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A random group of individuals emerge wielding incredible powers. |
[Introduction]   There is good and there is evil. Right and wrong. Heroes and villains. If we're blessed with wisdom, then there are glimpses between the cracks of each where light streams through. We wait in silence for these times when sense can be made, when meaningless existence comes into focus, and our purpose presents itself. If we have the strength to be honest, then what we find there, staring back at us, is our own reflection, bearing witness to the duality of life. Each one of us is capable of both the dark and the light, of good and evil, of either, of all. Destiny, while marching ever in our direction, can be rerouted by the choices we make. By the love we hold onto, and the promises we keep. Rules: 1. You have 3 days to make an addition. Any time after you'll be skipped unless you notify me with a good reason. 2.There will be some characters that just have to die. If it comes to your character dying, don't get upset it may not be forever. 3. I have a vision, so if something doesn't match with the campfire it may have to be changed. 4. If you have any ideas to help the story along by all means share what you are thinking. If you have any issues writing you addition shoot me an email. 5. Prompts will be emailed to you to help craft your addition. You first addition should look like this: Name: Age: Appearance: Personality: Location: Ability: Please choose one from this list: "Genesis Abilities"  Job: History: |
| Name: Ryan Joshua Quinlan (Joshua Stone) Age: 24 Appearance: Ryan's eyes are light honey gold green flecks. They match perfectly with his mocha colored skin complexion. His hair is charcoal black cut medium length resting just on his shoulders. Ryan has a thin muscular frame from his firefighter training regiment. Ryan is a t-shirt and jeans type of guy, but he has been known to dress up for a night out of fun. Personality: Ryan is a very determined person, he is intelligent, sarcastic, and knows how to tell a joke. When he feels strongly about something he'll fight tooth and nail. Ryan believes in justice, and protecting anyone who can't protect themselves. He can be a smart-ass at times, and is a shameless flirt. Location: Lansing, Michigan Ability: Telekinesis Job: Firefighter History: Ryan has spent most of his life trying to keep out of the shadow of his family. He comes from a wealthy family that controls one of the largest companies in the world, Quinlan Enterprises. They are a developmental company that produce 'Q-tech'. Quinlan Enterprises is headed by the business mogul, Ronan Quinlan. Ryan has had issues with his family being one of the main leaders in creating weaponry used in wars. After turning his back on his family he has since built a life for himself. He chose to use his middle name and his mother's maiden name to create a new life for himself. |
| Name: Betty J. Jamieson Age: 36 Appearance: 5’6” tall, dark olive skin, average looking, small scar on right knee, Brown eyes, Black/Brown medium length hair, and of average build. Dressy homemade Gabardine 5 piece suits, with matching shoes and purses. Never wears a lot of makeup because she doesn’t like the feel of looking like a clown. She prefers to be very well groomed and likes to get her hair and nails done regularly. She is a girly girl and likes to dress up for any occasion. Personality: Down to earth, makes friends everywhere she goes. Betty has a great sense of humor and frequently turns that humor on herself. She loves children and hopes to one day have a family of her own. She swims daily to help keep in shape after her workouts. Location: Elkhart, Indiana Ability: Lung adaptation Job: Receptionist at Collingwood Memorial Clinic History: Betty grew up as an only child; she lived with her mother, a single parent. Although her dad didn’t stick around, she still spent summers with her paternal grandparents. She may have had a dysfunctional family with her parents, but learned what a real loving relationship was like with her grandparents. After both of her grandparents passed on they gave her their home in their will. |
| Name: Zoe Sullivan Age: 23 Appearance: Zoe stands about five feet, six inches tall. Her frame is lightly muscled while still maintaining a curvy, feminine figure. She has long, straight hair the color of night with silver streaks. It falls to the middle of her back usually kept in a thick braid that hangs down to her waist. Her skin is dark olive and her facial features are somewhat sharp with a generous mouth. She has large eyes in a shade of sea foam green. Personality: She's a bit of a recluse. She doesn't enjoy socializing very much as a result she has few friends. When she is around others she tends to blend into the background. She fends for herself because she knows that if she doesn’t do something then nothing will get done. She doesn’t easily trust people, and when she does you have only one chance; should you break that trust you have literally ripped ass. Location: NewYork Ability: Electric manipulation Job: Bartender History: Zoe is young, but the life she has led has not been remotely one that any young person should have lived. When she was at the tender age of 5 she lost both her parents in an accident during a drive in the country. She was then bounced from family member to family member until she ran away at 15 where her life took a drastic turn making her grow up fast. She has since been taking care of herself doing odd jobs when she can, and has been bartending at the Tequila Sunset for the past two years. |
