The Red Sun(September 2012)

[Zack Asiv]

The Red Sun

-Birthday of A Dragon-[/center]

Format:

Single. (You may work with someone else for storyline purposes if you like but each person must submit his or her own separate ‘fight’ to claim the reward.)

Reward:

Choice of +4 EXP, $600 or upgrade item/item unlock

Scenario:

Today just isn't your day. All the negatives of your life are replaying in your head, burning a hole in your emotions. The sun seems to be different and you just want to punch something in the face. As luck would have it, so does the person next to you.

Requirements:

• 1,000 word minimum
  
• Your character must fight
  
• You must notice the change in the color of the sun and its effect on your emotions. Every bad thing thats ever happened to your character replays in your head constantly making you more aggresive.
  
• You find yourself amazingly more powerful than before.
  

This Monthly Event ends on Sunday, September 30th.

[/size]

We are celebrating my birthday in style.

[Jack]

OOC: I'll admit it, it's a fucked up post.

"bad"

I'm not

"You're a bad man!"

Stop... i'm not! Stop saying that!

He had been in a foul mood as of late, a hunt had gone wrong and the weather was doing him no good. The sun was an off colour to him it changed everything the sky and the way he felt. It wasn't just today it had been all week. Nothing seemed to go right it all just began to fall apart, who were they to judge him! He killed for them, bleed for them on command. When they needed medicine it was he who went out in search of it, it was he who was shot, stabbed and beaten but somehow crawled out alive and back to them. He was a dog that protected their yard but cost them their food.

Jack paced around the ground floor of an old office building, the body laying out in front him. This person he wasn't meant to kill out of all of them he could kill this one in particular was out of bounds. He was the son of a chemist, funny that in a world where we humans had so much, one small thing goes out the window and people who can make drugs are once again at the top of the fucking food chain. Fuck, fuck, fuck they said this would happen they warned me!, there was a whole dialogue going on his Jack's head.

The sun was beginning to creep over the buildings as the sun set and it was making him uncomfortable, it wasn't a good time in his life. He could hear his heart beat and it was driving him mental his usual calm composed self was gone. All he could do was pace back and forth pulling on his hair when he couldn't think of what to do.

Suddenly he were back in New York, he had just been given his first muscle car by Hiroshi. He was off doing the first of many 'package deliveries' what he didn't know back then was he was running drugs but hey what did it matter to him? He had a gun pulled on him when the man didn't want to pay up for the 'package' it was that night that he had really killed his first human.

There was just a world of difference between his situation back then and now, back then it was just him. His mother had died a few years earlier and his father had moved away. All he had was a small trust fund and his own wit. He was practically an adult back then anyway. But now he had people who relied on him, he had the girl. When he was with her there was no killing. Closing his eyes he tried to meditate but he couldn't "fucking sun" is all he could think about. When he closed his eyes that's all he saw and it made him sick, in fact he was sick. Bending over he spewed, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. It wasn't the fact that he had killed that was making him sick it was the environment.

He calmed down after he threw up but a few seconds later he was back in his world of chaos. He couldn't even concentrate with her yelling, it was just making it worse for him. Our negotiations had broken down I couldn't have prevented it, he was making a move for the girl and I wanted to protect her. No. I did protect her. He wanted the girl... and I made a promise... she's mine!. The boy began to hyperventilate. Jack heard yelling from another direction it was the men they were coming from them.

The Dragon could barely concentrate over the noise "Can you shut, the fuck up woman!" The shaking had stopped, his mind was at ease for now. He felt a sharp sting across his upper shoulder just below the base of his neck. Dropping to his knees the beast was dazed momentarily, before launching himself at the first man he saw. The large 120 kilo frame of Jack O'Connor slammed into some five foot nothing male.

It was a tangle of bodies as the two men rolled around Jack fighting for the dominant position easily achieving it. In order to make it harder for the man's ally to attack him Jack kept the two of them rolling. When they rolled toward the other man Jack used the moment of hesitation that the other male had in trying to discern between friend and foe by striking him in the testicles. It was a quick blow, just an sharp thrust to the groin.

As for the man who Jack had his body tangled around he was trying to kick him, bite him, punch him and even claw him in his attempted to get away. Jack laughed as he began to systematically break down that man's attempt at getting away. First Jack wrapped his legs around him taking him into his half guard this was important when fighting on your back.

Next he used his large right arm to keep them distance between them so he could strike. Usually you'd want to keep your bodies as close together for space to a master of ground fighting is a ticket in. But Jack was trying to create a ticket in, this wasn't ring fighting. In the ring you can just sit there for as long as possible and ride the clock out. At the end of the round is a ding, at the end of this round is your coffin and a whole lot of dirt. So Jack created space by lodging his forearm between the man's chin and chest essentially pushing against his throat.

The Australian used his free hand to grab the back of the man's head, his vice like grip applying an unrelenting force on the back of his neck forcing his throat into his own forearm. First his hand would slide to his left to link up with his left wrist. Grabbing onto his left wrist with his right hand, Jack began to squeeze his whole body, pulling his hips closer to the male. Like a snake squeezing the life out of it's prey. The man was loosing consciousness. The second Jack sensed this he left go of his wrist.

