I now understand how you can hate someone you've never met. Tell your sister she's the reason the world fell into ruin, @HenryJonesJr.
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Most Recent Posts
With the twins from Apokalypse.
Also, your bio didn't include that arc that we worked out on Discord in Grayson's history.
Ha! Wraith!
Sorry for the delay folks, had something of a very hectic week IRL
@Lightning and @GreenGrenade your sheets are accepted.
Unfortunately at this stage if you haven't been contacted elsewhere with prompts as to your sheet, we've declined your character. Sorry to do so in a blanket manner but time ran away from me.
If you'd like to apply with a different sheet, please feel free to do so.
Yeah. Just writing.
I dunno. The world's in ruins.
Two hours and three minutes 'til chaos.
That man died so that we all may live. (& Yes)
I see where you're coming from, but to be honest, I really love this game. Plus, you already have it set up so that if we lose momentum, the game ends itself with the world sinking into a quagmire of chaos. Even if you choose not to run another one like this, I would really love to finish this one out. We never finish stuff. And it's been so long since it felt like we were playing together instead of just writing next to each other.
Kingston, Jamaica
Exactly Where We Left Off
"Aye aye, Captain. It's too bad we don't have any allies with teleportation or fast travel capabilities onhand. No," he pauses, imagining himself taking a drag off a cigarette, "then it would be too damn easy. We'll have to make do with what we've got for now."
He swept the building with his echolocation, lapping up more of that imaginary peanut butter. No signs of life: Damn. As he saw it, he had two options. One: Investigate the buildings insides to find valuable clues and evidence of who was behind this. Or Two: Risk security of this evidence by moving on to the next safehouse in spite of the fact that stragglers were unlikely to be found, because there is a colossally infinitesimal chance that they could technically be found.
"There's a safehouse about three miles north from where you're at," Coulson updates him. "I've got an unstable satellite image. It looks like there are fewer outside of this one than the one that you're at right now. Pretty convenient, huh?"
"Too convenient. Damn near provident."
I guess it's time to save the day. Daredevil collects the unconscious militants like trading cards before throwing them into the back of their own van like dodgeballs that don't want to bounce. He disarms them individually and collects their arsenal in the passenger seat. Then, to make sure none of them wake up and try anything effective, he floats over them, as they sleep like tired children (who've been beaten into submission), and he holds their hands in his own before pulling their fingers uncomfortably far back. So much so that Matthew the Catholic felt bad for them, especially when he heard that devastating crunch of things coming undone. He shuddered, but hey: The devil made him do it, right?
So he slams the back door shut and climbs back behind the wheel before making the wheels of the truck go round and round. Occasionally a few of the men would wake up and start crying about how he hadn't signed up for this and how shocking it was that Daredevil could call himself a hero. Then Matt would pull over, tell whoever was whining that he had signed up for all this and more when he decided to break international laws, and make sure he had internalized all this before knocking the crybaby out with his own broken fingers. After a demonstration or two, they'd learned to shut up.
On the way, one of the militants got curious and he began to whisper frantically to his comrades. They stopped when the wheels on the truck were no longer going round and round. The air filled with tension and the pungent smell of fresh piss. Then something else entered the truck, a question. A valid one: "Where are we going?"
Daredevil laughed maniacally as he threw his arms dramatically forward, suffocating the gas pedal underfoot and swerving all across the dirt road, diving into pot holes and soaring over hills. At that, Daredevil twists his neck like an owl to stare at his unfastened passengers and growls like a banshee: "Tell me who you work for and I'll let you out of the truck!"
"Eek!" the collective squeals. "The boss'll kill us!"
"We're driving seventy miles an hour on a dirt road. Intentionally or not, I'll kill you!" Then, he laughs again, "And I'll let you in on a little secret: I can't see where I'm going! Ah ha haha haha hahahaaughff! It's a miracle I haven't crashed. And your delicious little screams, well, they're only making it harder for me to drive."
