Red7VII

Delete please

Holy shit, this is delightfully outlandish. The concept sounds like an amazing book, but I'm apprehensive about how it will play out in an RP. What is the objective?

The Wolf Plague

Interesting. Can't commit, yet, but interesting!

Name Change

Could I please change my name to RedVII

X-Men: The New Era

Drake “D” Edwards

---

Interaction/Mentions: @c3p-0h@webboysurf@Damo021@ViolentViolet | Location: Avalon

---

---

“Do me a solid and don’t touch anything. Don’t want to crash before we get to Una, eh?” Drake looked to the woman with a raised eyebrow. He witnessed her summon forth a vehicle by pure will. Obviously she was a card carrying member of the mutant squad. What's more, she wanted to help. In the predicament they were in, any help was appreciated. As the doors flung open, seemingly by themselves, Drake carefully sat Aya into the front passenger's seat, his friend still unconscious due to her brave actions from before. He buckled her safety belt with the delicacy one employ in trying not to crack the shell of an egg. Satisfied, he looked at his newfound ally whose name he still didn't know.

"This is precious cargo. Get her there safely or we're going to have problems," Drake said. It wasn't issued as a threat, more as a matter of fact. He then shut the from passenger door and turned to his classmates. "If you're going, get in now," he announced, his tone authoritative and stern. He wanted to waste as little time as possible. "Especially you, Nik," he added, looking his roommate in the eyes. "My bike's up front. I'll follow you all there, but just make sure Aya safe during the ride." Nik was a good man. He knew there would be no argument from him. With that, Drake took off in a full sprint toward Veronica, his mechanical steed. As he leapt on her, he engaged the ignition and revved her up.

His skin was still hot. He wasn't on fire, but it took everything in him to keep that in check. His fatigue was going in and out. One moment, he was focused, the next he felt almost light headed. At this, the eleventh hour, he had no choice but to maintain. He had a destination, a goal. Now it was time to make it happen.

R E B E L L I O N - A Superpower Roleplay (CLOSED)

JACK PERKINS :+: WIT'S END, NYC COMPOUND :+: MENTIONS: @Shard

The fire inside Pickles would not subside until something or someone paid for the sin of frustration. The feeling of rage and embarrassment demanded all of Pickles' attention, sending the rest of the world into a blurry fog. Out of sight, out of mind. Nothing existed but the feeling and... what was that? In the distance there was something that wasn't hazy, wasn't blurred. In fact, it was crystal clear in his vision, despite its distorted surroundings. It was an infant in a high chair.

Through bloodshot eyes, Pickles took in the image of the tiny spawn. His anger went from a sporadic series of explosions to a laser guided rifle, zeroing in on the back of the baby's head. The clown began to salivate as it moved closer to the infant. If it had parents, he couldn't clearly see them. He couldn't clearly see anything else. Currently, his world consisted of him, the high chair and the poor fool sitting atop it.

Pickles' breathing sounded as if it had become labored, coming out in a wheeze the closer he got. An empty chair stood in Pickles' path toward the infant. As the clown approached the blurry obstacle, he lifted his foot extraordinarily high and brought it down with a crash upon the chair, shattering it into splintered pieces without so much as a blink or a strain. It might as well have been made of paper. Once Pickles had an objective, it was nigh impossible to stop him by any conventional means. It wasn't long at all before he found himself towering over the little thing. The child looked at him and instantly started to cry, adding fuel to the already raging fire within.

Pickles hands curled into fists, squeezing so tightly that his knuckles went white as he raised them high into the air, intending to bring them back down with the full force of his internal hatred.

What are you doing? That voice. He loved and loathed it.

"NEVER you mind!" Pickes shouted in a thunderous, low roll.

No, really. What are you doing? You look like you're about to crush the countertop. We're going to get fired. Pickles froze. He looked down upon the top of the infant's head, looking at it with high definition, seeing each individual strand. He turned his head uncomfortably slow toward the bar. It was blurry, but he could see its form.

"Are you insane, Jackie boy? I just want to PLAY with my new little friend HERE. Such a cute baby!" He turned his sights back on the infant, his grimace softening as he readied his fists once more, the price for his embarrassment nearly paid.

You're at the bar about to smash in the counter top, the voice insisted. What are you talking about? Baby? They don't let babies in bars, Pickles.

Pickles suddenly hesitated. He knew the voice was right, but this must've been an exception. Afterall, his new pale friend looked like he was underage and made it into the pub alright. Jack was wrong this time. The clown opened his mouth, ready to delight in the pleasure and releif this would surely bring, and slammed his fists down upon the baby's skull. He felt the cracking upon the skin of his hands. He closed his eyes, anticipating the splash of blood. It was glorious. It was orgasmic. It was... wrong.

