Still Mortal - The Windy City

[Corporal Lance]

A fire was burning, illuminating the room in its orange glow of comfort in warmth in stark contrast to the outside world of which one could see through the windows. A gentle snow could be seen through the glass, but the frosted appearance made it abundantly clear that it wasn't inviting. The soft illumination gave way to a very opulent appearing room. Nice paintings hung from the walls with fancy mirrors, and the curtains were to die for. The walls, the floor, the door, all redwood and varnished. The furniture looked especially expensive, with foreign couches of some kind of ornate fabric littered the room, redwood tables holding tasteful lamps. An attractive, thin woman could be seen to be lounging on one of the couches, eating something. She would pick up a sample from a mound of golden orbs (neatly stacked, mind you) to unravel it slowly and sumptuously, bringing it to her ruby lips and gingerly taking a bite. It appeared as if whatever it what was might have been the pinnacle of man. Her shadowed eyes made love to the camera as her lips came together and white text appeared to the viewer.

Ferrero Rocher.

Many screens of varying sizes displayed it at once through the glass of a store window. The world the televisions were facing was in stark contrast of the one inside of them. The buildings were grey and none too luxurious. A pale kind of color looked slapped everywhere, and it appeared as if God needed to desperately turn up the gamma on his own set. The snow definitely wasn't as it was in the TV either, piled up in small hills on the side of the streets filled with slush. A light dusting lined the sidewalk, just enough to make walking a hassle. What was most likely the worst part was the wind that would rip through every now and again and slice you down to the bone with its chill. Nevertheless the streets were bustling with activity, everyone looking equally miserable to be there. In and out of storefronts went the people, some into the myriad apartment complex, but all of them doing something. Not even the forced trees made it look a bit natural. Misery in its finest. Welcome to Chicago.

An ashy, sullen face could be seen in the reflection of the window, almost as pale as the snow. It was a young woman that probably could have been pretty without the dirt and obvious lack of energy that could be written in her green eyes of a dull emerald. Greasy bleach blonde hair jutted out from a filthy knit cap and fell where it may. In fact, this woman looked filthy all over. Her shabby coat was much too big and looked dirty and old. The gloves on her hands had holes in them, and not the hipster-without-finger holes. Just normal I've-had-these-forever holes. A pair of baggy jeans hung down from the coat, holes in them betraying the season. An ancient pair of boots collected at the bottom of those jeans, probably the nicest looking part of her attire. As Hope Thomas brought her coffee up for a sip, so did the woman in the window. Life in Chicago had been hard for her. When she arrived almost half a year ago, she was full of life and energy and spunk. But finding work was hard. Then finding a place to live was hard. Now finding a place to sleep is hard. The coffee she was drinking wasn't even hers, she picked it up off a bench as an inattentive college kid was playing with his phone. It tasted good, not as warm as she liked, but good. The milk in the coffee suppressed her stomach from crying at least. As much as she wanted to stay and wish for the TV to suck her inside and let her eat expensive chocolate for all eternity, she had to leave.

Most of the time Hope didn't have anything to do, and that was torture in and of itself. One of the things you don't realize about being homeless is that you have nowhere to be and often nothing to do. Panhandling could only get you so far. Which is why Hope did the smart thing and chose crime. The rich assholes that roamed the streets of the shopping district, spending gobs of cash would rarely feel it if you just so "happened" to bump into them and their unnecessary iPhone just "fell out" of their pocket. That was her bread and butter, quite literally. But she had one now. It was locked, but it was hers. She knew a guy who would unlock it and buy it off of her for a fair price. The iPhone 5 fetched a bit more than older models, so despite her sad expression she had something to look forward to other than the cold. They called him Cap'n because he always wore a cap'n sunglasses, and he usually liked to hang out near West Lake Street by the park. That was probably a good 3 hours walk from where she was. A short flight, but a good walk. Hope wanted to walk. Not because it was easier, or she felt like it, but because there were more idiots with iPhones around. That and the McDonald's was on the way. She could probably scrounge up enough change for a McMuffin or something. Hope sighed and jammed her hands into her pockets, walking with her head down. Just 3 more hours. 3 more hours until she could go buy more cigarettes...

