IC: Now and then, the crack of a gunshot sounded through Antire. The city still slept- they'd been dealing with this for years now. A man ran through the streets, his bare feet smacking against the pavement and cobblestone. Two other individuals, a man and a woman wearing gold tinted sunglasses and carrying pistols, sprinted out of the alley behind him.

The runner spun and flung a blast of flame at them but missed, his pursuers not even flinching. There was a place, a place he could go, if he lost them.

Firing solution calculated flashed on the glasses lens of the male agent, his arm snapping up and pulling the trigger of his pistol three times, each bullet precisely aimed. The pyrokinetic threw another gout of fire, melting two of the shots-

But the third nailed him in the leg, taking him down. His chasers caught up to him.

A final shot rang through the city.

***

An hour later, the agents were gone. Only a man wearing a white suit was there, closing the corpse's eyes and turning away, writing something in a notebook. Casper Anderson, 34. Pyrokinetic. Murdered by Reapers, 23rd of October, 15 YAE.

He sighed and walked down the street, to a little bar called the Hole in the Wall, which was just now beginning to open.

Nestil had woken up a few hours earlier from the sporadic gunfire. It was quite the alarm clock one must admit, he had started out the day slow. He took a cup of his home brewed coffee and a little food, a man his size didn't need much to eat really and in that way he was quite lucky. Food was quite sparse at least for the ones who didn't have much capital. He had taken a stroll around the shop, fixed up a broken and shattered radiator on a car. Of course using his abilities a lill' but no one was able to see him use them in the seclusion of his workshop so it was all cool. Then he headed towards the Hole in the Wall, of course sat outside like he used to. Rolling his thumbs as he waited for them to open, when they did he was the first to slip in. The place smelled like a crossover of a rotten potatoes and a apartment house fire. Quite the familiar smell for the locals, well that was if he could actually smell it with his mask and all, he made his way to the barkeep and sat down on one of the chairs. Like the OCD person he was he had to at least swivel two laps around before setting his greasy palms onto the counter and nodded towards the barkeep.

"You know the old usual, need some water for the shop. About four litres would do, I mean you owe me from when I fixed up your truck so.. Yeah." He nodded towards the barkeep who simply gave out a exhausted and tired grunt. Then dissapeared somewhere behind the bar to get a four litre jug of water. Well it was more a old gas can who simply had been drained and washed out but it counted as a jug of water, it was set down in front of Nestil. He nodded again as he simply sat it down beside his chair, he then spun around to peer around the currently empty bar. He had time to kill so he was going to stick around a bit, see if anything fun went down.

Summer Jordan was on the run. Of course, it felt like she was always on the run. Now and again she’d be somewhere for maybe a month before she’d get too afraid. People would look at her and she would instantly tell herself They know… and the next day she was gone. She was too afraid to settle down for more than a month at a time. She never had time to make alliances. She had tried that route before. Join up with another group of deviants, get captured because a group calls attention to themselves, teleport away and run. Just run. The years had led her to the deserts of the Middle East, always running towards the next town that was said to house those friendly to deviants.

On this day, Summer held her bag with everything that belonged to her left in it. She was wearing some thick, flared jeans and a black hoodie over a white tank top. The hood was pulled over her head, concealing her mass of blonde messy curls and letting her timid blue eyes peer out. Her heavy boots made a good crunch on the sidewalk now that she had reached some city limits, but the noise almost made her jump each time she took a step. Stop acting so suspicious! she mentally scolded herself. Taking a deep breath, Summer pulled down her hood and began walking straight, not looking side to side. She heard gun shots and hesitated, but she knew she had to keep walking. Normal would be wanting a deviant dead right? Normal was so bizarre to her anymore.

She bit the inside of her cheek as others passed by her, dipping her eyes to the ground just out of habit. She began tugging on each door handle she passed, trying to find somewhere she could just sit and relax for a little bit before running some more, when finally a door opened to her touch. She glanced up to see what it was. A bar. Awesome. Maybe she had enough cash for a drink. She needed it.

Summer walked inside Hole in the Wall and quickly made her way to a seat, putting a hand to her forehead like she had a headache before setting her bag in the seat next to her.