The blood splatter never came. Though he felt the skull cracking, surrendering to the force he had brought down upon it, it didn't feel right. Pickles opened his eyes to discover his hands cratered into the bar's countertop. He was in the wrong place. He should have been over th-

The clown looked to the booth that had the baby in the highchair. The world was clear again. He could see everything. Everything except the baby. The highchair was gone, too. Pickles' mouth remained agape as he tried to process what just happened. Before he could form a conclusive thought, he heard the voice of the old bartender.

"Get your shit and get out," he said. Pickles turned his head to the man and found himself staring down the barrel of a shotgun.

The Red Hoods: Initiates

RYDER SHAW :+: RED HOOD :+: MENTIONS: @Tenma Tendo@c3p-0h

The night air was cool and refreshing. It was a shame that the trio was out with such grim purpose. Their footsteps were nearly synchronized as they walked, the gravel path crunching under their feet with each step. Ryder looked to Kiri and Loona briefly, trying to get a read on them. The only one of the new recruits with whom he had traded more than a few sentences with was Brighid. He still felt as though he were a stranger to the rest. He'd have to do what he could to change that.

"Uh... hrm..." Small talk was not Ryder's strong suit. "So, uh, Loona. I have to admit, your the first of your kind that I've ever met. What exactly can you do?" The shape shifting and flight was apparently, but surely there was more to her. As they walked, passersby gave them glances accented with fear and curiosity. They villagers didn't know their names, but they knew the hoods, knew who they were. If the Hoods were here, there was something wrong. Danger was near. To see a Red Hood meant that Death wasn't far behind, if the reaper wasn't there already.

Ryder attempted to ignore it, pushing forward, replaying the mission objectives in his mind. How he expected to communicate and deal with an allegedly crazy widow that's been secluded in her home was anyone's guess at this point. Hopefully Kiri or Loona were better communicators than he was.

X-Men: The New Era

@Dezuel@Almalthia@Pilatus

The sensory input was getting a little overwhelming for Lex. The haunting threat of an ever-advancing motor in the distance, the speakers being hijacked, blaring the soundtrack of a stranger. Ayel and Uná's words trading before him. The knowledge that more adversaries were on the way weighed further on his mind. He was losing control of the situation.

The accusation that he was a clone by this Beacon fellow was enough make Lex reassess how powerful this person really was. As he watched him hover across the room, he picked up on two things. Apprehension and uncertainty. That was comforting, anyway. Beacon didn't have a plan. He had grandeur. As Uná rejected his company, Lex ate up the situation like a warm, fluffy brownie. At the end, he heard her mention a 'Demo', a knight she was expecting to come to her rescue. That introduction should prove interesting as well. Lex's eyes bounced over to the clock on the wall, taking in the time for but a split second before recentering on Beacon.

"Like I said," Lex reiterated after Uná declared her preference for him over Ayel. "I was a little quick to describe you as an intruder. Perhaps I should more accurately describe you as an unexpected guest?" The motor sound from outside continued, distracting Lex for a moment, but he snapped back. "You talk to me about confused purpose, yet here you are tasked by children to 'save' a woman who doesn't need nor want saving." Lex made sure his eyes were boring directly into Beacon's as he spoke, his face unflinching, looking at the hovering mutant with a sense of caged, ravenous hunger behind a colorless mask of seriousness.

"You want to be the shepherd, but you have no flock. You want to be a big man in a world that has no idea who you are. That sort of feat takes money, resources, contacts, strategy... Lucky you. Those children with whom your mistakenly kowtowed to just introduced you to the man that can give you access to all of that. I was hoping to discuss it now, but it seems as though we are short of time. We're left with a blind decision, then. A potential leap of faith. The children who commanded you like a dog to come fetch my guest will likely be here soon. Along with whoever else seems to be looking to raise some hell. I've not harmed this young woman and, indeed, I helped keep her safe from whatever that monstrosity was at Avalon. I look at the mirror and I see a savior of benevolent intent. Like you. They look at me and baselessly see me as a malevolent abductor, a evil that needs to be squelched. Over nothing. Even if you did deliver this young woman back to them, how long until they look at you the same as they do me?"

It was inevitable. The truth used to be something that was solid fact. These days, the truth was subjective. Everyone loved to see heroes fall, rising stars crash, glory crash into misery. The moment Beacon assembled his flock of mutants with anti-human intent, he'd be the next target of wrath. Lex just hoped he was forward thinking enough to realize this truth.

"So your choices are simple. Remain on the children's leash and fell a good, albeit misunderstood mutant, one of the chosen. Or take the leash off. Be the shepherd and let me help you do it. But I'm of no use to you dead." Lex extended his hand out, offering a shake, a path for both of them to succeed in their endeavors.

Cold Front: Antarctica (Completed)

No worries, you did well :D

Cold Front: Antarctica (Completed)

😁

X-Men: The New Era

Sorry for delays. will have a new post up this weekend