[Firebreather]

Fox grabbed three eggs along with four oranges and set them down on the chocolate swirl granite. His mother Marlene walked down the glass spiral stairs as her heels clicked along the way; she wore a raspberry red satin shirt under her unbuttoned pinstripe tuxedo. “Good Morning Firefox,” Her matching heels finally reached the bottom step.

“Hi…” Fox sighed as he tossed his Sunnyside-up egg into the pan; Marlene grabbed a seat at the island putting on her bracelet and fluffing her bob, occasionally picking at the granite. Her average brown eyes looked outlandish compared to Fox’s stunning green eyes, she noted the differences between him and her.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, Maybe I should skip.. I mean nothing says freak like coal for breakfast…” He said squeezing his orange into a stainless steel cup

“Your not a freak Fox…” retorted Marlene who was rolling her deep brown eyes.

“Get real mom I practically eat coal!” snared Fox “-and my skin, you can call it: tangerine, pumpkin, or raw sienna but lets face it! Its- orange…” He slumped down into the cherry wood barstool what had a nice, modern, geometric design on the cushion.

“-and ORANGE you just adorable!” Marlene chuckled holding up Fox’s glass of orange juice making him forcefully grab it out of her hand. Ever since Fox was a baby he has been getting more and more hostile, Marlene worries but often represses it; making her somewhat of a damn good actor.

“Fox, this is a new school not an execution. Just try to socialize honey… Make new friends.” Marlene proclaimed finally managing to lock her bracelet into place and admire her nails. “-You’re a normal seventeen year old boy like everyone else in your class” she continued “-and everyone in that school has problems of their own and if you just get along with people and keep your temper, everything’s going to be just fine.” She patted him on his scaly cheek, running her perfectly filed nails down it, the light reflecting off of his orange skin made her hand appear orange; like carrots with raspberry roots on the tips of her hands.

“Message received..”Fox tried not to complain, I mean anyone who heard Fox complaining would think he was just a bitch or a complainer. Marlene sighed flashing the ASL gesture meaning I love you. “Have a great day.” She thoughtfully said smiling, beginning to eat her breakfast; which happened to be two eggs, bacon and 2 pieces of toast.
“Love you too mom..” The front door slammed behind him as he set out to school.

“Actually that time it was…” She sighed frying her egg on the charcoaled pan, looking down into the dusty blackness “Rock on…”

Fox listened to the cars pass while kicking a can of Pepsi down the street, until it fell into the gutter. Chicago was calm in this part of the city: beautiful, modern buildings, few high-rises and a big collage that was only seven blocks away, a city like this reminded Fox of L.A, the place he had lived before his “father” died. A silver jeep filled with typical jocks who were prattling on about a girl at school named Hope who had recently disappeared of unknown causes.. Fox unwillingly approached them, triggering them to mock… Typical douchebag’s of high school.

“Hey check out the new guy..” the muscular jock who was driving announced to his colleagues, adjusting his mirrors pointing towards Fox “Oh! I am sorry! I thought there was some bird shit on my mirror, now I can see clearly it was just your face!” The driver was a tall, well-built man who obviously had way too much testosterone to spare. He floored the gas blowing dust in Fox’s face, burning the rubber of their tires in the process.

“Yeah, that was a good one…” his jaw tightened as he began to pick up the papers that had blown away in the gust. Fox hated the feeling of holding his tongue; He was the kind of man who always needed the last word.

Six and a half blocks of nothing later, he finally arrived at his new school, he gazed upon it stunned, unexpecting it to look so… Modern. The tall white marble building with jagged edges, tight creases and rolling curves panned over him like a stretching room. In fact, it almost looked like some fold you would find in an advanced origami book. He calmly approached the gates of the university, brushing his faux hawk upwards, pressing the marble callbox. A loud buzz was heard as a nasally, uptight woman unenthusiastically asked “Can I help you?” Fox coughed nervously, clearing his throat.

