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.
Still sprawled out somewhat uncomfortably upon the concrete stairs of the KP building Hull’s deranged mind was, as usual, split between a variety of disconnected topics ranging from the practicality of a soda bottle as a makeshift silencer for a rifle, to the current economic pressures influencing the culture of Somalia... and somewhere within the mangled weaved of ratiocination a mental checklist was currently being compiled as the Canadian killers survival instincts came into play; swiftly taking stock of the latest accumulation of injuries sustained from the white haired woman’s ill conceived shooting spree. In some respects the twisted anarchist counted himself fortunate that his little dove was clearly inept when it came to inflicting violence upon others for had she wanted to Hull’s skull would have made a most convenient target, things being what they were though the slender sylph had only managed to score two hits, and of those only one had achieved any real damage. The slug in question currently lodged in the macabre wanderers shoulder, nestled somewhere between bone and muscle the minute piece of metal made moving his left arm a rather painful chore and thus it had simply been left where sinister wanderer had last placed it… down the brunettes generous cleavage.
‘Odd, I’d taken for an A but she clearly rates a C’ The thought sailed idly through the killers mind as he tested the injured arms range of movement as well as the dexterity of his fingers; being confined as they were between the faux maids ample assets it was somewhat inevitable that the bombers flexing digits came to grasp with things as some might say. Sadly however before any in depth “testing” could take place the anarchists various trains of thought were rather rudely interrupted.
“Bastard!”[/color]
No doubt triggered by the malicious travelers untimely molestation the stripped brunette violently reached one of her own limbs upwards to forcefully remove Hull’s questing hand from her bust. As this was occurring the hazel haired girl’s other arm over the sadistic slaughters mockingly innocent face and a series of needle point claws abruptly extended from the pseudo waitresses fingers and swiftly swept downwards with the intent of mauling the malevolent marauder. As luck would have it though Hull’s right arm was unencumbered and thus it took only the barest of moments for the deranged Canadians free hand to curl instinctively as argent fingers glowed faintly and summoned a metallic canister with dimensions similar to that of a fire extinguisher. The aforementioned container however possessed not C02 but rather a generous supply of thallium which Hull had acquired upstairs.
Such a move was, admittedly something of a gamble, for should the decorticated females claws happen to pierce the canisters casing then they would both be sprayed with an ample dosage of the deadly toxin. Fortuitously for both mutants however the container had been crafted with durability in mind and the bonemancers nails failed to find any purchase on the metallic surface and simply slipped off to the side, leaving behind only the faintest scratch in the otherwise immaculate metal.
Upon finally removing Hull’s hand from between her ivory breasts the faux maid abruptly swiftly gave up her attempts to maim the perverted traveler beneath her in favor of regaining her own two feet and placing as much distance between as was possible within the limited area of the stairwell. As his eyesight was somewhat limited by the toxic container in front of his face the first the sadistic anarchist became aware of the brunettes reactions was when her weight was abruptly lifted from his body and he lowered the metallic cylinder to see what had occurred; The moment the wanderers viridian eyes caught site of disrobed girl though their gaze immediately traveled southward; following the trail of bare flesh from the torso, down to the hips and then the junction of the thighs, which was utterly glabrous, just as a sheet of white rose up seemingly through the skin and blocked the travelers view.
‘Worst preview ever. If she asks for a credit card I will not be held responsible for my actions… not that I ever am but that’s beside the point! Such teasing is unacceptable unless its use leads to a more profitable…’
Blinking briefly Hull allowed his gaze to lose focus slightly and withdraw from the apex of the girl’s thighs in order to take in overall picture she presented; now bare from top to toe the brunettes pale ivory skin possessed only the slightest tint of pink and was concealed from view in only two places. The first was her bust which was ensconced by a thin strip of bone which wrapped around the center of the two mounds and appeared to be an extension of the ribs. However the breast plate seemed to have constricted somewhat; becoming narrower than it was originally so that the swell of the breasts was visible both above and below while also granting her an even greater expanse of cleavage. The second piece of unnatural attire was situated in the girl’s pelvic region and really was nothing more than a thong for it surfacing as a single layer just above the pubic bone and traveled down between the bonemancer thighs, becoming increasingly narrower as it traveled out of sight lest it hinder her range of motion.
The completed picture was actually rather striking, for at first glance the brunettes osseous lingerie blended seamlessly with her ivory skin, making it appear as though the pseudo maid was truly exposed. A more thorough examination of course would reveal that the girl’s essential areas were in fact concealed, if only barely. However in regards to the malicious machination rapidly racing through Hull’s twisted mindscape the initial impression was all that mattered and in less time than it took to blink the sinister traveler had vanished the toxic canister in his right hand and immediately replaced it with a somewhat bulky disposable digital camera. Activating the electronic imaging device took nothing more than the push of a button and utilizing the digital film was just as easy, thus the malevolent marauder was able to create a myriad of images which captured the disrobed and somewhat flushed bonemancer with her legs slightly more than shoulder width apart and arms by her sides as her chest heaved with each prolonged breath.
“Could you turn-“
The former soldiers words were immediately drowned as the equivalent of a howling hurricane surged into being within the already warped and decimated stairwell. ‘No…’The entire structure seemed to tremble and shift as the violent winds combined with unnatural magnetic forces above and Hull swiftly twisted his neck to glare down at the alabaster sylph, hardly noting her lack of skirt as he caught site of the fearful yet focused expression on her features as the winds rapidly increased in intensity. ‘No no no.’
“Fuck!’ The explicit curse left the wounded murderers lips as he cast out his injured arm and grasped hold of a nearby railing to prevent himself from soaring upwards for the second time in so many seconds. Even with such desperate measure however Hull found his body swiftly removed from the quivering stairs and was momentarily left fluttering like a desolate kite as his damaged arm gradually lost its grip upon the warped railing. Unwilling to go quietly however Canadian bomber resolved to leave one last parting gesture, thus the silver fingers of his right hand clutched tightly to camera in its grasp and, faster than the human eye could follow, the disposable device had been replaced with a sleek obsidian Glock 22which the former soldier had acquired from one NYPD’s finest a few short days ago.
Barely taking the time to aim the malicious murderer allowed his ingrained muscle memory to take control, instinctively swinging up and around to face the aggravating aeromancer just before his forefinger rapidly depressed the trigger causing a cacophony ear piercing gunshots to once more echo within the metallic confines of the stairwell. Irritatingly however the alabaster sylph failed to immediately keel over as the array of bullets somehow managed to avoid her slender wraiths form and merely ricocheted against the walls, prompting another string of curses from the sadistic slaughter as his grip abruptly gave way and the unnatural winds propelled him across the stairwells, into the bikini sporting brunette and out one of the oversized windows which overlooked the entrance to the building.
The sensation of freefall did not last long, they had only been on the third floor or so of the building and thus only had maybe thirty feet between themselves and the earth, under normal circumstances such a distance would have been sufficient for the two airborne mutants to reach their terminal velocity and thus cause a fatal collision with the ground below. In this world however normality rarely has a place; the same alien winds which had expelled the dissolute duo from the stairwell surrounded them during their descent, granting a slight updraft which slowed the fall and brought it to none lethal speeds… at least until they were approximately 10ft from the earth; at which point the surging currents abruptly dissipated and the pair were brought back under gravities sovereignty and crashed, not into the earth as Hull would have originally assumed, but instead atop the comatose form a rather large individual.
Not one to argue with such a beneficial situation the former soldier blinked and wearily attempted to recall precisely what was occurring, oddly however his typically immaculate memory failed to provide him with the desired information and so the disoriented wanderer was left at something of a loss as he hesitantly placed his hands beneath him pushed himself upwards into a sitting position. This action was paused almost immediately however as the deranged travelers fingers found purchase on soft yielding flesh which immediately caused viridian eyes to glance down at the stunned, and utterly naked, female figure beneath him.
‘Well this is different.’
Feeling absolutely no sense of malapropos the confused traveler made no motion to remove either of his hands from atop the unknown woman’s capacious breasts as he slowly resumed his previously activity and pushed himself upwards until he was straddling the brunettes thighs and granted an unimpaired view of her exposed form. The moment he lifted his hands from her ample assets however an abrupt wave of vertigo struck the malevolent traveler and he immediately lost his balance and slid off the nubile young woman beneath him and onto the somewhat bloody floor surrounding the comatose giant.
--
“Did I just see that?”[/color]
“Yes, yes you did.”[/color]
“Please tell me you caught it on camera?”[/color]
“Heh, I’m still recording.[/color]
Inside a partially renovated building situated across the street from King Pharmaceutical a city news crews had taken up temporary residence on one of the higher levels in order to obtain footage of the mutant brawl taking place inside the medical companies grounds. Many of the crews peers had fled when the inebriated juggernaut had started catapulting cadavers at helicopters, however being as they were reasonably sheltered within the moderately restored building the male reporting team had elected to remain where they were and continue recording the action in hopes of receiving achieving a bonus by the end of the night. Imagine their surprise then when, shortly after the first body had fallen from the upper floors of KP another two quickly followed from a lower level. Oddly however the second pair seemed to be falling rather slower than was normal and as the camera man pointed commented on this fact and zoomed in on the strange duo they all became aware of the brunette females state of undress.
“You realize we’re gonna get fired if the boss see’s this tape?”[/color]
“You realize how much money we could make selling this online?[/color]
Hull's face remained utterly somber as he silently watched and waited for the callow gamines response, inside however the twisted travaler was doing the equivalent of an asinine aureate victory pose. There was little doubt in the malicious wanderers mind that the conceited child would consent to following him throughout central park; he'd caught the hopeful expression which had flashed across her features when he'd claimed to have spotted one her contemptible creatures, verily children these days were far too naïve. They needed to be educated in the ways of world, taught that no matter how bad things seemed they could always get worse and, according to Murphy’s law, they usually did.
'What ever happened to the neighbourhood watch? Everybody looking out for everybody else, such an idyllic concept it, shame it hinged on people actually giving a crap about anyone besides themselves.'
As predicted, after another hubristic display of distaste made itself known upon the adolescents visage, the clueless little girl agreed to follow the Canadian killer throughout central park in hopes of locating one of her witless pets. The malicious marauder almost chuckled as he casually wasted a moment to dust down his flamboyant apparel; the ingénue’s anxiety was easily apparent to anyone who possessed even the slightest knowledge of human behavior and so the aberrant poisoner took no small amount of satisfaction from watching the child's impatience swiftly build upon itself. It was somewhat petty to be sure but that made it no less entertaining as the girls face gradually developed a crimson hue on par with that of his own garments. Sadly though he couldn't push her too far, not just yet anyways, so he abruptly the sinister wanderer straightened and cast his gaze about the park as though to get his bearings, in actuality however the former soldier was simply surveying his current audience, ensuring that no one had anything more than a passing interest in the blonde haired brat before him.
