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    posted a message on Genetic Destiny

    For a moment, Max could only appear confused, if not downright lost, in what was happening. One of his eyes brows raised, almost subconsciously, in reaction to Sean's overbearingly short explanation. His face gave away nothing more, but behind it his mind was attempting to piece together what little information he had into a reasonably sensible picture as quickly as possible.


    So these three stole a phone from some thug, who worked for that metal guy, and that woman with the grey jacket is with him. And they know this because she'd ordered the thug, and some other guys, to attack them? Okay, now that metal guy, or the woman or whoever, got their friend - wait, is he their friend? I don't think Sean even knows his name...


    At this point, Max allowed the pupils of his eyes to move, scanning the faces of the mutants around him. He's only been around these people for less than a day, so it's nearly impossible to fully read their expressions, but the air was noticeably still, almost tense. It'd been a while since Sean had replied, and no one was saying anything; Max needed to decide whether to make a move now, and even then, what move to make.


    I go with them, and I'm probably in for a trap. They're already waiting for us. If we manage to beat 'em at their own game, we get, what, some information about this guy maybe? If we're lucky, something about the Selected and Marcel? That kid could be useful but... no, it's too risky.


    Saying that's not an option though; do it, and I just look like a jerk. On the other hand, say nothing and I'm indecisive and inconsiderate. No, both of those won't do...


    Max didn't allow the silence to take up more than half a minute, eventually ending it in a calm and reserved tone.


    "Can't really say much, since I'm a newcomer to whatever you guys have gotten yourselves into, but I'll go along with whatever you guys choose to do." he spoke in a supportive voice, with a face that gave no indication of the thoughts racing inside his head.

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    posted a message on Genetic Destiny

    Max allowed his eyes to track Sean until the teen had reentered the bedroom. Upon quickly realising that he was merely going to wake up one of his friends, he turned his attention back to Noah. Jesus, he looks downright depressed. It was as if he wasn't even in the room for a while. After zoning out for a while, Noah replied to his query in a defeated tone, bringing up the issue that Max had already thought of, the problem still lingering in his head: how was he going to hide now? He was about to let out a disappointed sigh at the sound of 'the MCD', but held himself back; the last thing Noah needed was more panic and hopelessness.


    "We'll work something out, alright?" Max responded in a calm voice, with a small concerned smile on his face. A sudden knock at the door was heard directly after this, however, and Max's ears slightly perked up at the sound. Still facing the door and sitting on the sofa, he dug his hand into a gap between the actual sofa and its cushion, retrieving a silver coloured knuckleduster. It was by no means polished, having minute patches of rust here and there, but it always got the job done. He armed himself with the weapon, thoughts racing through his head as he wondered who was at the door. MCD? A friend of the idiot who owned this house? One of those Selected goons? Max had been about to get off the couch, but decided to stay seated as Sean approached the door instead. If anyone hostile was waiting outside, he'd be the first one to get hurt.


    Turns out however, that it was just that woman from last night. It took Max a short moment to remember exactly who she was, and another to recall that she'd actually decided to sleep outside(for some strange reason). She was bound to attract some attention with how filthy she looked, but other than that, Max really had no qualms with the state she was in. He'd been in worse conditions. It was a bit peculiar, now that he thought about it. To Max, he'd never really been affected by dirty conditions as much as anyone else he'd ever met. Of course, a stench is a stench, but he seemed to have a built-in resistance against such things. Maybe it was the fact that a sewer had been his home for quite a lot of his childhood and he'd gotten used to it all. Maybe it was genetic or something. God knows.


    Sean sitting on the couch next to him instantly whipped him out of his daydream, and for a few seconds, Max cursed himself for having lost sight of what was happening around him. Did I get enough sleep? Must've been that thing that went down at the condo yesterday... He stared down at the cracked stone floor for a moment, running his thumb through the outer rim of his brass knuckles, before turning to Sean, who'd called for everyone's attention. He quickly grew interested in the video being shown, and as everyone expressed their shock, Max was silent. That face on the screen, a glued together wreck of skin and metal, unnerved and, upon fully realising that he wasn't dreaming, terrified him. Yet, the man's looks, combined with that unnaturally wide grin, gave Max a sort of morbid curiousity; he didn't feel like looking away, his eyes fixed on the screen throughout the entire video.


    He wasn't too sure what he was talking about however; all he really caught was that his name was Flipside(no doubt not his real name, but whatever). Max had already begun inferring what was going on after the video ended. The guy has someone hostage, Sean's friend probably... and he's been collecting mutants? One thing was for sure though: Flipside had challenged them to come save the day, and they'd be falling into a trap should they try to. The guy said it himself. Still watching Sean however, the phone unexpectedly caught fire soon after, and once it had been dropped, it exploded and crackled into a crisp. Surprised for a second or two, Max quickly moved and looked around him for anything that might help. He sure as hell had no medical supplies, not here anyways. There was no paper too, but Sean quickly found the pen that had been laying around this cramped apartment by himself.


    Sean had been too busy trying to keep that message he received still in his head to immediately acknowledge Noah's questions, understandably. Even once he did however, Max still couldn't help feeling that he was still in the dark about whatever these guys are involved in. What park? How did this 'Flipside' know how to contact Sean? Come to think of it, what were those guys doing at the Selected condo to begin with? Like the kid said though, the choice they'd been given was clear. Either save some unlucky kid who got caught and probably get captured themselves, or do nothing. He'd immediately answer no, but this entire debacle seemed to have something more to it, something he, as of yet, couldn't put his finger on. No, he needed to know more first before making any decisions. Especially if this somehow led back to the Selected and that moron Marcel.


