Max

Black Fall [Superhuman/City/Character Driven]

Harmon Rottlage

Basic Information Name: Harmon Rottlage Nickname/Alias/Etc: None Gender: Male Age: 17 Height: Five feet, ten inches (without accounting for shards) Weight: 121.3 lbs (shards account for varying weights, averaging up to three pounds before grooming) Home District: Dead End Appearance Hair Color: N/A (no hair) Eye Color: N/A (no eyes) Ethnicity: Unidentifiable Physical Appearance: As far as meta-humans go in terms of physical appearance, Harmon ended up on the wrong side of the gene pool. He possesses a gaunt, pale frame as a result of many years of malnourishment which he has failed or neglected to remedy. His skin is a sickly gray, covered in splits and cracks from birth defects. He possesses no extraneous facial features such as eyes, ears, or a nose. However, in place of the latter two, he has vacant cavities that function much the same as the appropriate appendages would. His lips are surrounded by cracks that extend as his shards develop, capable of reaching up to the shards themselves. Harmon’s skin changes as well, becoming more translucent and adopting a red pigmentation as he enters later growth stages, though this has only occurred once. Attire: Usually, Harmon dresses himself in a torn white hoodie and a ragged pair of beige cargo shorts. He wraps a weathered blanket around himself when he ventures into the cold. None of these items have been washed in years. Personality Personality: Harmon is a socially inept wallflower. His experience with NEST has left him on the verge of being a paranoid recluse, trumped only by his compulsive need to scavenge food and equipment. Normally veering away from social interaction, Harmon puts others off given his appearance, spastic gestures, and mumbling. For those who do approach him, however, he doesn’t much regard their presence as extraordinary or anything. In conversation, he’s naturally apprehensive and questioning, but given time, he tends to confide in those he believes he can trust. If he doesn’t forget who they are the next day. Or a week later. Hobbies/Interests: Harmon collects cameras, batteries, and other electronic devices and resources whenever and wherever he can. He himself doesn’t see it so much as a hobby rather than something as necessary as eating or sleeping, given his physical inability to see without the use of a camera, so he vies to ensure he always has a backup in case of an accident, or if ever someone ‘blinds’ him. Others would probably label it a deranged obsession, though. Harmon also tends to scrawl graffiti and gibberish whenever he’s feeling particularly disturbed. Skills/Talents: From years of experience, Harmon knows how to properly dissect, disassemble, and maintain a plethora of electronic and mechanical devices. Prized Possession: His camera. Or, whichever one he picks up from his assortment for the day. He has a lot of them, after all. Quote(s): “Knots… in your hair… straighten… but knots in… in my head… pluck… and pry… hurts… so much…” History/Bio: Harmon Rottlage is, by all reasonable accounts, no one special. He was born, raised, and will most likely die in the Dead End district of the city of Black Fall. He was the product of a sick, dying man and a gentle woman viewed by many as a monster, both whose names and appearances Harmon has long since forgotten. At the moment of his birth, his mother’s interior organs were torn apart due to the metals lodged in Harmon’s head while he was still in the womb. It was bloody, and it was loud. She, of course, did not survive. Harmon’s father deigned to raise the baby nonetheless, as was his “wife’s” dying wish. Harmon was raised in the Leonard Housing Developments for most of his youth. His father kept him in the same room he was born within, which the baby didn’t leave for the first eight years of his life. Working a terrible job somewhere else in the city at the time, he managed well enough to raise the child. He fed him, educated him, and helped him learn how to control his abilities to the best of his own. Whatever they had, it was meager, but it held together long enough for the boy and his father to forge something of a bond. All of that ended when one day when, out of the blue, Harmon’s father left and never returned. No one knows if he succumbed to whatever disease he had, or he was gunned down or what, but he never came back. Harmon was eight at the time and was afraid of leaving the room he was born and raised in, so he never went to look for his father or ask others where he went. His father also kept the metals in his head plucked and shaved because the boy was too meager to do it himself. So, over time, the metals grew unattended, as did his inability to cope with