Moving his hand from his left wrist to grab the mans throat Jack slide himself into a position so his index finger and thumb could close around the man's larynx. Jack laughed as his nails began to dig into the man's throat, he tried to move but he was dazed. It was as if he were caught in a spiders webbed the more he moved the more he was trapped. The male as if he were caught in a spider's web thrashed at him, but that just tightened his grip around his neck and waist. He could feel the man's heart beat as his thumb and index finger touched his arteries. It was fast, he could smell the urine and blood. The man had bitten his lip when Jack took him to ground. He tried to yell but he couldn't Jack had already crushed his wind pipe.

What followed next was just for his pure sadistic pleasure. His nails began to dig into the skin, the vice like grip on his throat tearing flesh away while the vice like grip on the back of his skull literally compressing it. It only took seconds but to Jack it was years of pleasure, it was euphoric. Even sensual something which he hadn't felt for a very long time, not since he had been with her what felt like almost a lifetime ago.

A strike to the testicles will stun a man for a while but after a while the effects will wear off, it was inevitable that Jack would be kicked or stomped off his latest victim. The man screamed murder, as he jumped on Jack's skull slamming it into the ground with every stomp. Blood poured down his throat and the girl let out a cry again, he ignored it, letting his half guard drop due to dizziness and pain Jack stared into the eyes of the man he would feast on. Picking up the broken back he went to shiv Jack in the throat, in the very same place Jack had targeted when he ripped out his friend's throat.

He brought his left hand up to guard his vulnerable throat against the killing strike, the stake penetrated his hand but it did not go through the bone. Slamming his right fist into the the mans testicles again Jack lay on his back panting, but the man wouldn't give up that easily. He pulled himself on top of Jack's body pinning him down while wrapping his hands around Jack's throat and attempted to squeeze the very life out of him.

In a panic he nearly forgot all his training and experiences over the years but it all came back to him, the rage of all the shit things that had happened to him kicked back in. His hand found a stone by chance and the slammed it into the man's skull. He let go of his grip but now it was Jack's turn. Rolling over with him, Jack pulled the stake out from his hand, licking the blood right off. The oddly coloured sun shone through a window of the building and lit him up. He felt the odd heat of the son on his skin and felt rejuvenated, like he was a dog caged up in a back yard and some stranger let him free.

Then next thing he knew he was covered in blood and the girl was crying, it was obvious what she was crying about. Jack had stabbed the man what would seem over a hundred times. The stake had long splintered, his hands were a blood mess his knuckles could be seen his skin having been long torn away as he caved the man's chest in. An odd thought entered Jack's mind as he studied the man's chest, his shirt had been torn away, his skin ripped in places. The clear white colour of bone could be seen at certain angles he wondered what a human heart tasted like...

OOC: Item unlock please

[Delilah A. Black]

Today was not going well.

Not that anything had actually gone wrong in her life, but Delilah was in a foul mood. She had relived her torments in prison during her sleep and the nasty thoughts simply wouldn't go away. They kept playing over and over in her mind and dragged down her mood. It didn't help that everyone seemed to be feeling the same level of irritability as she was, but it made it harder to get sympathy and simply snap out of the funk. The air conditioner inside the base was broken as well, and as it was nearly impossible to fix without the proper parts, they simply had to go without until Delilah found the right pieces.

Which was what she was doing at present, alone, under the watchful eye of the blistering sun. Normally, a little sunshine perked up her mood, but the blood red of the sun only made it worse. She cursed fluently in Spanish as she sifted through piles upon piles of junk for the right parts. Five hours and no luck, but there was no way she could go back empty handed. Gritting her teeth, she kept digging, her strong hands sporting fresh cuts from all the metal she was sorting through )I'll have to get those disinfected later. I hope we still have penicillin.[/i])

And though she was lost in the drudgery of her task and the dark memories that continued to crop up in her minds eye, she was not unaware of her surroundings. But it was sometime before she felt the dark presence approach from behind her, of a certain flavour she knew all too well. She was not in the mood, but she kept a lid on her emotions and simply pretended that she didn't notice anything, continuing to dig through the scrap metal.

After a few minutes, Delilah had almost begun to suspect that she had imagined the presence behind her, but a deep rumbling voice quickly dismissed that.

"Delilah."

She sighed irritably and didn't bother to look up. "I hope this is important, Nigel, because I'm very busy right now--"

"I'm not going to work for you anymore."

Delilah stopped what she was doing, her voice catching in her throat. Slowly, she regained herself and turned her body to look at him.

The muscular black man stood with the red sun at his back, haloing his large frame with a bloody cast. From the shadow, his eyes stared hard at her, his posture defiant and tense.

Delilah got to her feet, dropping the twisted piece of pipe she was holding. "What, exactly, do you mean by that?", she asked, her voice cold.