    "Wait, could you guys get me up to speed? How did this guy get your phone number? Does all this have something to do with what happened last night?" Max's tone was by no means aggressive, but it was clear that he was slightly confused. It was apparent that no one had seen that video message coming, but if any one of them was less clueless than he was, he'd be happy to accept whatever information available.

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    posted a message on Genetic Destiny

    Max took a small, almost unnoticeable step back, as if worried that even more spikes were going to sprout from the man's skin. That moment never came, but for now, the teen told himself to keep a fair distance from the mutant, should more sharp protrusions decide to burst out in the future. Despite the fact that literal horns had jutted themselves out of his head overnight, the person himself appeared to be sound asleep, as if nothing had happened. As he quietly examined from a distance, standing in front of the couch, one of his visitors woke up and joined him.


    "Morning, pupper."


    "Blue boy." Clearly, he couldn't restrain himself or his mouth. He'd acknowledged the teen's snarky greeting with a quip of his own, disliking the simplicity of his reply at first, before deciding that he did actually like the little alliteration. Max initially had a small smirk on his face to accompany this, but as the pair of mutants became more active, his expression changed to a calmer one, something that merely said that he had no reaction to the current events. If anything, he became cautious; judging from Sean's(Max had heard Noah refer to him as such) sudden retreat into the bathroom, and Noah's surprise at his own developments, these guys were going through some kind of mutant puberty - not the best combination of words in the world, Max noted(especially since Noah looked afraid of himself).


    The impartial observer had been brought directly into the situation however, when Sean, despite having been warned against going into the toilet, questioned him as to what he was keeping in the fridge. Deciding to play it smart, Max simply made an uncaring shrug, before directly proceeding to answer his other question.


    "I'm gonna guess he's Noah," Max gestured with a slight inclination of his head, "in which case... yea, I have. You don't look different though, if that's what you're asking." at this point, Noah himself, having left the toilet, started to get more alarmed at his changes. Max didn't blame him; if those things were unretractable, then he really was in for a tough time(when it came to walking around in public, anyways). He could already picture people in the streets screaming 'demon'. Sean tried to calm Noah down, but it didn't appear to have much of an effect. In fact, Max wasn't sure whether or not his joke would've just made him even more anxious. Nevertheless, he was soon in the conversation once more, and after scratching the back of his furred ear, provided his response.


    "Yea, when these originally sprang up," the teen raised his free hand, pointing to his whiskers and one of his ears, "but nothing after that." After this remark, he merely kept one of his hands on the back of his neck, looking at Noah and silently wondering exactly what they'd do now. The man was, at the moment, a walking flashing billboard that read 'MUTANTS HERE'; needless to say, that obviously wouldn't help with whatever the group was planning to do next. As Sean walked off to see to the other kid, Max sat back on the couch with Noah(back on his side), scrutinising him with a slightly concerned look.


    "You feeling alright?"

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    posted a message on Genetic Destiny

    Max mustered a small raising of his shoulders to the person sitting on the other side of the couch(indicating that he didn't have the answer) and a weak nod towards the woman, the teen now clearly struggling to keep his eyes open.


    "Could you turn off the light while you're at it? Thanks..." He quickly dozed off after that, allowing sleep to take his consciousness away. He didn't recall any dreams he had that night once he woke up in the morning, finding himself resting on the armrest of the sofa. There was only one window in this entire apartment, and it was in the bathroom, but judging from the few birds he heard tweeting outside, it was daytime. As he carried himself up, he attempted to wipe away the drowsiness from his eyes(it didn't really work). Looking to his side, he noticed two figures sleeping in two separate rooms, and was for a moment suddenly alert, before remembering what had happened last night.


    Right... these guys. Max made a quiet yawn and stretched his arms out, now simply trying to recollect his thoughts and memories. After a few seconds, his hands moved and patted his pockets, confirming a disappointing worry that he'd just thought of: he'd lost his weapon back at the condo. And as much as he valued his stolen gun(which was packed with a considerable amount of ammo), he knew that there was no way he was going to get it back. Not after that fiasco with the MCD. On the plus side, his knuckleduster was still present, which in a way comforted him; it meant that he'd be able to obtain a new gun a lot easier.


    Now, with a short sigh, he turned to the mutants again, only now realising (having fully woken up) that some really significant changes had happened to one of them.

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    posted a message on Genetic Destiny

    The man adjusted his sunglasses, still insisting on wearing it despite the Sun having already set over an hour ago. Seeing that their two prisoners were well trapped in their cells, he strolled to the exit of the room, his attention now preoccupied by his phone and the various notifications that he had received on it. With nothing left to say, he opened the door, allowing rays of light to pour in, before closing it behind him, drowning the room in darkness once more.




    Max grew more alert as the boy continued to just stand there, the wave of questions sent his way having seemingly no effect whatsoever. He didn't know if that displayed just how dumbfounded and ignorant the kid was, or if it instead gave away his status as a hostile enemy sent by Marcel. The teen was surely tired, but he knew that the first strike in any fight could always prove itself to be pivotal, and as such he readied himself to pounce on the stranger. Shortly after he did this however, the boy finally responded, strangely enough not answering any of the questions and merely backing out of the entire situation altogether.

