IVIasterJay Member
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- Old Guild Username: IVIasterJay
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- IVIasterJay 11 yrs ago
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If every WMD was powered by WD40, there would be a lot more WMDs in my grandfather's closet. Still, it is amazing how easy it is to make something terrifyingly deadly out of everyday materials.
*BEEEEEEEEP*
“Emily, get out of bed already. Food’s ready!”
Ian pulled open the microwave door and grabbed the bowl inside. Grabbing two bottles of water from the very nearly empty case, Ian walked up the stairs that led to the second floor. From there he carried his breakfast to the table that sat on the house’s small second floor balcony. The overhang from the roof kept the sitting are dry despite the slight rain. He put opened one bottle of water for himself and set the other on the opposite side of the little table. Canned mac and cheese was good cold, but it was even better hot. “Talk about a life of luxury,” Ian said to no one. He was completely alone.
The people who owned this house were most likely dead. There was no other reason they wouldn’t have returned that Ian could think of, especially when theirs was the only house around that still had some power. He’d gotten lucky when he’d seen the sunlight glinting off the black solar panel affixed to the building’s roof. The front door was broken and it looked like someone had looted anything of value from the home, but the door was easily barricaded, and Ian didn’t care about anything material that wasn’t actively helping him stay alive. Mac and cheese. He cared about mac and cheese right now.
Ian took a small bottle from one of his many pockets and squeezed a few drops of a dark red liquid into his bottle of water. “Mio, what would I do without you?” He chuckled but was silenced as the sound of a jingling bell rang out from somewhere close. He waited a minute, and sure enough, from a nearby side street came a familiar shape. It was Mr. Smiley, the infected that had been following Ian for the past couple of days.
Ian waved to the impotent predator, knowing full well that it could not see him. Mr. Smiley was named that because Ian had sprayed a yellow and black smiley face over its own. Ian washed down his breakfast with a gulp of cherry-flavored water. The smiling face was merely decoration; the true mask was beneath the paint. A thick loop of duct tape to keep its jaws closed, spray its face with enough spray-on rubber to keep it from seeing or smelling anything, do the same on its ears, and then wrap the entire head with duct tape to keep the mask of rubber on. He’d done the same with its hands, though he’d added handcuffs and another layer of tape beneath the spray-on rubber.
Mr. Smiley turned and started walking down the road towards where Ian was. The bell tied around the infected’s ankle jingled with each step. He wasn’t entirely sold on the bell. Sure, it did make it easier to know where the infected was, but it came with a nasty drawback. Ian dived back inside the house as a crowd of infected emerged from the road Mr. Smiley had come from. The noise from the bell seemed to attract other infected thinking it was a literal dinner bell.
Ian left the bowl and the second, untouched bottle of water and ran back downstairs to grab his things. All of those infected would pass right by this house is less than a minute. In other words, he needed to be gone fast. His machete was still at his side; Ian only took it off to cut something or to sleep. Ian kept everything else with his bag, which he’d left…
Ian burst into the bedroom and grabbed his bag from where he’d hidden it under the bed. A quick check showed him that everything was exactly as he’d left it. Ian had been late to the party that was looting every store in the city for supplies, but he’d made out with plenty of less apparently useful supplies. Ian’s pack was stuffed full of spray cans of every sort imaginable. There were cans of spray paint, hairspray, spray-on rubber, hornet spray, and even a bright red fire extinguisher, its nozzle poked through to the outside of the bag. If one bug beneath all of the cans, they would find an equally startling amount of lighters, a few of the stick type but mostly the standard convenience store variety. And that wasn’t even the most questionable contents of the pack; it also contained two pairs of handcuffs from the local sex toy store which unfortunately had unadvertised quick-release mechanisms that had to be removed before the cuffs were any use, some ball gags from the same store that fortunately required no modification to use, a multitude of sharpened metal pieces wrapped in strips of rubber, a piece of rubber tubing, rolls of duct tape, and one pair of real handcuffs from the police station. One of the cops there had still had his with him when he’d been eaten alive by the infected. He’d died too quickly to become an infected, though it probably hadn’t felt quick for him. Ian had actually scored three pairs of cuffs from that little trip downtown, but one was now holding Mr. Smiley’s wrists and another now hung uselessly from another infected’s wrist.