"I don't want to work under you anymore." he reiterated, his voice equally harsh. "I've outgrown your leadership. But I want to remain with in the company."

She narrowed her gaze rapidly, his body language hinting at what, exactly, he was getting at. "Get to the point," she snapped, at the end of her temper.

"I want to lead the Tengu*. You're not fit to lead...the men lust after you and the women hate you because you're in a position of power. It's the same with all women. I don't have that...problem.

"Do you surrender your command?"

A snarl came unbidden to her lips. "Not to a man like you."

A humourless smile tweaked his lips. "I was hoping you'd say that." He took a step forward--

Delilah was on him before he could blink, slightly off to the left. Her leg collided with his midsection using the maximum force generated by the pivot in her hips and the momentum of her dash. He folded in half quickly, not winded but surprised. Just as fast as the kick, an upper cut shot for his jaw, fist meeting face with a dull thud. The force of her hit jerked his head back up and left him seeing stars. His ribs exposed, Delilah delivered a palm strike to the centre of his balance, an action that sent him skidding back ten feet and made him fall on his ass, coughing.

"Get up," she growled, clenching and unclenching her fists rapidly. "You think you're fit to lead? ON YOUR FEET, SOLIDER."

Out of habit, Nigel got to his feet at this command and scowled when he realized what he was doing. He shifted his feet and drew himself up, glowering daggers at the shorter woman before him.

"Care to try that again? Or have you been pussy-whipped enough?"

His face crumpled into an expression of rage at this jibe. He rushed her, and though she tried to sidestep, he had anticipated this. He changed the direction of his punch to follow her, which she promptly avoided by ducking under the swing. He kept after her, rapidly throwing punch after punch, even a couple kicks into the works to throw her off. Still, she kept avoiding them, seeming to guess his movements before he even acted upon them. She began to laugh at him.

In all his life, he had never been so infuriated at not being able to hit something.

As his rage welled within him, his swings grew wild and reckless. He was noticing that Delilah too was avoiding these with less precision than before and her laughter had ceased. He feinted right and threw a powerful hook left towards her kidney.

Without missing a beat, Delilah grabbed his arm mid swing and twisted her hips in the same direction. As he lost his balance and started to move past her, she clapped her other hand onto the back of his head and threw him into the pile of junk behind her.

He cried out in pain as the many sharp shards of metal pierced his skin, letting him of his blood. Many had cut his face. Looking to his right, he saw that he had been only a few inches away from impaling himself on a rusted bumper.

"YOU BITCH, YOU COULD HAVE KILLED ME." he bellowed, his frustration at last bursting free.

She barked a laugh and stepped forward to where Nigel lay bleeding. "You seem to forget," she lifted the corner of her shirt and displayed the full array of knives she carried. His eyes widened. "I could have killed you any time. I could kill you now, if I wanted to. I have to admit, I'm pretty tempted."

He snorted derisively at her and began struggling to his feet. "Typical woman. Too sentimental to kill one of your 'soldiers'? Pathetic! That's wh--"

Finally at the end of her rope, Delilah lashed out with her leg, kicking Nigel in the side of the head with her heeled boot. He collapsed quickly, unconscious.

She had been aware that somehow her rage had made her stronger today. She had always been tougher than Nigel, but she knew his limits even better than he did: normally, he wouldn't have suffered anywhere near as much from the amount that she threw at him. She glanced towards the sun and started her walk home, leaving Nigel behind her. Eventually, she figured, he would wake up and head back to the Crows with his tail between his legs.

On her way out of the junkyard, she noticed an air conditioner sticking out of a rubbish pile she had walked past earlier. With a small smile, she quickly took out the parts she needed (miraculously, they were only slightly eroded) and set off without another word.[/size]

((ooc: EXP plz.))

[Marcus Prasad]

www.listenonrepeat.com/watch/?v=FCDc3E-4gBg&feature=g-vrec

{OOC} ^Thread theme {OOC}

It was around four in the morning in the Providence Compound. A proverbial castle keep nestled deep within budding crow territory in the north. Within the confines of the rusty scrap metal walls the entire block was dark and quite save for one light burning brightly from a bathroom window.
Standing hunched over the sink was Marcus clad in nothing but a pair of cotton pajama pants. His mocha brown body clad in a thick sheen of sweat, His hair slick and pasted against his neck and face as he glared at his reflection in the mirror, hands gripping the sink hard as the knuckles went white. The Urge to rip the sink clean out and throw it was almost overwhelming and it would be so easy too. His entire body was shaking with an ugly fury which coiled itself around his heart and squeezed. The feeling was almost sickeningly famillier, the feeling of power underneath his corded muscles almost seductive as his rage whispered intimatly to be released with the voices of friends long lost in his ear.

With deep breaths drawn through clenched teeth Marcus fought hard to control himself. It all started with that damn dream again. Visions of people from his life back in 552 surrounding him, mocking him, blaming him for the complete anarchy of the school following Stein Archists reign and for his own weaknesses. Normally the voices faded to a distant echo after awakening, but this time was different. Here they persisted like the worse song you ever hated on your MP3 Player stuck on repeat and your headphones were glued to your ears.