    Great advice kid, thanks for sharing. What's next, drink water to stay hydrated? Max was in the midst of immediately confirming his first theory, before stopping himself.

    What if he'd been sent to recapture me, but after seeing my new friends, he decided against it? That'd explain his sudden nervousness; that thought at the end could've also been a warning of sorts... As he pondered the subject, Max watched the boy walk off, or, if one subscribed to his second theory, an outnumbered enemy retreat. Under favourable circumstances, he would've attacked him there and then, catching him by surprise and beating him up for a possible confession of guilt. Unfortunately, he was by no means in an opportune situation. He was fatigued, and a fight with a mutant had an unacceptably high likelihood of not only him losing, but attracting attention from flatscans. Disappointed, he resigned himself with a short sigh, and simply accepted the small victory that was not having been drawn into a fight.

    With the situation having been handled, he turned to the gang of mutants he'd got himself in. Max regained his smile, in a way relieved that he'd been accompanied by these companions. Their mere presence around him already safeguarded him against any overly ambitious foes, a benefit that the teen greatly appreciated. He silently gestured with his hand, continuing where they'd left off(that is, leading the group to a place of refuge). Max had to consciously remind himself of exactly where it was and how to get there, as his main safe house was currently too far away to practically reach, and this apartment was more of a recently acquired backup plan that he'd never had to use - that is, until now.

    After roughly 15 more minutes, the group came across a small and battered concrete building, which was in a clear state of disrepair. There appeared to be very little people here, and the lighting provided was abysmal in nature(this was in the slums). From what he understood, the sole positive to this place was its cheap rent, which would have to be repaid at the end of the month. Not that he'd had to pay yet, of course; the only reason Max even had access to a room here was because it belonged to a drug dealer that he recently had an altercation with(it didn't end well for the man). There was also the fact that it was usually pretty quiet around here, which made it a perfect place to lay low.

    He made his way up some rusty stairs that had been installed by a wall of the building, pointing out a small gap in the structure as he skirted his way around it. Once they were level with the second floor, the group got off on a walkway, with Max stopping by the first room in a row of windowless ones, all of which had plain white doors as entrances, the paint clearly having begun peeling away years ago. The teen dug into his left pocket, obtaining a small ring of keys, one of which he quickly used to unlock the old lock. It took longer than normal, but a satisfying click was soon heard, before Max welcomed the group in, lighting a moderately sized living room up with a solitary light bulb. The corners of the room were dirty, parts of the only piece of furniture(a sofa) was ripped, and it wasn't much warmer than it was outside. A claustrophobic room to the right, without a door, provided a single bed, messy and unmade.

    "Well, it's not much, but it sure beats the streets. Make yourself at home." After Max had said that(in a slightly drowsy tone), he moved to a room on the left, opening the door and flicking on another light switch. The room was just as minuscule as the one on the right, except that here a toilet bowl, a cracked sink, and a showerhead was provided instead. Just as he noticed something else though, a horrendous stink crashed into him. It was the putrid stench of rotten flesh, its presence causing him to noticeably wince in disgust. Looking back to the toilet, he immediately noted the presence of an old refrigerator, the machine having been shoved into a corner. It obviously wasn't powered, but that was truly the least of his concerns. Max had been meaning to toss out the contents of the container into the Hudson River for about a week now; clearly, he hasn't gotten to it yet. He bit his lips with his canines, carefully thinking as to how he'd proceed with this situation, before turning himself back to the group, shutting the door and turning that room's light off in the process.

    "There's a toilet, but I'd recommend holding your breath in there; there's some spoilt meat inside that's gotten pretty bad since I was last here... So yea, don't go looking in the fridge for any food or anything, cause I haven't kept any here." With that said, he walked over to the couch and took one of the available sides, slouching slightly as he got himself into a comfortable position. Max closed his eyes and sighed, deciding to wait for any questions the group might've had before letting himself doze off. He would've given further thought to that woman's situation, but at this point all he wanted to do was to go to sleep.

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    posted a message on Genetic Destiny

    Flipside looked at the boy who blurted out the question, finding his choice of question intriguing. He looked past the tablet for a moment, as if noticing something that had happened in the room he was in, before quickly turning back to the device. The man then gave his answer in a friendly tone.


    "My MCD boss didn't like me; what a jerk, right? I'll be seeing you tomorrow; Johnny, send these two to their rooms." Having provided his answer, he looked to his men and nodded, one of them switching off the device being used for the video call. As soon as an audible beep had been made by the item, the two bound mutants were raised up by two armed men, and led into brick room that had apparently been repurposed into a set of holding cells. The room was without windows, equipped with a mere light bulb which hung from outside the cells; once the two mutants were thrown into and locked in separate cells, even that was turned off.


    The two armed goons left, leaving behind the same man in shades, presumably the leader of the small bunch.


    "G'night, freaks. Make any noise or try anything funny, and we'll beat you to sleep, got it?"

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    posted a message on Genetic Destiny

    ((Apologies for the late reply.))


    The man leaned back into his clear plastic chair, using his right hand(which was sporadically covered in those same metallic patches) to adjust his unkempt black hair. He looked genuinely interested, as he watched the boy ramble on with a wave of unfiltered questions. About halfway through, just as the teen asked about going home, the man raised both of his hands up, interrupting his line of inquiries.