“Yes, Uhm.. I am Fox Markson.. I Uhm-“ a quick ruffle of papers was heard along with a screeching slam of a rusty filing cabinet, “Fox Markson, eh? Your twenty minutes late for class.. Do it again and you’re going to written up.” Fox stood up straight as the gold gates slowly opened flipping his collar up in a nonchalant manner. It was going to be a long day…

[MelonHead]

The screeching of the large passenger planes wheels drew him out of his semi-conscious meditation, his eyes flickering open and awareness flowing into his mind. Pretty quickly he regained his senses, Alex was the quick minded sort, and unbuckled his restraints to stand as flight attendants hustled them towards the exit. Four burly men surrounded him subtly from varying distances, only one shifty looking man remaining at his shoulder, Ghost, his private assassin.

Half an hour later the group were in a large black hummer, the windows tinted and a layer of mud coating the lower half, Alex was at the wheel.

“Why we here boss.” One of his guards, a dark skinned man with wide shoulders looking ridiculous squeezed into the back seat next to two other similarly sized men, asked his employer. Alex fixed him a quick glare before returning his eyes to the road, sighing inaudibly.

“I’ve explained this, I got what I needed from Gotham and the boss called a general meeting to deal with King’s death.” It wasn’t the whole truth, he didn’t make note of the fact that he had killed King himself and there was a good chance the Father knew it. Alex couldn’t skip on the meeting though, that would be like putting a massive sign up saying ‘I’m guilty’ and avoiding the Knife and the Father’s other killers didn’t sound like his idea of a good time.

He looked down at his side where the box was located, within the information he had fought and killed men to obtain, risked everything for some scribbles on some pieces of paper; the secrets to the gene which made everything so interesting in the world right about now.

His attention returned to the road, and the hummer hurtled down empty streets until it jammed up in traffic. It seemed like it would be another hour or two before they reached the hotel, they didn’t want to be late for the meeting.

Behind them an inconspicuous sedan followed, at the wheel Ghost remained watchful over his master, the remaining guard at his side. They had things to do and little time to do them, but everything had to start somewhere and Alex was in an unfamiliar city. Even he would be tested in a place like this.

[TwistedShadow98]

Henry - no...Alexander. Yes, Alexander was his name. For now. Alexander sat at his desk, fumbling through patient files with intrigue as he cupped his chin with one of his hands. He lived in an expensive, antique apartment, filled with pristine furniture along with a personal fireplace with a large flat screened TV above it. A lovely, ornate painting sat above the desk, behind it was Henry - his head at least.

As usual, Alexander woke up at 6:30 every morning, giving him time to take a shower, get a nice breakfast, brush his teeth, and prepare for the day with some free time still to lounge for a bit.

Closing the file he stood from his desk, crossing his arms behind his back and looking out the window. Chicago was suffering from a rather cold winter. Snow was everywhere, icicles on the edge of his window, with frost lining the glass.

Taking a sip from his coffee, Alexander sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. He dressed in a brown business suit with a darker brown waistcoat underneath with a red tie and white dress shirt. He put on black socks and dress shoes as he closed his suit before grabbing a dark brown pea coat with a black scarf to protect him from the cold, along with black leather gloves.

He grabbed his keys from outside his door and stepped out of the room, locking it before exiting the building.

He soon entered his Wald Continental GT Black Bisson Edition and drove to his firm: it was a large building of smooth stone. He stepped in, a large waiting area awaiting him. With magazine racks, TVs, and multiple chairs and couches. A circular receptionists desk was in the middle of the room, his receptionist had not arrived yet. Alexander always arrived earlier than almost all of his staff. He moved to his office, a small room with a rather nice wooden desk in the middle with a wide window behind it. Bookshelves behind the desk on either side of the window, with two lovely chairs curved diagonally in front of the desk. Plants sat in empty spaces, giving the room a very nice look to it. He sat and piddled about aimlessly, awaiting his first patients.

