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PRISON WORLD #1: Spidermarvel (tw violence, harassment, discrimination)
Characters: Ensemble cast, any/all characters of Xistentia!
Summary: F.A.T.E.S. has alerted the population of Xistentia that the enemy has created something new, a Prison World where others refugees of the Multiverse are being brainwashed into destroying each other.
Date(s): July 29-August 5
Warnings/Notes: None, please mark your subject headers with content.
It's New York City in 2017, and Enhanced humans came into public perception after the great Battle against alien invaders 5 years ago. Unlike the Hulk or Thor, rumor has it that most of the Enhanced superpowers in New York developed because of ambient radiation-- hard to say whether that was from the alien weapons, or the nuclear bomb that other humans themselves sent to try to level the city. There's blame to go around. People still find Chitauri tech littered about the city.
In another life, you might have been once an orcish princess or a steampunk scientist, but these days, you're someone different. The new identity and the new body fit you like a glove. You know your friends and your prospects same as you know your own life.
There's one place in New York City where Enhanced and purported allies can be out and about in peace: a speakeasy named Pax Sanctum. It sounds like some hippie shit, but inside, you have green ambient light, sleek white bar, bottles of every liquor type you could want. Rumors vary about peace enforcement here. Some say there's an empath scanning the place constantly, others that there's someone who can manipulate time itself. Older patrons know that the location has moved twice in the past three years, without incident, but no doubt with good reason. Regardless, the bouncers descend quickly whenever a conflict seems to get heated.
And it so rarely does. The ambience is light and sexy. Now and then, you'll find a pyrokinetic showing off lighter fingers to an impressed crowd or an animated debate about current events compared to historical parallels. One level down the stairs, there's even a dancefloor where you will occasionally find dance battles between equally uncoordinated Enhanced and non-Enhanced. It feels like the kind of place where you can let your guard down.
The week's password is Arachnid— there's a Spiderman fan in management somewhere, evidently. Tell the bouncer behind the big metal door.
At 11:42PM on Wednesday, August 2, an explosion rocks the club.
Boom! Glass explodes, people hit the floor. The origin seems to be the dance space at LG 2. An electrical fire erupts immediately, filling the air with a thick, cloying smoke. It's not clear whether the attack was from an Enhanced or a non-Enhanced-- but the fear instantly kindles. People of both kind scramble to form groups of their own, and fight for the two exits. Soon, the sirens of police and fire services begin to echo in the distance, promising interrogations for those who linger. How many people here are un-Registered? And say, didn't you see someone acting a little suspicious right before the blast? Is that them there? And what will you do, when you come across someone bleeding?
Or better yet, when the first punch is thrown, by a couple of angry, drunken survivors right outside there in the nightclub's back alley?
After the explosion, what started as a single incident of violence sends ripples throughout the social fabric of New York City in the weeks after. Police report that the rates of Chitauri-influenced weapons on the street doubles, and even mundane weapons are being bought off the black market at even greater rates than that. Further, every day the news seems to sensationalize stories of stressed Enhanced losing control of their powers... and the Mayor is beginning to make examples out of them, with harsher sentences, rushed proceedings. Whether or not you're Enhanced, the streets are a dangerous place to roam.
Maybe you know that someone's been watching you for days, even weeks. Maybe you noticed— this person you may have known forever, but started acting a little oddly just a few days. Maybe you figured it was sickness or stress, especially after the August 2 explosion. Even people who didn't care about politics at all are starting to take notice now, choosing sides, storing up water... even weapons, the likes of which mankind had never seen before the era of the Chitauri and Enhanced. But this is when it happens: when someone comes to you and offers you the device, the innocent-looking cellular phone, that will change your whole identity.
Or maybe you just stumble upon it yourself. Seemingly a lost phone, a free phone, sitting out innocuous.
You pick it up, and immediately, your mind begins to morph inside your skull, disorienting. Your body doesn't change, but you remember who you are. The phone screen lights up, then unexpectedly projects holographic text into the air in front of your face: Activate Portal to Xistentia?[1]
You pick No. Not right now.
Your mind is flooded with memories of your past, your true homeworld. Your true identity crashes into the false memories that this world brainwashed into you, disorienting, heavy; rapidly, your life here begins to feel like a dream. Luckily, you don't forget the helpful details of passing as a native. Nonetheless, the revelation probably comes at a bad time; in the middle of your workday or on the bus, somewhere public, where people are here to see you... as well as the daemon that's now trying to give you a whole infodump about Xistentia and the battle between F.A.T.E.S. and D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. It might be a good time to find somewhere private to go and get that portal out.
