to attract the woman’s animosity, though to be fair the girl’s current wardrobe malfunction likely would have had her snapping at anyone who dared glance in her direction. In any case the guards licentious behavior provided the Canadian killer with an amusing opportunity, a malevolent grin spread across the former soldiers features as he lowered his arms into his lap and began to hum at a more audible volume which swiftly attracted the notice of both SWAT members and caused them to regard the twisted anarchist with cautious curiosity right until he started singing.
”Hi-diddle-dee-dee I’m certain you’ll agree A pair of chains and lack of clothes A kinky whore no matter the pose”
The crass ditty died after the first verse having achieved its desired effect as both guards made mild sounds of amusement while the disrobed brunette looked almost feral in her anger but sadly made no move to unleash her barely suppressed anger. Such patience and self control would have been admirable… had it lasted more than three seconds, Hull however possessed no desire to complain and simply grinned as the enfettered girl stumbled to her feet and smashed her skull against the lascivious guards nose. The sickening crunch of bone was clearly audible over the vehicles engine and as the brunette fell back to the floor he saw that she had done a rather admirable job of breaking her targets nose, victory however was short lived for even as the one guard reeled in pain the man’s partner swiftly leaped into action and attempted to subdue the irate bonemancer.
Blinking momentarily Hull smirked as his deranged mind took in the newly formed chaos even as his body sprang into action. The moment the second guard occupied himself in wrestling with the disrobed brunette the sinister slaughterer had brushed his argent fingers against the smooth surface of his bonds, immediately banishing the metallic restraints and giving his limbs free reign of motion, or as much as could be allowed with one functioning arm. With his hands free dispatching the guard beside him proved to be all too easy; the man had still been dazed and had both hands covering his broken nose, leaving him in no shape to defend himself when the foreign fiends hand snaked out and buried a hurriedly summoned switchblade into the man’s eye
"A little help would be nice!"[/color]
Hull sneered as he spared a glance down towards the brunettes writhing form, the girl had been none too kind when she’d ripped his bones from his flesh and so he saw little need to rush to her rescue, still he had no real desire to fight the remaining SWAT member by himself when he only possessed one functioning arm. Idly withdrawing his knife from the corpse of the first guard the Canadian killer leaned back, preparing to aim a kick at the remaining officer when his eyes were drawn to an onyx device clipped to the man’s belt and a cruel smirk slipped across the twisted travelers features as he swiftly shifted his position and used his uninjured arm to relieve the struggling SWAT member of his tazer without notice.
“You know, for all the negative press, I’ve heard these really aren’t that bad and that all you get is a slight tingling sensation.”
Deftly closing his fingers around the trigger the device crackled into life as the river of current surged between the two metal prongs with a threatening hum which was audible even over the growling of the vans engine. “Then again, I’ve also heard that Chuck Norris’s tears can cure cancer, so what do I know?” Without further ado the ex-soldiers hand whipped out and ran the tazer prongs into the officers neck, delivering an unhealthy degree of voltage into the guards body which promptly played havoc with the man’s nervous system, causing his limbs to spasm wildly and an agonized scream wrenched itself from the officers throat as Hull gleefully applied the weapon far longer than necessary. When at last the tazer was deactivated the malevolent wanderer unceremoniously sat down upon the unconscious SWAT member, thereby pinning the corticated female beneath him. A false cheeriness entered the anarchists as he leaned over the guards comatose form turned his emerald gaze to the brunettes own hazel orbs.
“The time has come.” The madman said. “To talk of things mundane: of blood, and death, and broken limbs, of revenge, and pain, and why I should even help and whether there is anything to gain”
Isabel continued to squirm as best she could in a failing attempt to keep the SWAT officer from pinning her down. Her muscles were beginning to ache again and she was getting tired. The pepper spray helped in that it kept her wriggling, but it certainly wasn't worthwhile. Her eyes stung like crazy and she couldn't keep herself from coughing. Breathing seemed to become harder ever time she inhaled. She hated pepper spray.