the pain they brought. After some time, the metals grew so large that Harmon was rendered in a near-comatose state, interfering with much of the electrical equipment and devices in the building beyond his control. After a few dozen complaints were made, NEST agents came in and found the boy, lying on the floor, shifting in and out of perceivable space, head covered in jagged metals that made their surveillance equipment malfunction. After suppressing his abilities some, they performed an on-site “grooming” and took the boy with them. Harmon was processed and registered by NEST after he awoke from his comatose state, and put under heavy suppressants to keep the equipment from malfunctioning. They put the chip in his arm and everything. If today you asked him what the process was like, he would shake and stutter, unable to respond appropriately. They asked him where his family was but he couldn’t tell them. The sheer mental weight that the metals put on his thoughts caused him to lose all memory of his father, and what little he had of his mother. Their names, faces, everything was gone. To this day he tries to recall them, but he always fails. After the grueling ordeal was over, Harmon was given a recording device to see with and was sent to Fort Jacobs. He was enrolled in George Washington Elementary, and was cared for in the Onsite Residential District by an appointed foster parent and guardian. His school life was, to be blunt, awful. Other children feared and mocked him for his appearance, and teachers had a problem with his passive tampering with their phones and computers. After a while, they requested he be removed and educated elsewhere, ideally by his assigned guardian. The guardian was resentful of having to care for the boy full-time, but he was forced to put up with him nonetheless. After some time of neglect and mistreatment, the guardian was reassigned. Someone else would have been put in place to care for Harmon – had he not absconded back into the city during the night on the eve of his ninth birthday, escaping with the recording device they gave him, a sack full of extra batteries, some tools for grooming the metals in his head, and some food and water. By then, Harmon was comparable to a frightened puppy. Dressed in an assortment of rags and a blanket, Harmon made his way back to the Dead End after studying a multitude of publicly displayed maps and hesitantly asking for directions, most of which he never received. After some weeks, he ended up back in the Leonard Housing Developments, finding the section where he was raised already occupied by a destitute family. Heartbroken, he ventured out into the downtrodden areas of the Dead End and, for better or worse, survived. For a time. After a week or so gone, NEST agents found Harmon and captured him, deeming him unfit for social interaction after his escape, and thus, sent him to a Box. To this day, Harmon refuses to speak of what happened there. After some time, Harmon was released from the Box after proving to be able to control his abilities and deemed responsible with them. Upon his release, NEST registered him under the monthly power assessment plan under a “manual retrieval term”. Given Harmon’s poor memory, he often forgets to attend his assessment. Thus, NEST agents come to bring him in and then release him back into the wild after making sure he’s behaving. They give him a complete plucking of his head-metals, which he finds unpleasant and unnecessary seeing as he is fully capable of doing it himself. They never listen. After the assessments became routine and bearable, Harmon began doing his best to make a life for himself, however meager it may seem. He began hoarding phones, cameras, batteries, most any electrical devices he could scavenge from abandoned areas and gang hideouts. He avoided danger by sensing the phones in any potential assailants’ pockets and teleporting out of sight, which remains an effective tactic for him today. Harmon still doesn’t know if his caretakers went looking for him and failed, or if they disregarded him completely, but NEST hasn’t brought it up with him recently, figuring he is capable of caring for himself now anyway. Eventually, he reached a point of being able to sustain himself and, to this day, keeps up with his routine of venturing outside his current living quarters in the Joslyn House Motel, scavenging for food and equipment, coming back home, and then locking himself away from the dangers outside. Every month, NEST comes to bring him in and check up on him, let him go back outside, and the process starts all over again. Family: As far as Harmon knows, both of his parents are dead and gone. He has long stopped searching for his father. Relationships Leonard Boggs | Good | Friend | “Helped… helped… good… helped… friend…” Blathnat “Sugar” Balore | Good | Friend | “Kind… kind… but… entity, looming, w̧͢a͢t͏̵ch́i̡͝n̢͘͝g̢,͟͢ ̴̕ C̴̴͞͏H̡̡̀A̷̷̢͢͠Ņ͘͠͞G̵I҉͠҉̷N҉̵G̀͜ ̷̵̵T͠H͏͝Í̴͘͢N҉̴̷̨͞G͏̡S̀͝.