Ian ran to the kitchen and threw the two remaining cans of mac and cheese and three remaining bottles of water into his bag before bolting up the stairs and slipping out the bedroom window to get to the roof. He checked his watch to see how long it had taken him to be gone. “Twenty seconds give or take. Not bad.” Just as he said it, he heard an infected hit the barricaded front door. It was difficult to stay in one place too long and not leave a scent, and days without a shower were not helping that problem any. Smoke began to rise from the front of the house, the sign that an infected had made it past the barricade and had set off the fire trap. A lighter and a bucket of gasoline was too rich a gift for an infected, but it was something Ian had to do. He was laughing hysterically as he brought up his hood and mask to cover his face. Just another day in paradise.
Ian ran down the center of the road with a good chunk of the swarm that had been following the infected that had been following him now directly chasing him. “See, isn’t it so much easier without the middleman?” The infected weren’t much for conversation. Ian dodged into an alley, jumped onto a trash can, and grabbed the rail of the fire escape. The infected tried following, but Ian had purposefully jumped up on the opposite side of the escape than where the ladder pulled down from. He was already three floors up and jumping over to the next building by the time the infected finally managed to get the ladder down. Their bodies might recover over and over after dying, but their brains were another story.
Ian was sitting with his legs hanging over the edge of the top of the building where he’d stored his extra supplies when the speakers all over the city suddenly blared to life. What new development was this? Ian was only half paying attention to what the man speaking to the city was actually saying though, the other half of his attention watching the poor little girl who had found herself in the street when the speaking man had decided to speak. She was most certainly going to be dead quite soon. If she was lucky the infected would eat enough of her so that she didn’t come back. If she was unlucky… Well, then Ian would try out his next method of rendering an infected harmless on her. She was pretty enough, and to be frank he felt middle-aged men were grossly overrepresented among the infected. Apparently they enjoyed eating their wives more than their wives enjoyed eating them. Ian laughed and resumed watching the girl’s death.
The girl was quick thinking; he had to give her that. Diving into a store was her best chance of surviving. Ian felt that she made a poor choice on running to the door she did, as a boarded up place with the shutters mostly up would likely be locked tight, but to his surprise the door opened for her and she managed to keep the infected out to boot. Unfortunately for her, someone else had chosen that exact store to hide in. “A girl versus an older man, I wonder which will kill the other. If this was a fighting game I would be playing the guy and Emily would be playing the girl and she would kick my ass, so I think I’ll bet on the girl.” Ian knew how terrifying a girl could be when she needed to; after all he did have a sister at home.
That infected was still banging on the door too loudly, and there was a whole swarm around the now-silent speaker. Ian felt the sudden urge to introduce himself to this new crowd of infected. If he burned them over and over, he might be able to test if the infected were capable of learning. Ian pulled his legs back onto the rooftop and pulled his pride and joy favorite toy from the top of the pile. It was a length of PVC pipe, almost three feet long with a narrow barrel and a fat canister-like body with a red button duct taped to the top. One of the rubber-wrapped pieces of metal was already loaded into the narrow end. Ian unscrewed the back end and sprayed inside with one of his cans of WD40.
A tiny red dot appeared next to the head of the infected that was trying to get into the store, but the dot quickly moved over to sit right at the base of the infected’s neck. Ian pressed the red button and the sound of an explosion filled the air, nearly loud enough to drown out the sound of the chosen infected’s head being blown off. Ian would never call his grandfather’s tinkering or the hardware store boring ever again. “This thing fucking rocks!”
Ian whistled down at the infected, but any that hadn’t turned after the shockwave from the air cannon likely weren’t infected and were merely normal dead people standing up. Unfortunately, the air cannon was too much of a pain to reload for multiple shots, otherwise Ian would have loved nothing more to have rained down heavy artillery fire all day long. Still, it wasn’t often a crowd of infected gathered right below where he stashed the fun stuff.
Ian lugged a heavy plastic sealed bucket over to the edge of the roof. He removed the two bottles that he’d duct taped to its cover for safe keeping and set those aside. He’d probably end up tossing them into his pack. The bucket fell to the ground far below and exploded, spraying liquid and goop everywhere, covering the nearest infected completely. The trio of dropped lighters, kept lit by simple tape, was all it took to turn the street into a firestorm or gasoline and napalm.
