sirenspull | Entries tagged with c: deathstroke the terminator

[The feed comes to life, and before you notice the expression, you probably note the face. It's bone-pale, with dark, bruise-like shadows set beneath golden eyes. A lock of golden hair brushes against his forehead, and he pauses, as though unsure where to begin.

That expression clears, once again replaced with the sincerity and friendliness that he opened up with.]

Hello. My name is is Dr. Cullen. [The greeting comes out quietly and softly, but with the right amount of reassurance and calm. You'll note that the face is young - way too young to accompany the title of doctor, let's be honest. But this is clearly someone who knows what he doing - when it comes to greeting people, at least. With everything else, he continues to be politely curious, and quietly baffled.]

From what I am led to believe, do I assume correctly when I say that vampires are not much of an... issue here? [He seems to hold his breath at this, curiosity blooming and anxiousness waiting, carefully in check.] Any information you have about this will be appreciated, and treated very carefully, I assure you. [He smiles again at this, grooves of dimples forming in his cheeks. Utterly charming.

And really, he is a doctor. A vampire doctor. Take with that what you will.]

freeholding

[Morning on the island. John is above all things calm and excellent in a crisis. He's on his motorcycle yet again, and its rumble can be heard, along with sirens and what might be a riot.]

One would think being a vanilla mortal were the end of the world, the way some people are acting. As though extrahuman abilities were needed to achieve remarkable things. Excuse me--

[The motorcycle idles and there is a ka-chack sound that some people might recognize as a shotgun.]

[Directed away from the NV,] One more step and you'll end up among the hundreds waiting to get into the ER. Given how overstretched this island now is, do you want to entrust your life to triage?

[The sound on the NV blows out when a shotgun blast goes off nearby.] That's your only warning.

... Good choice.

[The engine noise picks up as John drives away.]

A note: if anyone is in the market for a motorcycle, the green R60 isn't available. The next person to ask will not get a patient talk-down.

[A pause.]

Stay indoors if you can, ladies and gentlemen. It's only morning, but I can tell already the situation is going to deteriorate further.

paterelohim

[It's late. There's some background noise, distant, muffled, sounding very vaguely like music- he's on break at Purgatory. A self-assigned one, manager's prerogative.]

You know the phrase "your life flashing before your eyes"? Supposedly right before you die, when this moment of self-reflection just- hits you?

Can we talk about how preposterous that is? Yeah, because imminent death would really trigger that exact reaction- an intense fast-cut montage with percussive sound effects, you know, to really heighten the tension. Or some cockamamie Lifetime dream sequence where all these fuzzy filler memories float past you in soft focus.

Don't get me wrong, that's poetic, but-

-and there's another thing. It's supposed to happen in order, from when you were born right until then. But, come on. Is that how you think about yourself- from start to finish, as if that's the only pattern that could possibly happen within a lifetime?

I don't think so. [His voice gets quiet.] I think it's more complicated than that.

makeflowersgrow

M'sieur Marius...... Have you seen him? Bonnis mezig!

[Eponine is trying her best to bite back how worried she sounds, and in her anxiety, the new vocabulary she's learned in Port has escaped her completely.]

I cannot find him on this thing. This -

Bonnis mezig! And M'sieur Enjolras - Whoever has him - please let him answer me. He needs to know if it is... If M'sieur Marius has gone.

(Bonnis mezig is Argot for 'tell me')

freeholding

[There is the rumble of an engine in the background and some wind distortion, but John's voice is very clear. The benefits of training your voice to be as measured and newscaster-bland as possible.]

You spend enough time around certain elements and you get a sense for things. That feeling of 'something wicked this way comes.' Though a friend of mine is always quick to point out that in context, the hero of that story was the something in question and blind to it.

I tend to have a better track record than that, though. [Not that he isn't wicked, mind. But he's not exactly in the hero role anyway. Christ, and he can almost hear Nathan ranting about literary theory and storytelling conventions and et cetera.]

Anyway. Does anyone know where a concerned citizen might gain access to some firepower? Something better than what the pawn shops have on offer.

[With an ounce of humor:] It is the shopping season, after all.

freeholding

[Two men have settled into one of the larger rooms of the Tower. One is tall and lean and looks vaguely untrustworthy, like someone you wouldn't want to share a cab with. He's got a mean-looking scar through the right side of his face, a silver pentacle around his neck, and a dramatic black leather duster hanging off his frame. He's the one seated on the floor, a circle drawn around him (was that done in chalk?) on the lumpy carpet.