Arik woke at the ass crack of dawn, as he did every day. As he rolled out of bed and rubbed the gunk out of his eyes that had accumulated from his night or rest, a soft yawn forced its way from his maw. Still half asleep, he pulled on his desert camouflaged fatigues and white tank top. As he stood and made his way to the door, he snapped his fingers and turned on his heel, walking to a small nook he had carved behind his bunk, retrieving from it a small plastic baggie, which he placed in his pocket. The hallways of the base were still dark, enough so that Arik could hardly see. He used his power and created a small orb of his happiness, which illuminated the hall with its yellow glow. Now able to see, he made his way to the exit.

Upon reaching the openness of the outdoors, Arik was greeted to the beauty of the rising sun. As he beheld the sky painted with shades of orange and red, his orb of happiness involuntarily grew larger. he dismissed the orb and reach into his pocket, removing the baggie he had taken from his room. Upon opening it, he removed a small amount of marijuana, manifesting a pipe from his calmness to give it a sturdy structure, and a flame from his anger so it would burn hotly. He packed the herb into the bowl of his pipe and lit it, inhaling deeply and holding the smoke in his lungs, then exhaled, repeating this action until he felt he had reached a good level for his high. He sealed the bag and placed it back into his pocket, then leaned against the wall behind him and enjoyed the view before he was called in to do something or other, which he expected to happen soon.

The sun shined right into Mile's eyes. It was early morning and he stretched and stood up from his small bedroll on the ground. He rolled up the bedroll and strapped it to his back. He dusted off the dirt from the only suit he wore and stepped out of the small metal shack that stood just outside of Antire. He checked around making sure that no one was looking. He put his hand to the metal shack and it seemed to melt onto his hand and flow to his wrist. There it formed into a solid bracer, which he adjusted and pulled his sleeves down over his wrists.

He then made the short trek into the city. He had been staying here for a little while now. He had lost track of time long ago. He had been here doing odd jobs to earn money. He liked it because most people seem to keep to themselves and Miles liked it that way. As he walked towards Hole in the Wall bar he glanced around. The town was still slowly waking up and started to get busy. He ducked into the bar and walked up to the bartender on duty. "Any jobs today?" Miles asked. The bartender just shook his head sadly. "Well then." Miles said reaching into his pocket and pulling out a crumpled bill. "Just a beer." He said tossing it on the bar. He took a swig from his beer and surveyed the bar. It was pretty barren. Hopefully more people would come in soon. Maybe some of them needed some help with some paying work.

Jared was awake and practicing his aim when he heard the gunshots, another deviant getting killed because he wasn't in the army or he had outlived his usefulness, that thought stuck in Jared's mind a little "When am i going to outlive my usefulness to the army?" He thought he knew he was a pawn in someones grand scheme but a pawn can live up to many aspirations, it could become anything it wanted when it aspired to be it with the exception of the king, maybe just maybe Jared could become something else too.

These thoughts however were short lived as Jared went into the base for breakfast, he stood in line and took his slop just like every other pawn in the military, he ate alone as nobody really trusted him as he was a deviant, but to the deviants he was too close to being normal to be apart of their group, so he was a loner it didn't matter eventually his handler would tell him what he needed to be done and he would do it, nothing to it but to do it.

After breakfast he was called into a briefing with the other soldiers and assigned duties, and once again he wasn't assigned anything so he was able to enjoy some rec time but instead of going off base to that god forsaken bar he sat against the wall and enjoyed reading "The Art of War" By Sun Tzu, books about war and philosophy always amused him as it made him think, and thinking was something Jared didn't get to do by himself much as his handlers were always telling him what to think and what to feel his lift felt meaningless but nevertheless he would rather have a meaningless life than no life at all, he owed it to the military after all.

Markus Finch stepped through the doorway of the hole in the wall his lanky form casting a shadow across the tavern.

His black and white frayed suit was stained from having been worn for such a long time. Finch had traded most all his belongings for a small home, food and water. Thus the jewelry he once wore and his other clothes all now belonged to other people.

Finch took a seat at the bar a few stools down from a young man.

"Just give me whatever your serving for breakfast." Finch said to the bartender as he placed a Golden coin on the table.

Taylor woke up from the ally way which he managed to find. As he got up to stretch he heard the gunshots go off. 'That's not to far from here.' Taylor thought to himself. He started to walk through the streets seeing if there was anything truly useful lying on the ground, and there it was a coin. He rushed over to pick it up and stuck it in his pocket. 'Well time to go to work.' he thought to himself as he walked towards the Hole in the Wall. As he entered he looked towards the barkeep that was working. He nodded to notify that his bouncer had just shown up in case a ruckus occurred. As he walked over to his corner he looked around seeing nothing but the same old people that always show up.