Or maybe you're staying because you have unfinished business in this world. Friends or even enemies who might also need to be awakened and helped. Luckily, your cellphone-- or daemon— tells you that there are others in this world on a similar mission from Xistentia. Maybe you can contact them through your daemon.
You pick Yes.
A portal of glowing light opens in front of you, smelling of ozone, churning with atmosphere. Step through, and you immediately find yourself with the unsettling yet painless sensation of being pulled through space and time. The very molecules of your body supercharge and come apart, shot through the multiverse, and come out on the other side arranged back in your original configuration.
You land facedown on a sandy beach. Your daemon is still with you, but chances are, it no longer looks like a reassuringly ordinary cellphone. It tells you:
"The date is August 12, 2017, F.A.T.E.S. Standard Time. Local Population: 333. Welcome to Xistentia. The city is due East."
One minute, you were in Xistentia, a refugee from your dying world. Charged with studying D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. the enemy of the entire Multiverse or rescuing others from its clutches. You're lying on a stone table, some kind of magic machine in the Telexistence Temple, surrounded by other people from a variety of worlds, all of them anticipating the same unknowns as you are.
The next minute, you're a resident of New York City, totally immersed in your new identity; strangely fixated on keeping your cellphone in hand, but there's nothing strange about that in 2017. For a few days, you were part of this world, completely convinced of a life as rich as your original.
And this is the moment you're back. Suddenly you remember everything, lucidity hitting you like a thunderbolt. You suddenly realize your memories were false, your diet, perhaps even the shape of your body. It's deeply disorienting, and it probably throws you off in the middle of whatever you're doing, whether it's filling a takeaway cup with soda or delivering a speech to a packed auditorium. Suddenly, the false identity you were given sinks into the background; you can still remember enough details to fake it (and maybe take it), but you know who you are.
Hopefully no one here will notice you literally just lost your mind.
The research part of the mission turns out to be pretty easy! All you need to do is carry your cellphone around wherever you go. You're easily mistaken for someone playing Pokemon! Go or texting avidly wherever you walk. The screen shows you nothing but code gibberish, with the occasional flicker when you're near someone else from Xistentia or an awakened person. It's a good excuse to get out and about.
And maybe also an accidental cause of getting in trouble. After all, whether or not you're a part of it, there is a war brewing between two groups of people, and many of those who haven't taken a side are nonetheless on-guard for danger at any given time. You're as likely to come across verbal harassment as violent revenge, or someone using advanced Chitauri-influenced weapons to knock over a liquor store or throw their weight around.
If you visited this world the week before, in wraith mode[2], you've recovered those memories too. It might help you recall some of those who now need rescuing.
Or maybe you're going at it blind. In any case, you equipped with a pre-activated daemon in hand, as well as you're own. Your duty now is to find world-hopping refugees that D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. has trapped here, and match the naive device to its new owner with some form of consent-- whether by trick or explanation. How hard can it be? It's 2017. Everyone needs a cellphone.
Small complication: the entire city is fraught with war and paranoia. And maybe the naive daemon in your hand keeps blinking at you signals that ID someone on the wrong side...
Your daemon will show you the way home. And dump you on back on a familiar beach amid a screaming chaos. You're welcome!
Summary: F.A.T.E.S. has alerted the population of Xistentia that the enemy has created something new, a Prison World where others refugees of the Multiverse are being brainwashed into destroying each other.
Date(s): July 29-August 5
Warnings/Notes: None, please mark your subject headers with content.
SPIDERMARVEL PRISON WORLD
She was really nice and bought me a churro.
PRISON WORLD: SPIDERMARVEL
It's New York City in 2017, and Enhanced humans came into public perception after the great Battle against alien invaders 5 years ago. Unlike the Hulk or Thor, rumor has it that most of the Enhanced superpowers in New York developed because of ambient radiation-- hard to say whether that was from the alien weapons, or the nuclear bomb that other humans themselves sent to try to level the city. There's blame to go around. People still find Chitauri tech littered about the city.
In another life, you might have been once an orcish princess or a steampunk scientist, but these days, you're someone different. The new identity and the new body fit you like a glove. You know your friends and your prospects same as you know your own life.