    "Woah woah, calm down kid! There's no need to get scared! I'm just an ordinary guy, like my friends around you! Think of this as a doctor's checkup; my colleagues saw you today, and just noticed that you guys looked a little sick is all. I'm not gonna kill ya, the MCD does that! In fact, they're out tonight probably trying to catch you two. But no worries, Johnny and his friends will keep you here safe for tonight(free of charge), before they send you over to me tomorrow. He's the one in the shades over there." once he'd calmly explained himself(and pointed to the noted thug), he looked down to his hands, which were now resting on the surface of the glass table. The man didn't say anything for a while, fiddling with his fingers before finally looking back up and smiling.


    "I know it's difficult to trust me, especially since you don't even know my name... tell ya what, it's Flipside. And my face? Got screwed up by my former boss, after he fired me(both metaphorically and literally, actually). Sounds like a nice guy, right?" Flipside stopped with a short chuckle, with a yawn following that, before he continued enthusiastically.


    "It's gettin' late; you guys better catch some shuteye! I can tell you're still curious though, so you two get one more question! You'll have to be quick though, cause I have some other things to handle tonight..."

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    posted a message on Genetic Destiny

    Max carefully listened to what the woman had to say, letting some thoughts swirl in his head as he contemplated the knowledge she provided the group. The woman definitely had a useful mutation on her hands, one that most definitely gave her huge offensive capabilities. Why else would the MCD go to these lengths to keep her from using her X-Gene? But then again, he's noticed that most mutants that get captured by the MCD rarely, if at all, appear outside of wherever they keep them ever again. You got caught, the media talks about you for a while, and you disappear, like an unperson. He certainly found it strange then, that this woman managed to avoid that fate.


    Whatever the case, freeing her from the shackles of the MCD would certainly be beneficial to him. Although he didn't give away any clear signs of him doing so, the teen silently examined the mutant's mannerisms, as she glanced between each member of the group. She's wary of the group's opinions, i.e. nervous. Desperate. In need of assistance. If Max helped her now, she would be in his debt for a considerable amount of time, and that could definitely prove useful in surviving in the streets and slums of New York.


    In order to do that though, they'd first need to find out how to get that anklet off her shin, and that definitely wouldn't be easy, especially since the group itself has yet to come to a consensus on whether or not they'd help her with her problem. At this point, the teen in blue then proceeded to agree to his offer, and asked where they would head next.


    "Alright, follow me." With that question answered, he lead the group towards their next destination, and allowed his mind to wander off for a while.


    Maybe we could find the people who put that thing on, and beat what we need to know out of them. We'd need to find them though, they'd no doubt be difficult to track down... Maybe we could find some MCD goons and work our way up and —


    The unmistakable sound of trash cans smashing onto the ground derailed his train of thought, which was unfortunate, as it was just speeding up. Nevertheless, someone now caught his attention. He expected some drunk, or maybe a Selected member that followed them, but it was just some kid roughly his age, who happened to really like the colour black. Max, for now, watched him with a cautious essence in his eyes, allowing the rest of the group to react first. It was the stranger who talked first however, in a particularly loud and nervous manner, Max added. He listened to his observation, but was quick to raise a finger to his own mouth, using the 'shush' gesture to hopefully lower the fool's voice.


    I don't know what's wrong with this kid, but screaming mutants by the streets isn't exactly the best thing to do if you're a mutant.


    Needless to say, Max was suspicious, and rightfully so. The boy's dark old eyes verified the claim that he was a mutant, but why did he suddenly decide to just follow a random group down the streets? Max internally cursed to himself, angry that he'd let his guard down while he listened the woman. But then again, he'd already put his set of headphones to hide his ears, as they'd enter the city, so maybe he'd excuse his mistake this time around. Either way, it would appear that Sean himself was not completely satisfied by the boy's explanation as well, and further questioned him on the matter. As Max steeled himself, ready to lunge at the boy with his claws at any moment, he took a glimpse of Sean, wondering why he'd just covered his eye like that for a second. He quickly refocused his attention back on the kid though, and asked a question of his own.


    "How do we know you're not some goon working for Marcel?" Max asked in a clearly doubtful tone.




    The thugs didn't visibly react to the small conversation that had begun between the two mutants, with the one in sunglasses merely continuing to hold up the tablet and wait for his boss to finish his examination. The man didn't seem to catch what Preston had said, but the other teen's response to Preston was enough to bring his attention to the pair's interaction. He inched forwards slightly, moving his clasped hands forwards as well, and spoke his first line in a fast and seemingly curious manner.


    "I'm sorry, what was that, kids? I'm guessing you're a bit curious; heck, I would be too. Come on, speak up!"

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    posted a message on Genetic Destiny

    The young man wearing a beige jacket was the first to respond to Max's offer; he had turned to the boy in blue, as if undecided on what he was going to say next, before thanking him for providing them a place to rest(this only further reaffirmed Max's assumption that that teen was the trio's leader). The mutant's voice and behaviour easily gave away the fact that he was still deeply saddened by what had happened at the Selected's HQ, where his friend had apparently been killed. With how he was acting, Max honestly wouldn't have been surprised if the sissy began to cry. Nevertheless, he kept all these thoughts to himself, and simply produced a small sympathetic smile on his face, making a nod which seemed to just silently say 'it's no problem at all'.