Then he hears it, one of them opens his mouth and his heart flutters with truthfulness. He pushes his tongue against his lower lip before being head-butted by his comrade. They both bleed and scream and fight amongst themselves, but if they were going to do anything that would progress the plot, they were taking way too long. As he pulls over, he checks in on the Star Spangled Superhero, "What's it like on your end, Cap?"
Then, he slinks around the van to say one last thing to his little angels: "Looks like we've arrived at the next safehouse, boys. Daddy's got to go inside," with a sinister smile and lots of teeth exposed, he nods and giggles "so it's Nnnnnap Time!"
Exactly Where We Left Off
"Aye aye, Captain. It's too bad we don't have any allies with teleportation or fast travel capabilities onhand. No," he pauses, imagining himself taking a drag off a cigarette, "then it would be too damn easy. We'll have to make do with what we've got for now."
He swept the building with his echolocation, lapping up more of that imaginary peanut butter. No signs of life: Damn. As he saw it, he had two options. One: Investigate the buildings insides to find valuable clues and evidence of who was behind this. Or Two: Risk security of this evidence by moving on to the next safehouse in spite of the fact that stragglers were unlikely to be found, because there is a colossally infinitesimal chance that they could technically be found.
"There's a safehouse about three miles north from where you're at," Coulson updates him. "I've got an unstable satellite image. It looks like there are fewer outside of this one than the one that you're at right now. Pretty convenient, huh?"
"Too convenient. Damn near provident."
I guess it's time to save the day. Daredevil collects the unconscious militants like trading cards before throwing them into the back of their own van like dodgeballs that don't want to bounce. He disarms them individually and collects their arsenal in the passenger seat. Then, to make sure none of them wake up and try anything effective, he floats over them, as they sleep like tired children (who've been beaten into submission), and he holds their hands in his own before pulling their fingers uncomfortably far back. So much so that Matthew the Catholic felt bad for them, especially when he heard that devastating crunch of things coming undone. He shuddered, but hey: The devil made him do it, right?
So he slams the back door shut and climbs back behind the wheel before making the wheels of the truck go round and round. Occasionally a few of the men would wake up and start crying about how he hadn't signed up for this and how shocking it was that Daredevil could call himself a hero. Then Matt would pull over, tell whoever was whining that he had signed up for all this and more when he decided to break international laws, and make sure he had internalized all this before knocking the crybaby out with his own broken fingers. After a demonstration or two, they'd learned to shut up.
On the way, one of the militants got curious and he began to whisper frantically to his comrades. They stopped when the wheels on the truck were no longer going round and round. The air filled with tension and the pungent smell of fresh piss. Then something else entered the truck, a question. A valid one: "Where are we going?"
"To Hell! Bwa ha ha ha haha ha haha haha!"
Daredevil laughed maniacally as he threw his arms dramatically forward, suffocating the gas pedal underfoot and swerving all across the dirt road, diving into pot holes and soaring over hills. At that, Daredevil twists his neck like an owl to stare at his unfastened passengers and growls like a banshee: "Tell me who you work for and I'll let you out of the truck!"
"Eek!" the collective squeals. "The boss'll kill us!"
"We're driving seventy miles an hour on a dirt road. Intentionally or not, I'll kill you!" Then, he laughs again, "And I'll let you in on a little secret: I can't see where I'm going! Ah ha haha haha hahahaaughff! It's a miracle I haven't crashed. And your delicious little screams, well, they're only making it harder for me to drive."
Then he hears it, one of them opens his mouth and his heart flutters with truthfulness. He pushes his tongue against his lower lip before being head-butted by his comrade. They both bleed and scream and fight amongst themselves, but if they were going to do anything that would progress the plot, they were taking way too long. As he pulls over, he checks in on the Star Spangled Superhero, "What's it like on your end, Cap?"
Then, he slinks around the van to say one last thing to his little angels: "Looks like we've arrived at the next safehouse, boys. Daddy's got to go inside," with a sinister smile and lots of teeth exposed, he nods and giggles "so it's Nnnnnap Time!"
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