(Open)
--

New York, New York, a sprawling urban metropolis colonized by individuals from all walks of life. Be they street cleaners or lawyers, priests or thieves each of them possessed a role to play, an act to perform, and each of them contributed to the design, development and history of their world; the greatest stage life has to offer. The purpose of this passage is to document the deeds of a character newly arrived upon the scene..

How does one commence their career?

The roads were crowded, well.. gridlocked would be a more apt expression considering the total lack of progress. Amid the sharp blasts emitted from the drivers of impatient vehicles and the depressed sighs of those resigned to their current fate a repetitive clacking noise could be distinguished as a booted foot hammered upon the floor.

A most cardinal question to be sure, deserving an individuals utmost time and thought before at last deriving a conclusion.

The owner of the tapping foot possessed a contemplative expression, his jaded eyes sweeping left to right, up and down, absorbing his surroundings as he sought anything of interest. Garbed in a rather loose fitting hoody of navy blue and a somewhat worn pair of urban camouflaged cargos the man within the stranded greyhound bus was almost the quintessential image of restlessness. The one aspect of the travelers appearance which served as an antitheses to the overall simulacrum of agitation though were the mans arms; perfectly quiescent the wanders hands rested atop his knees, palms facing upwards, revealing a set of silver tipped fingers.

For the decisions they make in the beginning will undoubtedly cast a shadow over their progress...

Rising abruptly the restless travel swung swiftly to his feet, one arm snapping outwards sharply to grasp the handlebars placed atop the headrests to steady his form. Once balance had been achieved the wander quickly made his way to the front of the vehicle, resolutely ignoring the strange expressions and comments of his fellow passengers as he headed towards the exit. If one were to look closely however they would perhaps note that the strangers hands paused occasionally, accidentally missing the handles and hovering for a second above the shoulders of women who had deigned to keep their purse by their side. Each time such a slip occurred however the contact was minimal; only the slightest brush of silver tipped fingers upon the straps of a purse, and then the man would have passed.

Until they either outlive it or, preferably, surpass it.

At last arriving at the head of the bus the agitated traveler exchanged brief words with the driver who, for some reason, displayed reluctance in allowing the man to leave. A terse argument was initiated but swiftly ended as currency exchanged hands and the impatient wander was allowed to depart without further difficulties. As the doors swung open sunlight flooded the shaded interior of the vehicle causing the man to blink and shade his eyes as he stepped outside, taking careful but deliberate steps as he distanced himself from whatever obstruction had caused such congestion, effectively causing him to walk down the length of the bus. Upon reaching the rear tire though the stranger paused, his viridian gaze straying down towards his own feet before swiftly kneeling and brushing up his cargos as his hands went about through the necessary motions required to deal with errant laces, again though the travelers hands slipped; fingers momentarily brushing across his left sock which vanished in less time than it took to blink.

As for myself I have always enjoyed a challenged.

With his task finished the man straightened once more, balancing one hand against the locked fuel compartment of the greyhound bus. The hum of the idle motor was still strong enough to shake the travelers arm slightly and he stared a moment before shaking his head and withdrawing a map from the pocket of his hooded sweater, unfurling it in such a way that the vehicles fuel compartment was blocked from view. Perhaps a minute or so passed as the wanderer studied the map, however once he had accomplished his purpose the map was quickly folded and returned to its original location as its owner made a swift beeline for the nearest establishment.

‘The sense of accomplishment is always sweeter when you constantly surpass yourself.’

Had any of the city’s populace happened to glance back towards the rear of the bus they would, possibly, comment upon the vehicle lack of a fuel door and, perchance, remarked upon the fact that a burning sock appeared to have been placed inside.

--

I simply cannot comprehend what is wrong with the world these days; society seems utterly unable to act in an appropriate manner. Take, for instance, the inane impasse impeding individuals in their efforts to travel from point A to B, it is infuriating is it not? I cannot detect even the faintest trace of sirens, either medical or authoritative. This is Times Square! Or so my map would have me believe; I’m still not entirely certain it is a genuine article. I suppose that’s the price I pay for shopping in Quebec though…
I really must make a note to vaporize that linguistically poisoned hellhole once I finally manage to obtain a nuclear weapon. I simply do not understand why they are so difficult procure; America alone has enough nukes that they could assign one to every Russian citizen, yet they refuse to share. If only there were a country that weren’t quite so greedy…

Hmm, perhaps a trip to Pakistan is in order. The place is already utter chaos, I doubt they’ll even notice if a few missiles happen to be ‘misplaced’.

Where was I? Oh yes. This is Times Square! One of the most active roadways in the world, it should not be possible for someone to cause a collision that lacks a single fatality, yet somehow these people have managed it!

I must however, digress, it does not do to discuss a situation while influenced by such emotions. I need to examine this objectively; what could have caused such a delightfully potential situation to fail so abysmally? The answer is truly quite simple; there are too many people. The ill fated driver of the Mercedes had no room to move, no means of extending the damage to the surrounding lanes of traffic. The city was far too populous and had actually reached the point where it was disrupting the natural order of things.

Once I understood this the solution was elementary; both in theory and in practice, indeed I dare hope that the end result shall be one of my more striking displays, but then that’s just me; ever the optimist. What it will truly hinge upon is whether or not the initial blast will trigger a chain of explosions; lord knows the cars are close enough but I suppose time will tell… in about 20 seconds. Until then I believe it would be most opportune to procure a proper stage from whence to view my work, in fact this retail outlet with sturdy concrete walls seems most promising.

As I was proceeding towards my destination however my eyes came across a sight that almost made me pause. Standing not five feet away from the gaudy entrance of my intended retreat was a dutiful duo decked in blue. I refer of course to the NYPD, a group whose status and name is known throughout the continent for their… unique, efforts in law enforcement, especially those concerning a certain soubrette with a fetish for cartilage. I myself am unaware precisely who crafted the strategy of sending an endless tide of victims towards your opponent until they leave out of boredom but I would dearly love to shake them by the hand.

In either case once I had spotted these two dashing victims I immediately altered my route; switching my pace to a swift run as I cut around behind them, effectively placing them between myself and the road, I wouldn’t want to block their view after all. My gracious efforts however were for naught, as the two officers were quite quick in spotting me and apparently deemed my behavior to be somewhat suspicious as they turned to confront me.

“Is there a problem sir?”[/color]

I swiftly painted a surprised expression upon my features as the devout duo attempted to fix me with penetrating stares. “Who me? No, no, no ,no. ”[/color] May cadence adopted an apocryphal innocence as I raised my arms and shook my hands in an excessively dismissive gesture as I watched their eyes narrow in suspicion. One of them even started to go for his gun, bless him. I could have had my knife through both his femoral arteries before he even released the clasp on the thing, still I suppose it’s the thought that counts, the boy could tell what I was, not many can do that just at a glance. He had potential, shame I was about to use him as a meat shield.

“I just think it would be in your-”[/color]

That was as far as I got before the initial blast took hold.

---
((OOC: As most of you will likely note I have done this post from two points of view, the first is in 3rd person while the 2nd is in first. The reason I have done this is because I have not yet decided how I truly want to write Hull. A part of me feels that in order to adequately explain how Hull manipulates things to his advantage I need the 3rd person. However it is something of a challenge to fit in witty remark's without use of the 1st. And the combination of the two you will likely note makes for quite lengthy posts that limit my activity.

Thus I am throwing the floor the open to suggestions, what style do you prefer I write? Please say why or why not so that I might understand your train of thought and come to a conclusion.))

She should not have worn heels.

Ghost tottered along the sidewalk on the way back from the book negotiation. There would be a book signing at her store! A real author who really supported her ideals was really coming ... to her store! She would have jumped up and down in sheer joy at the idea had she not been wearing her power suit. She'd thought it would help her power negotiate. A grey wool suit with black pin stripes complete with jacket that partially covered a lacy ruby blouse. A power color. And while 5'8" was plenty tall, Ghost hadn't had time to have the pants hemmed. She'd had to wear heels so that the cuff would not scrape the concrete.

So there was no jumping, not even a mild dose of the giggles. Today Ghost was being a grown up. And grown ups wobbled along the side walk in search of celebratory tea after they had successfully negotiated the terms of a business deal.

Checking the front menu of a cafe, Ghost noted that they had what she was looking for and just as she had her hand on the gate to open it and let herself in... something exploded.

It took her a long moment to think of what to do. Which was silly, no matter her power suit or not, she was an Xman through and though. A sigh for the celebratory tea that would never happen now and she joined the throng of people who were all too ready to rubber neck. Police officers already seemed to be on the scene. The fire in question was a... bus? Whispers of terrorism shuffled through the onlookers. Why would they bomb a bus, though? Another sigh and Ghost pushed her way through the crowd to the panicked officers who were battling the blaze with fire extinguishers.