She couldn't make sense of the semi-familiar crackling sound that filled the back of the van, but she was certain that the guard's sudden spasms were directly related to it. She hardly paid any attention to what her kidnapper was saying. It wasn't like he ever said anything useful anyhow. Or civil. Like that little jingle he'd singsonged a few moments prior. Maybe she should have aimed for his nose instead.
And then the weight that had already been placed on her suddenly seemed to double, which gained an uncomfortable groan from her as she struggled even more to take adequate amounts of air into her burning lungs. She shifted uncomfortably as her arms and the cuffs around them dug into her back and the joints were strained. Things might have been a little easier if her hands had been cuffed in front of her. And that stupid shock collar hadn't been slapped around her wrist. She really hated those collars. At least the body was providing better coverage for her than the shirt did. It wasn't much of an upside.
Eyes watering furiously, she tried her best to blink away both the tears and the pain the spray was causing so she could see something. She wanted to keep track of the maniac that had been arrested alongside her. The guards didn't seem to be of much concern any longer. The one with the broken nose wasn't yowling any longer, which she assumed could only mean he'd fallen unconscious, or something more convenient. And judging by the dead weight pressed against her, his companion was in much the same state. That just left the psychopath that had dragged her along on his little joy ride.
While she noted the familiar voice speaking up once more, she was finally able to keep her eyes open for more than a few seconds, although she was still blinking irregularly. She still managed to glare at the individual that leaned out over the body lying on top of her and at the tazer that was also now in view. What the hell did he want now?
Now she had to barter her way out of her current position? Fantastic. She didn't want to make any kind of deal with the psycho that had perched atop the guard, especially if he was to gain anything from it. She debated spitting at him again, but seeing as she was pinned and he had a tazer in his hand, she decided against it. She'd rather avoid being shocked if she could manage it.
Why should he help her? Huh, she wasn't really in such urgent need of his assistance at the moment. He'd ended up assisting her anyhow, even if it left her stuck to the floor. "You have to get up eventually, jackass. And these people can't keep me locked up forever. I'd just rather skip the annoyance of going to jail and leave as soon as possible." It really would be nice if she could go home today. Prison was a real annoyance.
She didn't exactly have anything to offer him at the moment, nor did she particularly want to. Trying to figure out what the guy would want was a headache she'd rather skip, especially with her head already pounding. The way the van bounced and swayed didn't exactly help. He head had already bounced roughly against the floor a few times. "Well, I won't rip your face off, for starters," she growled out as she attempted to wriggle out from under the guard's body. She was quick to halt her attempts when her mind registered the strain it was putting on the fabric of what used to be a whole shirt. It would probably be best if she avoided damaging it any more.
"I don't know if you'd have any interest," she continued, wracking her tired brain for anything that could gain her a more favorable position with the young man that seemed to have gained the upper hand, "But I'm heading back to the Sanctuary. If I can get out of here, anyhow. Don't know if you've heard of it before, but it's a shelter for mutants. And I'm pretty sure, aside from being an asshole, that you're also a mutant." She didn't like the thought of letting the madman follow her home, but she figured she'd be a lot safer there than where she currently was. And if she really had to, she could ask a favor from Mercury and have the creep thrown out.
"The cops don't dare come knocking on our door. SWAT leaves us alone, too. Unless they have those Stalker bots, but those have been gone for a while. Free food, free rooms. You can stay as long as you like. And we've got a healer that can patch up that arm of yours. Though, honestly, I think it's a real improvement. Disfigurement suits you."
I’m just a well-adjusted gal who likes to leave a serious amount of mayhem in her wake.