̧̢́͢.͏͠.͏̛͏” Henry Olin | Feared | NEST | "No… no… no… no… no…” Fred Macroshelys | Feared | NEST | “Bad… bad… bad…” Abilities Power Class: Cerebral (5), Super-System (1), Power (1) Power: Harmon possesses two distinct powers, both playing into his biological makeup – specifically, the metal shards in his head. He can interact with any electronically powered devices by melding his consciousness with the electric current inside, and he can teleport varying distances through sheer perception and will. Harmon’s first ability, in further detail, varies in strength and capability depending on the collective stage of growth the shards are in. He can sense the electric current in any appropriate device – cameras, phones, televisions, speakers, and many more – and manipulate the current to alter the mechanisms inside, allowing him to interact with the device in a variety of ways depending on its base functions. Anything with a monitor can act as a point of visual perspective for him, his most common usage of this power. He can also will any degree of imagery on a monitor system for others to see, though this also comes as an unwarranted occurrence sometimes, giving away his presence within the device if he is trying to remain covert and panics. With enough concentration, he can cause certain devices to malfunction or break down permanently. In the later stages of his growth cycle, he can even cause them to explode, or manipulate them to operate beyond their intended functions – monitors emitting blinding flashes of light, speakers blasting out static at over a hundred decibels, and other such potentially harmful happenings. Harmon’s secondary ability is being able to teleport himself, and anything or anyone he is in physical contact with at the time, across varying distances. This level of teleportation in particular does not involve travel through a separate dimension – meaning it’s instantaneous. Any direction Harmon can visually perceive, he can teleport to. The visual indicator of the act of teleporting is heralded by an array of static ripples and distortions across his body, and others’ as well if he’s bringing them with him. Weaknesses/Limitations/Drawbacks: As stated before, both of these abilities vary in effectiveness depending on the growth stage of the metal shards embedded in Harmon’s scalp. A fresh grooming means he is essentially powerless, incapable of doing more than seeing through a camera in his hands. However, the shards also carry with them a severe level of influence over Harmon’s mental stability and level of cognitive recollection. During the shards’ early stages, Harmon’s thought processes are disjointed and his memories are all blurred and unrecognizable. As the stages advance, Harmon passes through a period of relative stability and awareness, and then gradually shifts into a psychological down-state, becoming unresponsive to social stimuli and wandering aimlessly, losing control of his abilities. If this continues for much longer, he enters a comatose state, and the sheer force of the shards’ channeling causes his memories and psyche to further deteriorate permanently. Alongside the shards’ description, Harmon also responds very negatively to magnetism which, when applied to his head, causes him intense pain. Electricity also stands as a serious danger, seeing as the shards are capable of conducting currents straight to his brain, endangering his life. Other: Harmon responds to static white noise positively, shifting into a docile state of mind for the duration the noise is played. Sample Post: "This is Addendum 1-A." A voice began. It was deep, and rough, like sandpaper. The lights in the room illuminating what was once the dark confines of the geometric and square box. "Subject is Harmon Rottlage, male, late teens in age." the voice continued. "I'm going to ask you a series of questions, which I will require you to answer to the best of your ability." The voice instructed. "Once we are finished, we will move on to the next part of the examination. If you pass, you will be free to go." Harmon merely cradled his head, not responding verbally. "First question. Memory based. How did you commute from your place of residency to this location?" Harmon shook his head, grunting softly. "Didn't..." He started, "Didn't... c̶o͝mm̷ut̀è... t-t-they came and carried me through the doors the halls this room..." The voice was silent for a second, very slight movement and breathing could be heard on the other side of the intercom, as if the owner