She concentrated very hard on the fire. It was voraciously gulping air, greedy and wanting. That, she could stop. And a flame with no fuel would soon die.

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to step back."

The flame sputtered with a moment of respite from her split in attention. "Are there people on the bus?" She was focused on the exterior, that flame sputtered and spit as it died with the combined efforts of one aeromancer and some officers with fire extinguishers and blankets. She felt the draw of flame inside as well, but if there were people inside... cutting off the air left them no chance of survival. She couldn't very well go inside herself. This was as close as she dared, and obviously closer than the police dared her to be. The officer's stern hand was on her shoulder. Callused fingers caught on the fibers of her new suit jacket.

"You'll need to let us handle this. Step back."

BOOM[/i]

The sheer concussive force of the explosion was more than sufficient to topple surrounding traffic lights and telephone poles causing further chaos as nearby vehicles were crushed and live electrical wires writhed across the ground seeking a means to dispel their charge. It is not truly surprising then that, compared to such sturdy structures, nearby civilians were easily cast of their feet by the shockwaves of the blast. One trio in particular actually maintained an airtime of several seconds before finally crashing back to earth in a rather mangled heap with something of a nauseating ‘squelch’ from the last two corpses.

‘Oww… my spleeeen.’

As the surrounding populace gradually began to comprehend the events which had so swiftly unfolded a mild pandemonium began to set in as the crowds rapidly attempted to depart the scene; greatly inhibiting the progress of any and all emergency service personal. However once it became clear that no further detonations were forthcoming any lingering traces of fear rapidly diminished, allowing morbid curiosity to take root as people began to venture towards the site of the blast; seeking some explanation for the devastating event. With all the attention focused upon the centered of the explosion though no one took note of the body buried beneath the cadavers of two former NYPD officers as it started stirring.

‘No, no, don’t spare a moment to help the guy trapped under 300 pounds of blubber. That would actually be helpful, and this New York after all; can’t go ruining the city’s fine reputation can we?’

‘Assholes.’

After a few moments of silent struggle the unremorseful bomber managed to shift the rather obese carcass at the top of the pile which was all but crushing the air from lungs. Once the corpulent officers body had been removed though the wanders range of mobility was greatly improved, allowing him to sit up and take stock of the situation; noxious emerald eyes raking the scene as he judged the full extent of the damage. The initial blast had indeed been spectacular, exceeding the travelers original expectations; the bus itself was nothing more than a flaming hull, a mere shell of its former self and practically unrecognizable from its prior state. An unsettling grin crept across the mans lips as he gleefully observed the emergency response teams futile efforts to extinguish the billowing flames; a mocking singsong tune escaping his throat as he pushed himself to his feet.

“Beeb beep beep went the traffic… Boom boom boom went the bus… Bwah-ha-ha went psycho’s that’s why you don’t f*** with us.”

“H-help, eugh…”[/color]

The demented chant came to an abrupt end as the wanders attention immediately shifted to the bloody, and far thinner form, of the second officer still partially buried under his deceased partner. A look of astonishment overtook the bombers features as he roughly dragged the lithe body partially free and realized that, despite crippling wounds and substantial blood loss the unfortunate officer was still very much alive; having been shielded from the brunt of the blast by his bloated coworker. How much longer the man would last however was a somewhat debatable topic for a piece of shrapnel had managed to penetrate his lower abdomen; entering from the back and piercing clean through his stomach on the other side. The wound had only been further aggravated by the fainéant's efforts to pry him loose from his partner.

“Hey!” The morbid wander called out cheerfully to the gasping officer. “You didn’t die! I knew you were one of the good ones, made of tougher stuff ain’t ya? Well… maybe not, I can kinda see your liver and it doesn’t really look that good, see?”

An unwholesome scream echoed in the officer’s throat, struggling to break free of scarlet stained lips and reach the outside world, however a silver tipped hand had already clamped over the man’s face; sealing his mouth and preventing any sound from being heard over the still crackling flames of the wrecked bus. Such cries did not last long though and soon the maimed officer exhausted his reserves of energy, forcing him to fall back onto the crimson concrete, the restrictive hand leaving his face as he attempted to regain vital oxygen in order to renew his efforts. Only two breaths had been taken however before a new realm of pain blossomed within his mind as a blood stained fist crashed against his chest once, twice and finally three times before a sickening crack issued forth and three ribs were displaced and jabbed into the mans lungs.

“Shhhh now, you wouldn’t want to ruin my fun would you? That would just be rude.” The statements were uttered in a calming tone as the macabre traveler lowered his head towards his victim as though checking for a pulse. People were starting to gather now and so such affectations were necessary. Still, the bomber was only being paid minimal attention and was largely free to do as he liked; a fact he took advantage of as his hands deftly slid to the officers belt and the firearm holstered upon it. Argent fingers brushed against the cool metal of the weapon for the briefest of moments before it vanished in the blink of an eye. The same process was swiftly repeated with the policeman’s other equipment; ammunition, radio, handcuffs… everything of value was rapidly stripped from the victim’s body, including the damaged uniform.

“I’m afraid I’ll need to borrow a few odds and ends; most of my things just went up in flames you see and since you’re mean to serve the public and all that I’m guessing you don’t really have a problem with it. Simply say the magic word however and I shall cease and desist… say is this your wife?” A leather wallet was deftly opened before the dying mans eyes to display a photo of what was presumably his spouse before the demented bomber continued in an overly cheerful tone. “ You old dog, she’s a real looker you know that? Must be nice going home to that every day, I wonder what it’s like…”

“P-please, please sto..”[/color]


“Oh I’m sorry the magic word today is pizza, not please. Speaking of which do you know where I can find a good Chinese place? I just haven’t been able to… the hell?!”

The morbid strangers eyes had happened to glance back toward the burning husk of a bus during the middle of his disturbing monologue and the site which greeted his viridian gaze wiped all traces of entertainment from his visage. Flames which had previous been licking the sky at a height of at least eight feet had diminished to only three, subduing the ambient heat to the point where rescuers were beginning to approach the dilapidated wreck and clear the surrounding area. Even as the wander continued watching the conflagration died even further in a manner totally unrelated to the fire suppressing foam which was being used. Some other force was quelling the flames, limiting the damage and thus interfering with the travelers amusement.

With his dying victim completely forgotten the sadistic bomber rose slowly to his feet and began to approach the feeble ring of yellow tape which served to cordon off the blast area. Pausing beside a quotidian fire hydrant the strangers left hand reach out and gently brushed the base of the coral construct; removing a section at its base which caused water to rapidly leak down the street towards the still oblivious crowds which had gathered nearby. Toxic emerald eyes scanned the vicinity as the traveler waited for the water to progress, searching for any indication or clue as to the source of this unwanted annoyance. It was likely someone nearby, a mutant obviously, but determining precisely who would be difficult unless…

A plain and utterly unassuming alabaster female was standing within the police zone; the woman was dressed in some form of business suit but it did nothing to conceal the head of ivory hair which instantly singled out the girl as a mutant. The female’s attention was focused utterly upon the gradually dwindling fire, yet when a nearby officer approached her, requesting that she leave no doubt , the flames rapidly regained a portion of their old strength while the woman responded.

‘Found you.’

Eyes narrowed with malicious intent Hull permitted his arm to wander back towards the fire hydrant once more, a predatory smirk danced upon his features as his left hand grasped one of the slightly protruding connections which faced towards the wrecked vehicle and an instant later the locking mechanism had disappeared, allowing a torrent of water to rush forth and surge down the road towards the waiting power lines which still writhed ominously, eagerly awaiting their first victim.

As for Hull, he had already begun to march swiftly in the direction of the blast zone, his gaze fixed upon a certain snow haired troublemaker.

"I'm probably the best friend you have right now. I'm an Xman." She fished out her comlink to show him the logo. "I promise not to endanger myself or others by being here. There are more important things for you to be doing... me too." Ghost flipped open the communicator. She could call for backup, it was a pretty bad blast and Seraph could stop the fire a million times faster than she could.

The communicator was somewhere between a walky-talky and a cell phone. It could only phone home, after all, but it did have the official logo. Something blew out one of the windows on the bus and the officer was forced to decide. He let go of her shoulder and Ghost took a wobbly step away. Her shoe splashed into a puddle? and Ghost had to windmill her arms to maintain her balance, the com went flying, but hey, she didn't fall into the puddle.

Ghost looked down and quickly took a step back. She'd been standing on a man's hand. All worry over getting her suit wet was gone. She knelt next to him and checked for a pulse. Faint. Ghost put her hand in front of his lips. He was horribly burned and not breathing. She checked his airway before putting her hand on his chest and inflating his lungs. Ghost pushed on his chest and inflated his lungs again.

