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4 yrs ago
I have a rough draft for my final due this week and the final is due next week. My replies will be slow for a bit. Bare with me.
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He pulled his guitar case from his back and hugged it close like a shield between him and everyone else. His fingers itched to play, he came down from a panic attack, but he needed to completely calm down. This wasn't the time for it though. If he could lock himself away and alone with his music, he'd feel better about the situation, clear his mind enough to figure out how he's going to get home as shitty as it was. He kept his eyes on Zoey and Penny. Blondie went upstairs, then she came back a few minutes later. She didn't sit anywhere near him. Good. But he wasn't safe from her attention. He tensed up when she spoke to him.

“Hey dude, I saw what happened out there. Are you feeling okay?” The pen twirled and twirled and twirled in her hand. “Want something to drink?”

She voice was soft and she genuinely seemed concerned. That's different from Sandy. She would've told him to get over himself and stop being a pussy. He wasn't old enough for alcohol, but water didn't sound like a bad thing.

"Just a water, please." He kept his voice down, 'fraid to draw anymore attention to himself.

The door opened right after he spoke up. There was a black girl that looked like she stepped out of a voodoo movie. Her tattoos were pretty cool, but she was dressed the worst for the weather. She looked familiar with Penny. He's not sure if that was good thing or not. Does everyone know each other, except for him?

"Umm... hey. Do any of you guys know where we are? Or what's going on?"

Right behind her a blue haired girl walked in and apparently they weren't together. Is there going to be anyone else that reminds him of his ex popping up? How's the supposed to cope if he has to look at a constant reminder. He supposes it could be worse. People that look like his family could show up, then he'd be doomed.

He shook his head to answer voodoo girl's question. "Nope."
@Ghost Note Y.

I'd like to use the option of you choosing my character's power, 'cause that's all I got.
Going a little stir-crazy. It's nice out today and I want to leave the house.


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Cruz and Belen heard shouting not too far from them. It like two or three voices. All feminine. Cruz looked at Belen, she shrugged and stood from her position, gun still raised. He nodded, and crept towards the sounds, Belen bringing up the rear like she was supposed to. There were three women, a black girl with an Asian girl, both of them had guns pointed at a white girl with knives. Cruz didn't know if they were all together and this was a ruse or if they were all enemies, but he didn't care. He'd shot them if he had to. Hopefully, Gregorio hurried up and came out to help.

"Put the guns down or I'll shoot. First the girl with the shot gun and my Srta. the girl with the braids."

Belen aimed her gun at the black girl, right between the eyes. A pistol wasn't as much of a threat if the shot didn't hit anything vital. She worried about Cruz and the shot gun though. He kept her covered, but it could blow a hole right through him.

"Do you know how much it cost? It's a 2021 model, brand fucking new. If you didn't look like gutter rats I would want compensation, but then I'd feel bad for squeezing you for the clothes on your backs."

~.~


The girl put the gun down. Good. She didn't fight him. He doesn't want to have to shoot a kid. He hated it. He made it half the length of the hallway when a man came out the room next to her, yelling, seemed slightly intoxicated, and covered her with his body. Jane. That's the girl's name. He pointed his rifle at her step-father. He was belligerent, which he understood. Let anyone try to come between him and Belen. He stopped in his tracks. He wasn't close enough to kick the gun away.

"Asking questions. I don't want any trouble and you've got a good kid there. I'd rather not gun you down. There's something going on outside and Jane says you have nothing to do with it. Is that true?" They better answer, quick, fast, and in a hurry. He needs to check on his companions.

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Another person showed up. Blonde woman that made him take a step back. Blonde hair, blue eyes, a little older than him. If the girl with the blue streak matched his ex-girlfriend's aesthetic, then this mouthy blonde chick looked like an older version of her. She could be her cousin or something. He couldn't do this. Two strangers that remind him of his ex and they know each other. What's the chances of that? He held tight to his guitar case strap, fingers freezing in his grip. What the hell kind of nightmare did he wake up in? He's gotta be crazy, he's officially snapped. Is he the only person alarmed? Or are they better at hiding it than he is? That's probably it. Neither knew what was going on. That's the only reassuring thing, he guessed. If they knew as much as him, then no one has the advantage. Good. It's bad enough the people back home know how to take advantage of him, he didn't need strangers knowing too.

The girl with the streak pointed out a bar and walked inside, he hesitated to follow. While he didn't want to be alone, two people that make him anxious, and booze weren't a great mix. Alcohol reminded him of what happened two years ago. He touched the cut on his right wrist and pressed into it. Too many intoxicated people, fists, his blood, cheering bystanders, he felt sick. He bent over, dry heaved, and spit into the snow. He crouched down and buried his head into arms. Despite the cold, he didn't really feel it, too consumed by his fear to get away from the memories. Inhale ten seconds, hold for five, then exhale for another ten. He repeated the process, before his nerves got under control. He sensed someone watching him, popped his head up, and looked behind him. Nothing. His eyes went up the building and found a girl in black crouched on the edge. What the fuck? He shot up and went into the bar. He'd rather deal with strangers that look like Sandy, then deal with a creep watching him from a far. Best to know what to expect than to face the unexpected.