of the voice was recording what he had said by hand. "Next question. Two parts." It stated. "Where did they carry you from, and how long have you been there?" Harmon's head lowered onto the table, still being held by his spindly fingers. "Dead... Dead... Dead End... month... here... m̷̛o͘͝nt̡͠h̢̧... H̸̨͡E̡͘͟͠R̡̧̡̛͞E̶̴̴͝͞..." Harmon's voice began to reverberate off the walls as he trailed off between the two words. He got up from the table, still cradling his head, nearly shouting, "Ḿ͡O̷̕̕͜͝N͟͝T̢͞H̶҉̨̛͞Ḩ̢́̕E͟R͡E̶̴̷M̸ỚN̶̡͏͟T̢̨͘͏̧H̕͢͜͠͡H̴͘҉E͏̸͝R̴̶͠͠͠E̢̨͜͡Ḿ҉̷͝O̷͢͟͝Ń͘͢T͏͏̡̕͠H̀͘͜͠͝H̶̸̢̛E͠͡͠Ŕ̨̡̨͡È̴́҉-̴̀͟҉̧" There was more shuffling. "I must ask you to calm yourself, otherwise the test will be discontinued." It stated. "Final question of Addendum 1-A, do you recall your family's name, and your own?" Harmon was calm now, seated once again. He was slumped in his chair, his hood down. His head was shifting slightly, ripples surrounding it as he began to speak, breathing heavily between his words. "H̕-H͡a̛r҉.̕.̴.... Hmmmm... Harmon... Rrrr... R-R... Rott... Lage... Rottlage... Harmon... Rottlage..." He stopped there, only answering half the question. The voice was silent for a few more moments before more shuffling could be heard. "Concluding Addendum 1-A. Beginning Addendum 1-B." it stated. Typing could be heard in the background, and a few seconds later the lights went dark, and when they came back on, three panels int he floor and arisen up, with guns trained upon him. Each one was a different color. Red, green, and blue respectively. "The guns are nonlethal." the voice stated. "Only one, the green, is loaded. It is currently loaded with airsoft pellets firing at 200FPS. Enough to hurt, but not enough to break skin." it continued. "This test requires you to short circuit the turret, and display any new potential developed in the past month in doing so." The voice finished. "You have thirty seconds to completely the task. Begin." Harmon immediately ducked under the table and cradled himself, knees planted and forehead pressed against the metal floor. He made a sound comparable to a distorted scream before taking one long breath, and muttering to himself, "IdwelledinthekeepoftheunwaveringandtheomniscientwhereuponIsawhorrorthetruesthorror-" "Twenty seconds." "Thedarkenedcladchainedmetothewallsandfloorsandcielingsandboremewitnesstoakingdomofnospokentruthandnovisionoffreedom-" "Ten seconds." "IleftthathorridplaceandfellinafieldofsunflowerstwistedbythedreamsofadarkcanalinfestedwithsmilingchildrenandbrokenhyenaaaaaaaaAAAA AAAAA͠A̸A̶̛A͜͏A̷A҉A̢͝AÀ͏͜A̷̵̕Á͜͞A͟͏A͠A̧̡̕͡͠A̢̨̕͟A҉̨̛͞A͡͞A̧̡͢͞A҉̶̡͜A̶̧A̢͞͝A̢̡̧̕͠A͞À̴̸͡A̸͏Á̧͜͏A̴͢͟͟͡A̵̷̡̕A҉͏Ą̷́͡A̴̡A͟͠-" All three of the turrets began to twist and turn on their hinges, turning towards each other. The red and blue ones, clicks sounded from with their mechanisms. The green one fired off its airsoft rounds, bouncing off the hulls of the other two before all three of them began to emit sparks, flashes of yellow falling to the floor, small cracks and static currents resonating between them before, almost all at once, they lowered, inoperable. Harmon was still on the floor, now silent. The lights shut off, and everything was silent for a moment. There wasn't even any shuffling from the voice. The intercom's current had been stopped. A few seconds later a door opened, revealing a monstrous creature who's outline was illuminated by the bright white lights that contrasted with the darkness inside the room. "Diagnosis," he said, his huge reptilian body falling still for a split moment, releasing a deep breath. "One week of funded mental therapy, up to subject if it will be continued, with regulatory grooming." he stated. "But subject has passed examination, scoring 62 out of 100 total points." he stated, walking inside and leaving the door open to provide some light until the system rebooted. With one hulking arm he lifted the table and moved it away, and with the other gently looping his forarm underneath Harmon's armpit and gingerly picking him up. The creature knelt down on one knee to Harmon's height, and grabbed the meta by the shoulders, ever so lightly shaking him. "You passed, Harmon." He stated. "We're going to get you help." "Don't..." He replied, breathing heavily, "Don't... pluck... don't..." If he had eyes, he'd be sobbing. "Dont worry. You wont feel a thing. I've got you. You're safe." "Don't..." He trailed off, mumbling silently to himself. The agent didn't respond, instead he rose to his feet, and slowly escorted Harmon out of the testing room, moving at the agent's pace and attempting to be as gentle as possible with him. They disappeared out of the room, into the bright white light, and took a left moving to god knows where in the NEST base.

