Avatar of Hillan

Status

Recent Statuses

5 mos ago
Current "When you have an unfair system the only thing you have to do in order for that system to be used against you, is to wait."
2 likes
10 mos ago
Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All of that blood was never once beautiful. It was just red.
8 likes
10 mos ago
Oh sorry. I read the question wrong. 1's actually my social security number.
1 like
10 mos ago
1
4 likes
10 mos ago
The phallic stimulation toy of consequence rarely arrives pre-lubricated.
8 likes

Bio

I have 3 mottos here in life, really.




Most Recent Posts

So, I think I will, unfortunately, have to bow out. I do apologize if this inconveniences anyone. If it makes things easier, I can write an exit post for JD no problem. I'm just not sure I have it in me to fulfill my end of the commitment anymore, especially not with how my mental health is keeping me from posting when I'd like to.


Take care, man. I'll write an exit for you so you don't have to deal with the stress of it all. Look out for yourself buddy.

<Snipped quote by Hillan>
Before their next mission, Hana discovers that all the windows weirdly have magnetized locks on them. Huh?

Littles does Julian know, she paused to find out where the heck she was headed and was consistently turned around by her GPS telling her to turn left at a coffee shop... only for there to be coffee shops at every corner.


"Hey, Hana, uh. How aren't you here yet?"

I realized I needed a day to discuss the actual scenes with @Sep for the mission. So if you want, have people react to the teams. Or the tech. Or Julian's goofy ass. Or DandyDog. And we'll /actually/ move the plot along tomorrow.
Virdeus




He shoved Vincent, playfully. Guy was being a dick. But maybe that kind of swift, metaphorical kick in the ribs was exactly what Julian needed. He was their leader, he couldn't let his own fear get in the way. He had to motivate these young heroes. He had to guide and lead them. He had to move them like chess pieces on a boar-

Hana blasted out of the window as Julian turned around, stuck in thought. He let out a shout after the green-lantern, throwing his hand out as if he would be able to catch her - not with the 10 karat weight on his finger. A hand that was now also the home to the small paper dinosaur thanks to Hayden.

"Hana!" He shouted, but she was already gone. He mouthed 'fuck' under his breath, before he assured everyone else that it would be fine anyway, even if Julian himself was a lot more worried than he wanted to let on. He quickly moved to his quarters, where all he picked up was a pair of fine leather gloves and a black leather briefcase with titanium hinges and some kind of biometrical lock on the front. He moved to the workshop where Conor had already begun introductions of their little project. But Julian would take tone and explain properly - he couldn't have his Renegades think this was just magic mumbo-jumbo, there was real science and elbow grease in this project.

He made sure Cece wasn't recording any of this - he didn't have the patent figured out just yet. And it was pretty bad if anyone of their soon-to-be enemies would get the brilliant idea to copy this.

Conor explained the tracking system, how they all had their chosen places to be brought back to, to avoid uh, 'particle fusion', Julian dubbed it. Which would be a lot less cool than it sounded. The tests on organic matter Julian had done weren't exactly pleasant. But, hey, if the Justice League could put teleportation tubes in just about every city in the world, there was no reason Julian couldn't build it here.

"This utilizes Kent Nelson JR's thesis on Magitech, his decertation explains in great detail how magic could - or might, interfere with Magic. Something tells me that the grandson of Doctor Fate would be something of an authority on the matter- especially after he donned the gold-bucket himself a couple of times."

"But, as I care about the well being of you guys, and myself. Yeah, even you, Vinny. I didn't just stop there by reading the Lord of Order's ideas on Magitech. I also studied Adam Strange and Ray Palmer's Zeta Beam theory. Even took a field trip to the Hall of Justice to do some scans. Swanky stuff, really. Really exciting." Julian continued.
"You've all been gifted with a tracking chip, Vincent was first, and I didn't just mark him like a stray dog for fun. No offense, Dandelion... But rather because it presented me with the unique opportunity to see how the Lexcorp and Wayne Industries satellites I've 'borrowed' would do with tracking someone who can walk out a door in one end of the building and wind up four blocks over, stepping out of a bathtub."

"Long story short. This is some really advanced teleportation. With pinpoint accuracy, frankly, it surpasses the League's own capabilities." He caught himself, in overexplaining something that frankly, most of his cohorts probably didn't give a damn about. All of that Luthor-brand bravado he had just worked up collapsed on it's own shaky legs as Julian blushed a little upon realizing he was going 'full Julian' as Conor and Vincent both had said on multiple accounts.

