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[Sunday 7th Feb @ 11:48pm] |
Who: Victor Davis Hector Lewis and his women. Or...Crystal and Kat.
Where: At their apartment.
When: Monday morning.
What: "Victor" resurfaces after his death.
Rating: PG13?
Status: Incomplete bitches.
( if you keep talking that blah blah blah )
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| She's lost in this, she's like she'll always be, a little far for me to reach. |
[Wednesday 3rd Feb @ 12:32am] |
Who: Emmeline Stone, Christian MacIntosh, Tori Miller, Cindy Hwan and Zach Braddock. Possibly ending up at the meeting with everyone else.
Where: On the way to Broken City
When: Tuesday night
What: After the premonitions, Emmeline and Cindy have an 'armed guard', but things don't always go to plan.
Rating: R for violence
Status: Incomplete
( It matters to meee! )
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| Battlefield |
[Tuesday 2nd Feb @ 1:12am] |
WHO: Justine Matthews and
WHERE: Outside of Broken City
WHEN: Backdated to Sunday night.
WHAT: A run in with someone who is very, very anti-mutant.
RATING: R for violence.
STATUS: Incomplete.
“I saw you leavin’ that hellhole earlier, girl.”
It was all he’d said. It was all he needed to say for her to know what was about to happen. She was only about a block from home when she heard the voice. There was more than one of them. Three at most. She knew it might have been in her best interest to turn around—to gage the situation completely. But she didn’t. Justine was under the false assumption that if she just kept walking, if she pretended she didn’t even hear them, if she didn’t acknowledge their very existence; that the problem would go away. A girl like her should never have been afraid of confrontation. But exhaustion was doing its work. She was tired. She needed to get home… she needed to eat.
So instead of turning around to check out the situation or to smart off, Justine just kept walking. The moment she felt a hand on her shoulder she knew she’d made the wrong decision. Her eyes shut in a moment that was fuelled both by irritation and regret and in no more time then it took to blink; Justine was hurled backwards into the nearest wall.
She hissed and stared at the three men. The one that had spoken to her was the only one in her face. The other two were hanging back—the lackeys. One had a cigarette and was looking off in another direction, while the third, standing second closest, was watching with a mischievous glint in his eye. To him this was sport. He got a thrill of seeing this, a young, infuriated and scared mutant girl. The bystander couldn’t stand to watch but couldn’t stand to stop. The antagonist just looked enraged. She could smell the alcohol practically radiating off of him. He reeked of it as though he’d bathed in it. His face was large, eyes set too far apart, with ears too small for his head. They were all ugly and dirty and her judgment would mean nothing to them because she was just a malnourished, dirty mutant. There was so much disgust hanging the in air it was practically its own entity.
“You freaks shouldn’t be gettin’ no free passes. Y’all need to be put in the fucking ground, girl. Six feet under. You ain’t got a tail. You don’t look like a freak. What can you do, huh? Set shit on fire with your hands? Pick up cars? What?”
And the smart mouth wouldn’t remain silent any longer. “If I could pick up cars do you really think it would be a wise decision to be fucking with me?”
The two of them got a chuckle out of that one. The third just shifted awkwardly and took a long drag from his cigarette. The man in her face just laughed and shook his head before abruptly pushing Justine’s shoulders so that she was hit back into the wall. She gasped, not so much out of pain as surprise. “Well come on, bitch,” he pushed her again. “What can you do, bitch? Let’s see it!” He continued to push her, and each time he became more and more aggressive. Justine could feel her back starting to ache and her knees starting to buckle. The more he pushed the closer he got, and the more afraid Justine became. “Come on, bitch!”
She didn’t need to be pushed any further. Without even meaning to, it came out. A psionic backlash he never would have expected. She wasn’t even sure of the degree of the blast she was hitting him with. All she knew was that one second he was pushing her and the next… well, the next he was collapsed on the ground in front of her unconscious. She could have sworn she heard a scream; but now there was just a slight ringing in her ears. Exhaustion set in a little bit harder, and she had to sue the wall for support. The other man had stopped laughing, and out of anger, he began to rush at her.
The second blast made her even weaker. She could barely keep upright by that point. This one she hadn’t knocked out, but she’d caused him enough mental pain to force him to curl into the fetal position on the ground, crying like a little girl. The smoker watched the whole scene, reasonably afraid. He didn’t bother waiting around for round three. He walked backwards slowly before taking off completely.
Home was closer. If she’d eaten that day, she probably could have made it. Instead all she could do was sink to the ground.
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