As it stood, Marcus was a bomb ready to blow at any minute. It was getting harder and harder to resist releaseing the pressure building up inside of him and rampaging around the compound. So without even stopping to get changed, the man bound his hair into a ponytail and ran out the door, ran up along the rooftops and continued running out of the compound and into the streets of his own personal kingdom. His body was on fire, his legs pumping so hard he covered entire blocks in seconds, leaping nearly twenty feet at a time. His plan was a reasonable one, just run until he tired himself out and go back to bed. Nice and simple.

Unfortunatly as the blood red sun came over the horizon and bathed the city in a deep orange glow, he would soon realize that the day would take a decidedly more violent turn.
The voices of his friends almost cackled with glee inside the hollows of his skull. Tormenting him. As he felt the suns rays fall upon him, he could feel thier voices intensifying, growing more persistant as they berated him for being weak. For being selfish and arrogant enough to think he could outsmart those better than him. Eventualy the voices would swirl into a cacophanic screech that threatened to drive him mad......

And that was when he saw them.

They had parked by what looked like a small huddle of cloth tents beside an abandoned conveniant store. A Truck outfitted with spikey bits and sigils identified the gang as members of Arkhams crew. He almost salvitated at the thought of leaping down at them from the rooftop he was perched upon, finaly releasing this monster pent up inside him and rending them all apart with his bare hands.

It would be so easy. He had the power to do it right?

Enough was enough. The time for action was now. Letting out a horrific sounding roar from deep within his chest, the man hopped down from the building like a mountain goat leaping from jagged crevice to crevice before hitting the streets at a crouch with a soft padded thud. The bloodthirsty roar sent the entire camp into a panic as they shook themselves awake and tried to acertain the threat.

They had nearly gotten themselves into position when the truck parked off the side was suddenly flung into the air with such force it crushed and ripped its way through the camp before crashing through the conveniance store with a bare footprint imbedded into the chassis. The first man to his feet died in an instant as a swift hand tore his jaw clean out before another reached into the space it previously occupied and broke his neck. To Marcus it felt as if the red sun was fueling him, feeding his body as well as his rage. He felt powerful right now and all he wanted to do was use that power to silence the awful voices forever.

He found himself surrounded. They shouted something incoherent at him before the bravest of them closed in for the kill with weapons of salvaged iron. Instead of releasing the twitching body in his bloodied grip, the man spun around, swinging the body wide and tossing it straight into an unfortunate soul who had tried to creep up on him from behind. Not stopping, he continued to spin and lashed out with a straight kick behind him, sending his foot almost clean through another enemies chest. He could feel ribs snapping like dry tinder under his heel as he then whipped himself up into a tornado of fists and feet, using his skills in capoiera to duck, dive and cartwheel around the bewildered foes, lashing out and sending bodies flying.

Slowly but surely they came to thier senses though. Marcus noticed the change, they became more organized, more assured as they kept thier distance and tried to back him into a corner. Marcus would have none of it though, here he was a wolf unleashed and he would break out viciously with a blinding tackle, lifting an Arkhamite's body high before breaking them against the ground. They tried to dog pile him right then and thier, hoping to bear him down under the weight of thier bodies. A normal Marcus would be in trouble by this point, hell a normal Marcus wouldnt have been able to make it this far. This particular Marcus would respond by planting his feet and hands upon the ground and lift himself and most of the Arkhamites who had clung to him off of the ground before tucking his feet under him and slowly force himself to a standing position before unleashing a lighting fast cavalcade of punches kicks and judo throws to break everyone off of him.

Suddenly the mass grew terrified as thier moral whithered and broke in the face of Marcus' onslaught. With his bare hands he was hurting them, destroying them. Spurred on by the voices and the images they showed him, Marcus had resorted to his most simple arsenal. What was the point in getting clever when one had such raw power, seemingly fueled by this red sun?

He was running out of bodies to mangle and he almost despaired. There was still so much fuel left in the tank and somehow he knew when he was spent, then the voices would cease. He was about to turn and find a new hunting ground when a young woman revealed herself from the shivering crowd. She would cast a long cloak aside, revealing a tightly wound little body with a sever scarred face and a mane of long red hair. Wrapped in clothes patched tightly with leather bands, the only amount of pale flesh showing was above her neck, her hands and her midrift. She glared at Marcus challengingly and he responded with a wolfish smile and a simple nod.

As she sauntered tantalizingly close to within striking distance, the others would surround the two combatants within a straggled circle. The two didn't speak. No words needed to be said. With a cry they both would charge and meet in the middle and here would be the first surprise, for instead of getting into grips with him, the woman would instead sway this way and that like water around submerged rocks as Marcus tried his best to connect with a fierce set of punches and elbow strikes before being rocked backward with a hook kick to the side of his head he did NOT see coming, only to reward the girl with a capoira hook kick, ducking low but kicking high, followed by an elbow bach straight down on her collarbone followed by a knee to her guts.