"The team that goes to the bank's gonna be hot. They have disabled the security cameras, so we are now blind. They are strong, and dangerous. I've sent out a beacon to the League, so if we end up being outgunned, we're playing keep away till someone wearing a big blue and red S can arrive for backup."

Speaking off, he blipped his phone. "Conor, Redmond, Eilid, Charity, Vincent... And Dandelion.". He couldn't let Dandelion out into the public in case they had to change forms, the bank was far more restricted from prying eyes. Besides, he was curious to see what the alien could do. He pointed at them all one by one, as the designation they stood on slightly vibrated, he himself walked up to his own, the rune glowing under the weight of his foot. "You're with me. We're Alpha squad. We are going into the bank. Securing Booster Gold and any of the other hostages is what's important. The money's insured."

"Gabriella, Hayden, Varo, Kevin, Jonathan and Roy, you're Beta squad. You're saving the hostages at the Police Department. Preservation of life is priority number one. Fighting is secondary. When you clean it up, you come and help us at the bank." He made sure everyone present understood their mission. He sure wished Hana hadn't gone off on her own.
It was Uncle Hotch's Hootchshack, the dodgiest establishment to get your beak wet in all of the state of Californa far from the buzz of the cities. There were no movies made and no stars born here. It resided in the city of Grainesville - population 4006. A small town where dreams go to die. And frankly, that was exactly what had happened to the man in the black leather jacket sitting at the bar, ordering his fourth glass of whiskey in the 20 minutes he had been seated here. The Hootchshack had sprung up during prohibition, a place to sell illegal moonshine under the radar - the original owner, Uncle Hotch, was the brother of the Sheriff, as well as father to four of the small town's deputies. No federal agent would be let anywhere near it, so it had a long history of operating under the table.

But once the World War swept in and Prohibition ended, the shack became more of a bar instead - much like it was now. Just that it had gotten a lot shittier in the past 80 years. The air was stale and a scent of sand and sweat lingered. It would've stung the eyes of the man, if he hadn't gotten here by riding his motorcycle without any goggles on. Sand bothered him extremely little these days. Nothing really bothered him. His name was Johnny Blaze. The undead stuntrider - bounty hunter from hell and number one on Heaven's Hit List. He was a lot of things to a lot of people. He was a son, husband, father and brother. And he had failed everyone who called him those things. That was why he was here, perhaps.

He had rode here from the battle. It was still on the news. Casualties in the hundreds of thousands, and many, many more were still missing. The battle of Detroit. The sorcerer with the fancy cape was dead - so was the Billionaire man in the metal suit. Banner's mind is in greater fractures than when he was green. The short, angry mutant with the pointy bones had been burnt all the way down to his imbued bones, and regrown from those. There were more examples of Johnny's failure, 406 thousand and forty seven, was the confirmed number. He hadn't even changed his clothes. He still wore the shirt under his zipped up jacket that was covered in the blood of the 9 year old girl who had gotten torn to shreds by the demons that crawled out of the hole created by Zarathos. The demon had brought hell to earth. Johnny thought he could deal with it.

But he was wrong.
God, why did he have to be wrong. He had stopped Lucifer, he had outwitter Mephisto. Yet, the demon that beats him is the same one that had been riding shotgun with him for the past 20 years. The demon he summoned to his aid when his father was killed. Zarathos gave him the power of the Ghost Rider. Helped him kill the wicked and create justice in the world. All Johnny had brought to the world was chaos and destruction.

He slammed the glass down, ordering another double of scotch. The bartender walked over and poured, not speaking a word to the dirty biker with the empty eyes. Behind them, Johnny could hear two other, younger, dumber bikers - part of the 'California Devils' band of bikers, arguing. The bartender had a concerened look at both of the gentlemen, each had a pistol in their waistband and knives in their boots. Johnny didn't care, he needed to drink. the TV continued to play the footage from the scene in Detroit. The destruction, the remnants of Demons and people alike.

He felt it boil inside of him, his left hand was tucked inside of his jacket, resting. The bartender asked noticed it, and spoke up.

"Uh, so, what's with your arm?" Johnny looked at him and scoffed.

"Fell on my bike, hurt it kinda bad."

"Oh, I understand. Partaking in the oldest form of pain medicine, I see." As he finished the pour, Johnny's free hand grabbed the bottle, he wasn't done.

"You sure you can pay for that?"

Johnny produced a 200 bill from the inside of his pocket and the bartender shrugged, keeping an eye on the argument behind Johnny. They were getting loud.

"Fuck you Bill you stupid son of a bitch. You really think Poker's played with six cards?!"