“Right, I was over that way when I ran into your little beast.” Hull deliberately gestured with the hand which still clutched the rejected bottled of coca cola indicating towards a heavily wooded area which, if taken, would convey the two of them to the upper right quadrant of the park, towards a modest body of water entitled Harlem Meer. “Stick close to me and don't go running off ahead, I don't want to lose sight of you.”
One of the many benefits of a photographic memory is that one is easily able to memorize any and all routes traveled or described. For a devoted anarchist this translated into learning the location and paths of every emergency service, power line, scrap yard/landfill and of course the sewer system. Considering the vast size of the city obtaining such data manually would have been quite the tedious task, conveniently however the government had already performed dreary legwork and so all it had taken was a single, somewhat prolonged, after hours visit to a government planning office to learn a collection of quite interesting facts; one of which was that the local sewer system had several access points running underneath central park near large bodies of water… such as Harlem Meer.
The only slight downside of the sinister slaughterers illicit topographical information was that the aforementioned access points had been rather vaguely mapped thus the former solider was forced to split his attention between keeping track of his young vict- charge, and searching for manholes. Fortuitously though he had no need to craft an explanation of his strange behavior as the dim witted child simply assumed the twisted traveler was searching for her stray pet. As the pair progressed through the sylvan area the trees began to cluster, shading the ground almost completely as they vied for the sun’s rays. Additional vegetation also began to prosper in the forms of bushes and shrubbery’s, all of which possessed quite a vivid array of blooms designed to contribute to the parks overall visual aesthetics, an unintentional consequence though was that the colorful verdure was precisely the right height to conceal certain blonde haired adolescents from view; a fact which proved to be most advantageous when Hull did at last locate one of the elusive manholes sequestered just a short distance from a memorial fountain.
A malevolent grin streaked across the malicious murderer’s features as he swiftly scanned the surroundings in search of any potential interruptions; police, parents, pets and any other pestiferous individuals. Lady luck however seemed to be in a favourable mood for the immediate area appeared to be abandoned, although the faint yapping of some canine or another could be heard somewhere off to the east just above the general background noise of birds and distant cars. Ordinarily one might be suspicious of such ideal conditions for a rather hastily concocted abduction, but then the deranged wanderer had learned over the years that one should never look a gift horse in the mouth, but should instead leap upon it and ride it to exhaustion before then possibly making use of the carcass for a light meal of some sort.
In any case now was not the time to delay.
“Psst! Over here!”
Crouched down furtively at the corner of the hedge which concealed the manhole Hull glanced expectantly at the imprudent ingénue who had briefly wandered away from his side to scout on her own. When he finally caught her eye the sadistic anarchist gestured impatiently with his free hand, indicating that the girl should join him as quickly and quietly as was possible. “I think I found the bugger, but I’d rather not wake him up, he’s already tried to maul me once already, so I’ll let you have the honours.”
Backing up slightly so that the ashen eyed child could take his place the foreign fiend waited until the gullible gamine had sneaked past him before rapidly rising the dejected soda bottle in his left hand while his right snake forward to grasp the child’s shoulder and hold her still as he brought the class container crashing down towards her skull.
The malicious murderers short descent down the stairs seemed to happen almost in slow motion the instant his mind registered precisely what he was seeing. Autonomic gears within the wander’s mind shifted abruptly as his photographic memory pushed itself into high gear, recording every passing second with excruciating detail, everything was noted and committed to memory; the flickering fluorescent light cast from the ceiling, the discoloured guardrail which encircled the stairs, the pale yet pert breasts of the brown haired female before him as she swiftly bent at the waist and lifted her bare back from the cold concrete of the stairs, unwittingly raising her ivory assets into greater prominence and granting the sinister traveler an extra split seconds view of rosy areola before head went over heels and disorientation set in.
As the sinister anarchist proceeded to tumble down the brief flight of stairs his viridian orbs barely had time to blink at the somewhat blurry sight of a rapidly approaching white haired figure before his descent was brought to a sharp halt as the laws of physic’s abruptly took hold and transferred the slaughterers momentum to the slender legs of the now crushed against the stairwell wall. A second blink was swiftly taken as the former rapidly tried to reorient himself now that he was once more stationary; viridian eyes quickly refocused and a micro second of confusion passed the perverted traveler’s features as he stared upwards at a petite strip of polka dotted material with a blue a white theme. The moment passed almost immediately though as the ex soldiers gaze instinctively panned out, taking in the slender alabaster legs which and short skirt which surrounded the strip of cloth.
‘Polka dot panties? Seriously?’
Before a more coherent thought could be formed on the matter though a piercing shriek filled the air as the topless faux waitress finally came to terms with her somewhat unusual wardrobe malfunction. Hull’s gaze reflexively flashed back towards the screaming woman and his eyes unconsciously drifted downwards a few key degrees to settle once more upon the pseudo maid’s bare breasts before a flicker of motion crossed his peripheral vision and the Canadian killers emerald eyes instinctively tracked the movement, catching sight of widening honey brown eyes below a short mane of shocking white hair. The multiple mechanism’s within Hull’s mindscape once again acted upon an autonomous process, instantly recalling the series of events which took place in times square no more than a month or so ago. The foreign killer’s features twisted into a deranged grin as his emerald eyes sparked with recognition.
Dove, that was the sobriquet the sinister slaughterer had given the pallid sylph, bestowed with a quiet intimacy the moniker had been whispered into the woman’s ears as he had slowly dragged her mutilated body into the veiled shadows of an abysmal alleyway. The malicious anarchist had fully intended to terminate the witless waif’s life at that moment, however there had been…extenuating circumstances, and the guileless gamine had somehow managed to slip away from the jaws of death. However Hull had never been one to shy away from adversity, for as the age old aphorism states…
If at first you don’t succeed, rip rend and ravage.’
Argent hands swiftly rose from the dust encrusted floor and swept upwards towards the shocked sylph’s bare thighs, sterling fingers began to glow with a faint luminescence as they once again adopted a clawed arrangement fully intent on gouging out the woman’s femoral artery and adding it his growing collection of macabre souvenirs, after all the section of intestine he’d taken from the girl midriff during their previous encounter had been getting rather lonesome and dislodgement, for as they say; misery loves company.
Fate and fortune however seemed to be against the malevolent murderer’s sadistic intentions, for when Hull’s finger’s were no more than a millimeter away from their intended target an unnatural torrent of wind burst into creation. Intensifying the already noticeable vibrations of the stairwell and all but drowning out the screeched death threats of the disrobed brunette above. It was in the midst of this effusive chaos that the former soldier abruptly found himself being lifted from the floor, carried as though he were no more than a rag doll. Sinister fingers which mere moments prior had been positioned to end a life suddenly grasped at empty air as the Canadian killer felt himself gaining upward momentum. Instinct once again took over as the sadistic wanderer scrambled blindly, searching for some form of anchor and, by either chance or design, the pads of his fingers came into contact with the hem of the female windmancer’s short skirt which abruptly followed a similar path to the viridian brassiere of the faux waitress above, though with a slightly different twist.
Hull’s contact with the light garment had been so brief and unfocused that despite it’s relatively insubstantial mass the flowing skirt only flickered for an instant, merely long enough for the article to be separated from the waif’s hips before it entered reality once more and slipped from the sinister traveler’s curling fingers. The amber coloured garment was immediately caught by the aberrant wind howling through the rattling staircase, soaring swiftly past the macabre wanderer the short skirt streaked across the short width of the stairwell before it blew into the pseudo maids face, momentarily blinding her and thus preventing any type of coordinated preemptive action regarding the human missile streaking towards her.
‘Soaring through the air’ ‘Towards a topless dame’ ‘My that’s quite the pair’ ‘She must have no shame’
The deranged travelers internal jingle was abruptly cut off as his sizeable form rapidly crossed the short span of the stairway and collided bodily with the now homicidal ribbon wearing nymph for the second time in so many seconds. Briefly the anarchists mind registered the fact that the woman seemed to have sprouted some bizarre form of chest plate to defend her wounded dignity as his arms reflexively wrapped around her lithe form and pivoted her slightly in an effort to ensure that she would land beneath him and therefore cushion the impact of the stairs. Unfortunately the ploy was only partially successful as the winds had twisted the murderers position somewhat during the short flight, aligning ex-soldiers chest with the brunettes torso and placing his head just to right of the strange breast plate so that his own skull hammered harshly against the solid concrete of the steps.
Normally such a blow to the head would result in a concussion and possibly lack of consciousness, in Hull’s case he managed to avoid the latter yet in exchange had to suffer the resounding pain and disorientation of the former. It is, perhaps, not overly surprising therefore that the impetus suffered by his cranium caused the former soldier to lose control of his mutation yet again as the hands wrapped around the faux maids midriff momentarily went slack and drifted down over the viridian skirt and tan pants which covered the girls callipygian figure. Argent fingers glowed almost imperceptibly in the fluorescent lighting of the stairwell and a mere microsecond later the pseudo waitresses derriere was disrobed in the same manner as her bust leaving the unfortunate bone manipulator with nothing but the ribbons in her hair and the improvised breast plate, indeed had the wanderer’s knee not fallen between the woman’s own spread legs the white haired sylph below would not doubt have received quite an eyeful.
Raising himself up slowly the malicious murderer released a pained ground as he placed a hand against his head and attempted to resolve the resounding pusling in his skull, paying only half attention to the body beneath him and completely disregarding the pale waif below him. At least he recalled who had tossed him back up the stairs in the first place, at which point the wanderer’s head arched round to glare at the timid sylph. The hand clutching his head fell away and the fingers began to curl around a non existent hilt as the Canadian killer prepare to withdraw a firedraw and place several rounds in the ingénue’s skull.
Imagine the anarchists surprise then when he found that he had actually been beaten to the draw and that Dove already had not one, but two pistols in her trembling hands. Hull’s eyes immediately widened in shock as he noticed what little colour the sylph possessed drained from her face as her body subconsciously prepared to fire the shot even as the girl closed her terrified eyes.
Adrenaline rushed the former soldiers systems as he realized that the guileless gamine was actually going to pull the trigger and years of training immediately overtook command of his muscles, compelling his body to curl up in order to minimize the chances of being hit. The result of such a maneuver was that the former solider all but wrapped himself around the dazed brunette below him as he attempted to roll himself beneath her in attempt to turn her into a human shield. Irritatingly though the woman was proving to be somewhat heavier than anticipated and due to the awkward positioning Hull’s efforts were met with little to no success until one of his hands found its way down the front of the faux maids hastily crafted breast placed and utilized the convenient hand hold to spin the girl up around his own body, at which point a searing pain lanced through the demented bombers shoulder at the same time a earsplitting crack reverberated within the tight confines of the stairwell.