Ian ran down the building’s fire escape five steps at a time, falling more than running down stairs, until he jumped down to street level. The infected were in chaos, or at least those not downed by the unextinguishing flames. It seemed only right to give them some sense of order back since he was the one who had caused them to be in such a state. “Hey-lo good sirs and sir-ettes. Would you like to grab a bite to eat? I know of a really good place, and it isn’t even very far.” Ian sprayed the first infected that rushed at him with wasp killer in the eyes and then brought his machete down for its arm as the blinded infected just barely missed tackling him. “Free food! Follow meeeeeeeee!” Ian sprinted away with his arms out like he was a kid pretending to be an airplane, laughing freely as the ravenous predators closed the gap between them and him with startling speed. The only infected still outside the store now would be burning for a good long while even with the light rain.
“Emily, get out of bed already. Food’s ready!”
Ian pulled open the microwave door and grabbed the bowl inside. Grabbing two bottles of water from the very nearly empty case, Ian walked up the stairs that led to the second floor. From there he carried his breakfast to the table that sat on the house’s small second floor balcony. The overhang from the roof kept the sitting are dry despite the slight rain. He put opened one bottle of water for himself and set the other on the opposite side of the little table. Canned mac and cheese was good cold, but it was even better hot. “Talk about a life of luxury,” Ian said to no one. He was completely alone.
The people who owned this house were most likely dead. There was no other reason they wouldn’t have returned that Ian could think of, especially when theirs was the only house around that still had some power. He’d gotten lucky when he’d seen the sunlight glinting off the black solar panel affixed to the building’s roof. The front door was broken and it looked like someone had looted anything of value from the home, but the door was easily barricaded, and Ian didn’t care about anything material that wasn’t actively helping him stay alive. Mac and cheese. He cared about mac and cheese right now.
Ian took a small bottle from one of his many pockets and squeezed a few drops of a dark red liquid into his bottle of water. “Mio, what would I do without you?” He chuckled but was silenced as the sound of a jingling bell rang out from somewhere close. He waited a minute, and sure enough, from a nearby side street came a familiar shape. It was Mr. Smiley, the infected that had been following Ian for the past couple of days.
Ian waved to the impotent predator, knowing full well that it could not see him. Mr. Smiley was named that because Ian had sprayed a yellow and black smiley face over its own. Ian washed down his breakfast with a gulp of cherry-flavored water. The smiling face was merely decoration; the true mask was beneath the paint. A thick loop of duct tape to keep its jaws closed, spray its face with enough spray-on rubber to keep it from seeing or smelling anything, do the same on its ears, and then wrap the entire head with duct tape to keep the mask of rubber on. He’d done the same with its hands, though he’d added handcuffs and another layer of tape beneath the spray-on rubber.
Mr. Smiley turned and started walking down the road towards where Ian was. The bell tied around the infected’s ankle jingled with each step. He wasn’t entirely sold on the bell. Sure, it did make it easier to know where the infected was, but it came with a nasty drawback. Ian dived back inside the house as a crowd of infected emerged from the road Mr. Smiley had come from. The noise from the bell seemed to attract other infected thinking it was a literal dinner bell.
Ian left the bowl and the second, untouched bottle of water and ran back downstairs to grab his things. All of those infected would pass right by this house is less than a minute. In other words, he needed to be gone fast. His machete was still at his side; Ian only took it off to cut something or to sleep. Ian kept everything else with his bag, which he’d left…
Ian burst into the bedroom and grabbed his bag from where he’d hidden it under the bed. A quick check showed him that everything was exactly as he’d left it. Ian had been late to the party that was looting every store in the city for supplies, but he’d made out with plenty of less apparently useful supplies. Ian’s pack was stuffed full of spray cans of every sort imaginable. There were cans of spray paint, hairspray, spray-on rubber, hornet spray, and even a bright red fire extinguisher, its nozzle poked through to the outside of the bag. If one bug beneath all of the cans, they would find an equally startling amount of lighters, a few of the stick type but mostly the standard convenience store variety. And that wasn’t even the most questionable contents of the pack; it also contained two pairs of handcuffs from the local sex toy store which unfortunately had unadvertised quick-release mechanisms that had to be removed before the cuffs were any use, some ball gags from the same store that fortunately required no modification to use, a multitude of sharpened metal pieces wrapped in strips of rubber, a piece of rubber tubing, rolls of duct tape, and one pair of real handcuffs from the police station. One of the cops there had still had his with him when he’d been eaten alive by the infected. He’d died too quickly to become an infected, though it probably hadn’t felt quick for him. Ian had actually scored three pairs of cuffs from that little trip downtown, but one was now holding Mr. Smiley’s wrists and another now hung uselessly from another infected’s wrist.