"Oh yeah, ask your rocket scientist wife if I was so dumb last night, then Teddy. This is how poker's meant to be played."

Johnny looked up at the TV, took a big swig from his bottle and shook his head. Teddy reached for the knife in his boot to punish William for what he had just said. They were friends and brothers in the gang for the past 15 years, but he was angry and willing to throw it all away. A sentiment shared across the room.

Johnny stood up, his left hand still inside of his jacket as he swaggered towards the men.
"You're loud. Show some respect."

Bill and Teddy stopped, each at the other's throat.
"And who the fuck are you?" Bill asked, Johnny shrugged.

"Just a drifter. In need of a drink and some peace and quiet."

"Well, you better get your peace and quiet somewhere else. This bar belongs to the California Devils, and I don't see no patch on your jacket."

"The bartender seems to dislike you two being here, so I think you're full of shit. But, if you insist, I'd be more than happy to have you two escort me out of here." Johnny said, slurring his words slightly.

Bill looked at Ted, and then back at Johnny, getting up, he pulled his knife and attacked Johnny. A stab in the air, Johnny had taken a step to the side, twisted his body to make himself a smaller target and found the bottle swining down at the side of Bill's face, hitting him with the broader side of the rectangular orange glass. The bottle held together as Bill hit the floor, crawliong back up onto his feet as Johnny took another swig, Bill lead with the knife, Johnny spun on his heels, hitting Bill with the bottle straight in the face, shattering the bottle and breaking his nose as well as the lip of the other biker. The scent of blood filled the air. Johnny, still only using one arm, threw the broken bottle aside, waiting to see what Teddy would do. He threw a chair at Johnny, who got hit and braced for it with his shoulder, getting knocked off balanced, Teddy swung at him, hitting him in the jaw, Johnny winced.

"So fuckin' tough, huh?!" Teddy readied his guard and Johnny took a step back, the pool cue was on the floor, knocked over from the stand on the wall. He flung it at Teddy who caught it and intended to use it as a weapon, only to be met with the one-armed biker's fist breaking through the wood and hitting him in the face. Knocking him out over the table.

Johnny returned to the Bartender with his eyes, whom was looking both scared and excited that someone came and kicked the assholes behinds, but was afraid of the consequences of this. The Devils weren't nice people, and didn't take kindly to someone roughing up their boys - even if they were low lives like William and Theodore Barkly - the idiot cousins.

"Sorry about the mess." Johnny apologized, as the Bartender was getting ready to shout at him to get out of this place, a bullet rang out through the air. Piercing Johnny's stomach - from the downward angle, and hitting the bartender in the head, killing him instantly on the ricochet.

On the floor, the bleeding, bordering on unconscious heap of a man - William laid. His .45 in his hand. Shaking.

"You're toasted, you drunk motherfucker..." As Johnny winced from his bullet wound.

Fire burned in his right eye for a second. He stood back up as the flames grew in power from his eye.

"I'm drunk today, William Barkley..." Johnny's voice had a gravitas the hollow-biker hadn't had before. Something spoke from inside of him, using his voice simply as a vessel, as he slowly turned around.

"But, tomorrow I'll be sober. And you'll still be roasted." Pulling his hand from inside of his jacket, the hand was nothing but bones, grpping the handle of a sawed off double barreled shotgun. Fire burning in his face, as his skin was peeling around his right eye. Johnny pulled the trigger, and a pillar of hellfire erupted from the gun, searing William and Theodore to nothing, burning away their very soul. No heaven, no hell. Nothing. Leaving behind nothing but the Bill's hand that was holding the gun that hit the floor with a cold, metallic sound as the fire spread across the Hotchshack.

Johnny had one shell left. Zarathos was still alive, and he had to change that.

He walked away from the inferno of his own creation, and soon the roar of his engine the only noise he would hear.

Also, I might write a fluffier post for Julian without moving the plot forward too much, cuz I wanna give the late-ies till Monday to reply. But hopefully give people something more to respond to if nothing else. Might solve some of the writers blockage going on.

Someone plz post more. I am not working this weekend but I’m stuck in bed, sick. Plz entertain.


Who trapped you in bed? Ancient magiks, or is this a hostage situation?
<Snipped quote by Hillan>

Smells like teen spirit.


Smells like ritual teen suicide spirit.
<Snipped quote by Hillan>

I typed it up through tears


That's the spirit.
Let's get to saving this bank! They've been held hostage for days now hahaa


We show up at the bank and everyone's starved.
© 2007-2025
BBCode Cheatsheet