The first shot was swiftly followed by several others as the ivory haired waif rapidly pressed the depressed the triggers on the two firearms and Hull felt another bolt of lead pierce the edge of his thigh and released a muffled curse as his free hand went to grip the new injury while other arm remained in place down the bonemancer’s breast plate due to his wounded shoulder.
When the echoes had died about half way down the malicious killer allowed his muscles to relax slightly as he twisted his neck to catch a brief glimpse at the female air elemental below in order to determine whether the witless waif was trying to reload or was in fact… at least until he realizing there was currently a rather warm, shapely and over all exposed brunette lying on top of him. Viridian eyes immediately darted back to the pseudo waitresses honey brown orbs and increasingly scarlet features.
((OOC: Godmodding done with permission from both Isabel and Ghost.))
--
BOOM![/i]
The concussive force of the explosion shook the very foundations of the industrial structure, at least that was how it seemed to the Canadian killer, however his rather hazardous proximity to the blast zone was bound to have some influence over his perception of the detonation which had caused several tremors to travel through nearby areas and possessed sufficient impetus to take malevolent anarchists feet out from under him as he had fled down a desolate stairwell. The abrupt lack of balance resulted in the former soldier tumbling gracelessly down the remainder of the flight stairs, collecting a fair share of bruises and possibly concussions before his blood drenched back at last slammed into an opposing wall abruptly halting his momentum and causing him to collapse in an upside down pile of limbs.
‘oohhh, look at all the pretty birdies… I oughta kick their avian assess, teach em to mock me.’
Slowly rising from his crumpled position the twisted traveler released a pained groan as his mind gradually took a mental inventory of the latest contusions his body had acquired from his brief and somewhat painful fall. The number was slightly depressing but the overall accumulated damage was far from crippling, at most it would be source of constant irritation for the next few days as body set about healing the damaged tissue. For now though the malevolent wanderer would simply have to deal with aggravation until he managed to vacate the premises, before that however the sadistic slaughterer intended to conduct another cursory examination of the facility in order to determine if he could wreak any further havoc while the mutant brawler’s continued their unwitting role as decoy’s.
Placing a hand upon the guardrail which encircled the stairs Hull gradually began his descent once more wincing occasionally as his frame worked out some of the newly kinks and accustomed itself to the little aches and pains. A few flights of stairs later the deranged wander’s movements had become markedly less hesitant as he picked up speed and began vaulting down multiple stairs at a time in his eagerness to reach the structures lower levels and the mass of machinery which resided therein. The sudden sound of scampering footsteps, along with a suspicious clacking sound directly below however caused the twisted bomber to come to an abrupt halt as his viridian eyes narrowed and his head craned forward to catch the sounds below. The footsteps were easier enough to distinguish, likely some sort of heeled shoe judging by the solid clamor they created, the strange clacking sound which followed them though was something the anarchists couldn’t seem to place. It almost made him think of a cane, but anyone who required a cane wouldn’t be able to move anywhere near as swiftly as the sounds indicated.
Leaning his head into the center of the stairwell the former solider brushed his obsidian hair out of his eyes as he glanced down and managed to catch sight of what appeared to be a feminine figure with auburn hair racing down to the lower levels, his narrowed gaze just managed to catch the faintest hint of green in the flowing brown locks along with a glint of metal in the girls hands and some sort of strange protrusions from her back before she twisted out of sight, leaving the demented traveler with more questions than answers as he once again began to descend the stairs, carefully checking each floor to try and determine precisely what the woman had been running from.
The former soldier found the answer to his curiosity when the light tinkling of broken glass caught his attention and drew him what seemed to be a recently vacated hallway, well if the broken window was any indication at least. Creeping cautiously forward Hull’s senses were taught as his viridian eyes carefully swept the abandoned corridor, spotting a pair empty hypodermic darts haphazardly tossed across the beige carpet before a sudden sizzling filled the air and chaotic streaks of light danced from around a bend in the hallway, steadily moving closer to the shattered window frame until what might best be described as luscious blonde with an exceedingly bad hair day crept into view.
The woman in question was fairly petite, something which only seemed to be emphasized by the way her hair somehow managed to stand on end. Her features were dull, almost blank as she continued forward at almost a snails pace with intermittent streaks of lightning circling her lithe form. The overall image was really quite dramatic, possessing a certain Frankenstein’s bride element that the sinister traveler found almost amusing. Any element of humour however swiftly diminished as the seemingly brain dead blonde began to take the building apart piece by piece, the entire building seemed to moan as metal supports began to buckle inwards towards the strange female and shower of lighter metallic objects rained down the magnetic figure, creating a literal nimbus which began to obscure the woman’s figure.
Hull momentarily debated the pro’s and cons of attempting to halt the spaced out bimbo rapidly growing sphere of destruction. On the one hand he had nothing against gratuitous violence and rather enjoyed seeing others taking up the mantle of anarchist in some form or another, however at the rate things were progressing it looked as though the entire building would come crashing down in a few scant minutes which meant that the ex soldier himself would be robbed of the opportunity to cause his own special brand of destruction down below and that simply would not do.
‘Bye bye Barbie.’
With a cruel smirk on his features the malicious murderer raised an open hand, preparing to summon one of the many firearms he had picked up over the last few weeks he had resided within the metropolitan city known as New York. Just as argent fingers began to curl around an imaginary hilt though a metallic filing cabinet burst through the brittle drywall of a an adjacent room and promptly shot towards the Canadian killers intended target where it then proceeded to twist and writhe as it orbited the oblivious blonde bimbo causing the foreign anarchist to think better of summoning a metallic weapon. He could already feel what he assumed to be loose change in his stolen jacket begin to gravitate the magnetic female and thus abruptly decided to leave the woman to her work as he leapt back into the stairwell and began to descend once more.
Bolting down the stairs at a rather breakneck pace Hull kept one hand placed the metallic guardrail which was already beginning to tremble as it struggled to rise upward. Such behaviour did nothing to comfort the serial killer who quickly determined he wasn’t moving quite fast enough and promptly tensed his muscles and shifted his weight as he flung himself over the railing and onto the lower opposing portion of the stairwell where he landed upon the balls of his feet and descended a few additional steps before swiftly grasping the guard rail and repeating his previous action. It was in such a manner that the disturbed anarchist rapidly gained upon the brown haired female he had spotted moments previously.
With no intention of reducing his speed Hull simply allowed himself to close the distance, emerald eyes shifting back and forth from his next handhold to the girl before him as he began to pick out additional details; pigtails were one of the first things he noticed, separated by a series of emerald ribbons the woman’s bounced around her shoulders as she ran down the stairs. The second thing the Canadian wanderer took note of was the rather odd attire the girl had chosen to don; seeming composed of multiple of layers of varying shades of green the overall image put the malicious murderer in mind of a waitress or possibly a maid, the thought was no doubt influenced by the strange apron at the woman’s front as well as the slightly short skirt beneath it.
The final item which caught the killer’s attention was the unusually designed dart gun clutched in the young woman’s hand, clearly a custom made weapon it drew the ex soldier attention back to the empty hypodermic darts he had spotted a few floors up as well as the electrified Barbie who was currently remodeling the building. Viridian eyes abruptly narrowed as the various cogs within the twisted bombers mind clicked, associating the empty darts with the overly energized blonde bimbo and the resulting destruction.
‘Berserker bullets? Damn this place does have everything… I should ask where she got- actually screw it.’
“My Toy!”
The final words left Hull’s lips just as he vaulted the last landing of stairs, swinging his entire weight over the discolored guardrail and adroitly adjusting his trajectory so that his military issue boots approximately aligned themselves with young woman’s shoulders. A mere split second later Hull’s booted feet made contact with the front of the faux maids shoulders and the girl’s back and skull collided roughly with the stairs, making a somewhat suspicious clicking sound which the malevolent murderer failed to take heed of as he rapidly through his weight forward and crouched his blood stained legs to maintain his own precarious balance. Even with such pre-emptive action though the ex-soldiers equilibrium was not absolute and he instinctively cast out his argent hands in order to better anchor his position.
While the anarchist had possessed his mutation for a good number of years his control was by no means perfect, and he still occasionally experienced the odd flare where his powers would activate without his conscious consent. Generally this was in response to some innate reflexive action, attempting to catch a knife, or perhaps block a thrown object. In either case such flare ups usually ended up benefiting the sadistic slaughterer one way or another so he had never attempted to rid himself of the reflex. It was because of slothful behaviour that things swiftly began to go downhill.
Literally.
Cast out in momentary panic sterling fingers immediately buried themselves in the closest material to hand, which just so happened to be the front of the pseudo waitresses dress. Sadly, or perhaps happily depending on the readers perspective, the Canadian killers fingers had begun to glow the moment they made contact with emerald material and thus it immediately flickered out of existence, leaving the somewhat dazed girl bare from the waist up with the exception of her light viridian bandeau. Hull’s green orbs widened in shock as he found his temporary handhold had abruptly vanished, leaving him without a means to anchor himself and so he once more began to tilt backwards towards the bottom of the stairs.
In something akin to a mad rush the falling former soldier’s lightly luminescent fingers scrambled madly at the air before him as he sought something with which to cease his descent, clawed fingers arching down once again towards the spurious maids upper torso and roughly grasping the front of the flimsy brassiere. The last layer of material protecting young woman’s bust, and thus her modesty, from the open air rapidly stretched as it was strained far beyond what it had been designed for and swiftly snapped as the back band gave way and the shoulder straps traveled unhindered down inert limbs as the front of the garment came away in the wanderers hands, granting the tumbling anarchist a split seconds view of ivory breasts before gravity took hold and he was sent barreling down the stairs for the second time in so many minutes.
This time however, instead of impacting with a harsh, unforgiving concrete wall the improbable plummeting pervert collided with a pair of slender legs which, while not ideal cushioning material, was vastly preferable to the aforementioned option. Though precisely what the owner of said legs thought of such an outcome was up to debate.
‘Oh goody a confounding conjurer, I wonder if he’ll pull rabbits out of his ass next.’
Such was one of the thoughts running through Hull’s internal monologue as he observed a veritable spray of opaque shards dispense from behind the Asian youth’s back, sweeping forward on a nonexistent wind the frenzy fragments flew to their masters defense swiftly slotting together to form an irregular barrier almost faster than the eye could follow. A mere split second later a rotating elliptical shield had formed before the slant eyed young man just in time to intercept scarlet soaked knife which had been on course to pierce the new arrivals heart. The blade collided with hastily barrier eliciting a sharp metallic resonance before the weapon then clattered mutely to the alley floor having been robbed of its lethal impetus.
‘Nah, he’d have to pull his head out first and he doesn’t look qualified for a rectal cranial extraction.’