Black Fall [Superhuman/City/Character Driven]

Harmon Rottlage & Leonard Boggs

---

Far from a world that's ailing to live

Far from the wreckage you were left in

---

How long... how long had it been since Harmon went... anywhere... with anyone?

He forgot. Like always.

Lenny... Lenny was an unfamiliar factor in an unfamiliar situation. Harmon had never run from NEST before. Well, maybe he had struggled some when they rounded him up for his regulatory grooming but... he never got away from them. Especially when Frank was the one they sent for him. This was all an unexpected development that cut into Harmon's normal, mundane routine. And while it didn't seem immediately apparent by just looking at him - he was horrified by it all. But Lenny was... easing the situation. They had ventured away from the Arcadia Heights, through the Dead End, all the way to the Courtwall Harbor. It was Harmon's first vist. Was it? It probably was. Needless to say, he followed behind Lenny with his head ducked and hood raised. They may have left a trail heading out of the woods but, heading back into the city, it most likely got covered by others' footprints. Or more snow. Either way, they were relatively safe from on-foot tracking. There was no sign of Frank or any other agents the whole way.

Eventually, the pair reached the Boggs house. It was at the end of a long stretch of nearly identical two-story homes, sandwiched between a vacant lot and a similar house, only distinguishable by the grey door rather than Lenny's brown. The windows were caked with grime, with neon lights softly flashing from one window, barely visible in the daylight. There were a few vines creeping up the house, and trash was scattered around the sidewalk.

The thing that gave the house the most distinguishing feature was the graffiti. It had mostly been powerwashed off, but there were still remnants of black paint on the dull red bricks. Mostly crude penises, swastikas, and insults. However, they were only on Lenny's house. The rest were completely free of any similar vandalism.

"A-and..." Harmon quietly began to mutter, "And the crossing is over where the righteous remain..."

"You said it." Lenny said, pulling out his keychain. He had a key for his house, a key for his locker, and an old timey key he had once found. He opened the door with a push, with Harmon quickly following. As soon as they were inside, Lenny shut the door, locking all four of the locks.

"In the memory it's deeper..." Harmon muttered again, "Survived by a name..." He trailed off into unintelligible gibberish after that.

Lenny paused for a moment, before nodding agreeably.

"...Gotcha Harmon." He muttered, staring at the boy for a moment.

Lenny led Harmon down a long hall, over small bags of trash he had forgotten to take out. He held his hand through most of it, fearful his frail friend would trip over the shiny black bags. At the end of the hallway, there was a kitchen. It was small and cramped, with a stove covered in black and brown grime, and a sink full of dishes. The refrigerator hummed quietly, adorned with magnets holding up a juxtaposed mix of family pictures, and pictures of surly-looking gangsters.

To the right of the kitchen, there was a living room. The lights were all off, and there was a thick smell of cigarette smoke. Through the smoke and darkness, there was a pale white light eminating from the TV, which was fixed upon some trashy gameshow. It was directly in front of the couch, where an old woman sat silently. She wore a lilac nightgown, and held an empty mug in one hand, dangling from her fingers. In front of her was a coffee table, covered with magazines, ashtrays, hard candies, and several different remote controls.

"Mema, this is Harmon, he's staying here for a while."

The old woman gave no response, and nodded lightly

"Therestissufficientamidnightcomplaintleftwaitinginsilenceleftonlytosleep..." Harmon blurted out silently, cradling himself as he looked down at floor of the house. Lenny gave him another odd stare as he slowly raised his left arm and ran his fingers along the damaged nullifying collar. "And it takes you... along... along..." He whispered. Whatever he was talking about, it was lost to everyone else in the room. Sounded like... song lyrics, almost. But not the way Harmon said them. He kept fiddling with the collar, looking rather somber and hoping to get it removed as soon as possible.

"Well, we're safe now. Might as well give you a tour while I look for something to cut that off." Lenny raised one arm, as if he was presenting unveiling a magnificent painting.
"Living room." He said, in a lackluster voice. Aside from the old woman's nest, there were a few bookcases in the room, and a table. Along the side of the wall opposite the window was a set of stairs, with rickety-looking wooden rails. Pictures were hung up on the wall of a younger-looking Lenny, and a taller, older boy with a shaved head. There were a few cracks along the wall, and stains near the ceiling. What little light there was in the room was all from the TV, as the curtains were tightly shut.

Lenny took Harmon's wrist and led him up the stairs. There was another hallway, at the end there was an open door exposing a edge of a toilet to the hallway's light -- The bathroom. Near the bathroom was a wooden door, which Lenny opened with a grunt.

"Sorry. Doorknob's a bit wonky."

"Door... door..."