Ian ran to the kitchen and threw the two remaining cans of mac and cheese and three remaining bottles of water into his bag before bolting up the stairs and slipping out the bedroom window to get to the roof. He checked his watch to see how long it had taken him to be gone. “Twenty seconds give or take. Not bad.” Just as he said it, he heard an infected hit the barricaded front door. It was difficult to stay in one place too long and not leave a scent, and days without a shower were not helping that problem any. Smoke began to rise from the front of the house, the sign that an infected had made it past the barricade and had set off the fire trap. A lighter and a bucket of gasoline was too rich a gift for an infected, but it was something Ian had to do. He was laughing hysterically as he brought up his hood and mask to cover his face. Just another day in paradise.
Ian ran down the center of the road with a good chunk of the swarm that had been following the infected that had been following him now directly chasing him. “See, isn’t it so much easier without the middleman?” The infected weren’t much for conversation. Ian dodged into an alley, jumped onto a trash can, and grabbed the rail of the fire escape. The infected tried following, but Ian had purposefully jumped up on the opposite side of the escape than where the ladder pulled down from. He was already three floors up and jumping over to the next building by the time the infected finally managed to get the ladder down. Their bodies might recover over and over after dying, but their brains were another story.
Ian was sitting with his legs hanging over the edge of the top of the building where he’d stored his extra supplies when the speakers all over the city suddenly blared to life. What new development was this? Ian was only half paying attention to what the man speaking to the city was actually saying though, the other half of his attention watching the poor little girl who had found herself in the street when the speaking man had decided to speak. She was most certainly going to be dead quite soon. If she was lucky the infected would eat enough of her so that she didn’t come back. If she was unlucky… Well, then Ian would try out his next method of rendering an infected harmless on her. She was pretty enough, and to be frank he felt middle-aged men were grossly overrepresented among the infected. Apparently they enjoyed eating their wives more than their wives enjoyed eating them. Ian laughed and resumed watching the girl’s death.
The girl was quick thinking; he had to give her that. Diving into a store was her best chance of surviving. Ian felt that she made a poor choice on running to the door she did, as a boarded up place with the shutters mostly up would likely be locked tight, but to his surprise the door opened for her and she managed to keep the infected out to boot. Unfortunately for her, someone else had chosen that exact store to hide in. “A girl versus an older man, I wonder which will kill the other. If this was a fighting game I would be playing the guy and Emily would be playing the girl and she would kick my ass, so I think I’ll bet on the girl.” Ian knew how terrifying a girl could be when she needed to; after all he did have a sister at home.
That infected was still banging on the door too loudly, and there was a whole swarm around the now-silent speaker. Ian felt the sudden urge to introduce himself to this new crowd of infected. If he burned them over and over, he might be able to test if the infected were capable of learning. Ian pulled his legs back onto the rooftop and pulled his pride and joy favorite toy from the top of the pile. It was a length of PVC pipe, almost three feet long with a narrow barrel and a fat canister-like body with a red button duct taped to the top. One of the rubber-wrapped pieces of metal was already loaded into the narrow end. Ian unscrewed the back end and sprayed inside with one of his cans of WD40.
A tiny red dot appeared next to the head of the infected that was trying to get into the store, but the dot quickly moved over to sit right at the base of the infected’s neck. Ian pressed the red button and the sound of an explosion filled the air, nearly loud enough to drown out the sound of the chosen infected’s head being blown off. Ian would never call his grandfather’s tinkering or the hardware store boring ever again. “This thing fucking rocks!”
Ian whistled down at the infected, but any that hadn’t turned after the shockwave from the air cannon likely weren’t infected and were merely normal dead people standing up. Unfortunately, the air cannon was too much of a pain to reload for multiple shots, otherwise Ian would have loved nothing more to have rained down heavy artillery fire all day long. Still, it wasn’t often a crowd of infected gathered right below where he stashed the fun stuff.