Ghost snatched the com up out of the puddle and as her hand connected with the metal in the water angry ants started biting along her hand. She released it in the puddle and looked around. Well, that man by the fire hydrant was probably just trying to help.

Vaguely in the back of her mind, she registered the flashing lights and sirens of the fire truck that had finally made it through the crowd. Ghost's eyes were now focused on the live electric wire that was wriggling like a freshly beheaded snake. She hadn't made an air blade in some time. She hadn't thought she'd need it considering it was really dangerous. It took her far too long to slice the wire, cutting it off close to the top.

The biting stopped, but the com was dead. Ghost pulled the man's arm over her shoulder and pushed herself to her unstable feet. He was heavy. She inflated his lungs again on the way to the ambulance as firemen were flooding the scene.

The initial chaos crafted from the blaze of the first unexpected explosion had all but died by this point, a fact which caused a certain amount of irritation to the obdurate anarchist as his footsteps beat a steady rhythm into the rapidly darkening concrete. Police and firefighters had finally arrived in sufficient numbers to adequately combat the minor inferno and remove civilians from the hazard zone. Once again order was swiftly being imposed upon chaos without thought.

’People these days possess no appreciation for art.’

Water splashed the surrounding surfaces as the morbid wanderer proceeded unhindered towards his intended target. The sudden surge of water from the crimson hydrant had persuaded many of the oblivious bystanders to shift themselves from the bombers path as they moved to higher and dryer ground, once the vitreous liquid had reached the animated electrical currents though even the most obstinate of individuals had been convinced that relocation to alternative avenues would be in their best interests; which was yet another act adding to the macabre travelers accumulating annoyance. The voltage contained within the electrical lines should have possessed enough current to fry a bear yet the contiguous crowds had suffered no more that a negligible jolt. It would cause a jump sure enough, but as for lasting damage there would be no heart stoppers, no overloaded nerves and most certainly no deaths.

‘Consider; how many other individuals, with the same materials available to them, could achieve such a vivid and resplendent panorama of pandemonium?’

Approaching the flimsy yellow banner barrier the police had created to cordon off the perceived danger zone Hull’s pace remained constant as he deftly ducked beneath the yellow tape, his viridian gaze still fixated upon the slender woman whose own eyes were now focused on the thrashing electrical wires which, mere seconds later, were severed from their source by an unseen blade. The unnatural sight made the sinister wanderer pause momentarily; caused him to reevaluate his intended approach and it was during this momentary lull that one of the many police officers at last took notice of the outsider in their midst.

“Sir, I’ll have to ask that you step back behind the line for your own safety.”[/color]

‘Verily I should be praised for my ingenuity and ability to alleviate society from it stale and spoiled subsistence,'

An irritated glare shot across the bombers features as he glanced at the presumptive officer, his left hand quickly dipping into the empty recess of his jeans back pocket before rapidly withdrawing a leather item which had not resided there five seconds ago. Nimbly flicking open the wallet so that his thumb concealed the photo section of the ID the irascible traveler flashed the insensate officer a brief glimpse of an authenticate police badge before swiftly closing the leather fold once again and apparently placing it back into his jeans pocket.

“Sergeant Holmes,” The fabricated name left the anarchists lips with absolutely no hesitation, decorated with an Irish inflection which would have put many Gaelic descendants to shame. “I’m stationed downtown. This was meant to be my day off but fat chance of that now.” A thumb was jerked over the travelers shoulder in the pale gamines direction. “I’m gonna get that mutie outta here, she mighta helped but the longer she lingers the more paperwork we’ll have to do.”

With his curt comment thus delivered the impatient wander shrugged off the hand which had been placed upon his shoulder before striding once more towards his intended prey. The ignorant ingénue had by this stage managed to drastically reduce the area’s over all lethality and had therefore moved on to aiding any unfortunate souls she happened to stumble across. Currently the guileless gamine was performing what appeared to be some asinine form of CPR on one of the many burn victims in the area, however the women was either squeamish or purely ignorant of the proper procedure for she was failing to apply mouth to mouth to her swiftly fading patient.

yet instead my efforts are dismantled, desecrated and dismissed before they can even begin to take root.’

“Hey, let me give you a hand.” With the Irish accent now absent from his tone Hull quickly slid up beside the woman’s comatose patient, catching the man’s free arm and swinging it around his own shoulders so that the limp body was now supported on both sides. This maneuver also allowed the malicious bomber to place his own hand atop the pale females own, grasping her forearm tightly under the pretense of offering more support. “I know a med student who works around here, could really help this guy out. Come on.”

Without waiting for the girl to respond Hull proceeded to all but drag the two bodies away from the scene of the blast, putting distance between them and the crowds as they rounded a corner and approached a largely tenebrous and desolate clothing outlet. Drawing his victim and her patient over the threshold and among the racks of gothic apparel they were met with an astonished gaze from the stores proprietor, a heavily pierced and overweight individual, who simply stared open mouthed at the site before him as the trio approached the counter.

“What the hell are you staring for? You’ve got a first aid haven’t you? Go get it!” The travelers tone had become fierce towards the end and owner had not possessed the nerve to refuse or ask questions, opting instead to merely comply with the sudden commands as he slipped through a back door into a storage area without a backwards glance.

‘Such single mindedness cannot be allowed to fester.’

“Dammit John!” The exclamation was barked loud enough for all nearby to hear before abruptly quieting. “You could at least keep the door open for us.”

Releasing an easily identifiable growl of irritation the wanderer motioned for his victim to lower the body to the floor at the far left of the counter, purposefully hidden from the establishment’s entrance by manikins and racks of clothing. Once that had been accomplished the traveler swiftly drew himself back to his full height before vaulting over the wooden counter and pausing at the back door, glancing back briefly at the snow haired woman, a false expression of concern marring his countenance.

“I’m gonna have a quick word with John, he doesn’t usually freeze up like that and I want to know why.”

Darting into the back room before the girl could argue Hull quickly lost any appearance of apprehension as he stalked down the dimly lit rows of shelving, his emerald eyes shifting swiftly between any breaks in the rows of packaging as he searched for any signs of movement or telltale echoes of footsteps; he couldn’t afford to have another variable running around considering the potentially lethal capabilities of his intended quarry. “We don’t have all day you know!”

“This ain’t exactly a hospital bub.”[/color]

Snapping his neck in the direction of the voice the morbid traveler rapidly closed in on the unwitting proprietor, a hand vanishing behind his broad back as a predatory grin flashed across his features…

‘It must be removed, eradicated, otherwise it shall spread with impunity.’

--

Cleaning his crimson blade upon the dusty trouser leg of the city’s most recent corpse Hull spent a moment or two idly going through the cadavers pockets, turning out all the things one would expect to find amongst another belongings; keys, wallet, cell phone, even a multipurpose pocket knife. All of these were quietly appropriated and added to the sadistic thief’s rapidly growing assets. After everything of value had been taken a few precious seconds were spent dragging the carcass into a darkened corner in order to delay discovery for as long as possible, once that had been accomplished though the morbid bomber quickly backtracked to the store front, running perhaps faster than was normal so as to avoid any suspicion regarding his absence on the part of his next victim.

“John wants us to bring him round back, he’s got a table we can set him on.”

Bursting through the door with a more than adequate sense of haste Hull once again vaulted over the polished countertop, landing deftly upon the balls of his feet as he pivoted, turning back to face the counter briefly as his fingers flicked open a metal latch which allowed a section of the counter to swing inwards.

“Come on, pick him up, we need to get moving.”

Waiting until the white haired ingénue had bent down to start lifting her comatose burden the sadistic traveler swiftly slipped around and behind the unaware girl as though moving to grab the unconscious mans other side. Once at the woman's back however the wanders hands flexed, a stolen purse abruptly appearing in their grasp, a second later the fingers on his right hand twitched slightly and the malicious bomber was left holding only the purse strap. Hull's predatory grin surfaced once again as his emerald eyes narrowed dangerously for his arms had moved to thread the thin strap around the unwitting gamine’s neck. Should he succeed the two ends would rapidly be drawn tight and the sinister wander would pivot on his feet so that his back faced her own before bending at the waist, thereby giving him the leverage he required to slowly choking the life from the girl.

‘Humanity is fortunate indeed that I am willing to provide such a service.’

Ghost knew a thing or two about burns and a med student did not sound a better fate than an ambulance. "The worst is the chance of infection, are you sure...?" She wobbled in her heels as the man pulled her faster and faster along with the man. She could hardly protest, he was carrying most of the weight. But perhaps he was taking him to a mutant healer? There was no other "med student" she could think of that would be able to help such a man better than a paramedic.

