Dioxide — Roleplayer Guild

“Gosh, there are a lot of people here…”

Gretchen headed a soup kitchen near the south side of Fortitude City. It was one of the poorer areas where age expectancy declined every other year because of how impoverished everyone was there – a stark contrast to the advanced and busy rest of Fortitude City. Naturally the University’s Society Reach-out volunteer group and the board of committees sought to help out with recreational neighbourhood activities, community services and even fundraising. Gretchen, president of aforementioned group, took charge and with the aid of contacts and backers, a soup kitchen was found. With the work everyone was putting into making a better environment, positive changes were starting to be seen. It was considered negligible at first – that “you’re not solving the root of the issues” – but one has to initiate the change, and over time it will. 

Hiccups are expected, of course, and when the fire east side of Estria broke out, the soup kitchen just got busier. For the amount of good work that they put to making this part of the city a better place, a balance in the universe seems to counter act this. What a Kansailian way of thinking. 

Though that wasn’t fair, principally, since there was not much good work done yet. It really could all be negligible, but somebody has to help – and right now, there was a queue going back two blocks. The warehouse was what it was, a warehouse, but it also housed many of the homeless, and unfortunately harboured and fostered criminals and bad blood. 

Now here she was, working at the frontlines ladling cream soup to an ocean of tattered, patchy clothes and perpetually dirty faces and hair. It was a sad sight to see, and it didn’t help to see families in here. It took a brave and great heart to really extend time of your life to help the misfortunate, but Gretchen and her team of volunteers have all but heart and care to give. The chefs worked furiously to replenish the food that would vanish in seconds, but there was no quarrel; in fact, the homeless sat around quietly, prioritizing feeding their children and queueing back in line for more. All of this was for free, but the gratitude and generosity paid for it all knowing these people were, for a while, taken care of. 

A familiar face was next in the queue. It was Mrs. McHaggison and she had with her a little boy dirtied with ash and rubble, held by her hand by the hunched old lady. 

“Hi Mrs. McHaggison! Who’s this? Why, aren’t you adorable?” where by the little boy smiled - a tooth missing but was as beautiful as any child could be. He looked no older than seven years old. 

“This little guy is Max. Say hello!” To Gretchen directly, she said: “I found him playing round on a pile of debris and I thought to bring him here where we might find his parents.” 

“You’re really pretty,” spoke the little boy with a high voice. “She really is,” as Mrs McHaggison agreed, a closed-lip, genuine smile so warm and motherly, a gentle gesture for all the times Gretchen helped her. 

“Thank you, Max. You’re really brave, you know that? But let’s not hold the line. Here’s a bowl of soup for you and Mrs McHaggison. Sit tight, your parents should be here soon. I’ll keep an eye out for them myself.” The boy seemed to blush as Gretchen assured him with a wide grin. Really, if it wasn’t for her frequent appearance in the kitchen and her recently gained friends amongst this community, she would seem out of place. She looked ‘too beautiful’ to be in the suburbs, whatever that meant. It attracts the male elderly to come by and help out, if not just to get to see her every other time. 

It was the middle of the day, and Gretchen allowed for some of the staff to go on break once the crowd settled down. Some were trying to liven up the sullen surroundings by playing music. The sounds of the rhythmic harmonica and children dancing and laughing made Gretchen feel good and proud of the work she and her team did. “One step at a time,” she thought.

All seemed to go well until screams and metal clattering sounded and everyone turned their attention to the direction of noise, the kitchen was being robbed. .. again. 

Gretchen rushed to the kitchen. Several capable men came behind her as she entered to see the sight of a few members writhing in pain. The door further back slammed shut and one could faintly yelling and berating, to “hurry the hell up.” Someone else was missing; Vix, she must have tried to stop the robbers outside.

Some of the homeless went to tend to her teammates, while Gretchen rushed and slammed her shoulder to the door, only to exclaim in pain. The broken door had a tendency to lock itself hard, and now was not a good time.  She could hear more screaming and the rev of an old car engine that needed time to really get going. 

At a hunch, she hoped to recreate the thing she did back at her dorm. She wanted to forget it as a freak moment to never happen again, but she could not leave her friend out there. She backed away from the door, and focused all she could, however she could, onto her right hand. Nothing seemed to happen at first when her hands started to shine brightly, like a glow stick at night - except, it kept growing brighter. 

However she did it, a beam of whatever shot out from her hand and evaporated the door knob. There was burned wood and red hot metal from where most of the lock mechanism was, and the door swung open. She jump back, shocked to see what she’d just done, and the beam stopped. In its place of where the beam was shot, a rainbow gaseous beam of light lingered. She spared no time to wonder at what she just did, however, as she saw the car outside start to drive away. Without serious thought, she threw her arm and aimed a beam at the car. What she just did looked like a shot from a railgun, and she burnt out the car’s right back tire. It slowed, but managed to turn the corner. There goes most of the food for the day. Another rainbow trail, wider and way longer, appeared where the beam was shot, from her hand to the darkened part of asphalt she hit. 

She leaned on the door frame, and was only brought back to attention when Vix, on the ground, spoke. “Gretch, your hand is glowing… Are you okay? What was that? How did you do that?”

She had no idea. 

“Uhm...  just keep this between us, please.”

Whatever was happening to her, she knew better not to tell more people about it. Bad enough that she did it in public, but fortunately only Vix knew, and the two knew they had to talk about it. 

“Don’t worry, Gretchen, just another hiccup. It’ll be alright... I hope…”
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