Nestil hummed a bit as he peered between the two newcomers to the bar. He crossed his arms over his chest and peered at Summer first, "Let me guess, one of em' girls who have a extraordinary sad life who just want to run away from it, probably a drifter. I mean just be judging your posture and your clothing." He turned his attention to Miles "Jobs? Wait, so you're a cut throat or what? Mercenary? Thief? I bet that ya' ain't looking to become a waiter in this joint that is for sure at least." He shook his head as he spun around a lap on the bar stool once again, spreading out his arms a bit in a "Weeeeeeeee!" manner. Like a child almost, he then spun half around to cross his arms over his chest - and peer at the two. Waiting a answer from either or neither of them.

He knew he kind off looked humorous, his torn and worn mechanic overall covering most of his body. Not that much of the dark grey surface was visible any more of the overall, just the collection of oil and grease spots covering it. And some dirt and sand of course, his welding goggles firmly attached just above the breathing mask covering his mouth. His hair not visible from under the makeshift hood he was wearing over his head. He clearly wasn't one looking for trouble but wouldn't mind teasing people around a bit.

Miles eyed the odd man as he spun around in his chair. He smiled slightly as made a happy noise as he spun. He took a swig from his beer and address him. "Not looking to kill or steal. Just a handy man. General labor. Just looking to make a little money. That's all." He adjusted his suit nervously. The man didn't seem dangerous, but you never knew around here. Miles wasn't good at reading people so he couldn't tell what motives the man had. He shifted from facing the bar to facing the man. He leaned against the bar. "What about you sir? What are you doing here? Just here for the bar stools?" Miles grinned to himself.

Summer looked around as others came into the bar. A man asking about jobs and ordering a beer. A man who had already been there when Summer came in who just looked like he was checking everything out. Another man asking for breakfast. Someone who obviously worked there as he went behind the counter. Summer just kept side eyeing everyone with nervous, quick glances so as not to look them in the eye, when the barkeep asked her if she wanted anything. “Um, beer I guess. And a water,” she said in a soft voice, innocent looking eyes glancing to theirs as she pulled out some crumpled money and smoothed it out for the bartender. As she was waiting on her drinks, the odd looking man who had been there when she walked in decided to analyze her. She frowned heavily, irritated that he thought he knew anything about her based on her clothing or posture, despite his fairly accurate, if superficial description. “No… no one asked you,” she sputtered, flustered as her cheeks raged pink. She wasn’t angry but more embarrassed as the man proceeded to spin on his stool like a kid.

Summer glanced with an interested expression as the other who got analyzed spoke up that the weirdo was wrong, striking up a conversation with him nonetheless however. Summer began eavesdropping as her beer and water were set before her, drinking the beer slowly. She was still determined to relax before heading out again. Maybe she should get food like that one man had ordered. She considered it while being a bit braver with her glances to the others in the bar.

"The bar stools? They're quite crap if you ask me, been worn out and yeah.. Not so comfortable are they?" He kicked the old gas can next to him, "I'm here for water, then I stayed for the amusement.. Like the girl blushing heavily to the right of me, quite nice to see someone that is not able to lie that well." He tugged on his hood as he pulled it down, letting his greasy pearl white hair fall down. However it would stand out in EVERY damn direction it was like a shrub, a shrub that had not been cut, trimmed or even looked at for years at end. "And I'm not that good at judging people, however there are only a few types of people who pass through our lovely town and even fewer who actually survive." He chuckled to himself as he took another spin with his arms stretched out, giggling a bit to himself in glee as he then focused on the man again. "So manual labour eh'.. Won't find much around here, I mean .. this world is not suited for manual labour any more. Have to be more specialized, become a doctor! Make em' pay up front and then it doesn't matter hoe the treatment goes, I have a book on brain surgery back at the shop. Never tried actually conducting it on anyone but y'know, good for future references."

Finch frowned as the platter of what barely passed as eggs was placed in front of him.

He thought momentarily about complaining to the barkeep but decided against it.

Shoulders slumped in defeat as he took a bite of the substance. Chewed twice. Swallowed. With all his might he tried to keep the food down.