Ian lugged a heavy plastic sealed bucket over to the edge of the roof. He removed the two bottles that he’d duct taped to its cover for safe keeping and set those aside. He’d probably end up tossing them into his pack. The bucket fell to the ground far below and exploded, spraying liquid and goop everywhere, covering the nearest infected completely. The trio of dropped lighters, kept lit by simple tape, was all it took to turn the street into a firestorm or gasoline and napalm.
Ian ran down the building’s fire escape five steps at a time, falling more than running down stairs, until he jumped down to street level. The infected were in chaos, or at least those not downed by the unextinguishing flames. It seemed only right to give them some sense of order back since he was the one who had caused them to be in such a state. “Hey-lo good sirs and sir-ettes. Would you like to grab a bite to eat? I know of a really good place, and it isn’t even very far.” Ian sprayed the first infected that rushed at him with wasp killer in the eyes and then brought his machete down for its arm as the blinded infected just barely missed tackling him. “Free food! Follow meeeeeeeee!” Ian sprinted away with his arms out like he was a kid pretending to be an airplane, laughing freely as the ravenous predators closed the gap between them and him with startling speed. The only infected still outside the store now would be burning for a good long while even with the light rain.
If part of one is cut off, like a limb or their head, and is put back before they regrow that piece, would the piece reattach?
How would an infected react to suffocation / having something cover their face? I might as well ask about drowning as well. Also, if something was in the way of where their body is regeneration, would the body regrow around the obstacle? Just thinking of some logistics of these predators' abilities.
This is where everyone will get to show their power for (mostly) the first time. If you aren't little miss god of lightning, this is where Jay will tell you your power and have you use it, not necessarily in that order though. Actually, probably in exactly the opposite of that order.
This part will be having each character step forward one at a time to say their name and a little bit about themselves. Don't post anything IC right now, instead send it to me in a PM. For the first person to do so I will then add what Jay wants their character to do next, and for everyone after that it will allow me to control their power's first manifestation. Just write up to the end of their introduction. You'll be able to edit anything you PM to include reactions to what people post ahead of you before it is moved IC, so don't worry about that. If you and I manage to be online at the same time, I have no problem using something like titanpad to make this little bit of collab easier. So in short, PM me your post up to the end of your character's introduction and we'll go from there. I hope things'll be heating up from here on.
The two months of captivity fun god power camp will likely be shortened considerably with time skips, as actually RPing two months of interaction would be ridiculous and probably take years. I don't know about you, but I ain't doing that.
This part will be having each character step forward one at a time to say their name and a little bit about themselves. Don't post anything IC right now, instead send it to me in a PM. For the first person to do so I will then add what Jay wants their character to do next, and for everyone after that it will allow me to control their power's first manifestation. Just write up to the end of their introduction. You'll be able to edit anything you PM to include reactions to what people post ahead of you before it is moved IC, so don't worry about that. If you and I manage to be online at the same time, I have no problem using something like titanpad to make this little bit of collab easier. So in short, PM me your post up to the end of your character's introduction and we'll go from there. I hope things'll be heating up from here on.
The two months of captivity fun god power camp will likely be shortened considerably with time skips, as actually RPing two months of interaction would be ridiculous and probably take years. I don't know about you, but I ain't doing that.
The hooded boy turned to look at the annoying dark boy and said in perfect monotone, "Boy, you talk too much." He looked through the open door at the young man with the white hair who was just standing there looking at everyone else on the other side of the door. He joined the others inside upon receiving a slight push from behind. When the last straggler was finally through, even though the boy apparently didn't move a muscle, the heavy metal door slid shut and a row of lights set into the ceiling lit. "Follow me," he said as he began leading the small group of gods down the long white hallway.
The floor of the hall was while plastic tiles, but the walls and ceiling were merely smooth stone painted white. The wires running from light to light were secured to the ceiling and wall. After a few dozen feet, a second hallway branched off to the the right of the one the boy led the group down. He stopped and turned the lights of that area on, again without moving to do so. "This is where you will be sleeping. There are extra rooms, two beds in each. You will be able to see inside the rooms later on." There was a door set into the wall on the other side of the main hall, but the boy ignored it. He continued walking but soon stopped again in front of two openings in the wall to the right.