On and on the fighters would slam each other with heavy blows, the woman flowing around Marcus' strikes before lashing out at him, only to have him counterattack almost immediatly and instantaneously, wearing her down slowly but surely until finaly, bloodied and exhausted, Marcus had the woman on her knees, one hand gripping a handful of her hair, forcing her to look up into his frenzied eyes. His heart hammered in his chest. His face felt swollen and wet with his own blood. But instead of victory, he felt empty. Looking into the woman's eyes he saw defiance there, not terror. It reminded him of his own eyes all those times he was beaten down by those stronger, better than him.

He needed to feel that again. That vindication that came from never backing down from a superior opponent. It had been so long he had almost forgotten it. He would have to find someone else then to slake his thirst for a good fight, mabey then the screaming voices would torment him no more. Knocking the woman unconcious with a vicious headbutt, Marcus would then make his escape, leaping atop of the rubble created by the catapulted vehicle as he scrambled upwards with powerful leaps.

He was strong now. The Red sun fueled his body as well as his madness. He would need to find somebody stronger who can test him. Standing barefoot atop of the roof and leaving the devestation he wrought behind him, Marcus set out deeper into the neutral zone.

This wolf needed to hunt.

{OOC} I'll take the EXP please ^_^ {OOC}

[Erik Masters]

When was the last time William had been in a fight? He couldn’t even remember himself. All he knew was that he was awake today for the first time in a while. He had awoken to a red sun. A red sun? That was odd. He had never seen it that color before except at dusk. It was 10 in the morning though. Why had the sun turned this color? Who care? he thought to himself, Im in the mood to fight. He didn’t know what had caused him to be in charge when he woke up but he wasn’t complaining. Usually it was Erik who had been in charge lately though he was working his way into his conscience. It was time to find some poor soul to take his aggression out on. He moved to the window and looked outside. Nothing. He opened the window and jumped out landing on the sidewalk below. He took a deep breath and started to run. Soon enough he was far away from the apartment. He stopped. He had heard the sound of a people talking. Bingo. Time to take out some of that aggression had been Erik repressing. He moved around a corner and saw a group of 3 guys talking. The looked like the belonged in a 1980’s punk band with there Mohawks and the denim jackets with metal studs in them. I should just beat up these idiots to teach them a lesson.[i/] He stepped fully around the corner and into the open. ‘Hey! You three!” he shouted at the group, “Don’t you know those outfits went out of style. Where’s your fanny packs and snap bracelets?”

The three turned to face him. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking too?” one of them said. “Yeah who do you think you’re talking to wimp?” echoed the other two. The started to make there way towards him. The one who had talked first pulled out a pipe and the others pulled out what appeared to be police batons.

That must be the leader. This should be to fun! he though to himself. He stood his ground and waited for them to get closer. “Well aren’t we the feisty ones today?” he laughed manically. The leader stopped a few feet in front of him and his to lackeys moved to either side.

“I think its about time we teach this punk a lesson.”

“Really? What’s the matter couldn’t think of any other clichés?” As he said this the leader lunged at him with and over head strike. William immediately crossed both hands above his head and caught the downward blow on the X that his forearms had made. He grabbed the pipe and simultaneously kicked the man in the ribs causing him to let go of the pipe. The guy on the left made a swing for his ribs with the baton. William blocked the strike with the pipe and continued the turning motion to land an elbow on the side of the guys head causing him to stumble back holding his head. The guy that was to the right of him paused for a second and started to rush him. William immediately landed a side kick in the middle of the mans chest causing him to fall and slide back a few feet on the ground. William dropped the pipe and started to walk to the man who was gasping for air on the ground. The leader had recovered from the kick to the ribs and planted a solid kick into the ribs of William.

“That was a mistake.” He spun around and kicked the leader in the side of his head. The leader stumbled back two steps and William immediately grabbed the man by the back of the head and while pulling down landed three knees to the man’s face. Letting go the leader fell to the ground motionless. “That wasn’t any fun. I was hoping you would have put up more of a fight. By now the man he had elbowed in the head was charging towards him. He turned to face the man and stepped aside sticking his arm out to clothesline him. The man hit the ground and William kneeled on his chest and punched him in the face three times. He then sat the man up and kicked him in the head. With a satisfying crack the man’s neck broke for the force of the kick.

“Now, what to do with you?” He moved over to the man who was getting back on his feet. He kicked him in the ribs causing him to flip over. “What’s the matter? Having trouble getting up?” The man rolled back to knees. This time William let him get up. As soon as the man got to his feet he began to run down the street. “Where are you going? Are you not having fun anymore?” He caught up to the man easily. Grabbing the man by the back of the head he repeatedly smashed his face into the brick wall causing blood and brain matter to splatter onto his cloths. “This was my favorite shirt!” he yelled at the corpse. He gave the dead body another kick.