Toxic viridian eyes narrowed rapidly with displeasure as they watched the fragmented shield hastily reform into a curiously shaped rectangular barrier which proceeded to hover between the serial killer and his latest annoyance. The aggravating Asian in question then narrowed his eyes in what could interpreted as either concentration or constipation, however moments before the twisted traveler could comment upon such a comparison he found himself knocked from his center of balance for the second time in so many minutes. This time however the blow came from below instead of above as sinister bomber had his legs knocked out from underneath him and landed roughly upon his back momentarily winding him just as an ivory equine rounded the corner and all but trampling him as it dashed through the narrow alleyway.
‘It’s always good to have a change in perspective every now and again; it keeps things from going stale and encourages one to try different things. I for instance am experiencing a sudden urge to crucify all those around me upside down, especially the little pretty boy with the caped crusader complex.'
'Hmm, would that even work though? I mean if you were to invert a crucifixion then gravity would remove the strain upon the diaphragm and the victim would be able to breathe quite freely. The pressure upon the feet would admittedly increase tenfold as would the pain but the subtle torture aspect would no longer exist and that truly was the entire point of the exercise.'
'Maybe I’m simply not visualizing this correctly, anatomy never was strong suit, I’ll have to make a note to research the issue at a later date for posterity’s sake.’
Such ponderings came to the sadistic slaughter as he lay unmoving upon the filth covered surface of the alley floor. The former soldier was vaguely aware of the Asian annoyance issuing some asinine declaration however the majority of the wanderer’s attention was fixed upon the stochastic appearance of the alabaster animal at the entrance to the back alley. The creature was clearly agitated if its basic body language were any indication for it swiftly dismissed the sickly sylphs two would be rescuers with nothing more than a simply shake of it long neck. The argent beast then lowered its head towards the injured women and for the first time Hull caught sight of the unnatural protrusion which extended from its skull.
‘A unicorn?! A god damned unicorn?! What the fuck kind of fairy tale did I fall into?’
Abruptly shaking the cobwebs which had crept over his mind the malicious murderer groaned theatrically as he gradually pushed himself up into a sitting position and took a brief cursory glance of his surroundings before swiftly raising a hand to his head and releasing another meretricious moan but otherwise remaining still. Internally however the Canadian killer’s thoughts were racing as the analytical sections of his mind went to work evaluating his present situation… the preliminary conclusion was rather depressing, for while Hull did pride himself upon his ability to inhume others he was ill equipped to deal with the latest interferences to his fun. Therefore a new approach would have to be utilized, at least until lady luck placed him back within her good graces.
“Oi vey, I don’t suppose anybody’s got any aspirin? No? Hell..”
Moving with a lack of coordination which had been mastered during years of inebriety the sinister slaughter unsteadily pushed himself to his feet and backed up against a conveniently placed dumpster which he then placed at his back, allowing him to view both parties in the alleyway. The malevolent gazes leveled in the former soldier direction were not lost anyone, least of all the wanderer himself and he swiftly raised both hands in a placating gesture as he adopted a reconciliating tone.
“All right, all right, let’s everyone remain calm and not let things spiral out of control. No one wants’ to do something they’ll regret. I admit this looks bad but trust me it’s all just a big misunderstanding.”
Absently moving his hands the foreign bomber began patting down his recently acquired trench coat in obvious show of one searching for something, a brief moment later a small grin slipped across the anarchists visage as one hand slipped inside the confines of the coat and reappeared a moment later clutching both a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. A few seconds later one of the cancer sticks had been lit and placed jauntily in the killer’s mouth as he took a deep breath.
“Now then, might I be able to tell my side of the story or would you rather go back to abusing my own fine self?”
Intense viridian orbs clashed with irritated ashen eyes as the deranged killer and impudent ingenue engaged in a silent staring contest, the latter impaitently tapping her foot and likely would have crossed her arms had her hands not been so over burdened while the former remained crouched, the glass container of toxic libation still cluthed firmly in one hand while the other came up to grasp his chin contemplatively.
'I should grow goatee,' The caprice materialized from one of the obscure corners of the twisted travelers mind even as another train of thought remained tightly focused upon his previous notion of violence and punishment. 'I really think I could pull it off, not like those brain addled meatbags from generation X.’ Running the pad of his thumb over his bare chin the malevolent wanderer narrowed his gaze ever so slightly as a frown shot across the guileless gamines features in response to his quip of sandals and sweatshops. As with any and all children her age the audacious adolescent was incredibly egostistical and thus getting under her skin was no real challenge, indeed it was almost pathetically easy, and while perhaps on a different day the sinister slaughterer would possibly find mild amusement in methodically destroying the gamines social decorum his current intentions were far more malicious. In order for things to progress however he needed to gain the child’s trust, at least temporarily.
'Then again they are rather cliché, I'd only be pandering to the popular prejudice of diabolical mastermind.’
“If you need money so desperately, you shouldn't gamble.”[/color]
There it was again, that insolent tone which so clearly communicated an utter lack of respect for one's elders. Has this asinine adolescent never been taught any form of social etiquette? Children were meant to speak and act courteously at all times... they also weren't meant to talk to strangers but that was besides the point. Even basic common sense would have sufficed in this particular instance e.g. you don't piss off someone twice your size, not unless you're really fast or have big friends nearby. From what the malicious murderer could see though the witless gamine possessed neither large acquaintances nor impressive speed if her choice of footwear were any indication. The bundles in her arm likewise would only serve to slow her down and even if she were to abandon her burden the action would still cost her a valuable second or so.
'On the other hand the negative connotations are rather outdated, not to mention trite, no one these days would expect any self respective criminal to wander around with goatee, so it could potentially work in my favour.'
"It ain't gambling when you know you're right." Hull offered a cheerful yet hubistic grin as he worded his response, finally lowering his free hand from his jaw to gesture towards the petite gamines sandals once again. "I've got a sister about your age, maybe a little younger, she's got those exact same sandals and got 'em real cheap, now considering it's a name brand the only way they could sell so low would be if they skimped on labour."
The sadistic anarchist was careful moderate both his language and tone; his current attire and actions cast him in the role of an uneducated male, one who, potentially, didn't even finish high school thus he limited his vocabulary to more simplistic and generic lexemes whilst maintaining the cheerful cadence of one who had seen the worst of life but naively believed things would be better if faced with a smile, if it happened to come across as arrogance then the former soldier would simply have to work around it as a sudden behavioral change at this point would arose the gamines suspicion and what he needed right now was trust.
‘But then I’d have to wait for it grow out and that takes time, there’s also the maintenance to consider, those things don’t just take care of themselves.’
“My cats, are neither here nor there. They are, in fact, lost and I am looking for them.”/color]
Hull sighed yet again as he lowered himself into a crossed legged position which put him below the insolent ingénue’s eye level, giving her the height advantage. A brief moment was then taken to shift the cooler by his side and adjust the miniature stereo on his shoulder, once certain that both items were arranged adequately the Canadian killer balanced an elbow upon his knee and once more grasped his chin with his hand as he leaned forward and stared intently at the child’s features once again, momentarily envisioning her with a black eye and broken nose before speaking in a positive yet incredulous tone. "Your looking for cats, on your own, in a city which looses over two hundred animals week and is full of muggers, murderers and other malicious individuals? Have I got that right?"
‘You know what, screw it, forget the goatee.’
Lowering his face into his hand Hull laughed lightly, his amusement stemming from a mixture of the adolescents callow naivety and his own good fortune. This was how horror stories began, you know the ones; they're shared at campfires, sleep over’s and other Halloween parties until, eventually, a more mild version of the tale is put in to use by parents in order to caution their children by pointing out the ignorance of others. In short, this was the kind of setting any psychotically inclined individual wished for, one which carried the potential for blood, pain and, ultimately, death.
Raising his emerald orbs from his hand the demented anarchist glanced briefly up at the gamines aggravated expression before allowing his gaze to flitter over to the crudely created posters to finally inspect the allegedly missing animals. The malevolent anarchists distorted mindscape had already construed a rather intuitive scheme the moment the asinine adolescent had mentioned her two strays, it required a leap of trust on the child’s part, however provided his next words were phrased correctly there would hopefully be little doubt in the ingénues mind on how to proceed.
“You know, I really should hand you over to the nearest police officer, let them take you down to the station and call your parents. I don’t really care how long you’ve had these two-” Hull’s free hand had once again been used in a gesturing motion, this time to place emphasis on his lack of concern for a pair of stray felines. As his viridian orbs swept over the two images before him though the sinister soldiers features assumed an expression of outright disbelief, “Well I’ll be damned that’s the godforsaken furry devil which tried to maul me a few minutes ago! Damn thing nearly clawed my pants to ribbons before it took off.”
Pausing suddenly Hull glanced back at the callow gamine before abruptly rising back to his full height, the unopened bottle of coke still clutched in one hand. Fixing the child with a resolute expression the malicious wanderer used his newly regained height to look down upon the youth before him as he spoke. “Alright, I’m fair guy so I’ll give you choice; either I drag you over to the nearest police officer and let them take you back home, or you let me help you find the bloody creature. I’ve already seen it and I know where it went, besides you’re too young to be looking on your own.”
“Wordy little thing aren’t you?” The words were uttered in a slightly perplexed tone from behind furrowed brows and a somewhat uncertain expression. It was not often that Hull found himself at a loss but when such an occasion arose the serial killer typically failed to react well; after all no one enjoys looking appearing foolish or unknowledgeable and that is especially true of the mentally unstable, however in this particular instance the twisted traveler was well and truly surprised by the adolescents waspish response. The sadistic slaughterer had possessed no inkling that the multinational conglomerate emblazoned across his flamboyant attire was engaged in such ignominious business, to be perfectly honest he didn’t really care, if anything it only served to improve his opinion of the world renowned corporation; granting him a warm sense of satisfaction to know that there others engaging in work similar to his own.
Although this new insight into coca cola’s operations deserved some degree of reflection the malicious anarchist found himself unable to tear his thoughts away from one fundamental aspect of the innocuous ingénue’s retort. An almost unspeakable phenomenon which shook the sinister wanderer down to his very core and struck the very foundations of one of his fondest childhood recollections. It was a development the Canadian killer was still having difficulty stomaching even a few seconds after his mind processed the distasteful fact and was likely the key reason the child hadn’t received some retaliatory measure.
‘…she doesn’t like coca cola.’
The thought was utterly abhorrent the malevolent machinator, as his chaotic consciousness repeatedly attempted to process the thought. How could one not enjoy the sickly saccharine nectar which was fit for the gods themselves? What fault could be found with the aerated atramentous product which had been the centerpiece to so many of the slaughterers fondest adolescent reminiscences before he had discovered the joy’s of alcohol? The notion was simply unnatural, obscene even and it was one which required a special blend of psychology and violence, preferably more of the latter than the former but the deranged traveler was willing to go with the flow and see what things led to.