The exchange between supposed friends was no more comforting and the way the man who helped her sort of deposited the injured one onto the floor did him no favors in Ghost's eyes. He hopped the counter to talk sense into the clerk/med student... or something, and Ghost remained kneeling beside the hardly living man. She was having a hard time remembering when it was appropriate to make him breathe without counting in her mind. Hopefully this "med student" was on the ball because she wasn't going to trust this fragile life to some blundering idiot.

“Come on, pick him up, we need to get moving.”

Ghost jumped at the sound of her comrade's voice. She had been too focused on counting internally. "O-of course." It wasn't too much to turn and get her shoulder under the hurt man's shoulder again, though he seemed a bit slow to help her get the injured man up. In fact she heard a sort of leather creaking sound before something flashed across her field of vision and then pulled tight and tighter around her neck.

She wasn't entirely sure what was going on. One moment she was holding onto the injured man and the next thing she knew, she was being dragged upward by her neck. Her heels scrabbled against the smooth flooring underneath her unable to gain purchase and her hands, once helping another breathe, were now clawing at a tight leather piece that had made its way around her neck. In her haste to free up her airway, her cold hand brushed up against someone else's.

No... that wasn't right.

She squeezed her eyes shut, moisture pressing into her lashes as her hands now scrambled to hold onto the hands holding the strap. Her back pressed against another's and her feet were no longer able to relieve any of that horrible pressure. It had happened too fast for her to even gasp in horror let alone gasp into incorporeality. She was being strangled... suffocated. The irony wasn't lost on her, but it didn't help her strangely distended mentality. She couldn't breathe and for all the pain and terror she should have been feeling, instead she was strangely calm. Her body was writhing, trying to be free, but her mind was all for the owner of those hands and that back.

Physical contact. That was what it took to change the pressure in a man's lungs and drive the usable air from his body. There was enough physical contact that it could plausibly go fast enough that the swimming gray dots in her vision would not overtake her before his grip would loosen. It took on average several minutes to suffocate a person. True, he had a head start, but this was her element, not his. She had enough control to call it from wherever it might be serving his body best and taking it out and away.

And apparently he had been expecting to be suffocated as much as Ghost had because for a glimmering shining instant, his grip faltered. Ghost inhaled a ragged gasp that was enough for her to change her state of being into a less corporeal version of herself.

Free and disentangled from the perilous leather strap of doom, Ghost gagged. Each breath felt and sounded like a strange mixture of a frog, sand paper, and bag pipe. Her hands, though insubstantial, were shaking... that man... had just tried to kill her. Whether or not it was the same man who had been helping her earlier, she really had no way of confirming.

"What do you want?" She croaked. Shaking hands felt along her damaged neck. The police and ambulances were not so far. It would be nothing for her to gather their attention, but would probably be harder to keep him still long enough to convince the officers that it was he that was the threat and not the wisp of a girl's ghost.

‘Sometime I wonder, I truly do, whether I alone have fully grasped the understanding of subsistence; you see life is nothing more than a colossal joke, artfully designed to mock those who seek some form of purpose to their miserable existence. Provided you possess the drive to accomplish it you can do anything, for nothing in life actually matters. I myself am a testament to this fundamental truth.’

‘Despite such persuasive evidence however the vast majority of humanity chooses to remain ignorant, holding fast to their flawed beliefs of order and peace. I do my best to educate them, I truly do, however I am only one man. Still, I remain undaunted and shall perform as needed to spread the good word, if only to alleviate my boredom.’

Out upon the streets of New York emergency vehicles continued to stream towards the source of the improbably explosion. Their high pitched sirens screeching endlessly as they did so, drawing greater numbers of individuals to the blast site and away from the shops which lined the streets. If however a particularly inquisitive or opportunistic individual were to wander away from the crowds, down a certain side street and over the threshold of an apparently desolate business they might, perhaps, perceive a sudden scrabbling sound on the very edges of their hearing. Should the curious customer choose to investigate this most unusual sound their search would lead them towards the rear of the tenebrous boutique, past racks of gothic raiment’s and around the multitude of faceless manikins they would unearth a most unsettling sight.

A demented grin monopolized the morbid travelers features as he tightened his grasp upon the leather strap, his arms tensing as they bore the slight weight of the silver haired sylph, dragging her upwards in a gradual but unceasing motion. The girls feet had already been lifted from the unswept floor of the tenebrous establishment, an event which instilled further panic into the young woman as she flailed her lower limbs in a futile attempt to relieve the pressure around her throat, causing her waste what precious energy she had left. Drawing a steady breath and swiftly closing his viridian eyes Hull’s attention shifted to his other senses, determined to enjoy this moment to its fullest. He reveled in the gamines loss of power, savoring her slowly diminishing struggles as her small writhed against his own, relished in each empty gasp as her lungs vainly attempted to draw breath.

It had been far too long since he had last heard such sweet music. It was truly sublime, and as such the child deserved an aria of her own, it would only be fair after all.

Shifting the ends of his makeshift noose to his left hand the malevolent wanderer briefly tested his grip before reaching his right arm up to the pale woman’s head. Silver fingertips softly caressed the alabaster hair in an uncharacteristically gentle motion, the strange episode past swiftly however as the hand abruptly ceased its deceiving and swiftly clawed at the ivory strands; grasping them in a harsh fist. The moment this new hand hold had been secured the foreign bomber wrenched the woman’s head backwards; straining her neck to the fullest as it bent over the killers shoulder and drew her ears closer to the demented man’s lips.

“Hush little baby don’t say a word,
For your last screams won’t be heard,
Hail me father for I am sin,
Once again I’ve killed your-”

The sinister rhyme came to an unexpected halt as an ironic role reversal overtook the macabre traveler; the breath within his lungs suddenly ceasing its flow as it came under an alien influence which relentlessly dragged all air from the man’s body, causing his lungs to slowly contract and collapse in on themselves. Emerald eyes shot open, darting frantically from side to side as their owner sought for some sign of his assailant. Hulls stance faltered for a moment and his grasp upon the leather noose slipped slightly, however this was not the first time someone had attempted to asphyxiate the former soldier and his mind had always worked well under stress. Already the wanderer’s feet had repositioned themselves to restore balance and his left had managed to renew its grasp upon the leather thong before his victim could draw a second breath


‘Aww ain’t that cute, the little girl wants’ to share. It’s enough to make ya choke, it really is. However someone needs to teach her that it ain’t polite to refuse a gift.’


It was with that final though that Hull brought his right hand to bear once more once more upon his victims head, intending to twist and snap the females frail neck, however mere moments before his fingers made contact the gamines slender form vanished, her slight weight evaporating from the travelers shoulders causing him to once more lose his balance and stumble forward in an effort to regain it. At the exact same second the ex soldier found himself capable of breathing once again and his lungs desperately inhaled, filling themselves to capacity before exhaling and repeating the process.

"What do you want?"[/color]


‘So the bitch wants to stay and play, oh goody.’

Seeing no need to shift his position immediately the morbid traveler kept his back to his intended and allowed himself a moment to regain his composure, masking the action with a sudden and fictitious coughing which had him bending his legs and bracing one hand against a knee while the other struck his chest. The overly dramatic show lasted only a few seconds at most but it was all the time Hull needed to reorient himself and summon a new blade before slowly pivoting on one foot to face his prey.

“*cough* Geez, they oughta package you health warning, I almost coughed up a kidney and let me tell you tha- the hell?”

The macabre wanderer paused in mid rant as his jade eyes took in the apparition before him, this was most certainly not what the former soldier had been expecting. He had been anticipating a slender female, shaking with a combination of fear and partial asphyxiation, possibly in a collapsed heap upon the floor. Instead the obdurate killer was confronted with an ethereal apparition who seemed to lack any and all substance. Indeed he could straight through her, it was somewhat distracting.

Upon realizing that he had lost his train of thought however the sinister bomber once more adopted his moronic façade, waving his free hand across his eyes repeatedly as he stared in disbelief at the woman before him. “Whoa, I can see dead people…” A sudden flick of the wrist caused Hulls other hand to snap forward and release switch blade it had been carrying, causing the weapon to rotate through the air and pass harmlessly through the pale phantoms midriff.

“Yep, definitely a dead person” The macabre traveler nodded wisely to himself as he walked forward slowly, one hand stroking his chin while the other grasped the elbow of the first. Although the bomber had adopted an almost comical old sage visage his viridian eyes remained cold as he approach his victim, various thoughts flying through his mind as he attempted to discern how best to handle this latest development.

Halting just within arms reach of the spectral girl Hull stared up into her transparent eyes, before speaking in a falsely jovial tone, “Well I had initially intended to simply strangle you to death, I hadn’t done it a while you see and it is a rather effective manner of relieving stress. Now that you seem to be without form however I am at something of a loss although I suppose there is one thing I could try...”