Normally he would have been satisfied but for some reason that only made him want to find more people to hurt. He looked around to see if there was anyone near by. The street was empty. He decided he had better move on to a new location seeing as anyone in the area was likely to know what just happened and be fleeing. He once again began running. Today was starting out very well. Maybe he could find someone who could give him more of a fight. Now that would be the perfect day, he thought to himself. That would be the day he had been craving. Maybe it had something to do with the red sun but he felt as if he was being willed to hurt people. He would happily oblige whatever was causing him to be in this mood. A little exercise never hurt anyone.[i/] He laughed to himself, Well never hurt me!

[OOC] I would like the EXP if i qualify. Thank you

[Vespyr]

[Using my NPCs rather than Vespyr, if that’s alright. If it can’t get credit that’s fine, but i'll take EXP if it does count.]

Sometimes you just have to prove it.

---

Just about everyone had hoped that the weather would have cooled down by the end of September, but as if to spite them, the temperature spiked; summer wasn’t going down without a fight, it seemed.

Reddish sunlight glared through the windowpane of the third floor apartment building. The semi-unreal lighting gave everything in the kitchen a somewhat delirious appearance. Asthma sat at the kitchen table and found himself slipping in and out of attention even though he was hardly tired. The teenager actually felt quite the opposite of tired. An overabundance of energy buzzed through his nerves in the most aggravating way possible and the perfect stillness with which he sat was more fragile than it would appear from just looking at him. The boy felt manic. But he couldn’t move.

His mind was elsewhere.

“This is the men’s room.”
“…i know.”

“Ari, if you don’t cut your hair I’m going to cut it in your sleep.”

“Honey, why don’t you try wearing clothes that fit? You look like a… I don’t know sweetie, you don’t look well.”

“Can someone help get the textbooks off the shelf—“
“i’ll do it.”
“Uh, somebody taller, get the—“

“Do you wear makeup?”

“Uh… I don’t really think you’re eligible for the team, kid. Sorry. Maybe in a few years…”

“Dude you’re at the wrong fucking school. Junior high is down the street.”
“i’m a sophomore.”

“…What even are you?”

“What the fuck are those stupid little animals even for?”

“Hey kid i think there might be rats in your hair.”
“that’s hilarious.”
“Did you say something?”
“i… what,”

“Where are your parents?”
“they’re dead.”
“Look, kid. No one’s going to take care of you here. You gotta go.”

“Maybe we could eat him.”
“Are you fucking kidding, what is there to eat?”

“What purpose do you serve?”
“i… what…?...”
“Why keep yourself alive if you have nothing to live for?”
“i’m afaid… it will hurt… more… than this…”

“I call him ‘Asthma’.”
“what… my name’s not… my name is…”
“Asthma.”

Ari… Stockholm…?

“why am i here?”
“Just routine, boy. Mostly all th’new little peckers see these walls. The ceiling most’ve all.”

“You can go home now.”

this is my home now.

“Ain’t he a little young to be here? I thought you hated kids.”
“He’s fifteen.”
“Holy shit, fifteen an’ a virgin? No fuckin’ way.”

not anymore thanks to you.

“Welcome back, Lolita.”
“i’m a boy.”
“All the same to me.”

“Good morning, princess.”
”everything… hurts…”

“can i put my shirt back on please.”
“Nope.”
“why not.”
“Be a man, princess.”
“nothing you just said makes any sense.”

“Mm. You taste like him, princess—weak.”

“Don’t be such a girl, ya had one beer.”
“you told me if i drank orange juice i would feel better.”
“It was a joke, princess. You were all writhin’ in pain and it was fuckin’ hilarious.”
”i hate you.”
“Then leave.”

“Didn’t think you would, princess.”

“Princess.”

“Good morning, princess—”
”I AM NOT A GIRL.”

[/b]

Asthma shot up from his seat and roared like the tiniest lion there ever was as he grabbed the edge of the table and tried to flip it. It was too heavy. The boy hissed and stormed out the front door, leaving Leech standing in the hall with his coffee, his brow raised, surprised but amused.

”Whatever you say.”

Before he really realized what he was doing, Asthma had bolted barefoot down two flights of stairs and was careening toward the building’s exit. Suddenly Quinn the schizophrenic appeared and darted in front of the door, blocking it desperately with his body.

”NOKIDNONONO DON’TGOOUTTHERE THE WARRIOR BEES ARE BACK”

Asthma shrieked as he barreled toward the goggles-wearing, greasy-haired freak, too fast and too close to keep from colliding into him. There was a semi-loud bang as the two males crashed through the door and tumbled onto the hot sidewalk outside. By the time he’d hit the ground Asthma was already scrambling to get on top of the other man, yelling like a tiny wildcat, baring his teeth. Quinn shrieked back at him incoherently. He had no idea what was happening.

”GETOFF DEMONS GETOFFME YOU CAN’T HAVE MY LUCKY HANDKERCHIEF”

Asthma managed to straddle the man, which wasn’t too much of a challenge because Quinn, although seven years older, was quite a small fellow himself. It was almost a fair fight. Although he still hadn’t realized why all this was happening, Asthma threw his tiny fists repeatedly at Quinn’s face until the man began to bleed quite heavily, though he still struggled, so Asthma just kept punching. At some point Quinn's brain, being wired all wrong as it was, decided he’d taken quite enough of a beating and sent out its only defense: the other guy.