[Mastermind001]

--->The Technomancer Cometh<---

_The Night Before_ Joesph's Base of Operations_

A fire house, no longer in service with boarded up windows was now a home for a suburb of the windy city, Chicago. The building itself seemed to be made in the 1950's and still fighting with the times. The bricks were aged a rusty brown instead of a tomato red and some of which were loose and falling out crashing to the ground, however the old house was still structurally sound as it was in the 50's and fit for human living. The metal doors were sturdy, even the huge ones, the windows didn't have any cracks in them, and despite the fading color, it matched the rest of the houses in the area. Joesph was fond of this place.

Joesph opened the metal door on the side of his home wide. " And this is my home, Miss Winters." Joesph said to his new found guest who seemed to having issues with water and a loss of home. She was the coffee shop girl from earlier that day when he disturb a couple of guests due to his arrival and discussions with another gentlemen. He reached for a nearby broom and tapped the floor. Splash! water suddenly collided with the floor soaking it completely. " Since you have issues with water, I suggest you always look before you take a step around here. Look out for the word "Splash" and you'll be fine." Joesph mentioned, giving Winter's a fair warning about his place. The water soon began to drain thanks to the many drains that were installed into the floor. " My ability is quite unusual even among others like ourselves. But let's keep stuff like that a secret between the two of us if you don't mind." He added quickly as he didn't want others to know the other applications he can do with his power " Digital Invader". " Also I'm very security conscious so I apologize in advance." He said, answering an unasked questioned.

The inside was roughly furnished and mostly empty space. A few bookcases, cherry wood and polished, some of which were empty, an oak cabinet with only one drawer locked, a metal dresser with a televison resting on top, and an ugly green and grey patch pattern couch. Each of those pieces of furniture were raised high enough to avoid water damage and the room that had them, seemed to be a living room. " Make yourself comfortable, and you can stay as long as you like, Miss Winter." He said " I'll do something about a bed tomorrow."

He then went over to a closet and on the high self was a couple of pillows and blankets. Joesph set them on the couch.


_New Day and New Beginnings_

Five years Joesph lived here as student to Chicago University and a registered mutant. Not many liked him, easily expressing their disdain and fear because of what he was. Even through his rating on the Mutant Registry was a Class C and level one, meaning he wasn't much of a danger to society let alone anyone. Despite that Joesph has been a diligent student with a book in his one hand and a pen in the other, as well as a volunteer for various organizations and events. In time some of the community and some of his peers began to accept, Joesph for what he was and happy to have him around. However, there were still some that suspect that Joesph had ulterior motive....And how right they are to have such a suspicion.

Freshly showered and slicked back his dirty blond hair with a comb and gel, Joesph dressed in a white dress shirt with grey pants. He smiled in a mirror as he tied a red and white striped tie around his neck. " A secret war with a CEO of a billion dollar corporation, organization crime, and violent hate groups, hunting two killers, an assassin and an urban legend, and arranging a meeting with the night time vigilante prowling around to better Chicago." He said to himself in front of the mirror inside his bedroom. " My god, Joesph Magnus, were you full of shit when you said you desired a normal life." Joesph said, he then turned away from the mirror and went over to the closet for a grey dress jacket and a black winter overcoat. The conversation he had with a mutant short of height and organic armor in his favorite coffee place of all places was still fresh on his mind. " But let's face it. Everyday, because of evil people, they ruin that kind of normal life for good people." He mentioned as he put on his jacket and over coat and faced the mirror once more. " They need to have a reminder that actions have consequences. That no matter how safe they think they are, there is hell to pay. If they believe taking lives is an easy matter, then they need everything taken away. "

" Can I do all that and not become a monster like them. That is the question, isn't it?" Joesph asked himself.

[DawnKnight]

Chicago, a grey day, and a grey city. The winter had been hard, harder still for those severely affected by the credit crisis. The people below hurried past, no doubt hands in pockets, shoulders hunched and faces pinched and closed against the harsh bite of the winter winds. They were tiny, insignificant, each one convinced of their own superiority in this brutal and unforgiving world.