Pax Sanctum Club
There's one place in New York City where Enhanced and purported allies can be out and about in peace: a speakeasy named Pax Sanctum. It sounds like some hippie shit, but inside, you have green ambient light, sleek white bar, bottles of every liquor type you could want. Rumors vary about peace enforcement here. Some say there's an empath scanning the place constantly, others that there's someone who can manipulate time itself. Older patrons know that the location has moved twice in the past three years, without incident, but no doubt with good reason. Regardless, the bouncers descend quickly whenever a conflict seems to get heated.
And it so rarely does. The ambience is light and sexy. Now and then, you'll find a pyrokinetic showing off lighter fingers to an impressed crowd or an animated debate about current events compared to historical parallels. One level down the stairs, there's even a dancefloor where you will occasionally find dance battles between equally uncoordinated Enhanced and non-Enhanced. It feels like the kind of place where you can let your guard down.
The week's password is Arachnid— there's a Spiderman fan in management somewhere, evidently. Tell the bouncer behind the big metal door.
The Explosion
At 11:42PM on Wednesday, August 2, an explosion rocks the club.
Boom! Glass explodes, people hit the floor. The origin seems to be the dance space at LG 2. An electrical fire erupts immediately, filling the air with a thick, cloying smoke. It's not clear whether the attack was from an Enhanced or a non-Enhanced-- but the fear instantly kindles. People of both kind scramble to form groups of their own, and fight for the two exits. Soon, the sirens of police and fire services begin to echo in the distance, promising interrogations for those who linger. How many people here are un-Registered? And say, didn't you see someone acting a little suspicious right before the blast? Is that them there? And what will you do, when you come across someone bleeding?
Or better yet, when the first punch is thrown, by a couple of angry, drunken survivors right outside there in the nightclub's back alley?
After the explosion, what started as a single incident of violence sends ripples throughout the social fabric of New York City in the weeks after. Police report that the rates of Chitauri-influenced weapons on the street doubles, and even mundane weapons are being bought off the black market at even greater rates than that. Further, every day the news seems to sensationalize stories of stressed Enhanced losing control of their powers... and the Mayor is beginning to make examples out of them, with harsher sentences, rushed proceedings. Whether or not you're Enhanced, the streets are a dangerous place to roam.
NEW CHARACTERS: SAVE ME
Maybe you know that someone's been watching you for days, even weeks. Maybe you noticed— this person you may have known forever, but started acting a little oddly just a few days. Maybe you figured it was sickness or stress, especially after the August 2 explosion. Even people who didn't care about politics at all are starting to take notice now, choosing sides, storing up water... even weapons, the likes of which mankind had never seen before the era of the Chitauri and Enhanced. But this is when it happens: when someone comes to you and offers you the device, the innocent-looking cellular phone, that will change your whole identity.
Or maybe you just stumble upon it yourself. Seemingly a lost phone, a free phone, sitting out innocuous.
Daemon Activate
You pick it up, and immediately, your mind begins to morph inside your skull, disorienting. Your body doesn't change, but you remember who you are. The phone screen lights up, then unexpectedly projects holographic text into the air in front of your face: Activate Portal to Xistentia?[1]
Unfinished Business
You pick No. Not right now.
Your mind is flooded with memories of your past, your true homeworld. Your true identity crashes into the false memories that this world brainwashed into you, disorienting, heavy; rapidly, your life here begins to feel like a dream. Luckily, you don't forget the helpful details of passing as a native. Nonetheless, the revelation probably comes at a bad time; in the middle of your workday or on the bus, somewhere public, where people are here to see you... as well as the daemon that's now trying to give you a whole infodump about Xistentia and the battle between F.A.T.E.S. and D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. It might be a good time to find somewhere private to go and get that portal out.
Or maybe you're staying because you have unfinished business in this world. Friends or even enemies who might also need to be awakened and helped. Luckily, your cellphone-- or daemon— tells you that there are others in this world on a similar mission from Xistentia. Maybe you can contact them through your daemon.
Escape to Xistentia
You pick Yes.
A portal of glowing light opens in front of you, smelling of ozone, churning with atmosphere. Step through, and you immediately find yourself with the unsettling yet painless sensation of being pulled through space and time. The very molecules of your body supercharge and come apart, shot through the multiverse, and come out on the other side arranged back in your original configuration.