    Directly after this, just as he was hoping to get moving, the woman called the small group's attention to herself; her tone gave no impression that whatever she was about to show to them was going to be good. She yanked her right pant leg up, uncovering a small electronic, wrapped around her shin. For a moment, Max said nothing and merely pondered the subject, staring at the device the whole time. He would've crouched to examine the item in detail, but there was no point, as he doubted that he had the technical expertise to make any further conclusions with more scrutiny. For now, he just listened to the conversation between the same man from before and the woman, the latter of which supplied more information regarding her situation.


    A tracking device, kinda like one you'd put on an animal, except this was clearly made for things much more dangerous than ones of the average variety. Not only that, but it somehow limits her mutations... maybe with some sort of X-Gene detector? Maybe it's programmed to detonate, or inject some kind of poison if she tries to use her powers. What are this woman's powers? ... Whatever the case, this is gonna be a problem.


    Once Noah had finished talking, Max took his turn, asking the woman a few questions of his own.


    "Do you know how it works? How they'd put it on?"

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    posted a message on Genetic Destiny

    Preston would've seen very little of the city through the windows of the van; despite the numerous districts of bright commercial buildings surrounded by large swaths of constantly moving people, the black tint of the windows made it nearly impossible for any back passenger to discern any notable details outside(the same would've applied for any curious passerby attempting catch a look inside the vehicle). Anyhow, within minutes, the harsh noise of car horns and insignificant chatter of wandering pedestrians gradually shrunk, before becoming entirely non-existent. The few sources of light that were visibly present outside were but simple street lamps, a majority of them not functioning and in need of repairs.

    Shortly after, the van came to a stop, and the sound of a heavy metallic item being scraped along a surface was clearly heard, temporarily breaking the silence of the surrounding area. Once it came to a halt, the vehicle jolted into action once more, slowly driving forwards before stopping entirely, with the engine then making a soft hiss as it shut down for the night. The door of the van was then slid open by a man waiting outside, who after adjusting his sunglasses and glancing at the captured mutants, made a gesture for the thugs to exit, before walking off and manually closing the large rusty doors to the building. The goons then exited the vehicle one by one, two of the three forcing the restrained mutants out as they did so(with Preston being in handcuffs and the other teen bound in rope).

    Once he'd shut the entrance to the old warehouse, he raised a walkie-talkie to his ear, pacing around the dilapidated building as he did so. A male voice could've been heard emanating from the device, but nothing else about the conversation could've been made out. As the man moved to a cluttered table by a cracked stone wall, the several light bulbs hanging from the ceiling lit up in succession, some of them blinking several times before deciding to remain on. A slightly fractured tablet was retrieved from the table, and then brought towards the pair of mutants, who were now positioned side by side.

    "Boss wants a look at the freaks; just give him a minute or two before locking them up for the night." he explained as he tapped the touchscreen of the device several times, before eventually raising it up to face the two mutants. The screen displayed a clean tiled room which, from the angle the video call provided, could've easily passed off as a doctor's office. A man, dressed in a grey long sleeved shirt, sat at a glass table, peering towards the camera as he further examined the two prisoners shown to him. While the messiness of his short black hair would've been noteworthy, it was overshadowed by his more unusual facial features; small rectangular patches of a silver coloured metal, visibly flexible in nature, had been grafted onto his face in a seemingly random manner(mainly on his right side), and his right eye and ear had been replaced with bionic equivalents. The man ignored any of the stares he might've received from the two mutants however, instead allowing a grim smile to grow on his face.

    "Excellent job fellas! Heh heh, I'll be sure to make good use of these two extraordinary gentlemen." he commented in a satisfied manner that would've been seen as strange, given the current circumstances.

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    posted a message on Genetic Destiny

    Max, showing a small and polite smile, watched as the mutants around him reacted to his offer. He'd put up a pretty amazing act, and from what his observations told him, it seems to have done its job. The one who was the most depressed over the death of that kid, who seemed to be the oldest person here(excluding the lady), seemed to accept his sympathies, while the leader of the small trio, a teen dressed in blue, whilst appearing slightly suspicious, nevertheless showed himself willing to accept his assistance.


    The secret to lying is mixing some truth in as well. The teen thought this to himself triumphantly, before quickly stopping himself from going any further. He needed to stay focused. By now, Sean had been discussing the next course of action with the group, said plan mainly being 'sleep, eat, and revenge', in that particular order. That seemed reasonable to Max; there's no real point in chasing enemies if you yourself are restless and fatigued. While Max only acknowledged Sean's joke with his usual smirk, he did privately note to himself not to accidentally swallow any bitten off chunks of his enemies, as per usual. Despite what his visible mutations might've suggested, he found eating scum to be distasteful(no pun intended).


    After some had displayed the desire to sleep, and admittedly, Max himself could use his bed(especially after his very small rampage), the teen quickly examined the parts of the city that surrounded them, and made a suggestion to the members of the group.

    "If you guys need a place to crash, I do have one nearby..."




    The van soon escaped the edges of the Scar, entering the brighter functional parts of New York. Some of the areas were still packed with people, despite the increasing snowfall. At the sight of a group of pedestrians, Alias nudged the driver, whispering a soft 'this is my stop' to him in her normal tone of voice, just composed as ever. Once the vehicle pulled up by the sidewalk, she exited the van and melted into a moving crowd, walking along with them before shortly getting out of view. And just like that, the woman was gone. The driver himself didn't wait to confirm this though; once Alias was out, the van accelerated, rushing off towards its final destination for the night.