Before the words had even ceased to flow from his lips The ex soldiers lower arm had shot outwards his hand assuming a clawing gesture as it raked through the ghosts lower abdomen, argent finger almost glittering as they actively absorbed everything they touched be it simple air or otherwise.

She would remember the feeling of that leather strap, the feeling of his fingers closing in on her, stroking her face and hair with false tenderness, worst of all she would remember his sick little song. He was obviously demented and she felt need to relate that to him. "You are sick." And she didn't like him either. "And you need help." Ghost listened to his wheezes and coughs with a callused ear. There was no way she would pity him for lack of breath when he had just been strangling her to death, meaning to tease and torment her until the moment of her death rattle.

She couldn't hit him at the knees since he stood somewhat braced, but she could still take him off of his feet and grant herself combat advantage. The problem was... what would she do with him? If she threw him out onto the street would he police even know what he had done? Would they believe her?

He spun around and his posture (not to mention his words) shouted his surprise. He didn't think she had a way of defending herself, did he? She was just some helpless git. How many had he hurt? How many more would he kill? Ghost was clearly not amused. Force was quire possibly warranted in this situation. He threw a knife though her. Yeah. She definitely wasn't amused.

"I am not dead and nothing you do will make it so." Perhaps it was a bit of pride on her part, but beyond the threat of fire, nothing had harmed her yet. To her knowledge nothing corporeal could damage her. If possible she frowned harder. He nodded to himself affirming that she was in fact a dead woman. Her course of action was solidified now. If she struck him now, it would be in anger. She had to wait until he threatened her once more. Considering the pattern of his behavior so far, she would not have to wait long. That was good news for the horribly burned man that was laying near the front of the store. He was in need of some real paramedics.

He looked toward her face and no doubt it appeared as if her face were looking back. Ghost was content to scour the rest of the shop for something, someone, anything that might attest to this man's behavior. Where was the shop owner? She found it in the form of a camera pointed down at the register. There was likely no sound and most of their encounter had been off screen by her reckoning. That was most, but certainly not all. There was a reflecting mirror that showed most of the store and now a knife was buried almost to the hilt in the wall behind the register. Hopefully this struggle was being recorded.

"...I suppose there is one thing I could try...”

He took a swipe at her and she afforded him an incredulous look before two things happened as near simultaneous movements.

One, a quick and decisive blast of wind jabbed at the man's throat in front of her. His chin and balance would hopefully be shot enough for, two, the blunted but no less forceful sweep of air that came for the man's Achilles' tendons. No, she wasn't going to cut them and make him lame, she wanted to push his feet forward and out from under him while knocking his head up and back. If his wind pipe were temporarily damaged, so much the better. He had already done as much to her.

As satisfying as it would to hear his body hit the floor, she needed him to be out in public where people would see what he was doing. Ghost swallowed and raised a great wind that caught his upset weight and lifted him wholly. Later, she would have to make reparations to the owner of this fine establishment, but for now the mean man went out through the most accessible portal of the moment: the store front window.

Having ejected the offensive man from the store, a sudden wooziness greeted her. She would have to remember not to over exert herself. No doubt that man was very heavy and she had her limits. She just couldn't afford to pay them heed just now. Next, the air pressure increased around the burned man. Did she dare move him again? He was running low on time, if he indeed had any left at all. Shaking off her malaise, Ghost summoned another gale to cradle the wounded man out the blissfully large opening of the window. She would deposit the wounded back with the ambulances and then she would be free to deal with the psycho.

"You are sick."[/color]

An unamused chuckle shook the killers shoulders as he molded his features into an affectation of amiability whilst continuing his charade of hacking coughs. “That’s a little harsh *cough* don’t you think? I prefer the term differently sane, *cough* political correctness and all that.” The travelers tone conveyed the same genial mien as his current visage as he slowly began to straighten once more.

"And you need help."[/color]

“I hear what you’re saying but henchmen are a little too cliché these days, and have you seen the rates some of them want? Hell one guy actually wanted dental! I had to spend a good ten minutes educating him about expenses before I finally pointed out that dental would be a little redundant for someone who’d lost all their teeth.”

With his back still facing the ghostly girl the sadistic wanderer covered his brow with one hand weakly shook his head in a theatrical show of despair as he slowly descended into another artificial coughing fit and casually pivoted on one foot to face his intended victim

"I am not dead and nothing you do will make it so."[/color]

“Oh don’t say that, at the very least I’m certain I can maim you, maybe take an arm and leg; the reaper must get his dues after all.”

‘Witty dialog, an exceedingly undervalued asset. All too often it proved to be both a memorable trait and a cause of annoyance for many characters, causing the vast majority to forsake it, relegating it to the ever growing chamber of cliché’s. In spite of its modest failings however wit still has a place in the world, obscure though it may be, and scarcity had only served to increase the its worth. Still though, there shall always be those who possess no appreciation for the finer things in life, asinine assesses who refuse to adequately appreciate that which they witnessed.’

‘It is a most oppressive state of affairs, and over the years I have discovered that the only cure is the one which is always within my grasp, that which relieves all ailments, removes all sensation, emotion and thought. The sweet kiss, always accepting and never judging; I have yet to encounter a soul which can reject the reapers embrace.’

‘Even the witless waif before me cannot escape, she can only postpone.’

Such were the thoughts of the demented killer as his sterling claws gouged the spectral woman’s insubstantial torso, etching four parallel strokes of argent air into the female ghosts form. The moment they had been cast the sinister marks began to bleed ethereal fluids, gradually trickling down the ashen gamines figure before dripping away and dissipating into nihility. Apart from the altered physical state it was no different from any other wound the malevolent wanderer had seen or bestowed. Despite receiving what, by all means, must have been an utterly agonizing wound the senseless specter neither retreated nor recoiled. Instead she simply returned an odd stare, her vaporous visage adopting a vague expression which could have been anything from scorn to dread.

Before the morbid anarchist could remark upon such failings in the girls body language however an unseen force streamed towards him, racing into his personal space, pivoting at unknown point as it swung upward and struck the foreigner in the jaw with the force of a hammer. Any ill placed witticisms were cut before they even began as the mans entire head was jerked backwards, the blow forcing him to the balls of his feet, displacing his centre of gravity just in time for secondary strike. This follow up assault adroitly cut Hulls legs out from below as his mind was still processing the initial attack, by the time the macabre traveler had come to terms with what had happened his body was already in descent, his arm instinctively moving to soften fall. Once again however the demented bomber was caught… off balance so to speak, as an unearthly gale howled into being, surging though the tenebrous confines of the gothic business the torrent of air collided with the dazed wanderer with the grace of a semi truck.

The wind propelled him effortlessly across the length of the store, heedless of the racks and mannequins which followed in its wake. The uncivilized squall possessed a single objective, and that was to eject its occupant as swiftly as possible, this it accomplished with rather crude efficiency; launching its bothersome burden through the only available exit.

For the world outside the dreary establishment the populace remained blissfully unaware of the morbid events taking place only a few meters away. Their trifling lives had already borne witness to one macabre this day and many believed they would not experience another. Such fanciful delusions were ruthlessly shattered the moment a certain Canadian bomber crashed through one of the many storefront windows and into the middle of a bustling downtown street. The airborne figure collided with the tarmac roughly, his entire body jolting as he impacted against the solid surface with glass confetti raining down around. Hulls body skidded across the road a good five feet, passing through one lane and then entering another until his form finally came to rest.

SCREEEEECH![/i]

Before a crowd could even begin to gather around the quiescent figure lying within the middle of the road an earsplitting squeal sliced through the air in a manner similar to blade through flesh. Rubber burned against tarmac generating a scalding heat which scorched the road with twin streaks of obsidian tar as tires desperately sought to gain some form of hold on the surface beneath them. Physics is not a kind mistress however and the unfortunate vehicle bearing down upon the prone figure was brought ever closer, far past any line of comfort, until the onyx bumper was practically above the mans head, the wheels poised to crush his inert form and surrounding figures holding their breath as they waited for the blow to fall…

It never came, the white van, for indeed that was vehicle in question, had managed to halt barely an inch from the apparently comatose form beneath it. A collective sigh of relief was released as the driver hunched over the wheel, attempting to steady his breath as he dealt with the sudden influx of adrenaline and other hormones within his system. For those residing upon the walkways however it was as though a spell had been broken for they rushed towards the unexpected site en mass.

“Oh-oh my god!”

“Did you see that? Right out the window!”

“What happened? Is he still alive?”

“I don’t know, somebody better call the paramedics”

“Oi! He’s moving!”