The room was covered wall-to-wall with posters. Some were of bands with strange names like "Electric Wizard" and "Bongzilla", whereas others were scantily clad models or video games. Mostly, they were of superhero, sci-fi, and fantasy movies. The lights Harmon saw from the outside were revealed to be from a set of several christmas lights strung together, nearly covering the window, which clearly hadn't been opened in ages. There was a closet, with a pile of old laundry covering the door, and a desk with a computer and hard drive, which quietly whirred. Lenny's bed was a bunk bed, or at least, the upper half of one. Underneath it, there was another pile of laundry, comics, and an uneaten slice of pizza on a paper plate.

"Make yourself cozy, I'm gonna go find something to hack that collar off."

"Hack... collar..." Harmon said in response, standing in the center of the room, staring down at the floor, slowly waving his body camera around to get a good view. While Lenny exited the room to retrieve... something, he pondered over the foreseeable future. And for Harmon, that was an arduous task in its own right. This whole thing, it was a break in the chain he was so familiar with, and Frank was the cause of it. NEST grooms Harmon, lets him back out into the Dead End, he scrounges for supplies and food, slowly watches his head shards grow, and then NEST comes to round him up again and the process begins anew. He could never remember the previous month, but... was that going to change? NEST would come for him, wouldn't they? Groom him again, deviate from the routine. His memories would probably suffer even more. But, what if they didn't bother? Would he just... start to remember things? What was there to remember, he didn't know. The fragmented possibilies of both pleasant and terrible futures raced around in his head as he stood there, silently caving in on himself. Until...

Lenny emerged from the hallway with a pair of boltcutters. "Found these in the attic. Let's get that off you."

"Off..." Harmon repeated the word only once. Lenny motioned for him to take a seat in the chair at the desk so this whole thing would go a little more smooth-like. He slowly planted himself in the seat and arched his head backward, collared neck now much more open and vulnerable to impromptu removal. Lenny placed the boltcutters in the loosest part of the collar, and squeezed with a groan. He strained for a few moments, as his thin arms slowly pressed the red bars together. There was a loud pop as a few stray sparks were launched out of the collar, causing the two to jump.

"Only gotta cut the other side now." Lenny said. Harmon nodded and arched his head over his knees, the back of his head now visible, along with the opposite side of the collar. Lenny fit the boltcutters to the other side of the collar. With another laborous wheeze, there was a second snap, and the two halves of the collar fell to the floor with a clang. Lenny placed the boltcutters on the ground with a grunt, and plopped onto the carpet next to Harmon.

"How's the freedom feel?" He asked with a smile.

Harmon reared his head back, mouth slightly agape. The metal shards in his head seemed to stir a little, as if they were stretching. He breathed a bit, relieved. He could see through the body camera much more clearly. He switched his vision to the computer monitor. Then to the TV where Granny Boggs was seated before. "Free..." He stated, "Free... feel..."

Lenny smiled again, nodding his head. He reclined into the pile of laundry and papers, beginning to kick off his shoes. He seemed completely at ease, which would've seemed strange considering his company. He paused for a moment, letting his shoe stay in the awkward place he had pulled it to on his foot.

"Say, with all this hubub, I never got to ask. Why were you in that truck? Where were you before?" He scratched his chin, sitting up a bit on the pile of clothes. "Tell me about yourself, homie."

Harmon slowly lowered his head and shook a little, somewhat apprehensive to... no, no, Lenny had helped him a fair deal. He deserved an explanation. "Live... i-in the Dead... Dead End... J-... Joslyn House... Motel? Motel..." He began, "Collect... so many things... Cameras... phones... batteries... need to see... don't want t-... to be blind... blind scares..." He eased into his seating position a bit before he continued. "Head... head, metal, shards, they... affect..." He waved his hand around the various metal bits lodged in his head. "Everything... seeing... remembering... living..."

"But why were you in the truck?" Lenny asked.

"NEST..." Harmon replied, "C-comes... every month, to... to... pluck the shards... so that I don't... don't... remember? Remember... remember things... lose control of... things... Frank, Saint... Saint Frank... thought I saw bad things... bad people... here... there... everywhere... wanted t-to dig inside, find everything, but it's, it's not there... didn't believe me..." He aimed the body camera straight at Lenny and pointed to it with his other hand. "Then, crash... took this... to see... to run... to hide... to think..." He paused for a moment before he pointed his finger towards Lenny.

"Then... and then... you..." He said, "You? Thank... thank you..."