| Name: Axel Redress. Age: 25. Appearance: Around 5' 8". White. Dark blueish wavy hair that just touches his shoulders. His eye's are the same color as his hair. He sports a black coat that turns into a sort-of claw at the collar. He leaves it unbuttoned at the top to show off a little of his bare chest, and it also shows off a black mark about the size of someone's palm on his neck. He wears dark-blue colored pants, and black sneakers with a white line that curves at the top. He wears black guy-liner that he extends down his face in a single line to make it look like he's crying. He has some muscle, and no real fat on his body. Has a light frame for the most part though. Personality: Mostly apathetic around others, turn's into a very nice guy when near plants. Otherwise, is a very hard person to get along with. Open's himself to others who like plants, and shares his ideas of filling the world with various form's of plant-life. He likes plants so much, that if he ever sees someone hurting plants in any way, he will put his own life on the line, just to make sure that no one will ever hurt it ever again. Location: Bangor, Maine. Ability: Plant Manipulation. Job: Florist. History: Has lived a mostly calm life. Ever since he was 8 years old, he was fascinated with plants. He would often play in flower fields and lay in tall grass. When he turned 15, he devoted his life to the safety of all plant life, as well as founding an organization that takes care of rare plant life. But after a fire was started in the building where some of the rare, near extinct, plant life was growing, he had suffered a psychological meltdown, and had to be put in a intensive care unit for the next 5 years. The only thing that was able to keep him going all that time was the fact that there was a garden a few doors down from where his room was. And he would help out sometimes with watering the plants, and putting new seeds in. After he was let out, he set back out on his quest to bring rare plant life to the world once again. He started by moving from his home in Florida, to Maine, where it was considerably quieter then back home. He soon opened a florist in Bangor, and soon found others who liked the idea of bringing new plant life to the world, and they joined him on his quest to bring green to their world of blue. |
Name: Josephine "Josie" Reece Age: 20 Appearance: 5'5'' with a slender but somewhat muscular frame. She has a light olive complexion. Her hair is long and dark brown with natural highlights. She usually wears skinny jeans, a spaghetti strap and a denim jacket with tall black boots. Personality: Josie cares a lot about people, no matter what kind of people they are, but she isn't very good at showing it. She usually seems nervous and submissive to people at the first glance, but that's just because she is reluctant to get close to people, and is afraid they would betray her in some way. Josie is a flirt at times, if someone else makes the first move. When she's waiting tables she's social and talkative, but when shes on the sidewalk playing her guitar and singing, she really expresses her feelings. Location: Paris, France Ability: Precognitive Dreaming Job: Waitress/Street Musician History: Josephine comes from a hard background, with abusive parents. She ran away when she was 13. Although she was just about scraping by, she fell in love with the city and never left since. Josie has a mysterious demeanor about her. She has never spent any time on relationships, because either no one was ever interested in figuring her out, or she didn't want to disappoint them with who she really was. Either way, she has not yet found the right person. |
Name: Amelia Westerfield Age: 12 Appearance: Straight black hair that hangs three inches lower than her shoulders. Darkly tanned skin. Usually wears jeans or other types of pants, Hates when her mom makes her wear Dresses. Often seen wearing a White Jacket, and white runners. Has a more athletic build. Personality: Tomboy personality, She's Not afraid to say what she's thinking and often speaks out of turn. She's rather quick to jump to conclusions and is very willing to tell others about it. . Amelia Knows the basics of taking care of herself as the children were often left alone as their parents are always taking them to practices and clubs and other events. Location: Toronto, Canada Ability: Technopathy Job: Student History: Amelia's the fourth of five children in her family, the oldest being 19 and the youngest being 10. She's always been a fairly active person, and has had lots of experience witrh sports since most of her cousins and siblings are males. Amelia has been an avid Swimmer for a couple years and has joined a swimming club for the last three summers. Amelia doesn't get to rely much on her parents as their attention is often diverted amongst all five children. |
| Ryan was tired, both physically and emotionally. It had only been four days since he buried a father he hadn't spoken to for a year. The only time they had actually seen one another were in social gatherings, and even then no one knew Ryan was his son. Ryan couldn't have been happier. Still, he would get the, "Hey, you look a lot like Ronan Quinlan." Ryan would of course lie, and say that he just had one of those faces. He laid on his bed in an apartment that was practically falling apart due to the slumlord that owned the place. His bed was his only refuge from the tumult of emotions that threated to take him over. He couldn't put his finger on how he felt about losing his father because it just felt so surreal. He lost his mother when he was 13, and even then he blamed his father for her death. Ronan Quinlan was a company man, he was always gone and never around to be a real father to Ryan. Ronan expected Ryan to keep stellar grades and be nothing short of perfect. He would be sadly mistaken fore his son chose his own path. "This is attempt..." A small petite brunette looked down to the ground with a face of concentration while popping her shoulder back in place then let out a light chuckle, "I guess I've lost count." The reporters swarmed in and questions flew off so fast they couldn't be understood. "I have an ability." The brunette said over the chatter. "I can regenerate. Heal. I can even regrow body parts. I can't die. I can't feel pain. There are others like me. Different abilities exist. Some of us are incredibly strong, read minds, see the future, time travel, control people, absorb abilities, and even heal others. Our abilities are endless. We look just like everyone else, but we're not like everyone else. We're different." Then added,"I'm Mackenzie Cross, and I invite all of you to come forward. You are not alone." Mackenzie finished, talking directly to the camera trained on her. With a wave of his hand Ryan turned the television off and shook his head. "What a way to get locked up in a lab somewhere." he sighed, remembering his time in Q-tech. If only the