Water and carbon dioxide, perhaps some of the simplest materials in existence, yet from these basic compounds an unimaginable number of combinations are possible which, when correctly contrived, can lead to the phenomenal event known as life, the creation of an entity capable of storing and expending energy for it’s own purposes. Such creations are inevitably small to begin with, however they soon become the foundation of the next corner stone of life; multicellular organisms capable of interpreting their environment and using the information to alter their future. A creature capable of crafting its own destiny… an incredible concept. The story does not end there however, for there is one more step to achieve, the last page in the story thus far; consciousness, the ability to recognize that one is capable of shaping its future and therefore itself. With sentience attained all manner of things are possible, the curse of such awareness however is that every individual is unique, each with their own dreams, desires and drive, and so if no two individuals are the same it becomes inevitable that eventually there shall arise an individual who wishes nothing more than destruction.
A man who simply wants to watch the world burn.
Fortuitously for life in general however such a point has not yet been reached, not entirely at least, for although Hull possessed no reverence for any life beyond his own, the malicious murderer did hold a deep loathing of boredom and if all life were to be extinguished what would be left? A barren wasteland incapable of providing the entertainment the deranged anarchist so thoroughly enjoyed, thus while the foreign fiends actions were typically sadistic and sinister in nature they were never on a global, or even national scale. In Hull’s eyes all of life was a game, a game where nothing mattered because nothing was important, yet in order to fully enjoy a game one needed the appropriate tools, which for Hull was his hands and, by extension, his arms.
And so, as the twisted traveler towered over the defenseless brunette with weapon in hand he found himself strangling his instinctive desire to simply thrust the tazer into the pale girls slender neck, instead indulging the small level of curiosity within his deranged psyche as he listened to the seemingly concussed girl outline her offers and… well, diplomacy was not her strong suit, still the brunettes struggles to free herself were entertaining, even more so when the subtle whisper of tearing cloth caused her to freeze, eliciting a dark chuckle from the malevolent anarchist above her which, needless to say this did nothing to ameliorate the corticated bonemancers mien, yet she managed to refrain from issuing another idle threat, instead actually managing to mention something of interest; a shelter of sorts and though he cared little for the name of the supposed establishment it could have been worse.
Shifting the comatose guard serving as his impromptu seating Hull adjusted his weight to apply an extra measure of pressure to the girls ribs, intending to rob what little air was left in her lungs so as to stop any possible interruptions as he continued to dissemble his nonchalant façade and spoke in an amiable manner.
“A tidy little offer, however I’m rather attached to my limbs so why don’t we go one better? I’ll take care of the little toy on your wrist and, in return, you’ll fix my arm right here, right now.” His eyes momentary traced a path down the visible portions of her bare form and a tenebrous smirk danced across his features before he went on. “…and since I’m feeling generous, if you get my arm working properly I’ll even take care of your little wardrobe malfunction, so what do you say? Do we have a deal?”
Isabel did not at all appreciate the nonchalant shift in weight created by the madman above her. She would have complained about it if she was able, but all she could manage was a surprised puff of exhaled breath as the stranger tried to crush her lungs. She had to make a conscious effort to keep herself from coughing. As it was, she wasn't able to breathe even remotely normally any longer. She was even beginning to wheeze a little. This game wasn't any fun.
More words, more deals, more hoops she had to jump through just to get the damn cuffs off. It was becoming more of an effort than it should have been just to pay attention and process the words that were dribbling out of her assailant's mouth. She really didn't want to do anything to benefit the man, especially when his desired favor was to reverse the damage that she'd done to his arm. It kind of defeated the purpose of injuring him if she had to fix it.
A brief wave of nausea turned her stomach as the man's gaze traveled south and a grin slid across his face. He really was an asshole. And that fact only served to confuse her when he offered to give her something to replace her current shreds of clothing. In any other situation it might have seemed like a genuinely generous offer. However, in her current position it couldn't be anything else but suspicious.
"Alright. Fine," she responded, gasping the words more than properly speaking them. She was too tired and in too much pain to put up much more of a physical fight. Verbal jabs were another story, but at the moment even those were very limited. She'd fix his arm, but she didn't have to be gentle about it. She didn't have to tell him that shifting the bones back in place could be nearly as painful as removing them. She also didn't have to put on the outfit he gave her if she really didn't want to. She still had some reserve of bone left in her arsenal and could cover the essential areas of skin if she really had to.