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    posted a message on Genetic Destiny

    Max's ears had been waiting to receive the reply to his question, but it came a bit later than he expected. That was a bit odd, but given the strange and dark circumstances, he ignored it for now. Besides, it had been the answer that he had predicted; after all, it was highly unlikely that a normal human would've been wandering around the Scar at this time of the day, not to mention that she'd decided that it was safe enough to watch a terribly violent scene unfold right in front of her, one which most definitely involved mutants. Even if a non-mutant were to have done that, said person would've eventually inferred that the people she was assisting right now were mutants.


    There was a creeping suspicion growing at the back of his head that this woman wasn't who she said she was however. Is she working for the MCD? Leading us into a trap right now? No... she would've shot us on the spot. She would've been armed and ready. But clearly those flatscans weren't. Maybe they were too occupied with the front... that's the only reason why they wouldn't have surrounded the building. As Max rambled on in his head, his whiskers detected movement nearby. The pupils of his eyes moved to his left, only to notice that Ashley had simply turned towards him. The short sheepish grin she displayed was somehow enough to convince him that this woman really was a mutant, and not a direct threat to him(at least, for now).


    "I'm Max, by the way; it's nice to meet you, despite the odd circumstances." the teen continued the conversation in a slightly more lighthearted tone, regaining a small smirk as he talked to the blonde. At this point though, it was clear to him that they were emerging out from the Scar. His acute ears, which had detected the ever increasing sounds of bustling cars and walking pedestrians, already made this clear to him minutes ago. That kid started talking again, this time to his merry band of friends. The way he moved and the confidence he held, among his group of quiet acquaintances, led him to assume that he was the leader. And from the way he was speaking now, that would most certainly seem to be the case.


    Max had other things on his mind. He was currently focusing on his next course of action. Those Selected buffoons are probably scampering back into their mouse holes right now. That's good, they're distracted. Licking their wounds. Broken. I'll pick them off one by one... especially that goof with the glasses and that trash-for-brains Marcel. I'll feed them their fingers, before tossing them into a car crusher. It'll be difficult getting those rats out of the sewers though... Whatever scent they left behind is probably already disappearing...


    He was already planning on tagging along with this woman; from the looks of it, she was a mutant who needed friends, and conveniently enough, he did too. Unlike him however, she looked like she actually had a job and a comfy house to live in, judging from what she wore compared to what he did. One of the people that left the building however, who appeared to be the oldest aside from the woman, began to speak after a long period of silence. Max was honestly expecting the young adult to rush at him, screaming at the top of his lungs for some ludicrous form of revenge, but that never came(despite Max steeling himself for an attack). Unlike the other boy, the man expressed nothing but genuine sorrow. Even Max, who had no connection to these people whatsoever, couldn't help but feel slightly sorry for the lost of his friend. And for a while, he was utterly speechless.


    These guys really got the short end of the stick... I get it I get it, life sucks. I murdered my own mom for crying out loud. Nothing we can do about it but focus on the prese- ... wait a minute...


    At this point, Max coughed slightly, hoping to get Noah's attention, before he sighed, clearly tired of the day's events, and spoke once more in a more sombre and mournful voice.


    "I am really sorry that your friend died. Those brutes, just taking away the life of an innocent person like that... like they owned the damn city... like everyone's life belonged to them... it's disgusting. Look, maybe I couldn't have helped him when he was alive," he looked at Sean now(along with the rest of his group), with eyes that indicated legitimate seriousness, "and I'm sorry for that... heck, maybe it really is my fault that he's dead. I just want you guys to know that if you ever need any help, I'm more than willing to assist in bringing these killers to justice."




    Alias looked at Preston with a cold icy stare. He nervously questioned what had just happened, and for a moment, the thug holding him at gunpoint stood still, allowing some time for her to respond to his inquiries should she decide to. Unlike Preston, her face held no visible remorse, guilt, or sorrow. She merely bent forwards a bit closer, and spoke.


    "To make an example." she marched off after this, moving to Marcel to close the deal. Preston, after being guided out through the back exit, was forced into the back of a black van with two men, both armed with rifles, along with another boy, who was completely bound up in rope. The one who had led him there chained him to a short iron bar on the steel of the vehicle, using a simple pair of handcuffs to get the job done. Alias would enter the vehicle a few minutes later(as previously said to the men) into the front passenger's seat. After resting two fingers on what appeared to be a wireless earset, she roughly searched through a container by the side of the chair, revealing a walkie-talkie. She nudged the driver next to her, only saying 'drive to the safe house'. The hired gun complied.


    "It's done. The case's been delivered. The MCD showed up though, so we lost one of the mutants in the process... Don't worry, we picked up another one... Yea, they're unharmed... Alright, prepare my payment at the drop zone. I'll leave the rest to your men." the woman placed the black plastic device back into the container, and just gazed out of the window, mentally disconnecting herself from the world for just a moment.

    Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
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    posted a message on Mysteries of the Ancients [Low Fantasy RP] [Created Using Microscope] [OOC] [Accepting]

    Just to clarify, is this meant to be a free roam world(with largely no story planned other than the actual premise) or one that's a bit more driven by events and arcs that have been planned out to some extent?

    Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
  • 0

    posted a message on Genetic Destiny
    Quote from BookWyrm17»


    Welp. I died... unexpected.

    ...