”YOU THINK THIS IS A FUCKING GAME” the man roared, spewing blood and teeth up into the angry teenager’s face. ”I WILL END YOU, CHILD. I WILL DEVOUR YOUR SOUL WITH MY EYES.”

”THAT DOESN’T MAKE ANY FUCKING SENSE” Asthma screamed back at him as Quinn managed to shove him off to the side. The teenager landed in a furious heap of black hair and kicked back at the other as he crawled over and tried to grab Asthma’s throat.

”FUCKING KNEEL”
”I’M ON THE GROUND YOU IDIOT”
”SUCK MY DICK, MORTAL”
”YOU DON’T HAVE ONE”
”NEITHER DO YOU”
”I

“AM

“A FUCKING

“MAN.”


Asthma kicked Quinn so hard in the face that he lurched backward, hit his head on the pavement, and blacked out. Silence ensued. The teenager rose slowly to his feet and wiped blood off of his pale face with the back of his sore hand, staring hard at the unconscious man lying haphazardly in a puddle of his own blood on the baking sidewalk. Hours later he’d have a gnarly sunburn; the red sun glared pitilessly down into the street. It wasn’t the only one watching.

Leech was leaning out the kitchen window up on the third floor, watching the scene with mirth glinting in his ruby red eyes.

”Good boy.”
[/blockquote][/size]

[Orion]

Explosions. Fire. Manaical laughter, strangely familiar. The feel of a man's eyeballs being popped by his own hands. A hard pressure on his back. A girl's high pitched scream of pain.

Orion shot up, breathing heavily.

"Damnit... still haunted..."

The Enforcer revolt, his fight against Jester. Back in 259, before he had been experimented on. It didn't bother him to remember it before but today... for some reason, today, it just irritated him. He would say pissed, but he didn't get angry anymore. He threw off the covers and stood up, stretching. He was wearing his regular outfit, sans cloak and cross. No point in sleeping in it. As he was about to grab it, he paused as his eyes cast out the window. The sun was coming up, and it was... red. Blood-red.

The hell? Must be an after-effect of that damn dream... Now I am pissed. Screw it, I don't feel like blending today.

He dropped the cloak back on the chair, and opened his door, and totally did not slam it open. Not at all. Nor did he slam it closed behind him with enough force to crack the wood. Damn, he was violent today...

Orion sauntered down the street, his face neutral. His emotions rampant in rage and irritation, however. His glow wasn't blue, but was an angry fire-red, abnormal, though he didn't notice it. His eyes, normally golden with patches of blood-red in it, were now fully blood-red. Most people would avoid a person like this, if it wasn't for one key thing. His emotions were being broadcast, and people were unwillingly becoming as irritated, angry as he was, if not more so as the sun and memories bothered them.

Orion was lost in thought... a red haze, as he reviewed the riot caused by the Ripper King, Bel, back in 259. Being ganged up on by his cronies... He growled under his breath as he remembered, bumping past two big men, built like bears and as tall as him. The two men stumbled as he forced past. One stepped up, irritated at this rude...

"Hey, watch it, you freak!"

Orion froze, for a single millisecond. He had been working to try and reduce the hatred against Experiments, being called that didn't bother him.

"Freak of nature... radioactive jack-ass..."

His history... blood boiling, without warning, Orion spun, unleashing a spinning backfist to the man's head and sending him careening through the wooden door of the nearby building with a resounding crash. His buddy stepped up.

"Why you little-"

A clumsy haymaker was unleashed at him, that Orion caught without even thinking and squeezed. Blood began to seep between his fingers as he, amazingly, crushed the hand that was twice the size of his own. The, currently small, rational part of him idly noted this, while the rest of him didn't give a rat's ass as he slammed his knee into the man's groin. The man's pelvis shattered at the force of the blow, and he howled in pain, somehow still conscious, before Orion released his hand, jumped into the air, and delivered a devastating kick to the side of the head that sent the man spiraling into the street, unconscious certainly, possibly dead. Orion landed smoothly, but that only slightly dealt with his irritation. He needed to vent... but where-

A nearby bar caught his attention. He smiled grimly.

----

"Bartender! Whiskey. The whole bottle. I don't care what type."

The bartender frowned at the... customer sitting at the bar. The shop was crowded, and that this kid had managed to find a seat at the bar was surprising. But then, he didn;t care. The kid had put two hundreds on the bar, and who was he to refuse. He grabbed the closest bottle and gave it to the kid. Orion immediately grabbed it and down half of it in one go, making the nearby patron's give him awe-inspired looks. Taking another deep swig, he spun on the stool and threw it across the room, and it hit some random man. It didn't really matter, as his next words made the entire bar stand up.

"ALL YOUR MOTHERS WERE ONE-DOLLAR WHORES AND YOUR FATHERS WERE DISEASED BEGGARS!"