She almost felt as if she'd gag at the sight of the smug, satisfied look that crossed the man's face accompanying his momentary victory. She would have loved to scrape it right off his face, had she been able. However, seeing as she had little choice but to play nice for the time being, she bit her tongue and said nothing.
The final removal of the two bodies that had been weighing her down finally allowed her to take a much needed lungful of air, which was followed by several more. Her ribs ached painfully from the sudden absence of the weight, but so much of her body hurt already, it was barely much more than white noise. It would all be taken care of once she got back to the Sanctuary, anyhow. She might have to spend the night in the Infirmary, but it might just be a necessary evil this one time.
She squirmed uncomfortably as the young man went to work removing her cuffs. She hadn't been quick enough to sit back up after the body had been picked clean of useful gadgets and placed elsewhere in the back of the van before her tormentor had returned and needed to reposition her body in order to reach the cuffs. She didn't at all appreciate how bold he was in such actions, and was sure to voice her displeasure if he hands fell where they didn't belong.
Relief washed over her at the sudden disappearance of the shock collar, her defenses immediately reforming as a layer of armor beneath her skin. She felt so much better knowing that she wasn't limited to breaking people's faces with her skull.
Sluggishly she wriggled into a sitting position, and away from the young man's grasp. She had to fix him, but she didn't have to be nice about it. "Good. Now sit down, or I'm not fixing shit," she ordered, shifting her own body so that she was in a kneeling position on the floor of the van. She didn't want to try getting to her feet in a moving vehicle just yet. Besides, why should she make this any easier for him?
Finally gaining some cooperation from the nut case, she waited for him to have a seat before getting to work. The easiest thing to start off with was shifting his humerus back into place, since it had merely been repositioned, rather than removed completely. She didn't waste any effort in trying to be gentle as she stuck her fingers right into his flesh and began shifting things around.
No doubt the grating sensation of bone against bone that she felt against her fingertips was far from comfortable for the young man. The sudden burst of expletives and pained shifting of the limb were good hints. "Sit still and shut up," she growled as she gave the bone a short downward twist so it popped back into place. Her fingers then traveled up to where his shoulder blade should have been and were once again buried under the layers of skin and muscle.
She'd briefly contemplated removing her own scapula and placing it where his should have been while her own reformed, but it would have only damaged the muscle even more and made her work all that much messier. It was easier to reform the bone while her fingers intruded beneath the muscles that were already in pretty poor shape. Fortunately she could have crafted a skeleton with her eyes closed, which greatly aided her in her current condition of near exhaustion.
From her palm and fingertips she shaped the appropriate bone, smiling pleasantly to herself as she felt it scraping and grating against the already existing bones as it filled out and slipped back into place. There really wasn't much she could to about the damage to the muscle. The skin was far simpler. No doubt he'd have to seek medical attention after this little adventure, so she saw no problem closing up some of the skin. In the least it'd stop him from bleeding all over the van.
Casually she pulled her hand out of the open would and went about closing up as much skin as she was able with little staples of bone. The medical staff would be able to remove them, but they'd have some difficulty. She couldn't keep herself from barbing each of the small staples, which would make for a rather painful removal.
"That's it. That's all I can do. You can find yourself your own damn doctor now," she stated, moving her body away from her patchwork patient. With a bit of a wobble she worked her way into a standing position, clumsily closing the few steps between herself and the undisturbed corpse that had been just about forgotten. Casually she wiped her bloody hand across the front of his uniform before proceeding to dig through his pockets. If she was going to get out of the van, she wanted some kind of souvenir from her escapade. She hadn't been counting on the sudden stop the van made that sent her crashing back onto her rear end.
I’m just a well-adjusted gal who likes to leave a serious amount of mayhem in her wake.