"Restrooms," the boy said simply. He expanded upon that after a moment though. "The one on the left is meant for women, the right for men. If you wish to sneak into the other side for any reason, first think of how dangerous that could be." The boy seemed to stare pointedly at the girl with blonde hair for a moment. Actually, he was mildly interested in how the girl would react to water. "There are toilets, urinals for the men, baths, and showers enough for you all. I am uncertain as to how the hot water is, so if you have a problem with it please bring it to my attention. Again, you will be free to explore this place later."
The hall soon ended, and with it the row of lights. A square of blackness and the hints of their footsteps echoing back at them signaled that the space beyond was much more open than the narrow hallway. When the lights turned on, that much was made clear. The room was huge, easily as large as a football field, most likely slightly larger. To the right of where the hall met the massive space was an area designed to be a kitchen. There was cabinets and wood counters and shiny new appliances everywhere. Set up in the left close corner of the room, a counter surrounded by bar stools marked one edge of the kitchen area, with a wall made of panes of glass ten feet high separating it from the rest of the space.
The wall of panes of glass continued after a short gap directly in front of where the hall entered the space to run another twenty feet before ending. In that space was a large dining table already set with silver plates enough for many more people than were gathered behind the boy. He hadn't known how many would actually be using the space, so he had assumed too many. Beyond the table were a couple of long desks set against the glass separation wall, and beyond those was what looked to be every sort of amusement one might expect from both an arcade and a bar. There were dartboards and pinball machines, old arcade game machines and farther down there was what looked like a pitching machine. The boy had gotten creative with what he imagined others would need to keep entertained over a long period of time, but he still suspected he had missed the mark. Times changed too fast for him to know what people liked. People still liked darts, right?
Ignoring the small part of the massive space set aside for food and relaxing, the boy continued on past the separation wall into the main part of the room, where the parallel between the space and a football field was made even more apparent. The floor of the huge room marked by various lines, though if it was meant for any kind of sport or game the type was unknown. The entire space was filled with the sound of moving water. From holes in the far wall gushed arcs of water, falling into holed in the floor that were filled with more moving water. Similar holes dotted the floor of the room, though those nearer to the center of the space were covered by metal grills to prevent people from getting their foot stuck. The closer leftmost wall rose at least a hundred feet before meeting the stone ceiling far above. That entire wall was covered in ridges and bumps and cracks, made for climbing. The only feature of note on the far right wall was a couple of basketball hoops attached to the wall. A heavy loop of chain fell down from the ceiling to the floor direct across from where the hall entered the room, though what its purpose could be was hard to say.
The boy stopped near the center of the room and turned around, gesturing for those following to line up in a row in front of him. To make things easier there was a line on the floor. "Welcome to your new home," the boy said as he put his hood down, "My name is Jay, and I will be taking care of you while you stay here. You will now introduce yourself one at a time to the others. You will be living with these people, so try to make a good impression, or don't. I doesn't matter much either way. Starting from the left I want you to step forward beside me and tell the others your name and something about yourself. After your name and short introduction I will have you do something else. I'll just let the first person show you what that is by example."
The floor of the hall was while plastic tiles, but the walls and ceiling were merely smooth stone painted white. The wires running from light to light were secured to the ceiling and wall. After a few dozen feet, a second hallway branched off to the the right of the one the boy led the group down. He stopped and turned the lights of that area on, again without moving to do so. "This is where you will be sleeping. There are extra rooms, two beds in each. You will be able to see inside the rooms later on." There was a door set into the wall on the other side of the main hall, but the boy ignored it. He continued walking but soon stopped again in front of two openings in the wall to the right.
"Restrooms," the boy said simply. He expanded upon that after a moment though. "The one on the left is meant for women, the right for men. If you wish to sneak into the other side for any reason, first think of how dangerous that could be." The boy seemed to stare pointedly at the girl with blonde hair for a moment. Actually, he was mildly interested in how the girl would react to water. "There are toilets, urinals for the men, baths, and showers enough for you all. I am uncertain as to how the hot water is, so if you have a problem with it please bring it to my attention. Again, you will be free to explore this place later."