Shifting his protean features the malicious murderer adopted a slight disgruntlement countenance as he sighed and crouched down to the child’s level in an effort level the mental playing field, sighing as he did so. “Look kid, I’m just trying to do my job so I can get something to eat at the end of the day, there’s not a lot of places I can work and this is one of the better one’s. Besides Coke ain’t the only one with a few shady dealings, I’ll bet you $10 that you’re sandals were made in some Asian sweatshop and I’m sure I don’t need to tell you about those.”
Again altering his features the sadistic wanderer affirmed a genial expression as a benign smile overtook his lips and he nonchalantly balanced the elbow of his one free arm atop his knees, idly gesturing towards the bundle in the gamines slim arms. “However that is neither here or there, you avoided my question; are you here alone and furthermore what are looking for?”
‘All good things must come to an end, the final curtain must fall and the actors take their bows. To do otherwise would only prolong the inevitable and create a scene without point or purpose, for truly what is the intendment of a story without an end? Closure is necessary, not only for the audience but also the actors; one can only play the same role for so long after all, eventually ennui ensues and the players performance pales. The stricken strumpet in my arms is a perfect example, her role has clearly taken a considerable toll and her meager assets are far from sufficient. Even exodus is now beyond her, thus another must embrace her burden and ensure a sufficient cessation. Elsewise the story stalls and dénouement remains nothing more than fallacy.’
‘Let it never be said I was anything other than charitable.’
Continuing his almost idle shuffle into the darkened depths of the back alley the Canadian tourist easily maintained his firm grasp upon the withered waif in his grasp. The woman really had become nothing more than a ragdoll by this stage with her pale limbs hanging lifelessly from her body, arms clutched despondently about her midriff while her head tipped backwards against the sadistic anarchists own shoulder. The guileless gamine’s vulnerability was both entertaining and annoying, the former because it allowed the ex solider to dictate events and relish in the tremors which shook the girls form with each sobbing breath, ensuring he would not miss her final moments. The latter sensation of annoyance however occurred due to the fact that he was essentially carrying the worthless woman as he dragged her backwards; an act which kept both the malicious wanderer’s hands occupied as he not only supported the foolish female but also kept her within the role of hostage.
Despite this slight disadvantage though things had progressed surprisingly smoothly and although the girl's guardian had been a somewhat unexpected variable he had, thus far, proven to be quite malleable, issuing little more than a glare, which in turn led Hull to adopt a condescending smirk as he totted his trembling trophy further into the shadows. The malicious wanderer hadn't quite decided where he would take his latest prize as he had yet to familiarize himself with the various twists and turns which compromised the network of passages within the city. An isolated location would be ideal, somewhere the macabre traveler would be able to work without interruption, for although the former soldier was a great believer of the phrase “the more the merrier” sometimes situations called for a far more… personal touch.
‘Perhaps a sewer would suffice, the ambience would certainly be fitting, if only I could find another manhole, shouldn’t be too hard if teenage mutant ninja turtles is anything to go by, I mean it’s not like tv would be misleading or-’
"If you'll remember, it was you who was ejected from the store."[/color]
“Oh I remember dove,” the anarchists voice was still soft and deceptively caring as he continued to whisper affectionately into the Sylph’s ear whilst gently caressing the girl’s pale neck with his cold blade. “and that was really rather rude of you, still I found you again so no harm done, after all…” The travelers voice adopted a more sinister tone as he began yet another twisted rhyme.
“I’m a little Stalker Ghastly and grim Here is my dagger Now let’s take a eggh-”
Hulls throat closed abruptly as his lungs fought, and subsequently failed, to inhale, his body hunched slightly as his viridian eyes swiftly widened in alarm which then rapidly gave way realization and then anger. This was not the first time the Canadian tourist had felt the effects of this particular parlor trick, indeed it had been less than thirty minutes since his breath had last been stolen. Fortuitously though the source of his discomfort was right at hand and easily rectifiable; a sudden twist of the knife reoriented the blade so that its tip point towards the earth whilst a sharp jab upwards slammed the hilt of the weapon into the witless waif’s jaw with sufficient force to rock her head roughly against the wanderers shoulder, exposing even more of her pale throat to the stale air.
“Uh ah, none of that now, you’re in no position to play god; that's my role.” The foreigner rasped darkly as he quickly brought his blade to bear against the guileless gamines neck and applied pressure to her jugular vein. As the strain surrounding his own throat vanished however he allowed his knife to trail downwards until the dull edge of the weapon rested at the base of her neck.
It was about this point during the malicious anarchists sojourn into the alley that he became aware of a low rumbling echoing subtly in the air. The sound was akin toan engine yet was far softer than what would issue from an everyday automobile and thus the twisted traveler quickly pictured a smaller vehicle, something light and unrestrictive, lacking the horsepower of a proper machine but compensating with it’s diminutive size which allowed it to easily traverse back alleys and also explained why the source of the noise seemed to be growing behind him. Annoyingly though due to the deadweight currently in his arms the sadistic slaughterer was unable to pivot himself in time to face his latest challenger before the engine abruptly cut out and a tetrad of blows struck him across the shoulders and the middle of the back instantly knocking him off balance and pitching him forward to collapse atop his ill fated hostage with only minor discomfort whilst the sickly sylph was almost crushed to the alley floor. Fortuitously for the weakened women however the former soldier had utilized his knife hand to absorb the brunt of the fall, forming a fist and using it to slow his sudden descent whist retaining his weapon.
The downside of this maneuver however was that the ample length of the blade ensured that the knifes tip gouged a moderate aperture into the innocuous ingénues neck, which resulted in an ample amount of blood coating the metal blade as it exited veins, arteries and capillaries. Thus one of the first things Hull’s noticed once he had re-evaluated the abrupt change in circumstances was the bloodied blade in his hand and the inert form below him. ‘Son of a b*tch’
The cut wasn’t lethal, that much the anarchist could tell from the flow of blood, but it was damn close thing and the fact that he hadn’t consciously controlled strike annoyed sadistic wanderer to no end. There was also the fact that he had been assaulted by someone who apparently had an IQ lower than most shellfish.
“What the f*ck was that? Seriously you’re somehow seen fit to drive yet you do this? Dear god I thought the other guy was retard. Wannabe Hero 101 Chinky, when a hostage has a knife at their throat you don’t push them onto it. It tends to ruin things for all parties involved and makes you an accessory to murder, believe me I know.”
While Hull had been ranting he had been slowly picking himself up from the ground and pushing himself back to his own two feet. Once his height had been regained the twisted bomber had emphasized his annoyance with exaggerative gestures to further illustrate his running monologue, ensuring that his scarlet knife was displayed for all it was worth even as his emerald eyes darted back and forth, quickly taking in the site of four ruby cubes floating a few feet above his head silently monitoring him.
“I really don’t know what the world’s coming to these days, people think just because their DNA decided to be original for once that they’re special, that they can make a difference.” Shaking his head in dismay Hull ventured forward a few steps in order to bring himself into optimum range as he continued talking. “Honestly when was the last time any of you people visited reality? This isn’t a fairy tale, things are not going to go your way and when you f*ck up people will die, most likely you!”
As the final words were uttered the former soldiers reflexes kicked in as the muscles in his knife arm rapidly tensed swinging downwards in a tight arc before releasing the blade which spun swiftly end over end as it headed towards it’s hopefully oblivious target.
An unsettling groan echoed through the stale air of a desolate hallway as the lights imbedded within the ceiling flickered briefly before swiftly dying and exploding outwards in a shower of glass which rattled across the floor as the ceiling collapsed in on itself and a disc of concrete and metal broke through and collided with the carpeted floor, causing a deceptively solid sounding crack to reverberate throughout the enclosed space. The clamor and accompanying vibrations did not last long however, the facility had been well designed and constructed with precision allowing it to easily withstand such a minor incident without further harm.
‘3rd floor, appliances, lingerie and toxic chemicals.’
Rising somewhat stiffly from his crouched position upon the circular platform of concrete Hull leaned against a nearby wall as his hands tried to massage some feeling back into his legs. Although the twisted traveler had braced himself for the impact the impetus from the fall had still jarred the sadistic anarchist considerably; numbing his lower limbs and momentarily demolishing some his key motor functions. Still though, no bones had been broken and although the former soldier had abandoned some of the key items in his unique inventory he would swiftly replace them with any detrimental compounds he encountered within the facility. That was of course assuming he could locate said chemicals before the incapable cretins below him managed to topple the building. If not, well… the sadistic anarchist would be most displeased to say the least, and when that happened the foreigner tended to overlook creativity in favour of body count.
With the feeling returned to his legs once more the malicious murderer straightened to his full height and began marching down the desolate hallways without preamble; his arms clasped behind his back and a nonsense tune whistling merrily from his lips, as though a blood drenched security official was one of the most quotidian sights in the world. Viridian eyes idly scanned the doorways which lined the beige corridor and a slight bounce entered the wanderers step as he decided upon a melody which flowed in harmony with his deceptively cheerful movements. Such behaviour was atypical for the sinister traveler; generally he reserved any such affectations for when he had some form of audience, individuals who would pay attention to him in some way or another. The hallway however was deserted, its personnel having been evacuated long ago in the apparent interests of ‘safety’. There was, however, a security camera perched upon the ceiling at the end of corridor, its crimson light glowing mutely as it recorded the demented anarchists actions. Hull for his part made sure to keep his head tilted towards the floor so that his appropriated headgear obscured his features, once the former solider was nine feet away however he paused, glanced upwards, waved cheerfully with one hand whist the other launched one of his three remaining blood balloons.
‘99 red balloons…’
The camera shook in its frame as the force of the absurd projectile stressed its joints and circuitry, crimson liquid seeped into the plastic casing and covered the lens rendering the device essentially useless as the twisted traveler continued on his way, whistling once more as he resumed his search.
--
“Cesium? Boring. Sodium thiopental? Has potential but still boring. Ooh Ammonium nitrate! I wonder if they have any aluminum… Sweet they do! Wait is that Cyclotrimethylenetrinitramine? Heh, say that ten times fast- Holy hell it is! Who runs this place the government?'
Hull’s crimson figure darted to and fro within the confines of the chemical storage facility his eager hands unlocking every door while argus eyes scanned every label and compared it with his flawless memory. Already the deranged anarchist had discovered a veritable treasure trove of explosive material, squirreled away behind hidden compartments or solid steel safes. Such things could not bear the malevolent mutants scrutiny for long though and the foreign fiend was quickly finding himself to be spoilt for choice. Was he to take the highly unstable and explosive chemical compounds or equally unstable and combustible plastic explosives? Both had their pro's and con's, one was easier to store while the other had a wider collateral damage range, however because of the wider range it didn't pack quite the same punch as the former which could, with proper placement, take out a tank. It was a most vexing situation which appeared to possess no clear answer until...
