Feyd finally made it into the heart of the city and went into the first clothing store he found, ignorning the looks of the other customers and store workers as he picked out clothes to replace his torn, blood stained ones. He ripped off the tags as he put everything on in the changing room and went to the counter to pay with still damp bills.
The girl behind the counter looked at him.
“Don't worry, it still counts as legal tender even when it gets wet.”
It was nice to step outside with fresh clothes, and he immediately noticed that it wasn't nearly as cold as he thought it was. He was tired, and his ribs still pounded, but he knew he couldn't rest. They had been finding him entirely too easily all day for him to relax. He didn't even know who “they” were, besides the fact that they also had powers.
He definitely couldn't go back to his act, so he hoped that they didn't make too big a deal of him disappearing. But they were all goddamn hippies, so they would probably just let it go. He didn't know what the people chasing him were capable of, but he knew he couldn't take any chances. He took the remaining cash out of his wallet and threw it into a drain as he walked.
He didn't know where he was heading, but he felt like there was relative safety in numbers. He felt like they wouldn't attack him in view of a few dozen normal people and he really, really hoped that he wasn't wrong as he mixed into the crowd of people.
C W St J Nobbs Member
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I've been busy being in pain from moving a gun safe by my damn self today but, lawl. Sabotage...
I reiterate:
So I just realized that all this IC hubbub that's afoot is going to be super convenient in relation to the beginning of the year party that I've been plotting in my noggin.
IT APPEARS SEVERAL OF US ARE ONLINE! WHY ARE NONE OF YOU NERDS ON THE COLLAB? GO TO THE COLLAB, NERDS!
IT APPEARS SEVERAL OF US ARE ONLINE! WHY ARE NONE OF YOU NERDS ON THE COLLAB? GO TO THE COLLAB, NERDS!
I suppose the most hoodoo'd that my voodoo has ever been was the time I ate six hits of acid and followed the Cheshire Cat to Hell. Honestly can't recommend it.
Feyd knew he had the upper hand of not needing to reload his weapon, so he kept peppering the cover that the girl was behind with wisps of fire. He wasn't really sure what he was going to do next, but that seemed irrelevant. She had been shooting back, but it was mostly panicky blind fire in between fireballs, and it wasn't really all that worrying. Feyd thought he could probably set the entire building on fire to flush her out, but that seemed a bit too psychopath-y for his liking, and he also wasn't Micheal Caine chasing a jewel thief.
He kept peppering her cover but took a second to concentrate and send one huge, cover erasing ball of fire across the roof. It focused it until it was about the size of an average size sedan and hurled it across the roof. As soon as the fire wasn't under his control anymore, the heat of it burned most of the hair off his exposed chest and legs. He didn't care how the girl at the other end of the roof reacted to the fireball, and knew that she'd be too busy diving out of the way to get any pot shots off at him.
He ran and boosted himself across the gap to the next roof and kept sprinting, ignoring the constant pain in his chest.
He kept peppering her cover but took a second to concentrate and send one huge, cover erasing ball of fire across the roof. It focused it until it was about the size of an average size sedan and hurled it across the roof. As soon as the fire wasn't under his control anymore, the heat of it burned most of the hair off his exposed chest and legs. He didn't care how the girl at the other end of the roof reacted to the fireball, and knew that she'd be too busy diving out of the way to get any pot shots off at him.
He ran and boosted himself across the gap to the next roof and kept sprinting, ignoring the constant pain in his chest.
Hooray for mortal enemies!
I would be honored to murder the everloving shit out of your parents.
Boy, if I had a nickle for every time I've said that...
Boy, if I had a nickle for every time I've said that...
He was already ready for her to follow him, so when he heard her land on the roof he threw a fireball behind him, not really planning on hitting anything, just hoping to slow her down a few paces. He got to the end of the roof he was sprinting across and turned, seeing the girl sprinting across at him. He began launching orb after orb at her rapidly, spreading them out sporadically to make them all more difficult to dodge.
Grundy didn't sleep, so it wouldn't do to say that he woke up. Something more like he regained control of his body, and the pain had returned. Nothing specifically hurt, but it was the pain of a death that was still trying to claim his broken, withered body. He found himself wrapped up and in a cool place, and for a brief moment he feared that he was back where he had awoken. The awful hole where he had spent an unknowable amount of time, slowly letting his humanity slip away into horrible darkness. He moved to break free, and his arm tore through what was wrapped around him.
He tore the rest off and sat up. It was a dimly light office, with several tables surrounding him each with different equipment on it. There was no one else in the room with him, but there was a large observing window cut into the wall, and Grundy could see movement on the other side. There were several people studying something on a computer screen, their backs to the room. He ripped off the rest of the body bag, got off the table and began walking towards the window.
“What's the deal with the mask?”
“I dunno. We aren't supposed to actually touch anything on the...*thing* until the specialist shows up.”
“Specialist?”
“Yeah. I guess we're calling someone who might actually know what to make of a shambling corpse.”
“Wait, that thing was moving?”
“Yeah, offed 3 people in Central Park this afternoon.”
“Bull--”
And Grundy smashed through the window, grabbing each of them around the neck with one hand and smashing their faces through the screen in front of them. For good measure, he squeezed until he heard the soft popping of bone shattering. He looked around to make sure he didn't miss anyone before he began to feed. As he did, he felt the pain slip away like the tide.
He tore the rest off and sat up. It was a dimly light office, with several tables surrounding him each with different equipment on it. There was no one else in the room with him, but there was a large observing window cut into the wall, and Grundy could see movement on the other side. There were several people studying something on a computer screen, their backs to the room. He ripped off the rest of the body bag, got off the table and began walking towards the window.
“What's the deal with the mask?”
“I dunno. We aren't supposed to actually touch anything on the...*thing* until the specialist shows up.”
“Specialist?”
“Yeah. I guess we're calling someone who might actually know what to make of a shambling corpse.”
“Wait, that thing was moving?”
“Yeah, offed 3 people in Central Park this afternoon.”
“Bull--”
And Grundy smashed through the window, grabbing each of them around the neck with one hand and smashing their faces through the screen in front of them. For good measure, he squeezed until he heard the soft popping of bone shattering. He looked around to make sure he didn't miss anyone before he began to feed. As he did, he felt the pain slip away like the tide.
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