Hull was indeed regaining his basic motor functions, compared to the rest of his body the mans skull had only suffered minor damage at best, yet this did not detract from the influx of pain that he was receiving from various nerves throughout his body, quite the contrary actually the sensation was enhanced, piercing though his clouded mind like a drill from the heavens. Full cognition returned swiftly and it took little effort for the sinister traveler to discern his current state, the smashed window in front of him was quite the giveaway, as was the bumper mere inches from his nose.

‘This day took an odd turn somewhere down the line and I’m not entirely sure how or when it happened.’

Although not entirely certain about the events which had led up to his current predicament the Canadian tourist was not one to let circumstances hamper him unduly. There was always something which could be turned to ones advantage if they looked hard enough. In this particular case there multiple clouds with a veritable array of silver linings; for one thing he did not seem to have suffered any broken bones, major contusions yes, along with a sharp pain in his back but it was nothing he hadn’t endured before. Secondly if one were to judge from the tones of those nearby it would seem as though the crowd had placed him within the role of victim, an assumption which could easily work in his favour, provided he were careful. All in all things were not above redemption, for now though it would be best to play upon the sympathies of the crowd.

Raising himself suddenly Hull shifted angled his skull so that it would collide soundly with the bumper of the van directly above, impacting in such a way that the blow would appear worse than it was. “Son of a b*tch” The expletive left the malevolent wanderers mouth with a healthy foundation of apparent anger as the anarchists right hand snapped up to cradle his bruised cranium, causing all those watching to wince, either physically or mentally, as they unwittingly sympathized with the stranger before them, natural curiosity turning their thoughts to the questions of how this had come to be…

“Crazy mutie bitch,” The words echoed easily through the air, a talent the ex-solider had achieved early in his career and which had aided him in obtaining his stripes; good communication was a cornerstone of any leader after all. “try to help and this the thanks I get?” Hull staggered out from under the van as though drunk, easily adopting the mannerisms of one suffering from a concussion. He raised himself to his feet in an unsteady, off balance motion; an action mastered through years of inebriety. The move caused no small amount of unrest within the crowd, with many spectators and good Samaritans urging him to lie back down rest. Such advice however was ignored as he stumbled up to his full height, a hand snaking out to balance him against the hood of the ivory van while the other reached behind to his back and gently palmed the sore area between his shoulder blades feeling the shredded texture of his hoody. ‘The hell?’

A few seconds later the traveler had managed to shed, albeit somewhat awkwardly, his worn navy blue sweatshirt. The anarchist’s hands shifted the material idly, twisting it so that he could examine the back which had essentially been sliced to ribbons by the minute shards of glass which had become trapped beneath him as he had scarped across the road. “Completely ruined my hoody..” The tone was far more subdued by this point barely more than a murmur as bomber stared at the ruined article in his hands, his energy appearing to desert him as his head raised and viridian eyes stared forward unseeing. The image such behaviour generated was that of a man disoriented, completely at a loss for what to do next, in reality however the wanderer was actively searching for his lost prey; utilizing his peripheral vision to its fullest by preventing his emerald eyes from focusing on any one object.

‘Heh, run run as fast as you can, you can’t lose me I’m you’re local madman.’

The demented rhyme sailed through the macabre wanderer’s mindscape as his jaded gaze abruptly sharpened, fixating upon a distorted patch of air surrounding a limp figure just as it rounded a street corner which led to the original blast zone and numerous medical vehicles surrounding it.

“H-hey buddy, are you all right? I didn’t hit ya did I? You just came flying out of nowhere.” [/color]

The van driver had finally taken command of senses and exited his transport, his beady eyes taking a moment to assess any signs of damage on the front of his vehicle before rapidly turning to the apparent victim of this entire scenario, taking note of the ex-soldiers somewhat pale skin and the swiftly developing bruise across his forehead. The driver swallowed once, attempting to quell the rising anxiety in his gut as he frantically thought for a means to deal with this unexpected situation.

“Uh, listen you should probably get someone to look at you, I can take you to the nearest hospital…”[/color]

Hull blinked, his attention abruptly being drawn back to the present as his mind rapidly processed the motorists words and a spark of malevolent joy lit the anarchists emerald eyes, causing the driver to subconsciously retreat and take one step backwards. “A hospital? You think I’m daft?!” the words were spat with no small amount of venom as the former soldier advanced upon the shorter, rather hapless, autoist. “You just f*ckin hit me with a van! I ain’t going anywhere until I get witnesses and your details. Who the hell do you work for anyway?”

Shoving the portly driver roughly to the side Hull strode past him without a second glance, his legs taking swift sweeping strides towards the back of the van. A colourful logo splashed against the side of the vehicle caught his attention but was quickly dismissed after a cursory look failed to reveal any enlightening information. “Rags to Riches? The hell does that mean?” a growl of frustration escaped his lips as he continued onwards and quickly came to the double doors which marked the rear of the vehicle. Silver tipped hands shot outwards, their fingers curling around the handles, while one brushed lightly against the locking mechanism..

“H-hey what do you think you’re doing?! That’s commercial merchandise that is!”[/color]

It seemed the unfortunate driver actually possessed a spine, either that or a complete lack of common sense, it was somewhat difficult to be certain at this stage. What was clear however was that the motorist was advancing towards the twisted anarchist with an expression outrage scrawled across his pudgy features, a visage which was swiftly evaporated under the mildly menacing glare Hull delivered in response. “Listen here friend. You just rammed me with this sorry excuse of a van, a fact which doesn’t sit to well with me, so why don’t you just shut up and back the f*ck away for both our sakes huh?”

Having been suitably shaken by the thinly veiled threat the portly autoist backed up once again until he was level with the middle of his vehicle before turning round a sharing a despairing look with the surrounding crowd, many of whom responded with glances of puzzlement and apprehension. This was not the type of behaviour one expected from a wounded individual, even he were suffering from a concussion. As with most crowds however they are nothing without a ringleader, and thus no one stepped forward, or even inquired as to what was going on.

Hull meanwhile had already thrown open the vans doors, giving voice to a snide remark about the vehicles poor quality as he stepped within its shaded confines, a mixture of surprise and unholy glee as he gazed at the items before him. “Rags to Riches” it would seem was a costume business, one which covered quite a wide range of genres if the selection contained here were any indication. There was pirate attire, ninja body suits complete with plastic swords, cartons of face paint, off towards the back however were three separate manikins, each donning a different set of raiment’s. The first supported a obsidian leather trench coat with matching onyx shades which were not dissimilar those portrayed in a popular virtual reality film, the second model was garbed in what was perhaps the most bizarre collection of attire the sadistic traveler had seen yet; it was a purple three piece suit, crafted from materials which were not overly expensive but cheap either. The final manikin though was adorned with what was perhaps the most eye catching set for it brought into question precisely what type of customers “Rags to Riches” served. The costume was in essence a French maid uniform, that much was clear, it possessed all the appropriate lace, frills and other components yet the costume was so sheer that practically nothing was left to the imagination.

“Land of opportunity indeed.” A minor chuckle accompanied these words as Hull swiftly vanished his deplorable sweatshirt, thereby leaving his hands free to…appropriate whatever merchandise he desired, a process which took all of five seconds given his unique talents. After his inventory had been partially restocked though the sinister traveler swiftly shifted his intention back to his initial aim; specifically the drivers seat which was separated from the cargo area only by a polymer thinner than the bombers finger. Thus it was only fifteen seconds after he had first entered the vehicle that Hull found himself adorned in a new leather trench coat, seated behind the vans somewhat grimy steering wheel with the keys already ignition, even better was the fact that vehicle lacked any form of stick shift, thereby designating it as an automatic.

Approximately ten seconds after getting behind the wheel Hull had already fired up the engine, engaged the van in drive mod and caused quite a commotion to contiguous bystanders as he sped off down the road after his fleeing prey. The demented killer’s foot never even had to touch the accelerator for the pedal had already been weighted down to the floor by a conveniently placed chunk of ruby iron which had previously been part of a fire hydrant. Thus the van continued to gain speed as its twisted driver rounded the corner in pursuit of his target, mounting the pavement momentarily to avoid oncoming traffic in favor of striking unwitting pedestrians before once more swerving back onto the tarmac and charging headlong towards the collection of emergency service vehicles and their operators, some of which had already managed to recognize the impending threat.

In all truth the former soldier would have preferred to focus his imminent collision on the white haired femme he still hoped to inhume, however given that her current physical state made her rather difficult to spot from a distance the sadistic wanderer had rapidly come to the conclusion that general destruction would be more practical than attempting to ferret her out by site alone.