You land facedown on a sandy beach. Your daemon is still with you, but chances are, it no longer looks like a reassuringly ordinary cellphone. It tells you:
"The date is August 12, 2017, F.A.T.E.S. Standard Time. Local Population: 333. Welcome to Xistentia. The city is due East."
OLDER CHARACTERS: RESEARCH & RESCUE
One minute, you were in Xistentia, a refugee from your dying world. Charged with studying D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. the enemy of the entire Multiverse or rescuing others from its clutches. You're lying on a stone table, some kind of magic machine in the Telexistence Temple, surrounded by other people from a variety of worlds, all of them anticipating the same unknowns as you are.
The Moment of Lucidity
The next minute, you're a resident of New York City, totally immersed in your new identity; strangely fixated on keeping your cellphone in hand, but there's nothing strange about that in 2017. For a few days, you were part of this world, completely convinced of a life as rich as your original.
And this is the moment you're back. Suddenly you remember everything, lucidity hitting you like a thunderbolt. You suddenly realize your memories were false, your diet, perhaps even the shape of your body. It's deeply disorienting, and it probably throws you off in the middle of whatever you're doing, whether it's filling a takeaway cup with soda or delivering a speech to a packed auditorium. Suddenly, the false identity you were given sinks into the background; you can still remember enough details to fake it (and maybe take it), but you know who you are.
Hopefully no one here will notice you literally just lost your mind.
Do Your Research
The research part of the mission turns out to be pretty easy! All you need to do is carry your cellphone around wherever you go. You're easily mistaken for someone playing Pokemon! Go or texting avidly wherever you walk. The screen shows you nothing but code gibberish, with the occasional flicker when you're near someone else from Xistentia or an awakened person. It's a good excuse to get out and about.
And maybe also an accidental cause of getting in trouble. After all, whether or not you're a part of it, there is a war brewing between two groups of people, and many of those who haven't taken a side are nonetheless on-guard for danger at any given time. You're as likely to come across verbal harassment as violent revenge, or someone using advanced Chitauri-influenced weapons to knock over a liquor store or throw their weight around.
Rescue Rangers
If you visited this world the week before, in wraith mode[2], you've recovered those memories too. It might help you recall some of those who now need rescuing.
Or maybe you're going at it blind. In any case, you equipped with a pre-activated daemon in hand, as well as you're own. Your duty now is to find world-hopping refugees that D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. has trapped here, and match the naive device to its new owner with some form of consent-- whether by trick or explanation. How hard can it be? It's 2017. Everyone needs a cellphone.
Small complication: the entire city is fraught with war and paranoia. And maybe the naive daemon in your hand keeps blinking at you signals that ID someone on the wrong side...
Get Home
Your daemon will show you the way home. And dump you on back on a familiar beach amid a screaming chaos. You're welcome!
Footnotes
- Daemon will take/resume its true form in Xistentia, as soon as the character lands on the beach.
- Wraith mode refers to existing characters who had played in the TDM, able to be seen and heard only by the other refugees.
- Updated plotting thread for new characters is here.
- OOC plot post is here. IC network infodump for existing characters is here.
thom creed; ota
b. rising tensions
c. escape to xistentia
d. wildcard
b;
That's about all Aymeric can think of soon as the attack happens. While the last thing Thom probably needed hovering around was a politician, he was at least a familiar face to most of the Enhanced. An advocate for their rights to remain unregistered. It isn't pure coincidence that he happens to be present when an attack strikes. Tensions were high and they'd been tipped off to a group of youths with Chitauri weapons looking to stir up trouble. Even though it's where he wanted to be, it's not at all where a lanky lobbyist should be in this particular moment. ]
What are you-? [ He doesn't get to finish before he's suddenly blinded by sunlight, giving an unflattering squawk as his hands go up to cover his face. Blue blink away the spots left by the unexpected brightness only to see Thom bounding up. ]
I suppose that's one way to make an exit.
no subject
He frowns though, wondering about just what he could do about their current situation with the two of them both being stuck in a situation such as this. He runs in Aymeric's direction at least.] We need to move, now. [He was already reaching for the politician's wrist to pull him along.] Wrong time to be near an Enhanced.
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Though he didn't expect it to be quite as personal at this. At least, not today. ]
Yes, that definitely seems like the wise course of action. [ Never let it be said politicians can't be smartasses. He allows his wrist to be grabbed, to be led along. Thom seems like he's a safer bet than those other guys or whoever fired the tech in the first place, at least. ]
It's never the wrong time, [ he's quick to correct. ] Dangerous, sure, but not wrong.