"Ohhh." Lenny only mostly understood, but what he understood was fairly clear -- Harmon was a victim of some nefarious NEST activity, and had only escaped by chance. Not only that, but he was a metahuman like him. And he was his friend. Lenny held his fist out. Harmon stared at it through the body camera for a few moments, before slowly bringing his knuckles to Lenny's, awkwardly pressing against them, too slowly for it to have been a normal fistbump. Then again, Harmon wasn't exactly a normal guy.

"C'mon, let's go grab some food downstairs."

Harmon nodded and arose from his chair, following Lenny's lead. The two went down the darkened hallway, shuffling to the stairs.

"Just kick it next to Mema. She's pretty cool with everything." Lenny said, nodding his head to the old woman. It was true. She didn't seem to have heard Lenny, her eyes were fixated on the TV. She was wrapped in several blankets, that seemed to cover her lower body like a cuccoon that had sank into the couch.

"M-... Mema.." Harmon repeated. He slowly inched towards the woman and planted himself a little aways from her. She seemed... rather distant. But she had this calming aura that Harmon didn't cower in the presence of. Which was good.

"Yo, you like pancakes? I got some microwaveable pancake things." Lenny called from the kitchen. "It's like, a sausage wrapped in a pancake. Like a breakfast corndog."

"Ah..." Harmon called back in a meager voice, "A-... any, anything... good..." Truth be told, he was baffled at the idea of eating literally anything that he hadn't found in a garbage bin or on a public table. He was a little overwhelmed and he had a little difficulty remembering specific kinds of foods. The term "pancake" was almost completely alien to him. But he didn't want to be difficult, so he just... went with it.

"Sweet." Lenny called again. There was a low hum of a microwave coming from the kitchen, and Lenny rustled through a cabinet. "All we got to drink's milk and some red stuff. Gonna take out the milk, 'cuz it seems better than flapjacks and Powerade, y'know?" He called from the kitchen once more. Luckily for the two, Lenny spoke enough for two people, occasionally finishing his own questions. Harmon didn't seem to mind.

There was a loud beep from the microwave. After a few moments of rustling, Lenny emerged from the kitchen holding a plate with four pancake-wrapped sausages, two glasses of milk, and a small plastic cup with some heated syrup. He placed the items on the table, and plopped down next to Harmon. Harmon aimed his camera at the food for a moment before slowly raising his hand and taking one of the pancake wraps. He brought it to his cracked lips and slowly bit down on it. It was the first time in a very, very long while he'd eaten anything above room temperature. After a bit of chewing and a swallow, his mouth hung agape for a moment. Lenny gave him an odd look accompanied with a smile as he slowly resumed eating the wrap.

The television was broadcasting a game show still.

After a few moments, Harmon began to speak up. "L-... Len, Lenny?" He asked, turning his head and aiming his camera at Lenny.

Lenny swallowed a mouthful of pancake and turned to Harmon. "What's up?"

"T-tell... about, you? You..."

Lenny shrugged. "Lived in Courtwall ever since I was born. My parents died in a car when I was born so it's just me, Creed, and Mema. It's alright though, we get by." Lenny seemed more interested in the game show in front of him than himself. After all, to himself, he was just... Lenny.

"Uh..." Harmon continued, "P-... power? Hands... before..."

Lenny nodded, taking a moment to decipher Harmon's speech. It was cryptic at times, but Lenny somehow managed to understand it clearly.

"It's hard to explain. There's energy everywhere. Mostly in electric stuff, and fire, and stuff that moves. In the sun and magnets too. I think there's a lot more, but I haven't learned about that stuff yet. Anyway, I dunno how most of it works, but I, like..." He paused for a second, trying to put his thoughts into words.

"I can suck up energy like a sponge from my hands. Then later, I can shoot it out and it's all blue. Or I can sorta..." He paused again, waving his hands a bit. "Like, bring it back out. I can charge batteries and fuel a fire, or make somethin' faster. I don't understand it completely, honestly."

Lenny shrugged again, dipping his sausage in the cup of syrup. "I think it's cool we can talk about this stuff." He said, talking out loud in the way he often did. "Sorta like, 'cuz most people are upset with metas, but you and me, we can both talk about it on account of us being friends now."

Harmon nodded, a little taken aback by Lenny's sense of comraderie. "Ah... I-"

The TV blacked out for a second before the familar tune of the local news network chimed in, with a "BREAKING NEWS" font emblazoned across the screen. Harmon and Lenny both turned their attention towards the TV, confused. Granny Boggs didn't seem at all fazed.

"People of Black Fall, we interrupt your current broadcast to deliver important news."