    New character!

    Name: Skye Bois'e

    Age: 19

    Gender: Female


    Appearance: Tall and thin, in fact you could almost say willowy at 6'2' and 160Ibs, Skye has long brown hair down to her waist that she tends to keep in a braid. Clumsy as she is when walking, her thin fingers move with grace and precision, whether she is drawing a sketch, painting a picture, or molding a sculpture.


    Clothing: She wears a long jacket over a blue t-shirt and jeans, along with flat sneakers and short socks. Perched perpetually on the tip of her nose is a pair of rectangular glasses, and thrown over her shoulders is a rather large backpack, which is filled with a good number of different artistical supplies, such as a sketchpad, pencils, pens and ink, paintbrushes and some dry waterpaints. Strangely enough, though she's been focusing a lot more on working with sculpture in the past few years, she carries no clay.


    History: Skye has been an art student for almost as long as she can remember, though mostly paint and sketch. So when her mutation showed up, it was a bittersweet thing. Who needs to mess with clay and wires and baking in an oven when you can simply take a piece of stone and shape it as you wish?
    Then again, who needs friends in a world where mutations are rejected... right?

    Anyway, there was one person (aside from her family) who still accepted her, for the most part, and that was an old man artist teacher, which is to be expected. As she had not had much experience with clay and molding before, he helped teach her, show her how to make dragons and wolves and butterflies and beetles. Envious of her ability, despite the hardships that came with it, he was always eager to watch her at work, the amazing sight of metal being shaped without heat nor hammer.

    Now, at 19, she feels about ready to take on the world.


    Mutation(s):

    Stage 1: When she touches something, she can mold it as if it were clay, even if its the toughest of stone. It becomes soft and yielding under her fingers. She cannot mold living things, yet.

    Stage 2: She can create extra mass on her body at will, a sort of special flesh that can fill in wounds in her skin, and she can pull chunks of that flesh off without feeling pain. But if a chunk of her stays separated for too long, it dies. And of course, she still dies if she loses a major organ. She's a human still, her powers are mostly in her hands.

    Stage 3: She finds that if she concentrates, she can revert objects back to their original shape and state, meaning she can be a bit more reckless with her powers. She can now mold living flesh that is not her own, if the participant is willing.

    Stage 4: She finds that she can mold herself without using her hands. But the process is really slow, meaning it could take a while. Its much faster simply to use her hands to mold stuff. But combined with her mass gain she can heal herself without automatically. She cannot regrow bones, but she can seal cuts and fix bruises.

    Stage 5: She can take chunks of herself and place them in objects (unliving objects). She can then control and mold that object from a distance. And, of course, the pieces that are separated from her eventually die, becoming useless. She can now mold the flesh of unwilling creatures, but only with her hands.


    Other: She is not immune to pain. She herself is just a normal person, for the most part, and her powers have to do with molding things around her like they ARE clay. Eventually, this would be able to affect herself, and I think she would be immune to pain about molding herself.

    Bullets and blades will very much work on her, she will still bleed out if she doesn't do something about it, she will still feel pain, her organs can still get cut up or shot out. She can seal up cuts by pressing it together and activating her power to connect the skin again (that is something you can do with clay, I work with it a lot) But gaping wounds like bullets will be harder to seal up, though not generally impossible.

    She turns stuff into softish clay as soon as she touches it, but for the most part it only affects the part she is touching at the moment. She wouldn't touch a large metal wall and have it collapse under it's own weight, she would dig away at the wall, pulling away large chunks, until there was a hole to get through.

    As an example, if a building was collapsing on her, she could not turn it all to soft clay and save herself. The weight of the object would still kill her, even if it were soft. In fact, I would say she has more chance of surviving if she doesn't mess with the structure, as then it might prop up around her rather than collapsing all the way.

    She can use any part of her skin to mold, but of course her hands work best.

    The biggest thing is that the object does not actually turn into clay. If she grabs a chunk of metal, she can mold it as if it WERE clay, but anyone else who touches it will feel solid metal. It's more about her interaction with it and less of transforming the object she touches.




    Second character, for fun.

    Name: Eric Latet
    Age: 18
    Gender: Male

    Appearance: Fluctuates throughout the day. The appearance he chooses as his base form is pale skin (unnaturally so, if you look too close) and dark hair

    Clothing: He wears a plain grey t-shirt and jeans in the beginning, with white socks and plain sneakers. Unmemoriable.

    History: Eric’s parents are rich. Enough so that he asked to be homeschooled after his mutation showed up without telling them why, and they got him a mentor without a second thought. He finished school a year early, and now tests his abilities on several different people, practicing more and more in order to perfect his control. In order to find more ‘victims’ of his pranks and practice, he travels to the nearest school and wanders the halls. It’s amazing how much different colored skin, a different hairstyle, or even just a rather large birthmark can make someone think you’re a completely different person.

    Recently, he’s been focusing on one person in particular, a rather tall girl at the local school named Skye. He sees her every day in the hallway, twice, and she thinks he’s two different people. Fun as that is, he’s noticed that she seems to be hiding something...

    Mutation(s):

    Stage 1: His skin and hair can change colors in large chunks to create things such as spots, stripes, or things like that. Actually looking closely at him will show that these designs tend to be blurry and imprecise.

    Stage 2: His skin can shift around just a little, and he can grow his hair out manually, which means he can mimic face shape and structure as well as color. The designs he makes are much more precise now, and he can create more intricate things such as, say, plaid.