The park, equally grey and dead as the half dead city was scattered with the corpses of trees. Each one bare and swaying in the wind, skeletal fingers clawing desperately towards the sky as though trying to escape the cold, lifeless embrace of the earth. A few lonely souls braved the pathways that twisted in mocking curves through the dead grounds of the park, bringing movement to the otherwise empty space.

It was as though the collapse of the worlds monetary stability had brought a collapse of the process of life itself. And above it all, Chimera towered. The Chimera Corporation tower dwarfed all those around it, the huge pillar of steel and glass looming over the city with an imperious indifference, a mighty tower that looked disdainfully down on the smaller, huddling buildings around it, as it's owner looked disdainfully down at the people below.

Chimera was one of the most powerful companies in the world, though many did not realise the true extent of it's influence, hidden behind dozens of front companies and surreptitious and subtle investments. Chimera, though known for the efficacy of it's military contracts, had a finger in everything from telecommunications to pharmaceuticals, and it was growing, always growing.

Nathan Jacobs smiled, it was a rare display of emotion from the otherwise controlled and calculating CEO. Under his influence Chicago was rapidly becoming a player in the world. Once a city famous for it's sights and culture, now Chicago was the home for his company, and with that came all the other worthless parasites that clustered behind the hunting beast, hoping for the scraps dropped from the hunt. He wasn't entirely sure why he had maintained his HQ here, but suspected that an unfamiliar feeling of sentimentality had no doubt played a part in his decision.

Still, it was only a matter of time until Chimera would rock the world on it's foundations. Reports were scattered over the desk, some apparently irrelevant, but all sharing one purpose. They were all good, but one, and that one alone remained on the desk while the others were consigned to the incinerator, that one was ruffled and well-thumbed, clearly read dozens of times, sections of text underlined and lists of numbers circled. There was a name stamped on the front, such a valuable, dangerous name. But Nathan had his own secret weapon, again that rare smile, and the CEO of Chimera turned back to the window.

[Nosuchthing]

Alyss, was late, again, she always was these days. Heroin tended to do that to you, time simply didn't matter anymore, for all it brought a rare and much welcomed relief. Not that it mattered, she had found it hard to focus on work these past few weeks, hard to focus on anything. She could feel her life slowly falling apart around her, it had been happening for years, but now she was finally coming to see it for herself. Her father tried his best, but they barely survived, there was little enough work for a man in a wheelchair, if any, and mostly they lasted on whatever work she could get and what was left of their savings and Alyss' inheritance from her grandmother..

When she'd discovered her... Ability? Power? Curse? It had all become worse, she couldn't touch people, not without reducing them to crippling, screaming agony, and when the other students had discovered that she was a mutant she had become even more isolated than she already was. A freak, something to be hated and tormented mercilessly. She never told her father about this, he worried too much anyway, god knows he had little else to do. Instead, she took solace in the numbing bliss of Heroin, Marijuana and whatever else she could get her hands on.

She was dressed, as usual, in a battered pair of jeans, a dark shirt with an obscure rock band scrawled across the chest and a black hoody. All of it faded and fraying, though none so much as the leather gloves on her hands. The fingers were tattered and flaking, thread hanging from the ragged fingers. She was chewing her thumb now, gnawing on the once tough and unyielding material, now soft and tooth marked.

She strolled carelessly past the office, head down, face in the shadow cast by her raised hood. The staff would know who she was, but they tended to leave her alone now, no amount of talks or disapproving glares had yet managed to make her consistently punctual. There was a new guy there, and she could tell because his distinctive orange scales would have made a distinctive impact had she seen him before. It seemed he was late too, and sounded like he was getting the talk that had had so little effect on her.

She quickened her pace, hoping to get past before he noticed her, praying desperately that he wouldn't ask her for directions, and yet still kind of hoping that he would. She didn't want to be alone anymore.

[TwistedShadow98]

Alexander began seeing patients shortly; he was good at his job. He had a charisma and ability to listen that made him a good person to talk to. He was interested in his patients, offering advice where he could, but mostly listening.