Harmon held up his camera as the reporter continued. The screen cut to a shot of the traffic wreckage he had been involved in earlier. Lenny immediately kept his eyes trained closer on the television.

"A traffic-related incident has occurred at the intersection between Bearings and McCullen. A large semi-tractor had somehow lost control, the driver being unconscious at the wheel. The semi evidently collided with an armored NEST containment vehicle, damaging its interior, which was holding a captive criminal faced with charges of withholding important information from figures of authority, accomplice in various thefts, and evading the law."

A photo taken from NEST's databanks appeared on the screen. It was Harmon.

"The criminal is one Harmon Rottlage, a meta-human who lives in the Joslyn House Motel in the "Dead End" district of Black Fall. Rottlage was able to escape from the vehicle after the crash had occurred, and was last seen fleeing from the wreckage with an unidentified male figure in tow."

The screen cut to phone footage of Harmon running from the wreckage, past the wire fence. Lenny followed seconds behind.

"NEST Agent Franklin St. Jopling, present in the vehicle at the time of the crash, was available for comment once he was freed from the passenger seat of the truck."

The screen cut to Frank with the reporter next to him, holding the microphone close to his face, and the wreckage behind him. Harmon shuddered a bit, mouth hanging agape. The reporter began to speak.

"Agent St. Jopling, is there anyth-"

Frank grabbed the microphone from the reporter's hand, a look of sheer anger etched across his face.

"Alright, listen, I will personally reward a THOUSAND dollars CASH to whoever brings me that li-... to whoever brings me the criminal, incapacitated, and alive."

He shoved the microphone back into the reporter's hands and began walking off in the direction of the wreckage.

"No further comment."

The screen quickly cut over to a view of the Joslyn House Motel, teaming with NEST agents and vehicles. Several of them were making their way in and out of room 9B, holding bins full of electronic equipment and supplies. Harmon let out a rather loud cry and keeled over on to his knees, now on the floor, still staring at the screen with his camera. The reporter's voice sounded once again.

"An investigation is currently underway at Rottlage's current place of residence to uncover any hints as to where he may have fled, as well as to make an attempt at recovering any information he may have withheld from NEST in the past. Agent St. Jopling has issued an informal reward for Rottlage's capture and deliverance to his custody. Any information regarding his whereabouts should be reported to NEST forces immediately. NEST databanks indicate that Rottlage is capable of tampering with electronic devices to a varying extent and, while not considered armed or relatively dangerous, should nonetheless be approached with caution. This is Molly Schuler, Black Fall News Network."

As the screen cut to black and then resumed broadcasting the game show, Harmon slowly lowered his head on to the floor in complete and utter despair. All of his devices... batteries... saved up... and now, NEST was raiding his room for anything and everything. All because of Frank. He let out another cry, face still pressed against the floor. Those familiar ripples seemed to return, causing him to fade a bit. The television crackled with a bit of static but quickly returned to normal just as the ripples in Harmon's skin stopped.

"Hey, homie."

Harmon's hand loosened a little as the body camera was still being held. It was aiming up at Lenny. Lenny was crouching next to him, with a weak, sympathetic smile.

"Don't worry 'bout that. You're safe here. Creed's never let someone he doesn't want into the house before, and I don't think he'll start any time soon." He pulled Harmon up onto the couch, patting him on the shoulder. "You can live here with us now." Lenny smiled at him again. Harmon, at first, only responded with faint but rapid breaths, still somewhat distressed by the situation Saint Frank had put him in. But... Lenny. Lenny Boggs. He'd only just met him over an hour ago and... he already had a safe haven to reside in until the situation could somehow be resolved. He didn't know why Lenny would ever act this nice to a stranger, especially one of his own make. And he didn't know who this... "Creed" individual was. But everything Lenny said... reassured him. Filled him with that sense of ease he had not experienced in... well, it's a broken record but, since ever. But, for the first time in a while, that seemed to be okay with Harmon.

"A-..." Harmon muttered, still a little shaken. "Ah..."

"C'mon buddy. Let's go crash in my room. I can set you up a bed under mine for now, outta blankets and pillows. We can watch Netflix on my computer if you want. You like Star Trek?"

Harmon, of course, had no earthly idea what Netflix or Star Trek were.

Didn't matter.

Black Fall [Superhuman/City/Character Driven]

The start of an adventure between Guy from inFamous and Son of Slender Man.