"Th-thallium?! This place is officially my favourite shopping spot! I wonder if they have their own credit card? With this kind of selection I wouldn't care about the crappy rates... what the hell were they planning to do with this much of the stuff? I mean you could take out a city with this much of the stuff, ah well I'm sure I'll put it to a better use."
With a maniacal grin comparable to the Grinch when he stole Christmas the sadistic slaughterer swiftly set about appropriating the multitude of vials and cylinders which contained the highly toxic element. One by one the containers were graced with an argent touch and one after another the repositories flickered out of existence as they entered Hull’s unique storage system and were held in stasis.
Once the final case had been safely stored away the former soldier paused for moment, his eyes flickered briefly as he held a mental inventory and attempted to calculate his remaining capacity, for although he had just obtained a sizeable volume of chemicals his recent depository on the roof had freed up a generous amount of space, which the twisted anarchist swiftly proceeded to fill as he turned his attention back to the explosive material which had been the focus of his inner monologue just moments ago. However when Hull reached his limit he still found himself faced with an impressive quantity of combustible material and, truly, what kind of upstanding citizen would he be if he failed to dispose of it both safely and responsibly?
A mere five minutes later saw a haphazard pyramid of storage tanks piled into the centre of the chemical storage room and their lids removed, allowing a steady trickle of onyx powder to gather upon the otherwise pristine floor. Hull himself stood a mere five feet away as he strung out a thin cord of cloth from conveniently placed lab coat upon the wall. Once the strip had reached the travelers desired length he quickly hopped over a nearby table and carefully placed one end of the cloth within the gradually growing powder pile whilst he brought the other towards the room exit. The former solider then paused briefly to lean backwards out of the room and into the hallway, tilting his head both left and right to ensure he would experience no interruption before quickly straightening himself and conjuring a somewhat worn zippo lighter.
“Now remember kids, don’t try this alone, you have to wait until friends, family and pets are all in the same room.”
With that parting commentary the malevolent murder lit his makeshift fuse and rapidly exited the room, any pretense of cheer or nonchalance instantly dismissed as he focused his energy on getting the hell away from what would shortly become another blast zone.
--
BOOM!
(OOC:This explosion mentioned here is for Isabel’s eventual benefit, however feel free to mention whatever affects you feel the blast may have on your character.))
The unexpectedly upbeat lyrics resonated lightly throughout the crowded city streets, turning heads and garnering a well of attention from those passing by during their midday lunch break. For those special few who possessed either considerable height or a close proximity to the source of the cheerful aria emanating from a miniature boom box they would no doubt be able to spot an enigmatic figure clad in a sports suit which was itself an eye catching mixture of ivory and crimson with the words “Coca Cola” emblazoned across both the back and breast of the jacket. The ensemble was completed by a scarlet hat, bearing the same logo as the jacket, was perched somewhat jauntily across individual’s cranium as his head beat back and forth in time with the merry melody and the alabaster running shoes which encased his feet darted to and fro, allowing the man to hop, spin, slide and even moonwalk his way through the gradually increasing crowd with a smile across his face.
Slung over the abstruse characters left shoulder was an ashen oblong of modest size crafted from one of the many special polymers designed to reflect heat from the outside and maintain the lower temperature of the containers contents. It was in short, a cooler, one which was utterly lacking any and all identifying markings but which appeared to hold a rather impressive quantity of frosted glass coca cola bottles if the rate at which the stranger dispensed the carbonated drinks was any indication.
‘Ah the consumerist culture, what a marvel of modern capitalism; no one is ever satisfied these days they must always have more and even if they do not what precisely it is they desire they shall constantly seek it. Such behaviour has helped fueled the fickle economy by increasing the amount of tender flowing from one entity to another, however it has also facilitated the development the pure nature behind the capitalist model, namely, greed. It is a rather beneficial side effect and one which I intend to exploit fully, after all no one says no to a freebee do they?’
The denizens of the city were indeed loathe to refuse the caffeine enriched libations, although a good many of them were somewhat puzzled by the strangely generous behaviour. One glance at the strangers apparel however was often enough to dispel any suspicion and the precious few who did work up the energy to question the charitable gesture were happily informed that no, there was no catch and that Coca Cola simply wished to brighten people’s day.
‘Such utter drivel, the fact that these sheep devour it so willingly merely vindicates my actions’
Indeed there was more to Hull’s odd behaviour then pure benevolence, in fact had any of the ignorant pedestrians been at all familiar with the former soldier’s emblematic nature then, well, likely the primary reaction would have been hysteria and blind panic as the city’s citizens attempted to flee. Sadly though the sinister traveler had yet to achieve the appropriate level of notoriety required to inspire such a mass exodus on site, so instead the malevolent murderer utilized his anonymity to his advantage; distributing his own special blend of sweetened libations which included a secret ingredient he had obtained from a little place entitled King Pharmaceuticals only a few days prior.
Thallium; the poisoner’s poison. An absolutely inspiring element which the twisted killer viewed as the universes means of validating his own existence. The virulent chemical was highly lethal in small doses, possessed an incubation time of roughly twelve hours, was odorless, colourless and tasteless when dissolved within a liquid making it virtually undetectable when mixed in with, say, a soft drink. All in all it was perfect and the malicious killer could hardly wait to read the headlines in the morning papers over the next few days as afflicted individuals began to lose their hair, health and ultimately, life.
The lunch hour soon dawned to a close however and the streets lost their numbers as the inhabitants of the metropolis gradually returned to their places of work or residence and resumed whatever activities would consume the rest of their day. Upon finding himself without a crowd with which to dispense his wares the sadistic wanderer casually began to distance himself from the urban sprawl and towards central park, perhaps if he was lucky he’d come across a family or two enjoying a picnic or some other quaint little activity of no real consequence. The ex soldier always experienced a brief tinge of satisfaction whenever he managed to inhume an entire line, it was akin to setting a final puzzle piece in its place, the feeling of completeness and accomplishment accompanying the knowing that he had written the final chapter for such a lackluster lineage.
Upon finally arriving at his destination the demented wanderer found a sinister grin creeping across his features as his emerald gaze swept across the viridian blades of grass and caught site of multiple party’s basking in the warmth of the afternoon sun. Mothers, lovers, loners… a veritable plethora of unwitting victims, each waiting for the sweet sugary taste of death, but how to choose the fist target? Should he go with the mother daughter duo to his left or the passionate pair off to the right who seemed quite enthused with checking each others tonsils. Decisions, decisions, if only he had a coin with which to solve this troublesome predicament, such a pity, he’d simply have to do what came naturally.
Whistling a cheery tune the deranged traveler powered up his boom box once again before reattaching it to the Velcro strap on his free shoulder and turning to his left as his feet once more began to dart and dance, drawing smiles and laughter from some and perplexed expressions from others.
A short while later the sadistic slaughterer’s meandering course caused him to come across a somewhat curious sight. A blonde adolescent garbed in a pale yellow sundress which stretched to just below her knees and white open toed sandals which proudly displayed a pair of bare pink feet. In the child’s hands was an unruly collection of what appeared to be posters tucked under one arm and a roll of masking tape clutched firmly in her hand as she wondered from tree and gazed intently into the branches of each as though searching for some secrete hoard of fruit within the brown boughs. Judging from the girl’s expression and the number of dowdy poster adoring the surrounding trees however it was apparent that, thus far at least, her hunt had been largely unsuccessful. This in itself was not surprising, hundreds of pets were lost in the urban jungle each year, many of which were never seen again, indeed the odds of finding a domestic pet if it escaped it’s sheltered environment were exceedingly slim, verily one could almost call the child’s parents cruel for allowing her to cling to what little hope she…
‘Wait, what parents?’
The psychotic anarchist paused, hastily hiding the action by crouching down and retying his shoes as his viridian gaze swiftly swept the park, taking in all those present as he rapidly attempted to determine whether anyone were attached to the almost idyllic gamine no more than a few feet away. He himself was attracting a good deal of attention and thus there were a good few looks directed his way, however no one gave a glance to the girl in the yellow sundress, in short no one seemed to care. It was an injustice, Hull decided, for a minor to be left unsupervised in such a manner; children these days needed guidance, discipline and above all tender loving care, fortuitously the former soldier possessed each of these in spades… and the spades as well if it came to that, and it usually did.
Again adopting an artificial affectation of affability Hull assumed an idle walk as he approached the blonde haired child beneath the trees, casually placing his hand into the cooler at his right and withdrawing yet another chilled bottle of thallium enriched syrup which was cheerfully offered to the unwitting child.
‘Hi ho hi ho’ ‘It’s off to kill we go’ ‘With hand grenades and razor blades’ ‘Hi ho Hi ho’
Still lingering towards the back of his crudely crafted mob the sadistic bomber watched as events unfolded with a mixture of glee and annoyance. No matter what the country the majority of people were still simply sheep without a shepherd and as such were ever so easy and entertaining to heard. The twisted traveler gained no end of amusement over the fact that he had single handedly managed to transform an otherwise peaceful midday weekend in the heart of the city into a chaotic and bloody warzone complete with its very own irrational mob. The few police whom had managed to avoid injury were attempting, futilely, to restore some semblance of order to the murderers orchestrated anarchy. It was a useless endeavor as none of the officers present were prepared to utilize the adequate amount of force necessary to subdue the furious horde before them, for all their so called authority as keepers of the peace they were afraid, fearful of the retribution which might follow should they harm any of the cities citizens.
‘As though life mattered.’
Despite his prolonged delight at being able to manipulate events to such a degree Hull was still left somewhat unsatisfied by one small detail, namely the continued subsistence of a certain alabaster female and her contiguous boy toy. Honestly, precisely what lengths were required to kill the witless waif? It was starting to approach the point of absurdity, and not the kind that the macabre anarchist typically enjoyed either. Still from what malevolent traveler could see the foolish girl was weakening, no doubt due to the ample amount of blood which had been left upon the debris cluttered road. In all probability if Hull managed to engage her one more time he’d finally be able to finish the job and consider the day to be well spent. However judging from the woman’s earlier displays she was easily capable of defending herself from a direct assault and thus a more… subtle approach would likely prove to be far more effective. In order for that to occur an additional distraction would prove to be not only helpful but also entertaining, the only question though was what more havoc could the former soldier wreak? His exploits thus far had already demonstrated a considerable level of resourcefulness but without a few basic elements there was a limit to what the twisted wanderer could achieve and he was loathe to start repeating any of his tricks at such an early stage. He needed a new act, something unexpected, something which would strike at the foundations of order…
A malicious pair of viridian eyes alighted upon an open sewer grate, which even now was funneling away the excess water issuing forth from a vandalized fire hydrant.
--
Sewers are often portrayed as dark, mephitic and generally odious to the majority of mankind’s civilized sensibilities. Hull however, found himself to hardly be bothered by such things, the stench of rotting flesh is rarely trumped and so he the sadistic bomber had little difficulty in either inhaling or exhaling as he navigated the tenebrous confines of the sewer tunnels directly beneath the road which housed both the anarchists naive mob and his alabaster victim, the former unwittingly ensuring that the latter was held in place so that the sinister slaughterer might execute his extemporaneous machinations without having to concern himself with such irritating variable as a mobile target.