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Especially someone who would do something like this. [He drops Aymeric's wrist for a heartbeat and brings his arms up, the air around them sizzles slightly as his hands raise before he brings them together with a clap, sunlight exploding back down the alleyway to their would-be aggressors and pulling up concrete and brickwork in the process, incinerating some of the various pieces of garbage and debris already in the alleyway.] I don't want you getting in trouble, but I don't want to get shot, either.
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This might be a bit more severe, but it's also nothing he minds. If this hurts his campaign then so be it. He won't regret it in the slightest. Even for as not enjoyable as that heat is. He's a man from the north, acclimated to the frigid environment. All this conjured up sunlight and warmth was uncomfortable. Not the source of them, not Thom though. Aymeric didn't feel any sort of discomfort around him or his hold on his powers, even if maybe he should. ] I appreciate your concern for both my political career and my well-being.
Your powers are quite impressive, [ he adds. ] so I feel I'm in good hands.
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His hand was back on Aymeric's wrist though, pilling him along. It was strange, the way he'd jumped into this kind of action without thinking or even panicking.] Well I'm not letting someone get attacked by one of these thugs on my watch. Especially not someone like you. Not if I can help it at least. [All of his lines seemed to be read out of a manual for phrases heroes might say in the heat of battle, but he managed to deliver them without ever sounding false.]
You're certainly in hot hands, I don't know about good ones. I try my best, just like everyone! [The destructive qualities of his hands though could be considered dangerous, after all. He was just one of those endowed people struggling to make it in the city's new climate.]
no subject
It all is rather heroic of him. Somehow, it almost feels... familiar. He thinks he's been in this position before. No, he couldn't have been. He's an ordinary man with an ordinary life; there have been no tales of grandeur to speak of. At least, not until today. ]
Your best is certainly good enough for me, [ he answers, continuing to allow Thom to call the shots and lead the way. Maybe he shouldn't be so trusting but it seems to be working out so far. ] Do you think we'll be able to lose them, at this rate?
[ He certainly hopes so. ]
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[Their attackers were still pursuing and still visible but Thom was done playing games, he drops Aymeric's wrist and puts the man to his back. Suddenly its as if Thom's skin starts to glow, more than just his hands, becoming a beacon of white light. He cocks his head to the side, his voice odd when he speaks.] You might want to duck sir... things are going to get hot.
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Though, uh. Enough of that introspection. Thom is now glowing. That's a thing that's happening. He's a little dazzled by it, honestly. The warble in his tone gets a raise of a brow but then he nods. ] I imagine this would be a bit more severe than sunburn, too, [ so he does as he's told and ducks to a (hopefully)
safe(r) spot. ]
no subject
Solar flare... it should give us enough time to get out of here, but I wouldn't bother trying to use your cell phone for another half hour. [Which, in retrospect, was probably kind of damaging to Aymeric's career, not that the young hero had the time to be thinking of that kind of thing.]
no subject
He isn't even mad about his phone. Not that he would be otherwise, honestly. It's inconvenient, sure, but... He's too in awe either way to feel much of anything. ]
You can create solar flares? [ Well, obviously. But still. What an incredible power to wield. ]
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b; also taking liberties that our tdm is canon? lmk if it doesn't work
in any other universe, either idea would be repugnant. but in this one, the sounds if chitauri weapons discharge at distance is mildly interesting, and peeing is a necessity that overrules politeness. the temple of their body— isn't, so much. more than half the men that janus works with smoke. the ones who don't, quit because of their wives. it's the fucking culture, although granted, they think about cutting back sometimes because they don't like the idea of having a crutch. also, it gets mixed in with hangovers. they almost cigarette burned their dong by accident just now.
it's fine. and now there's a kid with a mask careening toward them. and stranger, they know him.]
Tommy Tom, [they say. it's been a year, but you don't forget. janus stands up, pushing off the side of their car.] What the ffff--
[crack,
that's purple alien weapon lightning raking the air. bigots in pursuit. specifically, not bigots who've put janus on the job. janus yanks both doors open on the side of the car they're on, slamming themself down into the driver's seat, jerking their head expectantly. get in.]
looks great!