world only knew what was going on in the many buildings of Q-tech. The light knock at the door didn't go unnoticed by Ryan in the silence of him turning the television off. He rose quickly from his bed and went to open the door, forgetting the fact that he was only wearing boxers. "Hi, can I help you?" He asked the woman standing outside his door. Her eyes lit up as she took in the sight. "I'm looking for Ryan Quinlan." the young woman announced. The makeup that she used accentuated her Asian descent. Her lips were painted a mesmerizing ruby, with purple eye shadow that brought out the color of her cocoa brown eyes. She wore a purple skirt with a white blouse that ruffled near the nape of her neck. Her skin seemed to glow a honey bronze. The perfume she wore had a sweet citrus scent that made Ryan desire the taste of a nectarine. Her shiny satin hair was pulled up in a bun. After looking over the tantalizing package in front of him, he wanted a taste of this beautiful woman. "That's me." Ryan confirmed with a smile. She took the package that Ryan hadn’t noticed in her hands and carefully handed it to him. "Happy birthday, Mr. Quinlan." she said, with a huge smile. "Who’s this from?" Ryan asked, taking the package and lifting it to his ear shaking it. The package was beige with a silver lining. There was a silver ribbon that ran the length of it, and on the silver ribbon” The Cookie Jar: Chocolate Chip Cookies” was printed in bold red letters. "Your father, Mr. Ronan Quinlan. He ordered it a few weeks ago. I'm sorry for his passing." Ryan stood there with the package in hand staring at this woman dumbfounded. He had to let it sink in. His father died just a few days ago in a freak accident. Ronan Quinlan was the CEO of Quinlan Enterprises and produce Qtech. They manufacture weapons for the Government with select cities chosen for research and development. When Ryan found out about his family assisting in the destruction of human life he chose to distance himself. As a result he hadn’t spoken to his father in years. "He ordered this before he died?” Ryan asked, searching for some type of confirmation. "Um,” The woman began picking up an order sheet from somewhere out of his field of vision. “Yeah, a few weeks ago. Two dozen chocolate chip cookies." "They’re my favorite, but why would he order them?" Ryan asked, bewildered. He tilted and stared at the package as if it were some type of foreign animal that would strike out to attack him at any minute. She shrugged and pulled another package from somewhere Ryan couldn’t see. "I don't know. The order was made a couple of weeks ago after his trip to India...he had them delivered to his office with a trip planned to give them to you in person." "What?" "Yeah," she nodded. "I'm sorry, Mr. Quin " Ryan opened the door completely and took the second package. "It's Ryan. Just call me Ryan. Do I owe you anything?" She shook her head and stepped back. "No, nothing. I actually owe you." She dove into her pockets and took out an envelope and handed it to him. "For?" "Mr. Quinlan ordered and paid for it at the same time with clear instructions to give this envelope should he not be able to deliver this himself." He waved the envelope away. "No, you keep it. I'm sorry, what's your name again?" She let out a small dainty laugh. “My name is Samantha Longwei, and no, it really wouldn't be right for me to keep it." "Samantha...um, let's say I do take it. Will you sit down and talk about my father? I have cookies." he offered with a crooked smile. She smiled and shook her head in agreement. "Okay, sure, it is your birthday." |
| *RIIINNNG* *RIIINNNG* *RIIIN-Smack* I had just woken up from the sound of my alarm clock going off. I don't know why I still have it. It bugs the hell out of me, and I should really get a new one. But I guess I can never find the time. I get myself out of bed for fear the alarm might go off again. I get up, get dressed, and walk out of my apartment to go to work. It was on my way out I ran into the landlord at the exit. "Hey buddy! You're two days late with the rent. If you don't pay up by tomorrow, I'll have to get the cops up here to straighten you out." My landlord, Bob, was in a cheery mood as ever today. I swear, he was just as greedy as the landlord in those Spider-Man movies. As I was about to open the door, I saw a potted plant on his desk starting to wither. I then stopped, walked over to the plant, picked it up, and headed over to the door again. "Hey! Where do you think you're going with that?!" "You haven't been taking good care of it. So I will." I then walk out the door. "Christ. Why is it I get all the nut-jobs?" The landlord said as I left. As I walk down the sidewalk and through the crowd, I see just about everyone looking at me. I, of course, know why. It's because of the mark on my neck. The one that makes me different from everyone else. The one thing that makes everyone else feel sorry for me. The one thing that reminds me constantly about my painful past, and everything I couldn't do to stop it. I manege to stop thinking about it and continue to walk until I get to my shop. I look up and read the sign like I always do. "Beauty under the moon." It has a nice ring to it, But again, it's just another reminder to my painful past. I soon shake my head again and open the door. "Welcome to-oh, hello sir." I walk in to see the face of one of my friends, Amanda. She has long purple hair that goes past her...