The bar was warm and had seating closer to the door. The tables and red stools reminded him of the diner he was at before he ended up here. He took a seat at the table next to the door. He didn't want to get cornered around these two, until he knew more about them.


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Gregorio and Cruz did a thorough sweep of the first floor and turned up empty. They were half way up the stairs when the car alarm went off. They paused and shared a look. Obviously a trap by whoever was possibly in the house or someone that saw them roll up. Gregorio nodded for Cruz to check it out, he had to finish the sweep. Cruz went back down and peered out the window next to the door. Nothing other than the car wailing and lights flashing. He looked back at Belen.

"Srta. Belen stay put."

"Like hell I am. Someone fucked with my car." She stalked towards him, pulled her gun out, double checked the magazine and flicked off the safety lock. She reached out to open the door, but Cruz stopped her.

Cruz sighed, exasperated. "I'll go first. You hide on the porch and watch my six." He pulled the spare key out of his pocket and turned off the alarm, he opened the door, then glanced back. "Don't shoot me."

"No promises." She pushed his shoulder. "Go." She hid behind his bulky body and kept low. He stepped off the porch and she hid behind a pillar, gun out, and alert for anyone that might pop up. Cruz moved slowly towards the car.

Meanwhile, Gregorio continued upstairs, perturbed that Belen didn't stay in her seat. If he didn't love her and wasn't used to her hardheaded nature he would've quit a decade ago. He pulled a mirror out of his pocket when he got to a few steps from the top and crouched down. He stuck his hand out, angled the mirror down in the direction of the hall. No one. Then turned it around. There was a girl with a gun. She looked young. Teenager possibly and alone. An adult wouldn't let her go by herself, so either the adults are outside, she's protecting someone younger than her, or she's alone. The car stopped going off. Good. He'll hear anyone he might of missed coming. He pocketed the mirror, stood up, and quickly rounded the corner, rifle up and finger on the trigger. "Put it down or I'll shot." He slowly crept towards her, ready to down her if he had to. "Are you alone? Are your people responsible for the noise outside?"

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What the hell? He looked around. This is not the diner he was in a second ago. He'd been waiting for his ex-girlfriend to reconcile. He only looked down at the menu a split second. When he looked up he was in a passenger train car like the type he's seen in the movies. He abruptly stood up, hand on the pole to keep his balance. Did this have something to do with his powers? Or has he finally lost his mind? Years of mistreatment has him hallucinating. Maybe he should've went to therapy after all. He moved down the car. It was abandoned, rusted, yet there wasn't any debre like he expected. Outside the window was a cityscape and it was snowing? He felt the chill, his off-white sweater only kept him a little warm. He needed to find a way out of here. There were four doors, two faced the track on the other side and the other to the platform. Easy. He went to the door closest to him, but stopped when he realized he didn't have his guitar on his back. Shit. Did it get left behind? He panicked and went back to the seat. It was there, waiting for him. Thank God. He can't leave it behind. He strapped the case to his back, comforted by the weight, then went back to the door. There was an emergency lever. He pulled it, but it didn't budge. So he tried harder, used all the strength he had, then it slid open. He shook out his arms, rolled his shoulders, then stepped out on to the platform.

"Yooooooooo! Anybody here?!" A feminine voice echoed a few blocked down the street.

So he wasn't alone. Good. But what if this person was bad and wanted to hurt him? But they could also know what's going on and help him get home. His thoughts spiraled between finding them and keeping his distance, but he went towards the voice anyway. He'll deal with it when he gets there, each step made his heart beat faster and unease settled in his gut. He felt like vomiting. Once on the street he saw a small person shaped figure in the middle of the street. It wasn't a long walk. Should he call back? He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. No. He couldn't do that. He was too nervous, so he kept quiet. A few minutes later he saw the girl. Around his height, black leather jacket, blue streaks in her hair, cigarette in her hand, and her aesthetic reminds him of his ex-girlfriend. He stopped fifteen feet away from her, more nervous than ever. What if she was like his ex? He didn't want to be around her if that's the case.

"H-hello. Do you know what's going on?" He said quietly, breath cloudy in the cold.
Can chromatic types be created via long term crystal exposure? And is it possible for abilities to change appearance aesthetically (outside of Type-Yellow)? Like how Jean Grey's eyes change and she gets lines on her face, but it doesn't affect how her power is used.
Colorful gangs, like in opposition and/or alliance?
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