A self satisfied smirk shot across the sadistic sacarian's sinister visage as he listened to the impotent bonemancer gasp for breath as he slowly crushed the air from her lungs, his venomous viridian gaze alight with malevolent exhilaration as he watched the brunettes own amber orbs gradually lose their focus, her struggles steadily growing weaker... another pound or so of pressure was all it would take and the temptation to act raced through slaughterers veins like lightening causing adrenaline to surge through his system in expectation , dulling the continues burning ache within his mangled arm but not extinguishing it entirely and so when the stricken shrew finally managed to cough her confirmation the former soldier smug countenance became even more conceited as he silently reigned in his bloodlust and removed his weight from the brunettes prostate form.
Moving in a deft, if somewhat stiff manner the Canadian killer spared a moment to balance himself against the reinforced walls of his current cell before bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet to redistribute his weight, equilibrium thus achieved the twisted traveler began to whistle a cheerily inane tune as he bent down and grasped the comatose guards belt with his good arm, dragging the senseless officer off the buxom bonemancer and towards the back of the van where the man's life was ended rather unceremoniously in a manner similar to his partner. Precious moments were then spent reliving the freshly created corpse of any practical and valuable items, firearm, radio, handcuffs, pepper spray and other such objects were adroitly appropriated.
Having liberated the cadaver of its unneeded worldly possessions the malevolent anarchist pivoted to face his oh so cooperative companion who, unsurprisingly, had barely moved a muscle since she had been relieved of her dead weight so to speak. No the corticated female seemed somewhat more focused on the simpler things in life, breathing for example, the brunettes lungs were clearly working overtime as the girl rapidly gasped for air, apparently heedless of the fact that her rather ragged shirt had ceased any pretense of modesty some time ago and thus each ragged breath caused the girls ample endowments to librate in a most appealing manner. Alas however such a sight could not persist indefinitely and gradually the buxom bonemancer's breathing eased into a gentler rhythm as she attempted to raise herself on her forearms, eliciting a juvenile wolf whistle from the foreign traveler, earning him a heated glare in response yet the former soldier remained unabashed as he wordlessly stepped forward; eye candy was all well and good however it wasn't worth a crippled arm, still though there was no reason he couldn't have some fun with his end of the bargain.
Approaching the bound brunette with an undisguised salacious air the malicious marauder idly knelt down beside the amber eyed female and adapted an awkward affectation as he attempted to slide his good hand under the hoyden's enfettered arm and across her back, making no attempt at an apology when his arm managed to encircle the bonemancer's form and his hand 'accidentally' came to cup the girl's voluptuous assets as he raised the beaten female to her knees, happily turning a deaf ear to the brunettes indignant protests as he maintained his grasp somewhat longer than was necessary. After a particularly imaginative curse from brunette involving a spear and his own teeth Hull gave an amused chuckle and acquiesced to her 'request', releasing his grasp and shifting behind the girl to examine her restraints.
The cuff's themselves were a simple affair and would require no real effort to remove, the odd shock collar wrapped around the girl's forearm however gave the sinister anarchists a moments pause; having been abroad during the time of the mutant registration Hull himself had never experienced the effects of the mutant nullifying collars, though he had heard of them, after all the peculiar devices were the only reason the government had actually managed to contain the mutants they'd captured, however after the alleged malfunction which allowed hundreds of mutants to escape towards the end of the registration era the machines had decreased in popularity, forcing the manufacturers to reduce prices in order to continue business, thus explaining how the NYPD had managed to obtain the little gem encircle attached to the bonemancer's wrist.
Carefully running the pads of his fingers across the smooth metal bracelet Hull searched for some form of lock, a keyhole, a switch, anything which could be manipulated however the wristlet proved to be an almost perfect ring with no discernable beginning or end. The lack of discovery caused the former soldier to frown as he considered other possible release mechanisms, such pondering though were swiftly dismissed for a later a time as the malevolent wanderer opted for the simplest solution, brushing sterling fingers over the cool metal which immediately gave way to pale skin as the collar abruptly vanished from sight, eliciting an odd shiver from the bonemancer as her flesh became oddly rigid and unyielding, yet the girl made no move to deal with her other restraints and so after briefly testing the new durability of the brunettes body Hull shifted his attention to the shrew's bindings and deftly removed the locking mechanisms and leaving the manacles to fall to the floor.