*cough* *cough* rear, and is slightly curly at the ends. She sports a yellow jacket that she leaves unbuttoned to show off her red shirt. She also has men's work-boots, which I keep telling her to stop wearing cause it makes her look weird. To which she says that I should button up my collar so other people can't see my mark. To which I stop talking because it makes no sense to continue any further. "How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me sir. It's Axel." I say to her as I walk over to the front desk. "Well I think it's cute calling you that. *Wink* *Wink*." I sigh as realize it's imposable to convince her otherwise. As I walk to my chair, I see the the small, portable TV turned on and showing a camera crew filming someone. "How many times have I told you not to turn that thing on unless it's the whether channel." "Well I thought it was, but then I saw someone trying to kill themselves, so I left it on." As I heard her say that, I looked at the TV to see just what was going on. "This is attempt..." A small petite brunette looked down to the ground with a face of concentration while popping her shoulder back in place then let out a light chuckle. "I guess I've lost count." The reporters swarmed in and questions flew off so fast they couldn't be understood. "I have an ability." The brunette said over the chatter. "I can regenerate. Heal. I can even regrow body parts. I can't die. I can't feel pain. There are others like me. Different abilities exist. Some of us are incredibly strong, read minds, see the future, time travel, control people, absorb abilities, and even heal others. Our abilities are endless. We look just like everyone else, but we're not like everyone else. We're different." Then added, "I'm Mackenzie Cross, and I invite all of you to come forward. You are not alone." Mackenzie finished, talking directly to the camera trained on her. "Wow. Who do you think that woman is?" Amanda asked me. I just walked over to the front desk and put the plant from before on it, then I walked over to the back room and said- "Take care of that for me will you?" I then walked into the back room, closing the door behind me. The room I was in now was where we grew the fruits and veggies. I walked over to a tomato plant and put my hands to either side of it, sighed, and said- "Are there really others like me with powers?" I then look at the tomato plant and saw that there were no tomato's growing on it. I then hold my hand out to it and watch it start to grow tomato's. It only takes it about 20 seconds to grow a bunch of tomato's, already ripe enough to pick. I then take one off the plant and take a bite out of it. Savoring it's flavor. I then start to think about that woman again, and if there are really others like me out there. "Only time will tell I guess." |
| It was almost the end of the day, and Josephine's last customer was just leaving. "Bonne journée," she said to him, wishing him a good rest of the day. "Merci." Josie sat down in an empty booth and opened her laptop to see if anything interesting had occurred lately. She scrolled through several news websites, and stopped on a recently uploaded video that caught her eye. Josie hesitated for a moment before clicking PLAY. "This is attempt..." A small petite brunette looked down to the ground with a face of concentration while popping her shoulder back in place then let out a light chuckle, "I guess I've lost count." The reporters swarmed in and questions flew off so fast they couldn't be understood. "I have an ability." The brunette said over the chatter. "I can regenerate. Heal. I can even regrow body parts. I can't die. I can't feel pain. There are others like me. Different abilities exist. Some of us are incredibly strong, read minds, see the future, time travel, control people, absorb abilities, and even heal others. Our abilities are endless. We look just like everyone else, but we're not like everyone else. We're different." Then added,"I'm Mackenzie Cross, and I invite all of you to come forward. You are not alone." Mackenzie finished, talking directly to the camera trained on her. No. There was no way there were others like Josie. No way. But she had just seen it on video. That was proof wasn't it? Josie's ability was precognitive dreaming. She could predict the future of anybody, anywhere, except herself. The past couple of nights she had been hearing voices in her sleep. One voice in particular, a man's. Could it have been a telepath? Were there really others like her? Josie shut her laptop, trying to clear her mind. She needed to get out of here anyways. Grabbing her guitar case, she locked up and started heading back to her joke of an apartment. Well, it was the only one she could afford, and the owner wasn't all that bad. Josie had run away from her abusive parents when she was thirteen. Making a living on her own proved to be quite difficult. Eventually, she could no longer block out what she had just seen. Even if she did decide to contact this Mackenzie person, what would she say? And what would happen? There was only one way to find out. |
| Amelia felt the wet grass brushing her ankles, just above where her socks reached towards her leg. The air was damp with the fresh morning dew. The ball hurtled towards her, she stopped it with her foot and started maneuvering it forward. Her older brother, Michael, Quickly gained on her, She could hear him padding up loudly behind her. Out of the corner of her eye Amelia saw her Cousin and she kicked it to him, but her brother was too fast and stopped it, running it back the direction she had come from. There wasn't anything else tha Amelia could do as Michael was much faster, It wasn't long until Michael had scored another goal. The Westerfield Children continued to play for the next hour. There were thirteen of them all together and they always gathered together for their Grandparent's anniversary. Today was their fiftieth and Everyone was in good spirits. After the game was over they began walking back to Grandma and Grandpa Westerfield's home. It was a fairly large home, but it still seemed cramped when So many people tried to squeeze inside There were twenty four people attending today. When the kids came in the parents were all watching television, as they often did in the morning of the anniversary. They never really watched it but kept on as background noise as they chatted vigorously. Amelia and Heather, the only other girl in the westerfield children being much older than Amelia herself, joined them in the living room. and listened as they talked about business and politics. Amelia was absently keeping her eye on the television When something caught her attention This is attempt..." A small petite brunette looked down to the ground with a face of concentration while popping her shoulder back in place then let out a light chuckle, "I guess I've lost count." The reporters swarmed in and questions flew off so fast they couldn't be understood. "I have an ability." The brunette said over the chatter. "I can regenerate. Heal. I can even regrow body parts. I can't die. I can't feel pain. There are others like me. Different