His hand twitched lightly. It had been some time since he cast an illusion; truth be told he nearly relied on them not only to calm him, but to let him escape. But he was trying to break the habit, with debilitating side-effects. He cleared his throat and turned his attention back to his patients, it was going to be a difficult day...

After the patient left and Alexander was left alone in his office he finally gave in, turning his office into a single desk atop a wooden flooring surrounded by a luscious forest in fall: sunlight bled through the leaves as they fell to the low grass. Alexander sighed as the sounds of nature calmed him. He seemed to rely on his illusions more than simply use them, he was only tricking himself. But he didn't care, he needed to escape...

[Firebreather]

Fox walked down the painfully bleak campus, strolling around to find his way to Biology. White buildings, brick building’s black buildings and barley any grass; just concrete. After 5 minutes of walking along peacefully he found his classroom, “Classroom 1908”. He lifted up his collar to hide his scales and disdainfully stumbled into the classroom where the teacher would await in an antagonistic attitude. The classroom was white with black baseboard moldings; a few posters that were inevitably advertising good grades, handing in homework and reminding you just to smile.


“Do you have a yellow slip?” The anonymous teacher scorned walking over to him “and pull your collar down! I do not approve of distasteful clothing in my class!”

“A yellow slip?” Fox frantically pulled down his collar and checked his pocket’s. Maybe he did receive one, it just didn’t occur to him. “Uhm.. The office didn’t give me a yellow pass…”


The class chuckled at Fox’s humiliation, one of the kids even let out a big “Ooooooooh!!” The teacher was prattling to Fox about how disappointed she is, but he kind of just zoned out. “Ugh..” The teacher sighed, rubbing her eyes, giving the appearance that she was crying “Well... Find your seat then!” She walked back to her desk which showed her name, Mrs. Dreakford.


Fox walked slowly to the only available seat which was suitably in the back corner, his ideal spot. He set his binder on his desk and became comfortable; almost like being on your own island away from everyone. He had a feeling that he was going to like this class…

[Base Four]

" A secret war with a CEO of a billion dollar corporation, organization crime, and violent hate groups, hunting two killers, an assassin and an urban legend..."

"Wha-"

Gabrielle Winters woke up to a dull, dampened voice that muttered phrases that she couldn't make out the content, which only purpose was to remind her that she was not the first person to wake up in this house today. She flipped aside the blanket and sat up on the counch. It took her awhile to identify her surroundings as the interior of a firehouse, that someone has apparently modified into his living quarters.

The firehouse looked spacious, much more than she expected. Aged, abandoned, but still in rather good condition. The brick walls and the still-intact windows fended off whatever the outside was-probably still snowing. The interior of the firehouse feel warm like the colour of its walls. Inside the room arranged several pieces of furniture, including bookcases, a closet of sorts, and of course the couch she was sitting on, and the pillow and blanket that were untidily folded and placed beside her.

It took her a while to decide where this was and how she got here: it always takes some time for memories to reform after she wakes up. What she remembers was her last day at a coffee shop, being kicked out of her apartment, and some kind stranger boy offering to let her stay in his place for the night to hide from the snow.

She stood up and walked around the room, trying to decide what to do next. Meanwhile she plunged her hands into her hair, which was now a shaggy mess of reddish brown, and pulled it down into lines of dripping biomass that then reformed into her normal hairstyle.

The door was there, but it would just lead out the the streets she knew. She had nothing to go for now. There did not seem to be another exit in the room...and where's that...Joseph? There was a staricase that led up into the ceiling, the second floor. That was where Joseph's muttering was coming from.

Gabrielle made her way up the stairs, stopping a few steps short to clearing the top where her height was already sufficient for her to speak to the man in front of the mirror.

"Ugh. Good morning?"

She said, only in a weak, distorted voice that made it clear that she hasn't been awake for long-some parts of the biomass kind of melt away when she's not paying attention, or is asleep. Joseph probably didn't notice her, as he proceeded to conclude his speech to himself in front of the mirror, in words that Gabrielle heard pretty clearly:

"Can I do all that and not become a monster like them. That is the question, isn't it?"