A minute or so passed as the girl shifted away and massaged her abused limbs in an effort to restore circulation, Hull meanwhile kept himself occupied by attempting to remove his jacket without aggravating his wound, not an easy feat when one arm could barely move, still he managed it eventually and by that time the bonemancer had been ready to uphold her side of the bargain, adopting a domineering cadence which the twisted traveler found rather amusing considering he'd been carting her around like a sack of potatoes for the past hour or so, still he did as she asked and allowed her access to his injury, still the ex-soldier by no means trusted the brunette and thus his other held the stun he had used earlier, admittedly it had lost some of its charge but there a sufficient amount of power left to incapacitate bonemancer should she attempt to renege her side of the bargain.
at least, that had been the plan, in reality though it's rather difficult to concentrate when molten steel is being poured into one's shoulder, or at least something very much like it. Every nerve ending in the his arm seemed to scream in agony as fresh bone carved its way through flesh and muscle, relentlessly drilling down to fill the hollow which had been left behind, yet that was barely evening the beginning; for as the new spike of bone finally concluded its journey it grated against the other bones in his limb sending a fresh wave of agony through his system which the left the sadistic slaughterer trembling, sweating and rather hoarse as the brunette terminated her impromptu surgery with a series of ossein stitches to stem the blood flow.
The pain faded gradually, not entirely; that would likely take weeks if not months yet it did become manageable after a minute or so, allowing the former soldier to gingerly test his restored range of movement, it wasn't much admittedly, his muscles had come close to being shredded during the 'healing' however he could at least raise his hand above his waist and his fingers still functioned and the Canadian killer grudgingly marked the operation as a success with an F in customer service and a recommendation for future retribution. Presently however there were more immediate concerns, primarily the fact that he still resided in a SWAT van on its way to NYPD headquarters. Every problem has at least one solution though and as his mobile cell came to an abrupt stop Hull decided to adopt a time honored strategy employed by various individuals across the globe known as autoschediasm.
In short, he winged it.
Leaping somewhat groggily to his feet the twisted anarchist lurched towards the back of the vehicle, easily bypassing the bonemancers dazed and collapsed form as strode over to the rapidly cooling corpse and gracelessly dragged it towards the van's exit. Upon reaching the doors a swift kick was delivered and when that failed to achieve the desired result an open handed slap was used to remove the locking mechanism thereby allowing the doors to swing freely on their hinges, introducing rays of natural light and fresh air into the vehicle for the first time since it had been locked.
'Ah freedom, could anything smell so sweet?'
Considering two carcasses currently occupied the van the answer was likely 'yes', such a pedantic point was easily remedied though, after all there were two rather desolate lanes of traffic just begging to be filled and, never one to shy away from an opportunity Hull gleefully tossed the first and then the second cadaver into the open, grinning gleefully at the resulting cacophony of screeching tires, emphatic horns and the inevitable clash of metal upon metal which generally resulted when one introduced unwieldy objects into an intersection. Still it was for a worthy cause, the men had needed a decent burial and what could be more fitting for the protectors of the city than a coffin constructed from overpriced sports cars?
With no small amount of satisfaction from the newly crafted chaos the former soldier turned back to his weary companion whilst dusting off his hands in an exaggerated gesture before speaking mockingly sanguine tone. "That's the trash done, now for a new set of wheels, be a good girl and don't get in my way, again." Jumping lightly out of the van the sadistic slaughter began to make his way round to the front of the vehicle before pausing and turning back to the corticated bonemancer once more, his mocking affectation hardly changing as he reached his good hand behind back. "tsk tsk, you really are a mess, why don't you clean up a little it will be good for you." Bringing his arm back round to the front Hull's argent fingers now clutched a small pile of thin emerald fabric which he weighed momentarily before cheerfully tossing the light load towards the weary brunette and departing around the side of the van.