abilities exist. Some of us are incredibly strong, read minds, see the future, time travel, control people, absorb abilities, and even heal others. Our abilities are endless. We look just like everyone else, but we're not like everyone else. We're different." Then added,"I'm Mackenzie Cross, and I invite all of you to come forward. You are not alone." Mackenzie finished, talking directly to the camera trained on her. It was only as the screen changed to the weather that Amelia noticed how quiet it was, She then looked and noticed all the adults giving her glances and avoiding eye contact, even her own parents were doing it. Heather seemed to be puzzled but Amelia knew why they were looking at her. Amelia stood up and quickly walked to the front door, slid her shoes on and walked out the door slamming it behind her. "I can't believe they told them!" Amelia Shouted to no one in particular as she continued to walk turning left at the driveway. Amelia's face had turned completely red. She was a mix between anger and embarrassment, going from one to another and back again. |
| When the sack was pulled off of Zoe’s head, her dark hair was mussed around her face, she was met with dull grey walls and florescent lights. All along the hall were cells of thick concrete; each holding two to five people. Zoe saw three children to her left who couldn't have been more than ten years old, and to her right were two older girls about her age on the other side. She felt sick. As they led her down the hallway, her hands bound behind her back, she met the eyes of the various women only to be struck with how empty their eyes seemed. They all looked like they had lost hope. Cold fear gripped her in an iron like vice at the thought that she might end up just as hollow as the others here. Moving through the halls they came to a stop outside a cell that had a television. Her guard stopped her to yell at one of the prisoners making noise. "This is attempt..." A small petite brunette looked down to the ground with a face of concentration while popping her shoulder back in place then let out a light chuckle, "I guess I've lost count." The reporters swarmed in and questions flew off so fast they couldn't be understood. "I have an ability." The brunette said over the chatter. "I can regenerate. Heal. I can even regrow body parts. I can't die. I can't feel pain. There are others like me. Different abilities exist. Some of us are incredibly strong, read minds, see the future, time travel, control people, absorb abilities, and even heal others. Our abilities are endless. We look just like everyone else, but we're not like everyone else. We're different." Then added,"I'm Mackenzie Cross, and I invite all of you to come forward. You are not alone." Mackenzie finished, talking directly to the camera trained on her. Zoe couldn't believe her eyes, but hoped Mackenzie stayed hidden or she'd end up here with the rest of them. Zoe sought for the power that sprang forth before from the core of her being. She could feel the switch for it, but couldn't quite get a good grip to bring it forth. The only thing she was able to do was overload a light that exploded directly above her and her jailer. She was awarded a blow to the back of her skull that made her see stars. Zoe was then thrown into a cell at the far end of the long hall where a young woman maybe a few years older than her was sitting in a chair next to a bed made immaculately. Zoe would bet a quarter could be bounced off of it. “Miss Sullivan, I’m glad you could join us.” the woman greeted, with a smile. The hard shove in her back prompted Zoe to respond. “I would say it was a pleasure, but then I’d be lying.” The man who had escorted her to the cell she found herself in took a hold of her bound fingers and twisted them. He placed his mouth close to her ear and whispered, “Don’t be disrespectful to Miss L., do it again and I’ll break your wrist.” Zoe didn’t need to see his eyes to know that he was serious. “Alexander, please refrain from harming Miss Sullivan.” the woman said, getting up from the chair and walking to stand in front of Zoe smiling. “Zoe, may I call you Zoe?” she asked. “It’s not like I can stop you now can I?” Zoe shot back, a slight twist to her bound wrists elicited a moan of pain from her. The woman’s glare at Alexander made the man fidget, and made him release the pressure he had placed on Zoe’s wrist. “I suppose you’re right. Still, we are not barbarians. Do you know why you are here?” she asked, not unkind. The woman’s pleasant demeanor made Zoe uneasy. She knew how quickly people’s personality changed when they didn't receive the answer they wanted. Zoe tried a different tactic. She smiled despite the anger that was building inside her. “You seem to know my name, but I don’t know what to call you besides Miss L. That I learned from Alexander back here." She gestured with a nod of her head. "So, before I answer any questions, what is your name?” Zoe said, stalling for time. “I suppose that is only fair, since we do know everything about you. You may call me , Samantha, Samantha Longwei.” |
| "It is, come on in." Ryan moved behind the door then waited for Samantha to walk in and directed her to the small table in the kitchen before unwrapping the cookies. Feeling a draft in the room he looked down to realize that he needed pants...badly. As Samantha seated herself in the kitchen Ryan ducked off to grab a pair of pants he discarded in his room. He walked into the small kitchen, filled a pot with water and started the coffee machine. "Coffee will be ready in a little bit.” He told her reaching into the overhead cabinet to grab two coffee mugs. His kitchen was colored a sickly yellow with brown stains clearly visible on the ceiling. Ryan hated living here. “Had my father used your services before two weeks ago?” Ryan asked, making small talk. Ryan looked over in time to see a shadow pass over Samantha’s face. “Actually, I made these cookies. Well, my company made them.” Ryan sat the coffee cups he held in his right hand down. “You made these cookies?” “Yes, your father invested in my company a year ago. If it weren’t for him I wouldn’t be where I am today. She said. The aroma of the fresh brew filled every inch of the apartment. It was strong, and just inhaling it made all of Ryan’s senses crisp. “These are delicious!” Ryan exclaimed, after taking a couple of cookies and popping them into his mouth. "Thanks," Samantha replied, trying to stifle a smile. "My dad has great taste," his words slowed as he said them and he sat down in front of her. "Had great taste." he corrected. "Yeah, he did. Mr. Quinlan was a wonderful man. If it wasn't for him, my business wouldn't have gotten anywhere." "How's that possible? These are amazing." "Ronan had me cater for him. He was my biggest investor. I owe your family everything." She said, with a note of sadness in her voice. "No, Samantha, you don't owe us anything." The ding in the kitchen snapped his attention and he quickly got up and poured two cups before returning to the table. It didn’t go unnoticed the tone she used while talking about his father, nor the fact that she began using Ronan instead of Mr. Quinlan. He decided not to pay too much attention to it. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't surprised he invested. It doesn't sound like him." She took the cup as he handed it to her. "I guess I got lucky." she said, before sipping the coffee tentatively. He looked at her for a moment. Her words were slow and dropped off. Something wasn't right. There was more to the story than she was saying. Ronan Quinlan didn’t invest in something unless he could benefit from it. "How'd you meet my father?" "By accident. It was years ago." "What type of accident?" Samantha straightened and cleared her throat. "Just coincidence, really. Nothing major." "Right." Ryan said, his response dripping with sarcasm. "You know, Ryan, it's amazing that I meet you now." "Why is that?" "Ronan used to always say you were out saving the world and that's why we never met. He tried to introduce us once, but as soon as you came, you were gone again. Like you could fly," she laughed. Ryan smiled. He could never stand to be at those office parties. He just wasn't fit for that life. It was his father's life, not his. "I'm a firefighter. I guess that's what he meant. Always on call. Saving the world is my job." He thought it was best not to mention he could use his abilities to keep himself from being burned. "I make cookies, you save the world," she laughed again while breaking a cookie in half. "Hey, these cookies could save the world!” He laughed. “At least give someone a reason to save it," he added. Samantha shook her head as her phone went off stifling the laughter that began. "I'm so sorry. I really need to take this " "No, no, it's fine. Go ahead." Samantha nodded and got up. Ryan took another sip of his coffee before getting up and walking to his room and pulling clothes out of the closet. He threw some of them on the bed. Then sat on the bed as he selected one of the shirts he pulled from the closet. It was a basic white t-shirt with green splashed on the right shoulder that looks as if he were painting and spilled it on his shirt that turned into a green cobra stretching itself to the other side of his body with its fangs bared. As he pulled his shirt over his head, through the crack in the door, he could see Samantha walking through the small dining area and into the living room. Ryan quickly put two and two together and walked out into the living room. "What are all these?" She asked, looking over at the wall and box sitting on the floor flooded with newspaper articles. "Just some newspaper clippings." Ryan said simply. "These are amazing. I remember some of these. It's amazing what an adrenaline rush can help people do. It like," she turned towards him, "gives people crazy abilities." "Yeah, crazy. Anyone can be a hero." The knock at the door ended the conversation and Ryan stepped away from the living room. He opened the door and knew his morning that didn’t start the best was seriously going the wrong way. Standing just outside the door were men dressed in all black military gear. “Damn it…I hate when I'm right.” was all Ryan said, then turned around to see Samantha changing. Her once beautiful face began to contort into a hot mess. Ryan would have laughed at the thought had this situation not been so dire. |
Name: Jackson Kelly, Jr. Age: 30 Appearance: Of average height but muscular build, short brown hair that is usually tousled in appearance. Brown eyes that almost seem to have a hint of honey gold in them. He wears casual, but dark, clothes that help him blend into the crowds. He's handsome, but trained to fit in. If you've seen him, you probably wouldn't remember it. Personality: Jack was one wild kid, always staying up late and causing havoc. Now, after one unfortunate event after another, you would find him to be a great deal more serious. He's seen things as a cop - he's done things... outside jurisdiction. Whatever remains of the lighthearted kid is gone, or else buried beneath the burning thirst for vengeance, and the almost chilling calculated approach for achieving it. Location: Non static - on the hunt. Ability: Clairsentience Job: Ex-Cop History: Jackson Kelly Sr. was a cop - a great one, at that. He was a good father, too. But he owed some of the secrets to his success to an ability - an ability not many people had. His father was good at finding people, because he could sense where they had been. Jackson Sr. became involved in a secret program, one that helped track down others with these abilities, supposedly for their - and the community's - own good. He finally came to his senses and realized what they were doing was wrong - just in time for them to kill him. Jack figured all of this out when he laid hands on his dad's blood stained police badge, and his powers kicked in fully for the first time. He'd always had his ability, of course - it was part of what made him such a good cop. But he'd never fully imagined or understood. The people came for him, next. Hoping to recruit or kill - he wasn't sure. What he was sure of, is that they would pay for what they did to his dad. He used his dad's gun to kill the intruders, and he hasn't stopped using it since. --------- "Mmrmgh," In a dimly lit room in some backwater town in Louisiana, a soldier struggled against his bindings and the wet dish towel that was stuffed in his mouth. "Shut up," Jack kneed him in the back from where he sat on the couch, "I'm trying to watch this." Jack