Mere seconds before the van was set to impact with one of the many emergency vehicles surrounding initial blast zone Hull flung open the drivers door and hurriedly threw himself out of the vehicle and onto a crowded full of individuals attempting to flee the scene of yet another ‘accident’. A resounding crash greeted the anarchists ears moments later as alabaster van collided with stationary ambulance and the two metal monstrosities careered into other surrounding vehicles.

Sirens peeled back senses as the tires ground to a halt. An ambulance's side folded inwards in a squeal of steel on steel. Tires grated pavement, and the truck rolled like a rag doll, end over end. Each time a corner of its metal body hit road top, it clanged inwards, a debacle of percussion against the cries of horror that made up the symphony of the scene. A ball of trepidation clumped up in the back of Aurum's throat as the sounds of the sirens fell into silence, slowly fading out of his focus as his eyes fell on the scene bathed in ever-turning red light. It had happened so fast. The cars had connected. A flash of a body rolling onto the roadside, and the entire scene had ruptured into chaos... which is basically where it had been before.

His head turned, eyes snapped on the dented city bus and the work crews beating down the fire. He took in every facet of the evidence. The paramedics supporting the injured, the fire fighter swinging down his axe and tearing aside the metal can to get at the sardine survivors of the bus. A power line sparked above eye level. Water trailed underfoot. The whole scene was flatlining, and if someone didn't do something quick... he didn't know how long it would last.

The blond man's hand fell to his coat pocket and jerked a subtle red cellphone from within. With a grimace, he dialed the number to Full Circle. A tinge of copper sympathetically rose up to flavor the back of his teeth. That's when he saw her. His thumb paused on the digit pad. That trace of ivory hair was undeniable, irrevocably his boss. What was she doing here? Helping people. And this was all happening on his break... he held the side of his head, stumbling groggily past a man who lay on the sidewalk, clutching his knee. A crimson geyser caught his essence in a puddle. Aurum didn't see. So desensitized was he, he walked right through it. Blood splashed on his high tops. But there she was, cradling an injured man. The cellphone folded back into his pocket as Aurum walked up to Ghost's back.

"Are you alright?" He asked her. His eyes evaded the brunt of the scene.

~*~

Back at Full Circle, a coffee pot boiled over. Shin dabbed a bit of sweat off his forehead like a neurosurgeon does during operations. "Oh, If only Aurum were here... he'd be able to handle this mess." He swept a paper towel over the spillage and tossed it in the trash.

"Is he from the initial blast?"

Ghost had already turned away to find Hull and so the paramedic's question caught her off guard. "Yes. We were led astray for a time, but now he is here. Take good care--" Her head whipped up suddenly as she realized that something large, a truck of some kind, was suddenly hurtling toward their exact location. "GO NOW!" She used a blast of wind to shut the slow closing back door of the vehicle and a large, broad blast of wind to somehow alter the coarse of the truck.

Crash.

It hit the side of the ambulance full on. That poor burned man just couldn't catch a break could he? Ghost seeped slowly through the cracks, a task made easier once the truck had finished flipping. It was an awe inspiring thing to observe a truck take flight even i was a clanging, crashing menace. Ghost shook herself. That man, no doubt this was his doing. He had to be stopped so she slipped out from between the cracks and re-condensed herself beside the crumpled ambulance. The process was tedious and as silly as it sounded, she almost felt like she'd lost something in the crash. Some part of herself was not coming when she called.

She had to find him. Quick. But with all the faces and bodies how could she? What size was he in relation to others? What had he been wearing? She just couldn't seem to remember anything al that remarkable that would allow her to distinguish him out of the crowd. Dirty trick, hiding in plain sight. Had he known it would work or was it a lucky guess on his part? Foot falls. Lucky break, it seemed for now he was coming out and destroying his advantage of surprise. A strong gust whirled around the man approaching her effectively cutting off his hasty charge and... Aurum? The winds died down putting the man back on his feet.

"Are you alright?"

"Aurum. Get out of here. Get everyone out of here!" She was scared, but there was hardly a waver to her voice. It was mostly concern and thicker things. "There is a deranged man making a mess of things. I have to find him." She swallowed, worried for her favorite coffee barista. She'd been stationary long enough to boast a small puddle of her own. Thick red fingers mingled in with the water from the hydrant and washed down toward the street's grate. Like the color of her ruby power shirt. Like the color of her lips or the hydrant or a ripe tomato or Aurum's cell phone. Blood. It was raining down into solid droplets from Ghost like a macabre cloud and washing away in a small flood.

The little lazy lizard leaned back languidly, losing seconds to minutes and minutes to hours, he had purchased the Percy Jackson Series today and he was single-handedly demolishing the delicious dissertations. Typically he wouldn’t have felt guilty about pursuing a book in a store, but full circle was a unique situation and he wanted ghost and the Idea behind the store to progress into what the city could be.

The chairs at full circle were sa-weet! and comfy too.He could sleep in a chair like this.

Every so often he would glance up and see his mentor hard at work…stacking or shelving or cleaning up a big fat mess. Koga Dog eared the page, he liked a book to have a bit of wear on it when he was done, the dog ears reminded him how much he was interrupted in a particular book if it earned too many dog ears he would read it a second time to make sure it was properly ingested into his mind. He hoped up and went to the Counter, looking around it appeared that Shin was temporarily short shifted.

He went to the sink and rolled up his sleeves setting his books on the counter. He washed his hands and Grinned at Shin. Hoping to win him over in a moment of weakness. “I Know how to make a good cup of coffee if you’ll let me help through the barisssta’sss break. He knew the guys name started with an A, but he wanted to call him autumn which was not his name. It was something similar he swore. Koga picked up another couple of paper towels and then kicked a waste basket in front of the counter he then ushered the mess into the trash can. One more wipe and the counter was saved.


“Mmmkay, I think that if we let thissss guy cool and move this one over we can ssstart a new pot while ssssalvaging that one.” He switched the normal everyday coffee around and then checked the decafe. His mom was a coffee nut, she said aficionado but owning multiple coffee makers and espresso machines for a three person home mad you crazy in his book. However it worked out her as he knew how to handle the machines. He checked what was going on in other spots, and grinned at shin again. Had he picked him up by the collar and removed him yet?

The collision with the concrete was far softer than he had imagined it would be; after all when one leaps from a moving vehicle they normally retain some amount of harmful impetus. However in this instance the sadistic anarchist found his residual momentum to be a boon rather than a hindrance for it had carried him clear across the opposite lane of traffic and into a grey haired antediluvian individual who had been in the process of retreating at a rather surprising pace for one his age. Still the malicious wanderer was not one to look a proverbial gift horse in the mouth and so gladly rolled with the prone form beneath him, allowing it to sustain the majority of the damage. When the pair at last exhausted their kinetic energy Hull swiftly scrambled to his feet and fled into the remnants of the crowd, not even sparing a cursory glance for the poor soul he had used as a human shield.

Moving now with the swarm of panicked individuals still lining the street the macabre traveler hurriedly stripped off his newly acquired leather trench coat and slung it over his shoulder. One of the many things he had learned from his time in the armed forces is that people rarely remember a face unless something about it truly stands out, instead the majority of humanity tends to remember other things such as the style of raiment’s, the colour of hair and possibly height of those around them. By simply cloaking his form in the leather jacket the ex soldier had insured that his attire was likely the only thing that denizens of the city would recall when asked about the mad man driving the deadly van.

Veering away from the crowd as things once again began to calm down the sinister traveler quickly momentarily ducked into a side alley so that he might properly judge the extent of his latest escapade. He hadn’t been able to view the vans collision after all, as he had being rather preoccupied with disassociating himself from the scene of the incident. Despite that though the foreign fiend had managed to hear the impact; the clash of metal upon metal ringing harmoniously the cries of terror and alarm had created quite the soothing melody in the malign wanderers mind. Still the man had wanted to see the full scope of his havoc, art could hardly be appreciated without the full use of all ones senses after all, and so as Hull his toxic viridian gaze upon the sight of the wreck a demented grin tugged at his lips, exposing his alabaster teeth in a predatory manner.

Verily the demented wanderer could not have asked for more, the carnage stretched to almost every vehicle in the vicinity from fire engines to ambulances to police cars. It was an awe inspiring sight and it ripped a low, menacing, chuckle from the malevolent foreigner’s lips, his eyes darting to and fro as he surveyed the scene. The sinister laughter did last long however for the former soldier’s emerald gaze rapidly fixed upon a sight that swiftly eroded his mirth.

‘Oh for f***’s sake! I choke her, gore her, I run her over with a damn van! Who the hell gave her god mode?’