Isabel groaned in discomfort as she struggled to right the position she'd been flung into by the van's sudden stop. The driver apparently didn't care how carsick he made his passengers on the way to the station. Carsickness wasn't much of a problem for her, fortunately. Unfortunately, the problem she was having was more painful. The floor of the van wasn't exactly pleasant to bounce around against, that hard material doubtlessly further bruising spots of her already tender flesh. Bruises were only going to get deeper and cuts were going to be reopened numerous times by the time this joyride from Hell was over.
Mercifully the vehicle remained still long enough for her to correct her position and more properly seat herself on the floor. She wasn't about to try climbing up onto one of the seats just yet. The way things were progressing, she'd likely just end up back on the floor again anyhow. Clumsily she made a poor attempt to straighten out the shredded shirt that had just about pasted itself to her skin in patches where blood had spread. The pressure the floor of the van put against her skin was somewhat painful by then, but she was getting to the point of being too tired to care any longer. The sudden shift in lighting didn't do anything for her head, either. Had it been unlocked the whole time? It couldn't have been. Stupid psycho could have opened the damn door any time he'd wanted. Jackass.
She watched said psycho as he gleefully tossed the pair of bodies from the car, not appreciating the responding noise that emanated from screeching tires and blaring horns. She wouldn't have been surprised if he'd done it on purpose just to torment her some more. Jerk.
She managed to glare at him as he turned and spoke to her again in a nauseatingly cheerful tone. She would have rung his neck if she thought she could safely get to her feet. Instead she spat at him again in reply. She could always kill him later. Or maim him again, at least. He had plenty more muscles and organs that she hadn't gotten to yet. For the time being she stayed put as he turned and exited through the now open doors. She didn't come remotely close to trusting him, but she'd remain where she was while he set about doing his next deed and not interfere. If she got into more trouble, the doors were still open and she could make use of them if need be. On her own terms, though. She'd rather not accidentally use the doors once the van began moving again.
She reacted somewhat sluggishly as the bundle of green cloth was tossed at her, the comments accompanying it stubbornly ignored. The pile landed by her lap, her fingertips just barely catching the hem of the outfit. She wasn't so worried about keeping it up off the dirty floor. It wasn't like the thing would remain all that clean once she'd put it on. She was still just about covered in blood, after all.
Reluctantly she gathered up the fabric, found which end was up, and held it in such a way that she could properly see exactly what kind of outfit it was. A dress certainly was her style, but not this kind of dress. Short skirt with nothing to wear beneath it, low-cut frilly top with a small bow attached, puffed sleeves, lace, and an attached apron. It was horrible.
"I'm gonna kill you!" she screamed, dropping the clothing in a pile in front of her and stubbornly crossing her arms to sulk. She didn't want to wear that. It was awful. And so she pouted, even though she knew full well that it was her own damn fault for including it in the deal she made with the maniac that had left the back of the van. The seething only ran its course for s few minutes, though. Despite the low-cut top and high-cut hem, the dress really was less revealing than what she was currently trying to continue wearing.
With an exaggerated sigh, she set about peeling the red-soaked remains of the shirt from her aching skin, using whatever dry patches still remained to sop up the blood that still clung to her skin as best she could without reopening any more cuts. Tossing the soaked fabric out of the open doors, imagining those outside it were too occupied with the corpses and car wrecks to pay her any mind in the process, she then wriggled her way into her newest outfit, mumbling and grumbling the entire time.
The moment Hull departed the unimaginative confines of his ineffective prison the malevolent anarchist promptly abandoned his morbidly cheerful facade. It was not a subtle shift for it affected his entire posture; his legs were reduced to somewhat shorter more careful steps, shoulders hunched slightly as his body lent forward to a noticeable degree and his recently healed arm hung stiffly against his side, carefully immobile to limit the aggravating bursts of pain which shot up and down his newly crafted bones. Broken limbs he'd suffered before, but this was something completely different; the bone had been restored yet it was somehow felt scarred and as such brought with it an entirely new flavour of agony, despite this though a grim smile occupied the macabre killers features.