hit the volume button on the remote and turned it up. There was a news special, being played on all the major news broadcasting stations. And it had caught his attention. "This is attempt..." A small petite brunette looked down to the ground with a face of concentration while popping her shoulder back in place then let out a light chuckle, "I guess I've lost count." The reporters swarmed in and questions flew off so fast they couldn't be understood. "I have an ability." The brunette said over the chatter. "I can regenerate. Heal. I can even regrow body parts. I can't die. I can't feel pain. There are others like me. Different abilities exist. Some of us are incredibly strong, read minds, see the future, time travel," She went on. "Control people, absorb abilities, and even heal others. Our abilities are endless. We look just like everyone else, but we're not like everyone else. We're different." Then added, "I'm Mackenzie Cross, and I invite all of you to come forward. You are not alone." Mackenzie finished, talking directly to the camera trained on her. "Well damn," Jack sighed, letting the remote flop down beside himself on the too-stiff couch. Jack was a cop. He wasn't a genius. But he was smart. This was a trap. That organization? The one that killed his dad? The one who's soldiers he kept tracking down? They were smart. This was all a trap. Surely the others out there, others like himself, felt lonely, afraid... now this girl shows up and just lets loose on freaking prime time TV. Inviting them to feel safe. To come forward... for the slaughter. Once they revealed themselves, they would be hers. Hers. Mrs. L. Samantha Longwei. He'd seen her... seen her through the memory of his fathers police badge. Seen her order his death. He'd seen other things, too. People, children, trapped in cages. With every soldier he caught, he saw more. It helped him track down the next person, and the next person. He had come in contact with several other people who had abilities - he'd helped them escape. Jack had just rescued someone today, in fact. An eighty year old man with the ability to see through walls. Jack had killed one of the soldiers - his body was behind the couch. The other he'd subdued and tied up, pushed him to his knees by the sofa. A bit of a time-out, really. Getting up from the couch, Jack kneeled down next to the man. "Who're you going after next?" The man just glared at him, and Jack got the feeling he was swearing like a sailor in his mind. Jack grabbed the mans ear and yanked him forward, so Jack's breath was hot on his neck. "Maybe you didn't hear me," He growled, "Where are you going? What is she planning?" The man just pulled away. Jack stood, smacking the back of the mans head as he went. Then he knelt in front of him, and started going through the man's jacket pockets. A box of cigarettes, a lighter, some extra bullets... and a pair of glasses. "Ah, a little near sighted, are we?" Jack grinned, waving the glasses in front of the mans face. Perfect. Jack closed his eyes, and let his powers work. From the viewpoint of the glasses he saw the mans home, the people in the cages, Samantha, a garage, and some computers. On one of the computers was the face of a little girl. "Canada, huh?" Jack opened his eyes, "Guess I'll have to get my passport." If his visions were correct, they'd be going after this girl next. He'd get there first. Jack cracked his back when he stood, then looked around the dinky apartment for something of use. He whistled a calm tune as he raided the kitchen, finally finding some laundry detergent under the sink and a bottle of whisky in the cupboard. He emptied the laundry detergent in a broad circle around the man and on the couch. He bent over so he was the mans height and took a swig of the whisky. "I guess this is it," He splashed the whisky in the mans face, "Send Miss L my regards." The man struggled to break free from his bindings and his eyes were wide when he turned to see Jack at the door, the lighter in his hands. Jack flipped open the lighter. "You should quit smoking." Jack tossed the lighter onto the couch, which quickly caught flame, and shut the door behind him. He was already down the street before the first fire truck pulled in. He put the location into the cars nav and sighed. It was going to be a long drive. |
The elevator ride up to her floor that night was one of the longest for Josie. It wasn't every day you figured out that the strange ability that changed your life completely and haunted you every night of your life wasn't the only one of its kind. Contacting Mackenzie Cross would mean a possible end to Josie's loneliness. On the other hand, alone was what she was good at, what she had known her whole life. Alone was safe. Josie shifted the strap of her bag higher up on her shoulder as the elevator reached her floor. She picked up her guitar case and turned to walk down the narrow hallway, ignoring the smell of sweat and cigarette smoke coming from apartment 3C. Reaching into her jacket pocket for her keys proved unnecessary when she stopped in front of her door. The door stood partially open already. Josie shook her head, crediting it to her neighbor who was always borrowing something or the other from Josie's kitchen. She must have forgotten to return the spare key. Pushing inside with her shoulder she was attacked with several realizations at once. The first was that she was definitely wrong about her neighbor. Then there were the armed men dressed in all black, raiding her things quite ruthlessly, leaving nothing untouched. Before she could process anything else, one of the men approached Josie, not looking all too kind. "Miss Reece, correct?" It was more a statement than a question. Josie could only stare wide-eyed, nodding slightly, unable to ignore the very real gun at his hip. "I have a warrant for your immediate arrest. We will be flying you back to America with us to stand trial." There was something very wrong with all this. Josie knew that somewhere in the back of her mind. Besides the fact that she had committed no crime, it was highly unlikely that United States personnel would bother with a criminal in France. All the same, they had guns. No way in hell was she going to provoke them. After having her guitar and laptop bag wrenched away from