Finch glanced around a the room for a moment. Two young men were engaged in a conversation of sorts. One spun on his chair like an idiot.

Finch was about to interject in the conversation when he noticed a young women glance at him and then at his food before ordering a beer and a water.

He chuckled to himself at the thought of drinking beer this early in the morning and returned to his 'meal' .

Miles hadn't even noticed the girl in the corner. She told the man to be quiet, but in a timid way that Miles knew this man wouldn't listen to. Miles didn't think the man was being hateful, but was just one of those outspoken types. He smiled as the man reveled his crazy white hair. "Well, it's not so much generic manual labor. I'm more of a, how do you say, metallurgic specialist." He saw the man just stare at him. "If it's made of metal I can fix it. It's not brain surgery, but it's a specialty." Miles took and finished his beer. He heard his stomach growl slightly. He reached in his pocket and fished out some more money. He waved down the bartender. "Give me a sandwich and another beer to wash out the taste." The bartender looked at Miles incredulously. "Just two pieces of bread then?" The bartender asked. Miles just stared at him. "Put something that either resembles meat or cheese in between them."

Summer only blushed more with the masked man drew attention to her, causing her to drink from her glass deeper. Maybe he wasn’t a bad guy, maybe no one here was and she was just being overly cautious. Maybe she should relax a little more like she meant to. She set her glass down and swallowed, looking around at the others not as shyly now, running a hand through her bright locks. She listened as one of them spoke about fixing metal, but the way he spoke about it seemed, odd. She knew better than to pry though, smirking as he had banter with the bartender. ”Looking at that man’s eggs you may thank them for just the bread. Who knows what they might fill it with,” she said quietly, eyes wide as she attempted talking to strangers for the first time in… well she couldn’t remember when.

"The only meat you'll get around here are cooked and fried camel spiders, or perhaps just camels. Cheese, well I rather not know what they actually make that cheese out of.. It ain't normal milk that's for sure.. I tend to stick to my military ration, I mean they are from somewhere before the second world war but they sure do beat the hell out of the food you get around here." He snickered as he spun around on the chair once again with his arms out and faced the bartender, "I'm just kidding I reeeaaaaally love your food barkeep, I love it so much I can't even get myself to eat it and that is why I never eat here." He smirked, the bartender grunted and grimaced at him before going off.

He turned to the man, "So you fix metal .. so you are a welder? Or just a blacksmith? You don't dress like one that is for sure, with your fancy .. semi-clean clothes." He grinned again as he spun around to the girl. "Good question, however most things around here are filled out with chemicals or some shit to be able to sell more of it. Trust me, never drink someone's home made moonshine around here.. It will be the death of you like it has to many others.." He smirked behind the mask and ran a hand through his hair. Twirling one of the strands of hair into a roll almost making a dreads curl. Peering idly between the two as he leaned back on the bar and slid his hand out on it. Letting out a relieved sigh.

As Taylor looked up to see what was going on he saw a man spinning on a bar stool, with a person on either side of him. As Taylor looked over to the other side of the bar he noticed a man sitting there. 'Nothing odd.' Taylor thought to himself as he stood and walked over to the barkeep. "Could i get some water, need something to drink this shift." Taylor said not making eye contact with the other people. As the barkeep left to get a bottle of water from the back he said to Taylor " This is coming out of your pay." As Taylor agreed, the barkeep handed him the bottle. As he got the bottle he walked back to where he was sitting and just kept staring at the people.

"As long as it is barley passable as food, I can pretend." Miles replied to the man. "Military rations? I can't believe you're in the military." He paused to choose his next words carefully. "They usually don't have such, colorful, people in the military." The bartender returned with what resembled a sandwich only in shape and a beer. Miles took a swig of beer and eyed the sandwich. Miles replied to the man's question of what type of metal worker he was. "Blacksmith is a good name for what I do." The man address Miles' suit. Miles brushed some dirt off his suit and smiled. "You know what they say. Dress for the job you want, not the job you have. I'm looking to be the new ruler of this town."

Finch started laughing as the man next to him said he wished to be the ruler of Antire. It was the throaty laugh of an aging man who had obviously been a smoker.

"You must be joking!" Finch spat as another bought of laughter struck him.

"You will never rule a city in this world, especially not if you go declaring it to strangers." Finch said as his laughter died down.

---snip--- Internet double post