The first man to approach him was flipped over the bar at the bartender by his arm, slamming them both back and shattering multiple bars of booze. The next tried to kick him, only for Orion to grab it and shatter his kneecap with a hammer fist. AS the man howled in pain, Orion brought both his legs up and slammed them into his chin, flipping the man backwards and sending him flying. The man on Orion's right swung at his head, but Orion rolled his body forward, grabbing the base of the stool as he did so. Somehow manifesting the strength to rip it from the floor, it was thrown forward over his back to slam into the next approaching man, Orion throwing his body back and catching the stool with a single hand as the man stumbled back, only mildly injured as the stool's cushion hit him and caught a lot of force.

Not so the man to Orion's right, as Orion swung the stool backwards without even looking and caught him in the head, sending him over the bar unconscious. A riot was breaking out ahead of him, and Orion was become more and more cold and focused as despite this venting, the rage and aggression still continued to build. Still he would vent until it reached the point that the nearby people were knocked out by his very emotions at full-blast. Grabbing the stool with both hands, he performed a baseball bat swing and caught the nearest man in the chest, cracking a few ribs as he was sent to collide into two other fighting patrons, sending them all tumbling. He threw the stool like a javelin at another patron, not caring which one and advanced on the nearest table. He grabbed it and began to pull up, it being bolted to the floor.

"HuuurrrgggGGRRAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!"

With a roar, he ripped it from the floor and spun with it, slamming those within reach away, scattering the crowd and opening a hole. A hole that soon widened in one brutal direction as Orion released his newest improvised weapon and it crashed through the door, or rather the patrons between Orion and the door did, as the mass of men was suddenly reduced in number by an easy eighth. Orion dodged a punch and swung his own at the biggest man's head, yelling as he did.

"SCREW YOU!" Blood flew from the man's nose. "SCREW YOU!" A grunt of pain as Orion unleashed a blow to the groin. "VETTE LA MUERTE !!!" Orion brought both his arms back, and then slammed them both forward, catching the man in the gut as he was sent flying back, scattering the nearby people. Orion wasn't through yet. A red haze descended on him, the likes of which he hadn't experienced since... Shadow.

"FEEL MY RAGE! FEEL MY HATRED! YOU ALL WILL BE RENT APART!"

With that, everything was lost in a haze of spilled blood, arms, legs, and the screams of pain intermingled with his enraged bellowing, sometimes coherent, sometimes not. When the mist began to die, there was one man left, a man that was most likely an Experiment, looking at his red eyes, white hair, and the fact that he was four times Orion's size.

"Nice fight, little man. But will that rage be enough to beat me?"

Orion didn't even answer. The berserk was gone, Orion's rage gone to point of pure cold focus. He jumped, far higher then he should've been able to, and slammed both feet into the monstrous man's head, sending him stumbling back as teeth flew and blood sprayed, the man's eyes widened at the amount of strength this boy had. Orion flipped gracefully in air before landing, launching a hefty one-two into the man's solar plexus, the air dispelled from the body by a gasp of pain. The man tried to swing his fist at Orion, but Orion simply caught it with both hands, it being so large that he couldn't stop it with one, and, using that fist as a temporary fulcrum and stable point, swung his entire body into a flip that ended in a heel-drop on the man's elbow. With a resounding crack and a high-pitched scream of rage and pain from the monster, the arm broke, and the man doubled over, Orion releasing the man and landing on the ground in a crouch before spinning and unloading an uppercut into the man's face, sending his upper body upwards to straighten him out. Orion continued the spin into another punch, this one lifting the giant off the ground, before drawing his body back and setting his left leg into a stable stance as, with all his weight and strength, he unloaded a kick into the man's ribs. He could feel one break under the force and could hear a few crack, the man being sent flying to slam into the wall. Orion brought his foot down, it touching the ground lightly as the giant collapsed, beaten into unconsciousness by sheer pain. Orion looked down as he heard something rolling and found a glass bottle of scotch on the ground. Picking it up, he walked over to the bar, grabbed a glass and another bottle, and poured himself a shot. Downing it, he poured another as he hunched over the bar, his aggression and rage finally vented, those haunting memories gone.

"Fucking hate Mondays."

A groan began behind him from a single person. HE finished pouring his shot before spinning and throwing the bottle at the vocal man, knocking him out as the bottle shattered and its contents sprayed against the other patrons who were all, mercifully unconscious. Orion spun back around and leaned back on the counter, sighing.

"............"


OOC: 1744. Longest post ever done by me. I feel somewhat accomplished. I figured I've mentioned Orion's bar rampages enough times, so I may as well show ya guys one. Granted, it's generally nowhere near this level, but then, today was special. And I'm assuming this day to be Monday so as to fit in with the story here.

Choice of Reward: EXP

[Zack Asiv]

Jack: Earned an item unlock, please inform a moderator of which item so we know.

Delilah: Exp w00t. +4 awarded

Marcus: Exp awarded! +4

Erik: +4 exp

Vespyr: You know what? It does count actually. +4

Orion: +4 epic experience