her, Josie was not so kindly escorted down to their black van at gunpoint. Typical. She was hustled inside where she found herself sitting across an Asian woman. "Hello... Josie, is it?" The woman asked, a little too lightly for Josie's tastes. "I am Samantha Longwei. We're going to need to ask you some questions." She looked pointedly at Josie, as if waiting for approval before moving on. Josie said nothing, staring blankly at the woman. Samantha cleared her throat. "We know your secret, sweetheart. You're a mutant, just like the others we seek. Now, what exactly are your abilities? Do you know any of the others like you? You know why you're here, don't you?" The woman rattled off questions Josie knew the answers to would only harm her more. These people weren't joking around. "Je ne sais pas de quoi vous parlez. Où allons-nous? Où est ma famille?" Josie flitted her eyes nervously between the people around her, hoping to convince them that she was a clueless foreigner, nothing more. The guard beside her wasted no time in pressing a gun to her temple, annoyance written all over his features. "I assure you, Miss Reece, this would be a lot easier if you would just cooperate." Samantha motioned for the guard to lower his weapon, which he did so reluctantly. Josie reached beside her, pulling at the door handle. Wherever these people were taking her was definitely worse than a couple broken bones at the speed they were going. Before she could move, the door was forced shut. Josie felt the drowsiness take over her before seeing the needle being taken out of her arm. What felt like only a moment later, Josie woke with a start. The drugs still worked on her, but they didn't match the strong presence now in her mind. She had dreamed all the same, this time of a well-dressed Samantha Longwei speaking to a Mr. Quinlan. The van was parked outside an apartment building almost as bad as her own. Samantha was no longer in the seat across from her. Immediately she knew who this was. The voice she had been hearing, giving her little bits and pieces of assurance that she wasn't the only one like this. Whether or not this worked both ways, she had no clue. Josie closed her eyes, trying her best to open her mind to whoever this was. Maybe then he would have the information he needed to get them out of this mess. |
| Samantha Longwei clasped her hands behind her back, her smile polite but sharp as a blade. She paced the small cell like she owned it, her heels clicking softly against the concrete floor. Zoe stood tense, refusing to shrink under Samantha's unsettling calm. “You must have questions, Zoe,” Samantha began. “Why you’re here. What we want. I assure you, all will become clear.” Zoe lifted her chin. “I’d rather know why you’re locking kids up like livestock.” Samantha's expression flickered for a brief second, something cold flashing behind her otherwise composed exterior. “It’s unfortunate, but necessary. You see, people like you are rare… special. These children, and others you’ve seen...they hold abilities beyond imagination, as I’m sure you’re beginning to understand. We need to ensure that these gifts are… properly guided.” “Guided?” Zoe repeated, her voice dripping with disbelief. “You mean controlled. You’re locking people up and breaking them until they’ll do what you want. That’s not guidance.” “Perspective, Zoe. Everything is perspective.” Samantha stopped pacing and turned to face her fully. “Do you know why we brought you here?” “Because you’re scared,” Zoe shot back. “You’re scared of what we can do.” Samantha chuckled softly, the sound far too calm. “Scared? No. Fascinated, perhaps. Curious. You are so full of fire. A little rough around the edges, but you could be exceptional.” She tilted her head. “Which brings me to why I wanted to speak to you directly. We need your help.” “Help?” Zoe almost laughed. “What could you possibly want my help for?” “To bring in another like you,” Samantha said smoothly, her words hanging in the air like smoke. Zoe’s heart dropped. “What?” “There is someone out there with abilities even more remarkable than yours,” Samantha continued, her gaze unwavering. “A boy. Very powerful. Dangerous, even, if left unchecked. We believe you are uniquely suited to bring him in, to reason with him. You both share… let’s call it a connection.” “I’m not bringing anyone to you,” Zoe snapped, her pulse hammering in her ears. “You’re insane if you think I’m going to help you kidnap someone else.” Samantha sighed, her smile finally slipping. “I was hoping you’d see the opportunity here. You could help him, Zoe. Help him avoid this.” She gestured to the bleak walls around them. “This doesn’t have to be his fate. But if we don’t act quickly, others will find him. And they won’t be as… accommodating as we are.” Zoe clenched her fists, the bindings biting into her skin. Her anger simmered dangerously close to boiling over. “You’re lying. You’re the bad guys here. You’re just scared you can’t control him, so you want me to do your dirty work.” Samantha stepped closer, her tone dropping to something quieter, colder. “Let me be clear, Zoe. You don’t have a choice. Refuse, and the people here; these children, those women, they will suffer for your defiance. Cooperate, and you might just save someone’s life, maybe even your own.” Zoe’s stomach twisted. The weight of Samantha’s threat sank into her bones, but she forced herself to meet the woman’s gaze head-on. “I won’t help you. Ever.” Samantha’s lips thinned. “A shame.” She turned to Alexander, who still loomed in the corner. “Make sure she has time to reconsider.” Alexander smirked as Samantha exited the cell, leaving Zoe alone with the man’s predatory stare. The cell door clanged shut, the sound echoing down the hallway like a death knell. Zoe staggered back, her shoulders hitting the cold wall. Her mind raced as panic threatened to take hold. She had to get out of here. And she had to do it fast, before Samantha Longwei found that boy and turned him into another prisoner. “I’ll find a way out,” Zoe whispered to herself, her jaw set with determination. The flicker of power deep inside her flared again, faint but present. She clung to it, like a spark of hope in the darkness. “I’ll get us all out.” |
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