Although the tunnel was indeed dark, it was far from pitch black, admittedly when he had first entered the sewer via a nearby manhole the macabre foreigner had required a few seconds for his viridian eyes to dilate and adjust to the unusual darkness, however the residual sunlight which streamed in from the occasional grate was sufficient to allow the former soldier to make his way and track his progress. One of the many advantages of a perfect memory was that one was able to recall seemingly inconsequential details at will minutes, hours or even years after the event had passed, thus by simply counting the number of open grates and the contents flowing into each one Hull swiftly maneuvered himself into his desired position which, consequentially, was roughly eight meters to the right from the centre of the colossal car crash he had created mere minutes ago. This location had been chosen for two reasons, firstly it had access ladder a mere two feet away, secondly if the distance became any larger the morbid anarchist was uncertain as to whether he would be able to control his talents sufficiently.
Calmly turning to face wall nearest him twisted traveler purposefully raised both arms until his argent fingers were carefully splayed against the rather unsanitary surface. Hull usually avoided utilizing his powers for what he was about to do, the mental strain was significant and often times the end result was far from what was envisioned due to his shortcomings when it came to control of his gift. Still this was far from rocket science; he only needed to ensure the structures collapse and so if he happened to take more material than he intended it would hardly be a problem, by his own estimations his body still possessed ample storage space and if need be he could always discard a few of the more inane objects he had picked up over the years.
Returning his jumbled thoughts to the matter at hand the ex soldier closed his eyes and attempted to shut out the various slanders and vilifications which echoed down from the street above as he diverted his concentration towards the roof of the tunnel roughly eight meters to his left, swiftly he envisioned a fissure spreading from his position, one which raced towards the centre of the pile up and rapidly branched outwards scattering both left, right, up and down until the physical form of the tunnel weakened and collapsed in upon itself. Forcing his demented mind to maintain the mental image of the fissure Hull activated his gift and focused solely upon absorbing an area of matter which mirrored the fractures he envisioned, he felt a sudden heat at his fingers tips as a deep groan resounding through the tunnel as the entire structure began to tremble.
‘But great will be the fall of the house built upon the sand.’
A dry chuckle echoed in the demented wanderers throat as he recalled the precise passage he had recited, his humour was tempered by the sudden pulsing within his skull as his mind paid the price for the act he had just concluded. With an aggravated sigh and a palm clenched against his forehead the malicious traveler quickly made his way back to the access ladder and ascended back to the surface. The sight which greeted him was utterly magnificent even in spite of its small scale; a stretch of road measuring approximately 20ft had collapsed into the sewer system, taking with it a variety of police, hospital and rescue vehicles all of which were now filling the air with their unceasing and rather pointless alarms. The debacle had taken place so swiftly and without any warning that nearly all those present were staring in confusion and alarm at the newly formed gaping maw in the road. The previously raging mob had fallen silent, ceasing their senseless attacks with a few of the more cowardly members retreating to supposedly safe distances should the unstable sewer system beneath continue to cave in. The few rescue workers which had still been relatively unharmed after the initial car crash were now most assuredly dead or severely wounded and their cries of pain and requests for help added a soothing backdrop to the overall anarchy of the scene in the murderers mind.
‘Chaos, panic and disorder… my work has just begun.’
In the midst of such confusion, few would notice a single man clad in jeans and a t-shirt as he approached a clearly injured and distressed woman who had fallen upon the sidewalk and was glancing about in a dazed manner. Indeed had everyone kept their own prerogatives and worried simply about themselves it is likely that no one would have made comment as the sadistic slaughterer approached his victim. Unfortunately however someone had decided to play the part of Good Samaritan and was even now crouching down to assist the pale female, utterly oblivious of the malicious ire he was attracting through his actions. The half witted humanitarian was decked in a somewhat worn leather jacket which ended just below the wait and which opened about the shoulders just enough to reveal an off colour strip of cloth wrapped about his neck in a manner which practically screamed out for asphyxiation .
The idea was tempting, to kill two birds in a single swoop, or in this case a few seconds. The crippled sylph was essentially defenseless and from the look of the things her so called protector was little better, however they were both rather exposed and with the mass of obliterated vehicles no longer obstructing the view of those nearby it was all too probable that any overt actions would be noticed. It was a depressing realization but one the deranged wanderer was willing to accept for now, he would simply have to satisfy himself with the bird in hand rather than trying for the two in the proverbial bush.
“Scuse me, coming through, outta my way!”
Striding purposefully through the sparsely populated street Hull quickly made his way around and behind his target before hurriedly picking up his pace and barging into the feeble girls protector from the rear, aiming an elbow at his skull and a kick to his feet to ensure that the mans fall would be both swift and painful. Then, without even pausing to see what effect his crude assault had achieved the malevolent traveler crouch down and quickly slung the pale girls arm over his neck in a practiced manner while he swiftly slid his own arm around her waist and under her shoulder until his hand came to rest just above her breast and below her neck.
“Hello again dove, I’ve been looking for you.”
The words were whispered softly, almost intimately into the weakened woman’s ear as he gently brought her to her feet. A brief shift followed as the deranged killer forced the girl to lean against his body as he gradually began to back away from the main road and into yet another of the city’s many back alleys.
“I was so hurt when you left, you didn’t even say goodbye… Ah! Not one step further my good friend, not unless you want the little lady hear to lose a generous amount of weight.” The latter portion of the sadistic anarchist’s words rose in volume significantly and were directed towards a somewhat lean individual sporting a goatee and mustache along with a rather determined expression. In order to further convey the sincerity behind his words the former solider flexed the fingers of his free hand as a combat knife abruptly flickered into being within his grasp and was brought to his victims pale throat. The threat was clear enough and would likely be a sufficient deterrent for most individuals, however the man standing before Hull had the appearance of a wannabe hero and the foreign killer had encountered enough of those to know precisely how idiotic they could be, thus his grip upon the blade tightened as he slowly brought the weapon against alabaster skin and allowed the cold metal to bite into the unfortunate girls neck, stopping only when he was hairs breadth away from the woman’s jugular vein, which if severed, would be fatal.
“Now just turn around and keep your mouth shut while you count to fifty like a good boy and I won’t cut out the dove’s throat, understand?”
Resuming his pace Hull once again began to drag his latest toy away from prying eyes and into the comforting shadows that the back alley provided. He didn’t want to kill the irritating woman just yet, oh no, he wanted to come up with something special for her, however if the idiot in front of him decided to ruin his playtime then he would be forced to simply tie off loose ends.
Tilting his mouth back towards Ghosts ear he whispered, “We are going to have such fun, you and I.”
An exclamation of malevolent jubilation swiftly ushered forth from the twisted travelers lips as his toxic viridian eyes eagerly tracked the progress and ultimate collision of his makeshift missile. The sadistic wanderer had merely intended his unprovoked assault to ignite the potential brawl in the grounds below, however there could be no denying that the former soldier gained no little delight from his macabre actions; his target had all but been knocked from her feet and the residual splatter had added a much needed touch of colour to both the woman and her partner, crimson was the shade of passion after all.
Things had well and truly begun by this stage, Hull’s unannounced attack seemed to have played its part perfectly; acting as the starters flag to initiate the disordered battle in the ground below, already blows were flying as mutants clashed and security personnel did their best to escape the chaotic crossfire. Unfortunately though a significant number of combatants had seen fit to create their own entrance into King Pharmaceuticals, departing the outside battleground and disappearing into the depths of the hazardous facility where they could wreak untold havoc among the various machines and chemicals. As the malevolent travelers primary purpose in visiting the insidious company was to appropriate as many chemicals as possible this sudden turn of events was far from desired, indeed it was absolutely unacceptable. Without knowing the precise abilities of the mutants inside it was quite possible that the entire structure could collapse within the next few minutes, unless things were… handled.
Moving swiftly from his position at the edge of the rooftop the sadistic wanderer quickly made his way back towards his impromptu siege weapon intent upon storing his unique ammunition and withdrawing into the building so that he might begin his search for hazardous chemicals anew, preferably he would secure his parlous ingredients within the next few minutes so that he might then turn his attention to more immediate issues such as the score of mutants scattered around the complex.
Facing away from the battle as he was it is no real surprise that the foreign murderer utterly failed to detect the blow which struck him across the back of the head and sent him sprawling across the rough surface of the roof. Before the sadistic traveler could even begin to process the assault though his combat instincts had surged into action, forcing both of his hands onto the coarse surface beneath and utilizing his upper body strength to propel himself upward so that he could tuck his legs beneath him allowing him to spring swiftly back to his full height and pivot upon the balls of his feet so that he might face his assailants.
A pair of rough vitreous figures, both male and seemingly in their late thirties glared down malevolently at the demented anarchist. Their combined glares filled with an untold level of hate and animosity as they hovered approximately one foot above the surface of the roof, their stances low and their arms held ready to continue their surprise assault.
Blinking once, and then twice, Hull simply stared open mouthed and silent as he gazed upon the two specters floating before him as what little logic remained in his fractured mind endeavored to rationalize the sight before him, the attempt swiftly fell through however as a demented chuckle ruptured the former soldiers lips. “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas, bodies on every floor, but the best sight to see are the ghosts in front of me as I teach them true agony.”
The sadistic jingle was little more than a whisper yet the words did not seem to escape the two phantoms as their scowls deepened and the one on the left surged forward with a transparent fist raised in all too open anger. Hulls viridian eyes immediately fixed upon this opening gambit as he shifted his weight onto his back foot and allowed the blow to strike him across the right cheek, the blow emitted a grunt of pain from the macabre murderer but otherwise he remained unmoved, that is until a pocket knife materialized in his left hand and was thrust into the spirits outstretched arm, wounding the ethereal apparition and causing a rather realistic flow of blood to drip to the floor in a manner which reminded the twisted anarchistic of a certain ivory haired female he’d had the pleasure of encountering some time ago.
A howl of outrage issued forth from the injured phantom lips as it attempted to withdraw, however before it could even begin its retreat Hull had grasped the ghosts injured arm with his free right hand as he attempted to escalate the damage caused by the blade his left. “Nuh uh, you ain’t going anywhere big boy, not if you want to keep this arm of yours.”
The grapple last a few more seconds as both parties attempted to either maintain or regain control, abruptly though the undead ruffian thrust one of his legs forward and upward, catching sadistic traveler off guard as the blow impacted cleanly with his stomach, forcing the air from lungs and causing him to release his grip on both blade and appendage which allowed his translucent victim to stumble back and cradle his impaled arm as it continued to bleed.