    Stage 3: His mimicry powers have grown, his throat and voice box becoming more flexible so that he can mimic many sounds and voices, once he's observed them enough. His bones have started to dissolve, meaning he can grow taller or shorter, but he still must remain in a basic human shape. He can create what looks like clothes, but those will not stand up to much inspection.

    Stage 4: His bones have disappeared entirely, leaving him a mass of muscles and organs. Now he can freely change shape into things from the size of a medium sized dog to the size of a large man. His skin can replicate cloths and clothes and fur almost seamlessly.

    Stage 5: He can compact himself to something the size of a toaster, or expand to the size of a small car. Keep in mind, he will still weigh exactly the same. He can mimic voices and attitudes effectively after only hearing them for a minute or so, and his skin can replicate the cold touch of metal.


    ((We'll be giving you a reply to this very soon; I just want to run one last check with Game before doing anything.))

    The sun was entirely gone at this point, whatever light it had provided having recently dissipated. The very little visibility provided by the moon wasn't enough to stop the Scar's transformation from an old and abandoned district, to an unnerving and foreboding concrete forest. All of the decayed buildings were expectedly unlit, and any street lights that hadn't already been out of repair or salvaged by wandering thieves were left unpowered and cut off the electrical grid. The group was expectedly slow because of this, lest they trip on some obstacle on the ground. Max, on the other hand, was not interested in slowing down.

    He'd already taken his pair of headphones off, resting them on his neck, in order to make full use of his sharp fox-like ears. As Max carefully listened to his environment(and the area surrounding that), his acute eyes allowed him to effortlessly navigate the dark landscape, walking over any holes in the pavement as if it was as bright as day. He could hear some slight chatter in the distance back at the old hotel, said sounds being the usual tactical talk that the authorities, and more importantly the MCD, tended to use. There was no doubt that any mutant or Selected member who had stayed back there would've died a horrible death, or even worse, been caught by the government. This thought and observation only served to quicken his pace, the teen now walking directly beside the woman leading them as such.

    Just as he was starting to think about precisely what he was going to do once he managed to completely escape the grasp of the MCD and exactly how he'd find those Selected fools that had wronged him, that kid decided to open his trap again. This prepubescent boy needs to get his temper tantrum under control, and blame someone who was actually responsible for his friend's death, let's say... himself? Stopping himself from directly replying, he proceeded to murmur something, which could've easily come off as him just musing to himself.

    "With how close you seem to think you were to him, I might've been the third wheel in that date." After this, the kid went on about where they were currently heading, which to be honest, Max himself didn't know(as long as it was out of the Scar and away from the MCD), before stopping himself in the middle of what felt like the beginning of yet another rant. He enjoyed the short silence for a while, but it wasn't long before the woman finally broke it. Instead of commenting on anything that's been said or done however, which Max thought was going to happen, she decided to ask as to whether or not they were mutants(in a pretty casual tone too, at that). He didn't respond immediately, but eventually did so nonetheless.

    "Yea, we are. I'm gonna guess that you're one too?" he inquired in a fairly neutral voice.
    Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
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    posted a message on Genetic Destiny

    Max kept his usual friendly smile on his face and adjusted the old and battered pair of headphones which covered his ears. These two things were examples of the most important elements that had kept him alive all throughout his life: charisma, hiding his mutations, and always remaining cool and calm. He was already fairly skilled in all three of these attributes, and since he knew that the longer he talked to people, the more likely they would notice his mutations(like his whiskers), the teen moved to quickly end the conversation with a 'good bye' and stroll off. Unfortunately, he wouldn't be allowed that.


    He'd caught the flickering and movement of the shy woman's pupils, and in reacting to this, he casually turned around, now facing the dismal building he'd just escaped. Two teenagers from before were approaching him; one was wearing a brown hoodie, and Max swore that he could see some grey hair hiding underneath it, and the other was dressed in dark blue. Details of his primal rage, that had occurred inside that dilapidated motel, were now becoming much clearer to him.


    This guy... he's the one who screwed it all up... Sean's continued rantings only served to intensify the anger that was beginning to boil inside of him. The way he blamed him, as if it was all his fault. The hint of condescension in this idiot boy's tone. The fact that he saved one of those Selected morons from a well deserved death. One of his pocketed hands balled up into a fist, and for a moment, the pain caused by his own claws kept him from killing this kid right now. It reminded him that now was, by no means, the time nor the place. He was outnumbered, more fatigued than usual, and stuck in hostile territory.


    Never make enemies when you can make allies... Thinking deeply, Max took the time to carefully choose his words. His head was slightly inclined to the floor now, with his facial expression bearing feelings of sorrow, although not even nearly to the point where he would've cried.


    "I'm sorry that your friend died, I truly am. I wish that I could've done something to save him. But you made it very clear that you didn't want my help... when you saved that scum." It had now begun to snow, and in response to this, Max gazed up into the dark starry skies, making a soft sigh that caused some visible condensation through the cold air.


    These two are mutants, probably once part of that cuckoo cult for whatever reason. That woman on the other hand... Ashley's reasoning whipped him out of his short lived daydream, Max being brought back into the real world of gunfights and death. He looked solemnly to the speaker and nodded in agreement, trudging through the black snowy landscape that was the Scar and towards an unlit alleyway.

    Posted in: Forum Roleplaying
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