Janus? [He stops in the alley to stare at them and their car with a frown because it was almost too surreal. Around the same time another chunk of the brickwork disappears beside him, a chunk of it catching him on the back of the head, forcing Thom to yell out before he goes diving for the car, pulling himself in and slamming the door. He was already rolling down the window and sending another wave of sunlight behind him, the air once more crackling with displaced oxygen.]
What are you doing here? [He shouts at Janus over his shoulder, which isn't the graciousness you should be giving to a rescuer.]
A+++ cw drug joke
well if mobsters can do it on high-speed chases in a comic book universe, surely a baby hero in a domino mask can too.]
I work in this neighborhood sometimes. [a paper bag blows across the windshield and janus wipers it away, seconds before a dumpster to their right abruptly explodes in a ripple of orange alien tech energy. rancid coke and sandwich wrappers shower over the side of the car, and janus scowls, stooping low.] You better be shooting to kill, hero.
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I'm not shooting to kill... I'm shooting to... incapacitate. [Which was a polite way of saying that he was shooting to do something. Something which currently involved trying to melt the ground passing behind them while simultaneously blinding everyone in the nearby area.]
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[and then they break free from the mouth of the allway, all at once. the suspension of the car shrieks in protest and there's a crunch as the nose of the car follows the downward slope onto the street, bounces off the asphalt. janus mashes their foot down on the gas and the gasoline roar fills the air, underscoring the unnatural whine and hiss of thom's power discharging against the dubious moisture on the pavement below.]
And why aren't you trying to kill them?
[the next moment, the car lurches forward with enough force to bang thom backward into his seat. he probably didn't have time to put on his seatbelt, which is going to feel like a mistake as soon as janus twists the wheel, spinning the car out into a turn. behind them, the chitauri tech-wielding bigots are spilling out into the road and shouting.]
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Because I don't kill people! I'm a hero! [His voice is high and strained with his own panic, when Janus spins the wheel though, forcing the two of them into a turn Thom finds himself being flung within the car, smacking primarily into his seat and then into Janus themself with the momentum. Not only had Thom been lacking in a seat belt but the angle he'd been leaning out the window had made things difficult.
A stray beam of sunlight blew out the side-window of Janus' car in the process, sending fractals racing around the vehicle and leaving Thom cursing.]
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and then, just because the morality police, cub scout version, is adorable, they add:] I wasn't selling crack.
[janus hunches low over the wheel as another wild volley of chitauri tech energy comes ripping overhead.] There's hero, then there's dead, kiddo. [it ends up hitting a fire escape, shearing metal off its bolts and spraying brick powder down-- fortunately, none of that hits the car. janus floors it. in an instant, the car shoots around the corner, squealing, stuttering sideways, and then vaulting into the clear. unless, of course, someone in the hate group crowd is wearing flight-capable tech but hopefully!! that's a marvel cinematic universe thing.]
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[Except he was already trying to pull himself back into a seated position.] And I'm not a kid! [Except for all intents and purposes, he wasn't the world's most fully functioning adult either. Luckily though, between Thom's powers and Janus' own motoring capabilities the two of them seemed to be in the clear for now and Thom breathes a calming breath.] I think we're safe? Maybe not your window though....
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maybe they don't mind, honestly, that thom's happy. it's all right. you don't have to hold a grudge against decent people to be okay with the possibility of killing their family and friends as part of organized crime.]
Yeah, not my window. [a backward glance over janus' shoulder tells them that the glass is a lost cause, for sure. janus starts to slow the car a little, driving one-handed, while they grab around the glove compartment for-- a magazine. this'll do.] Here. Roll this up, try and scrape as much glass off the edge without hurting yourself. We don't want to talk to the cops. [a beat.] Do you want to talk to the cops?
[pls say no pls tiny hero]
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[Except the broken glass was probably more pressing and Thom grabs the magazine, moving to try and scrape the glass outside, catching the edge of one of his hands instead and sucking in a hissed breath between his teeth. As he bleeds it seems almost as if the blood is interlaced with sunlight, sparkling slightly.] Fu- [He cuts himself off, too much of a hero to even swear.]
I mean we should probably talk to the cops- but with the current way this city is going it'll probably just give the boys in blue more work. They have enough on their plates already.
no subject
janus stops looking at him in the rearview and reminds themself to get their head straight. once the window's clear, they turn toward the main road.]
This isn't a stolen car, [they say.] Okay, kid. Then plan is I'm gonna take you home, or drop you off at the subway. What's your preference?
no subject