Across the street, in the midst of the mangled wreckage and shards of twisted metal a translucent form was gradually gaining substance. It was still a vague outline at the moment but the sadistic wanderer could already recognize it for what it was; the white haired bitch was proving quite the challenge and Hull was slowly losing patience. The macabre traveler had kill mutants before, they were nothing special, certainly they could be a little more problematic than your run of the mill human but generally Hull took them down by his third strike. The demented anarchist could barely remember the last time he’d had to make a fourth attempt, and while a part of him enjoyed the challenge it did not surpass his gradually growing aggravation.


“What the f***’s going on?”[/color]

“No way in hell this is normal, think there’s a freak behind it?”[/color]

“I’d bet on it, no one else would be screwed up enough to try shit like this.”[/color]

Hull’s ears perked as his mind rapidly processed focused the uncensored bigotry spewing from the huddle of males just outside his alleyway. There were only six of them and although they possessed formidable frames it was clear from their posture that they were little more than street thugs, one element however caught the killer’s eye; a faded tattoo upon the arm of one of the mindless hessians which read C.o.H in an antediluvian gothic script. The trio of characters formed an acronym which was recognized across the country, if not the globe. The Church of Humanity; a larger collection zealots would bigots would be difficult to find. Although the group had faced some negative press and financial difficulty recently they were far from gone and, as was demonstrated here, groups of them still roamed the streets; actively searching for any isolated mutants upon which they could deliver judgment.

‘This is proof that I am special and that someone down there loves my work.’

Raising his viridian gaze from his leather boots the malevolent wanderer smothered the gleeful grin which threatened to monopolize his features as strode purposefully towards the gaggle of goons, a deep set scowl quickly working its way across his lips.

“What the f*** do you want?”[/color] Such a diverse vocabulary, clearly this individual had graduated from the college of asinine idiocy with a degree in English and Communication.

And the press claimed education was failing…

“Same thing you assholes do, to put the freaks in their place. No way in hell am I gonna roll over and just let tear my home to… I don’t f***ing believe it!”

With his exclamation drawing attention the ex soldier quickly cast his arm out and directed it towards the now fully formed female specter who, as previously mentioned, had conveniently coalesced herself in the middle of the metallic carnage. The implications of her presence were all too clear to the uniformed and Hull intended to milk this moment of serendipity for all it was worth.

“What the f***?!”[/color]

‘Again the scholar of the group.’

“I don’t f***ing believe it!”[/color]

‘Ah, another alumni.’

“That bitch! I knew the freaks couldn’t be trusted!”[/color]

‘Well I suppose three for three would have been somewhat dull.’

The other zealous members of group quickly began to adopt similar cries of outrage, rapidly growing in rage and intensity as they began to smell blood. For his part the sinister wander kept stayed towards the rear; splitting his attention between cries of hatred and bigotry and persuading other civilians to do the same. In under five the previously shocked and terrorized crowd had mutated into raving mob, one which was eager to enact its own form of justice upon the one they felt had caused them wrong. Despite their unquestionable anger though the group was hesitant to actually approach the ghostly figure before them, fore they did not truly know what she might be capable of, and as with most the mob feared what it did not understand causing a invisible barrier to form to separate rabble from the phantom and her little boy toy.

‘Goddamn sheep, do I have to hold their hand for everything?’

Slowly sliding a palm down his face Hull lowered his hands to his side, intending to crouch down acquire a fistful concrete from the road beneath his feet. Just before his knees were about to bend however his emerald eyes caught sight of a most delightful scene… a liquor shop.

Barely a heartbeat later the anarchist’s legs were sprinting forward, eagerly carrying their owner to his desired location as another malevolent machination formed in his mind, it was fairly simple, but then the most effective schemes always are. It only required a single component along with a handful of ingenuity, something the macabre bomber possessed in spades. Thus as he darted into the alcoholic establishment the only question which wandered through his thoughts was whether he possessed sufficient funds to pay for his intended purchases; taxes were what kept the world going after all.

--

Molotov cocktails, a truly wondrous concept which allowed anyone to take a container of spirits and rapidly convert it into an impromptu grenade with only a little cloth and a spark of fire. Its simplicity and destructive potential made it beautiful in Hulls eyes as he once more made his way towards the rear of the crowd, his arms burden with a collection of intoxicating tonics with which to fuel the ferocity of the crowd.

In almost no time at flaming projectiles graced the air, arcing their way through insubstantial space which separated mob from victim before gravity began to take hold in earnest, causing them to crash harshly against the unforgiving ground and scatter their blazing contents across the earth. Sadly the rabbles initial aim was rather poor, yet with each successive missile that was launched their precision increased...

‘Joy to the world,’
‘Chaos has come,’
‘Your fears will soon prevail,’
‘Death, Destruction and deprivation.’

‘Will soon be all you know,’
‘Will soon be all you know…’

"Wait, wait, a madman?!" Aurum blinked. Hell was boiling over here. People were on the ground moaning, and as he took his eyes off the destruction for one moment to look Ghost in the eye, another explosion of flames rocked the scene. "What the--!!" He spun to catch sight of another cocktail hitting the pavement. Tongues of flames licked the air nearby, and Ghost seemed... drawn to them. That couldn't be good. He wasn't going anywhere. If there was a madman here, he needed to… what? Stop him. His fists clenched imperceptibly as he turned back to Ghost. That’s when he saw the wound. Ethereal as she was, she couldn’t hide it. His eyes fell, and a lump formed in the back of his throat. He hadn’t seen many wounds before, and none like that. What effects one would have on Ghost’s mutant form, he couldn’t fathom, but right now, they had to go.

"We have to get you out of here, Ghost. Now. You’re bleeding.” Aurum took charge, whipping the cellphone out of his pocket and dialing up Shin. He held it to his ear, pinning it against the side of his shoulder as he shifted to watch their backs. The thugs were still lobbing flaming barrages their way, and with each passing moment their aim improved. “Shin, this is Aurum. I’m at…” He rattled off the location as he took a step to the side, standing in-between Ghost and the flames. “And Ghost’s hurt. You need to get down here quick, there’s a—hold on. No.” The line cut. Aurum couldn’t finish the thought. Someone had wandered into the path of a makeshift grenade, and now they were dancing in the flames. He held the side of his head and closed his eyes.

This was too much.

~*~

“Hold on,” Shin nodded to Koga as he moved in to help. The phone was ringing. As he slipped out from behind the coffee bar, he smiled at the lizard boy. He sure was helpful. Shin was glad he hung around. It gave him someone to talk books with and an extra hand when things hit the fan. Shin scooped the receiver up to his mouth.

“Full Circle Books, this is Shin. How Can I help you?” He replied brightly. Aurum’s voice rushed in on the other end like the tide filling a footprint in the sand. Shin’s face sunk. The voice cut off dangerously and he set the receiver down.

“Koga,” Shin’s voice rose with apprehension. “Prime the scooters and help me kick our customers out. We need to close up shop for a bit. Ghost’s in danger.” He flipped the sign by the door from ‘Come in’ to ‘Closed’, and ushered the customers towards the door.

"Wait, wait, a madman?!" Aurum asked for verification as if she were the one not quite sane.

"I believe the word I chose was deranged, but yeah, he's off his rocker and blowing everything up! He tried to strangle me! And just now he ran a car into me!" Really it was all very insulting. She was beginning to get the idea that the traveler didn't like her. As in, really didn't like her and wished her dead. And she hadn't done anything to warrant death! Ghost put her cool hand to her spinning incorporeal head. The flames reached their bright fingers toward her and she gladly backed up behind Aurum. No matter how the tongues bowed before her, she would never risk getting close. They would lick her up in an instant and then there wouldn't even be a husk of herself left for a funeral.

Another bottle splattered it's devious contents closer than was comfortable. It was too much for her to work on extinguishing. She was having trouble focusing anyway. Aurum said that she was bleeding, which was preposterous. She'd been incorporeal for most of her encounter. She couldn't be hurt while incorporeal... just torched.

And enough was enough. Ghost spread herself out rising on the warmer currents of air. A torrent of air plucked Aurum from where he was trying to chat casually on his cell. No doubt the call would be dropped, but saving Aurum's life was more important just now.

Ghost deposited Aurum back onto his classy chucks on the sidewalk on the other side of the ambulance and truck crash. The flames wiggled closer, drawn toward Ghost and seeking her even through the wreckage. She drifted further down the sidewalk and started the process of becoming solid again. There was no point in getting torched alive, now.

"You're being over protective, Aurum, there is no way I'm --" bleeding was the word she'd been looking for, but the more solid the became the more she just wanted to say "OW!" She put her hands down toward her shredded belly. Four distinct marks, the span of the Traveler's fingers were missing... just... missing. And no matter how she put her hands over the wound, it did not feel better. She could feel something soft and slick, thin like a membrane. One should never feel their own vicera or attempt to hold their own innards inside.

She was sitting and she didn't remember sitting. That guy... really wanted to kill her.