The hall soon ended, and with it the row of lights. A square of blackness and the hints of their footsteps echoing back at them signaled that the space beyond was much more open than the narrow hallway. When the lights turned on, that much was made clear. The room was huge, easily as large as a football field, most likely slightly larger. To the right of where the hall met the massive space was an area designed to be a kitchen. There was cabinets and wood counters and shiny new appliances everywhere. Set up in the left close corner of the room, a counter surrounded by bar stools marked one edge of the kitchen area, with a wall made of panes of glass ten feet high separating it from the rest of the space.
The wall of panes of glass continued after a short gap directly in front of where the hall entered the space to run another twenty feet before ending. In that space was a large dining table already set with silver plates enough for many more people than were gathered behind the boy. He hadn't known how many would actually be using the space, so he had assumed too many. Beyond the table were a couple of long desks set against the glass separation wall, and beyond those was what looked to be every sort of amusement one might expect from both an arcade and a bar. There were dartboards and pinball machines, old arcade game machines and farther down there was what looked like a pitching machine. The boy had gotten creative with what he imagined others would need to keep entertained over a long period of time, but he still suspected he had missed the mark. Times changed too fast for him to know what people liked. People still liked darts, right?
Ignoring the small part of the massive space set aside for food and relaxing, the boy continued on past the separation wall into the main part of the room, where the parallel between the space and a football field was made even more apparent. The floor of the huge room marked by various lines, though if it was meant for any kind of sport or game the type was unknown. The entire space was filled with the sound of moving water. From holes in the far wall gushed arcs of water, falling into holed in the floor that were filled with more moving water. Similar holes dotted the floor of the room, though those nearer to the center of the space were covered by metal grills to prevent people from getting their foot stuck. The closer leftmost wall rose at least a hundred feet before meeting the stone ceiling far above. That entire wall was covered in ridges and bumps and cracks, made for climbing. The only feature of note on the far right wall was a couple of basketball hoops attached to the wall. A heavy loop of chain fell down from the ceiling to the floor direct across from where the hall entered the room, though what its purpose could be was hard to say.
The boy stopped near the center of the room and turned around, gesturing for those following to line up in a row in front of him. To make things easier there was a line on the floor. "Welcome to your new home," the boy said as he put his hood down, "My name is Jay, and I will be taking care of you while you stay here. You will now introduce yourself one at a time to the others. You will be living with these people, so try to make a good impression, or don't. I doesn't matter much either way. Starting from the left I want you to step forward beside me and tell the others your name and something about yourself. After your name and short introduction I will have you do something else. I'll just let the first person show you what that is by example."
"Icirrus, in Unova," Jay said. "Most people just know it as the little town near Dragonspiral Tower though." He didn't say it as a good or bad thing, merely that it was how it was. Having grown up there, Jay knew how little there was to do in that town. Why anyone would go there if they weren't on their way to check out the tower he really didn't know. And even after wondering what made the tower so great to be worth seeing for most of his early life, Jay had thought it a pretty boring place when he'd finally explored its interior.
"So, Geoffrey, Juliette," Jay looked up at his apparent guide that showed no sign of leaving any time soon. "You trainers?" The sighs coming from the pokeballs on Jay's belt were very nearly audible. Five minutes on land and he was already scoping out his competition. No, not really competition; he could easily tell that these two posed no real threat. But he couldn't know or trust a person until he knew how their pokemon saw them. And at that moment Jay was reminded that he still had to let Ava out of her pokeball. He should probably worry less about his companions and more about himself for the time being.
"So, Geoffrey, Juliette," Jay looked up at his apparent guide that showed no sign of leaving any time soon. "You trainers?" The sighs coming from the pokeballs on Jay's belt were very nearly audible. Five minutes on land and he was already scoping out his competition. No, not really competition; he could easily tell that these two posed no real threat. But he couldn't know or trust a person until he knew how their pokemon saw them. And at that moment Jay was reminded that he still had to let Ava out of her pokeball. He should probably worry less about his companions and more about himself for the time being.
Crap... I kind of unsubscribed after you vanished for a while. Now it's my turn to apologize. Sorry about that. I'll have a post up in a minute.
Wait until you see his little arsenal of pseudo-weapons of mass destruction. While everyone else was in a rush to grab all the guns and bullets they could for the end of their world, Ian was busy raiding the art and beauty departments. >:D Also, he doesn't call himself Anarchy. No one calls him Anarchy except the underpaid and overworked idiot that put together his citizen file. He's just Ian.
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