He would enjoy learning to inflict such pain in others.
Given the twisted travelers slightly awkward pace Hull had fully expected the driver of his otiose prison to emerge from the vehicle before he himself made it to drivers door and so undertook rapid precautions to deal with what would likely prove to be an inimical individual. Slipping his good hand inside the folds of his bloodied jacket the sadistic slaughters fingers glowed for the briefest of moments before his undershirt vanished and reappeared in the blink of an eye hanging loosely off the barrel of the gun now clutched by sterling fingers. A further second was taken to furtively wrap the bloodied shirt more firmly around the weapon just before it was flashed upwards to meet the officer existing the drivers seat and a bullet lodged itself in the man's throat.
Annoyingly however the malevolent murderers slipshod preparations utterly failed to muffle the retort of the gunshot by any significant degree and so as Hull's latest victim collapsed screams were already breaking out among the more dimwitted drivers present while other, more savvy, characters conserved their breath and focused on vacating the area as swiftly as possible. The Canadian killer himself though merely lowered his head and sighed despondently before giving a half hearted shrug before shaking the scrap of cloth off his firearm and swinging the weapon to point towards remaining imbecilic drivers .
Bullets were fired almost carelessly; seemingly with no point or purpose yet each projectile succeeded shattering glass and then in lancing flesh and, if not entirely robbing said flesh of life, at least impose a certain amount of... inconvenience into the vacuous victim. All too soon though the ammo was exhausted and the weapons hammer clicked on hollow space causing a glum expression of disappointment to decorate the anarchists physiognomy before he shrugged once more and shifted his attention to the fresh corpse lying at his feet.
A handful of seconds was all that was needed to relieve the cadaver of its keys and other pertinent personal affects, after that a judicious kick rolled the cooling carcass into an adjacent lane of traffic and allowed the Canadian killer to absently stroll towards the car door and then situate himself in the vehicle which had so recently confined him. A low hum began in the back of the of the foreign fiends throat as he idly started the ignition and shifted the machine into drive.
"She'll be skinning furry monkey's when she comes She'll be eating little puppies when she comes
She'll be skinning furry monkeys She'll be eating little puppies She'll be drowning newborn kittens when she comes"
Allowing the words to die off the sinister slaughterer resorted to merely whistling the inane tune as he floored the accelerator and forced the vehicle to shift into a higher gear while his viridian eyes darted back and forth across the road, scanning for opening in the traffic. Upon finding none the morbid wanderer frowned and removed his good hand from the steering wheel resulting the van to swerve alarmingly for a moment before Hull's questing fingers flipped an innocuous switch and an all too clichéd siren split the air causing the vehicles ahead to part in a manner akin to a bald man's comb.
Needless to say the sinister anarchist was none too pleased with such a lack of performance and made his displeasure known by crudely ramming the front of the SWAT van into the nearest car he could find. A delightful clash of metal upon metal echoed far too briefly as Hull allowed himself to fall back before picking up speed once more and ramming his target again. To the drivers credit it only took three such collisions before the battered car managed to move into a contiguous lane, thereby proving that women were not complete incapable at the wheel.
Surprisingly after the first few demonstrations of impetus the road ahead became surprisingly more cooperative, yet this did not prevent the Candian killer from occasionally swerving into nearby lanes at little to no notice of others. This was done partially for the twisted travelers own entertainment but also because... well, no it was done purely for entertainment which, it should be said, was only heightened by the knowledge that back seating area of the van possessed very little in the way of seatbelts.
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My apologies for the prolonged absence. I have been able to write for quite some time but I am working on changing that. Feel free to have Hull stop anywhere you wish, be it a parking lot to obtain a less conspicuous car or Sanctuary should the fancy take you.