“You know *wheeze* I think I’ll ca*wheeze*ll you Herbert.” The illogical statement flowed haltingly from the macabre wanderers mouth as he kept himself crouched low to the ground and attempted to gain his second wind. “I met a homeless guy who called himself that, looked kinda like you, though he was little more substantial and screamed a hell of a lot louder.” Another throaty chuckle escaped the killers throat as he reached behind his back and seemed to pull yet another knife from his back pocket and began twirling it through the fingers of his right hand. “I know what you’re thinking” he offered in an almost genial tone, ““How many of these does he have?” well pick a number between one and ten and you still won’t be close.”
The aberrant affray resumed swiftly after that point with the sluggish spirit continually attempting to gouge his target using a weapon in his offhand while the former soldier repeatedly swayed or blocked the blows whilst adding strikes of his own. At one point the phantom had attempted to withdraw into the interior of the building, sinking into the solid matter of the rooftop, Hull however had rapidly halted the descent by snatching onto the specters armed hand and hauling the ghost upwards as it refused to relinquish its only weapon. After a few minutes however the combat slowed as both participants seemed to tire, with one becoming wary and the other experiencing an intense feeling ennui.
“You know, I’m finding this dreadfully dull, I was expecting a challenge, I suppose I shouldn’t have expected too much from someone whose already died once though. I mean you can barely stand, what’re you gonna do next? Bleed on me?”
As though a deity of poor humour had been monitoring the battle in anticipation of those exacts lines the previously forgotten second spirit made its reappearance; soaring directly over the malevolent anarchist head as it released the macabre burden within its arms. The spherical missile fell according to gravity’s commands, whistling slightly as it dropped through the air before impacting upon the ex soldiers head, drenching him from head to toe in the crimson blood of one of his previous victims, causing him to stagger backwards as he blinked and attempted to clear his eyes of the scarlet fluid which clouded his vision in before raising his head skywards and glaring sharply at the ghoul above him.
“God damn African swallows.. wait they’re non migratory, bloody European swallows! What the hell kind of coconut do you call this?!”
The only response the macabre received to his inane palaver was a secondary missile, this one a full bottle of bourbon, which soared bare millimeters over his sanguine features as the traveler promptly ducked to the floor and rolled hurriedly back to his feet to avoid losing sight of his newest assailant. “That was 80% proof! I was gonna burn people with that!” Again the twisted travelers only response was yet another projectile, this time a series of footwear which appeared to have been looted from the collection of cadavers Hull had piled atop the roof. The array of sneakers, boots and occasional stiletto were each hurled with gradually increasing precision at the ex-soldier who continued his incessant inane commentary. “Oh come on, who throws a shoe? Honestly! Ah F***! My nose!”
The last expletive seemed to shatter the sinister anarchist’s playful mood, provoking his ire as his left had reached up to hold his wounded which was leaking a steady flow of blood. Hull’s right hand meanwhile had arched behind his, argent fingertips curling around a nonexistent handle which rapidly flickered into existence as 9mm Glock pistol. The stolen firearm was swiftly brought to bear upon the anarchist’s otherworldly opponent and the sharp retort of the weapons firing mechanism soon filled the air along with an array of bullets which quickly closed in on the aggravating spirit, puncturing its ethereal form and forcing the spirit to drop its load and retreat from the rooftop with it phantom partner, leaving the former soldier alone once more atop the main KP building.
‘No good son’s of a barnacle, where’re the ghost busters when you need em? I should talk to Hollywood, complain. Actually forget it I better get back to my shopping before this place comes down around my ears. Guess I’ll take the express elevator.’
Vanishing his firearm once again Hull crouched down, pressing both hands into the coarse surface on either side of him as he splayed his fingers and focused on a more controlled utilization of his ability, seeking only to absorb a certain quantity and shape of the material beneath his feet. Approximately five seconds later a cascade of cracks appeared on upon the roof, arc both forward and backwards from the murderers hands as they formed a crude circle about his position before abruptly giving way and allowing the anarchist to drop back into the buildings interior.
For an industrial chemical facility of its size King Pharmaceuticals was rather desolate, admittedly it had been early morning when Hull had first arrived so the regular workers would still have been a bed with illusions of normality dancing in their thick skulls. Time had passed though, as it does for all things, and Hull had yet to gore, maim or eviscerate a single soul and although he appreciated the ability to wander unhindered the mad bomber was becoming… restless. The initial symptoms had been very plain; nothing more than a grumbled word or two as he poked his skull around corners and under machines. The complex, as had already been mentioned, was rather vast and the former soldier possessed neither the time nor patience to inspect every square inch, he had in fact been relying upon his own… unique, charms to persuade one of the quotidian drones within the facility to direct him towards the truly volatile treasures, however for some reason or another it seemed that such a strategy was no long viable.
‘Whatever happened to customer service? If I had half a mind I’d be tempted to take my business elsewhere!’
After ten or so more minutes of muttered grumbling and an occasional slap to nearby machinery the twisted anarchist had made his weary way up to the second floor, traversing the narrow catwalks and releasing a weary sigh as the machines he had palmed seconds earlier began to collapse in a disharmonious screech of metal upon metal which could easily echo through to the outside world. ‘It’s just not the same… how am I meant to attain any sense of motivation when my environment is devoid of victims?’
A sudden whispered hiss of static from his appropriated radio caused the demented killer to pause, his ears perking as he brought the aged device to his ears and swiftly processed the message being conveyed to the KP security force. The message itself had been fairly brief, issued by an authoritative female who sounded far too full of herself for the foreigners liking , yet the frown which now decorated Hull’s features was caused not by the hubristic woman’s tone but by the information she had chosen to impart.
The intruder’s presence was not an issue, indeed their arrival was actually a hidden blessing for all attention would be drawn to them, case in point; the malevolent wanderer could already hear the rapid footsteps of the remaining security force as they rushed to the front gates to deal with the supposed threat. No, the mutant gang would not be a problem. The police on the other hand would; for they would arrive in far greater numbers and although Hull would normally enjoy nothing better than to play with the boy’s and girls in blue, his current shopping spree would go better if he were left alone. A distraction therefore would be necessary to ensure that the authorities had their hands full.
It really was no great leap of logic, even for the clinically insane, to deduce that the variable most likely to create the required distraction would be the mutants currently gathering outside KP. However as much as the macabre anarchist disliked planning he was loathe to leave his current predicament to chance, thus with an irritated growl the twisted traveler quickened his pace intending on divining some method with which to incite an altercation among those gathered outside. As he strode through the upper level corridors though his emerald eyes caught sight of a signed doorway which caused the killer to pause as a malicious grin rapidly launched across his features.
‘Finally, something… convenient.’
A sinister chuckle passed the bombers lips as he entered the chamber labeled “Laboratory Supplies.”
--
Approximately five minutes after his cursory foray into the realm of scientific ingredients Hull had managed to haul himself onto the main facilities roof which gave him a clear view down into what may as well have been entitled KP’s courtyard for it currently contained all of the so called “intruders” along with the local security forces. Sadly though neither side seemed to be willing to engage the other.
‘So much for violent youths, the media just isn’t good for anything these days…’
Muttering darkly about various nuisances the demented wanderer swiftly set up his apparatus, which consisted of nothing more than two metal poles firmly slotted into swiftly improvised holes and a length of flexible surgical tubing tied between them. In the center of plastic tubing was a hastily constructed pouch crafted from some time of felt material which had happened to be present within the supply room.
Once the improvised catapult had been erected Hull swiftly paced behind the makeshift weapon and held out both his hands, a mere second later and the rooftop was decorated with a various mishmash of corpses, bloated balloons and the odd whiskey bottle. The abrupt release winded the sadistic traveler temporarily, causing him to pause once more as he caught his breath, the moment passed quickly though and the former soldier soon returned to his hastily crafted scheme as he grasped the head of a nearby corpse and deftly separated it from the body before placing it in the pouch of the catapult. A few seconds were then taken to select a target, a somewhat lithe woman garbed in jeans and a tank top who was standing beside what was almost certainly her lover.
With his target selected Hull grasped the pouch with both hands and swiftly backed up to the opposite edge of the roof, doing his best to keep his intended victim within his sites. Then, once he had run out of ground he fired his macabre missile.
Another day, another opportunity with which to wreak havoc, and what an opportunity it was proving to be! A mere four hours ago the sadistic wanderer had been idly strolling down New Yorks industrial district with his hands casually resting within the pockets of hid jeans and a low but cheery tune issuing forth from his lips. Things had become somewhat dull over the last few days and thus Hull had set out in an attempt to liven things up, though that might perhaps be a poor choice or words. What the former solider truly craved was some sort of new toy, an unconventional tool with which to amuse himself. Certainly the city possessed a good deal of firearms and a nearly endless array of potential car bombs but such things became dull after a while; people learned you see and the streets had began to lose their numbers as civilians learned what to watch for.
Predictability was one of many things the macabre traveler simply could not stand, therefore when he had realized that people were beginning expect things from him he had determined that a change was in order. A new game needed to be played, and where better to get the necessary pieces than an industrial pharmaceutical which owned a delightful range of hazardous and lethal chemicals?
The killers research of the facility had been brief, as had his preparation. The second he had obtained the company’s address he had set out in nothing more than a pair jeans and a leather trench coat which he had acquired form an earlier escapade. For those that knew Hull however they would be aware that the madman was almost never unarmed and could turn almost anything at hand into a weapon. Fortuitously for the former soldier however very few individuals knew of his capabilities and those that did often failed to live long and prosperous lives.
The security at Kings Pharmaceuticals had been quaint, almost amusing and it had taken the demented wanderer mere seconds to remove a suitably sized piece of the chain linked fence and stroll on into the grounds. Once upon the premises all the anarchist had needed to do was wait until he tripped some form of alarm which caused which caused an oversized security guard to come waddling over to his position with a gun in one hand a flashlight in the other. The bumbling oaf hadn’t even bothered to radio for help and it had been a simple matter to let the fool approach and then slit his throat once he believed his suspect to be ‘detained’.
The corpse had then been dragged behind the nearest available form of cover and divested of its hat, jacket, keycard, flashlight, radio and gun. The attire had proved itself to be somewhat baggy on the malevolent wanderer’s leaner frame but it had still been acceptable for appearances sake. Once this had been accomplished it had been almost depressingly simple to stroll through the facility uncontested, he had of course received a few curious calls upon the deceased guards radio, inquiring as to why he had chosen to move his “fat ass”, however after flipping the bird to nearest security camera the questions had soon ceased.
Now all that was left was too find some suitably potent chemical concoction, appropriate it for his own purposes and then determine how best to share it with the rest of the city. The only thing left to do at this point was decide where to begin his search.
‘enie minie minie moe,’ ‘Which way does destruction flow?’ ‘Is it left or is it right?’ ‘I can’t leave just one dead tonight.’