[ it wasn't just the windows, the other year, and it wasn't only an explosion outward.
when john murphy came to, he was buried the only unharmed thing within a five foot radius, amid a massive pile of rubble. the main lobby of Grand Central Station, that he'd just been running through, panicked and scared and despairing, had just imploded around him, as he'd clutched his head and screamed. from that day forward, john would never return to his screaming mother and their shitty apartment, nor his dad's grave to leave flowers or quietly talk. his face was on the news, inside police stations, on the covers of newspapers. it was joseph kavinsky that found him hiding out in a sewer entrance a few weeks later, scrubbed the grime off of him, and found him a hide away apartment in an abandoned building to squat in, undisturbed.
he doesn't make it out much now, not without his hood pulled up, a pair of sunglasses, and a mask that looks like he's expecting a plague to hit any moment now. there's still a warrant out for him, and plenty of prices on his head underneath what's legal, from various places. angry survivors, gangs, labs, private militaries, anyone who could use a scared kid with a lot of unstable power. but even so, he has to eat, and joe can't do everything for him.
catch john out in the chinatown market, stocking up on food and necessities, or passing through a park late at night. maybe a mugger thinks he's an easy target, and you just happened to catch this kid covered head to toe throw a grown man against a tree with one an outstretched hand, before he glances left, and right, and dashes for the closest subway entrance. maybe he's watching you practice your powers from a distance, or you're just looking for a place to squat in his abandoned building. ]
[CLOSED TO KAVINSKY] hovel hangouts;
[ john hates the drugs, everything about them, but they keep his powers tapped down. they make him feel drained, and listless, give him headaches and weird dreams, everything feels distance and blurry. like being on sedatives. but, he needs them. joseph, despite watching him at the worst of times, supplies him with what he needs, and to improve the mood, adds in some stupid gag relaxation gift.
last week, it was a little desk zen garden and a book of buddhist mantras. the week before, it was aromatherapy candles. this week, it's a daniel craig body pillow, and john's staring at it like daniel craig literally just showed up in his living room/kitchen/bedroom, just... hanging out. ]
Why Daniel Craig? I don't even like James Bond that much... [ john murmurs, reaching out to grasp the thing and flip it upside down, only to notice that the back has daniel craig's ass on it. lord. time to turn the pillow case inside out, then. despite how dumb his gifts are, and despite how much john will never use them, he keeps all of them, most piled around the mattress layered with sleeping bags and blankets against the back wall. a reminder of the fact he got them at all. not that he's planning on letting john forget that, with how he's going around lighting up all the candles from a couple weeks ago, now. ]
Joe. Smoke signals are the last thing I need right now. [ he stretches out his arms, waving him over to the mattress he's seated on. ] Come on, leave it.
[ come here and take daniel craig's place, please. ]
LUCID - GET TO THE COPPER;
[ when murphy finally comes to, it's in the middle of an enchanced fight, and he nearly gets himself killed. it's a quick retreat, trying to follow his false mind's memory of the subways to find a hiding spot, to curl up and go insane in.
there's a lot that this world's given him that murphy needs to sort through, not least of which being the telekinesis that has yet to leave him. when they get back to xistentia, that'll be gone, right? right. of course. hopefully, because this shit is just too fucking much for him.
what he concentrates on, instead of all the what-the-fuck spidermarvel land has slapped him with, is getting his daemon operational, getting a few of the newbies out, and going the fuck home. so if you're one of those he finds, murphy's not very subtle in his approach. you'll have a cellphone slapped to your chest, or what looks like a cellphone at the moment - surprise, it's your daemon. ]
Open it up. Listen. Follow it. [ whoever the fuck you are. ] When you get to the beach, start walking for the city. Good? Great.
john murphy | the 100 | ota!!
[ it wasn't just the windows, the other year, and it wasn't only an explosion outward.
when john murphy came to, he was buried the only unharmed thing within a five foot radius, amid a massive pile of rubble. the main lobby of Grand Central Station, that he'd just been running through, panicked and scared and despairing, had just imploded around him, as he'd clutched his head and screamed. from that day forward, john would never return to his screaming mother and their shitty apartment, nor his dad's grave to leave flowers or quietly talk. his face was on the news, inside police stations, on the covers of newspapers. it was joseph kavinsky that found him hiding out in a sewer entrance a few weeks later, scrubbed the grime off of him, and found him a hide away apartment in an abandoned building to squat in, undisturbed.
he doesn't make it out much now, not without his hood pulled up, a pair of sunglasses, and a mask that looks like he's expecting a plague to hit any moment now. there's still a warrant out for him, and plenty of prices on his head underneath what's legal, from various places. angry survivors, gangs, labs, private militaries, anyone who could use a scared kid with a lot of unstable power. but even so, he has to eat, and joe can't do everything for him.
catch john out in the chinatown market, stocking up on food and necessities, or passing through a park late at night. maybe a mugger thinks he's an easy target, and you just happened to catch this kid covered head to toe throw a grown man against a tree with one an outstretched hand, before he glances left, and right, and dashes for the closest subway entrance. maybe he's watching you practice your powers from a distance, or you're just looking for a place to squat in his abandoned building. ]
[CLOSED TO KAVINSKY] hovel hangouts;
[ john hates the drugs, everything about them, but they keep his powers tapped down. they make him feel drained, and listless, give him headaches and weird dreams, everything feels distance and blurry. like being on sedatives. but, he needs them. joseph, despite watching him at the worst of times, supplies him with what he needs, and to improve the mood, adds in some stupid gag relaxation gift.
last week, it was a little desk zen garden and a book of buddhist mantras. the week before, it was aromatherapy candles. this week, it's a daniel craig body pillow, and john's staring at it like daniel craig literally just showed up in his living room/kitchen/bedroom, just... hanging out. ]
Why Daniel Craig? I don't even like James Bond that much... [ john murmurs, reaching out to grasp the thing and flip it upside down, only to notice that the back has daniel craig's ass on it. lord. time to turn the pillow case inside out, then. despite how dumb his gifts are, and despite how much john will never use them, he keeps all of them, most piled around the mattress layered with sleeping bags and blankets against the back wall. a reminder of the fact he got them at all. not that he's planning on letting john forget that, with how he's going around lighting up all the candles from a couple weeks ago, now. ]
Joe. Smoke signals are the last thing I need right now. [ he stretches out his arms, waving him over to the mattress he's seated on. ] Come on, leave it.
[ come here and take daniel craig's place, please. ]
LUCID - GET TO THE COPPER;
[ when murphy finally comes to, it's in the middle of an enchanced fight, and he nearly gets himself killed. it's a quick retreat, trying to follow his false mind's memory of the subways to find a hiding spot, to curl up and go insane in.
there's a lot that this world's given him that murphy needs to sort through, not least of which being the telekinesis that has yet to leave him. when they get back to xistentia, that'll be gone, right? right. of course. hopefully, because this shit is just too fucking much for him.
what he concentrates on, instead of all the what-the-fuck spidermarvel land has slapped him with, is getting his daemon operational, getting a few of the newbies out, and going the fuck home. so if you're one of those he finds, murphy's not very subtle in his approach. you'll have a cellphone slapped to your chest, or what looks like a cellphone at the moment - surprise, it's your daemon. ]
Open it up. Listen. Follow it. [ whoever the fuck you are. ] When you get to the beach, start walking for the city. Good? Great.
WILDCARD;
[ yo yo yo ]