The other man is far more respectable looking, but something about him would incite nervousness and distrust if you met him in person. He's older, with greying hair and eyes the color of dead grass. Dressed like a businessman in tailored Givenchy and silver cufflinks, there is nonetheless the sense of a prowling panther as he paces slowly around the outside of the circle.]

Are you ready? [says the man in the suit.]

[The one in the circle opens an eye to glare at his companion.] Are you interrupting a wizard when he's wizarding?

We're on a time table, Dresden.

A what? [The one by the name of "Dresden" squints at the other man like he's in awe of his existence.] I don't care how OCD you are, you don't have a time table yet.

Near and present danger.

Hell's bells, fine. Operation Stress-test commencing in five... four... [His voice trails off as he closes his eyes again, focusing before:] Hexus.

[There's a quick series of pops as all the lights burst into showers of sparks, power sockets go up smoke, and the NV's feed promptly goes dead.]

[[OOC: Blue font is Harry, Green font is John and they'll be replying separately to your comments!

If you'd like to play along, Harry just hexed the electrical things (lights, AC units, TVs, anything really) in their room, and the effect may spread to anyone nearby in the Tower apartments. Feel free to suddenly have a freezing cold shower or have your radio cut out, etc.]]

Current Location: Tower Apartments

killerthighs

So has this past week been a glimpse into what I can expect here in Siren's Port?

hungryanhorny

[Faith's changed - ~~ignore the lack of icons, please~~- and trying not to look pissed about it; still, too many people doing that already.

She tries to act like her casual self instead, leaning against the wall of her apartment - still lean physique showing off the curves of her muscles more readily than her old body had. Not that she's noticed or anything.

Still, her voice is a little dry when she asks her question, running a hand through the far too short hair..]

Anyone know what a guy can do for fun around here?

doeswhathewants

[He's sitting in the park, feeding pigeons from a container of candy corn. Handful for the birds, handful for himself. Is that container endless? Probably not. It's a bit of magical sleight of hand and instantaneous matter transportation, if you want the truth. Somewhere, a store full of food-turned-candy corn is being suspiciously emptied of its contents.]

Almost as good as the Eggs of Cadbury. Almost, but not quite. So, I thought I would share.

Please, no thanks necessary, only enjoy your candied corn.

[A pause] And to all of the haters, the food shall return to normal at midnight. There now, not so bad? Take a bite, go with it. Enjoy.

awakenings

[The video begins with a shot of Re-l's desk, covered in case files and all manner of papers. It quickly adjusts to show her instead, sitting on the sofa in her office. Beside her is a large, black laborador, dozing with his head pressed against her thigh. She doesn't seem to be paying the beast any mind for the most part, arms folded across her chest.]

Most of you don't care to know but the Joker was found dead several days ago in the Darkness. He has yet to return and the force is on high alert for him to reappear at the baseball diamond. Hopefully, he'll see fit to stay home this time.

[It's strange, in a way, that everything's come around full circle. Her trials as an officer started with the Joker; she almost feels as if now would be the perfect time for her to resign. But that wouldn't help things, after all.]

I thought maybe I'd be bored but I found all of this work for me to do in the meantime. Courtesy of Sherlock Holmes. [She rolls her eyes, though her expression turns melancholy.] He, too, has disappeared from the island...as has John Watson. My condolences to their friends and co-workers. They were both fine men.

[It's so formal coming out of her. It makes her sick. She grimaces briefly, the disgust masked as she turns her head towards the dog.]

I suppose I'll be looking after this...monstrosity...until we get him through the proper K9 training he'll need to work with us.

[At his mention, the dog's head perks up and he looks at Re-l, tongue lolling out. Despite all of her exasperation, she reaches out to pet the big, shaggy head. After a moment, she regards the NV.]

To all Newcomers, my name is Re-l Mayer and I'm both a corporal here and a case worker. I'm here to offer aid and information for whatever you may need. I have a document you can look over for basic information, and there is a text to voice function for those who may need it. It's lacking some numbers and contacts for now and I would urge anyone to contact me should they want to be added to the Newcomer Businesses list or if they are affiliated with the hospitals.

If you have any other questions, don't hesitate to ask. My door's always open and my NV is [unfortunately] always on.

reginagloriae

[For a long moment, Youko thought about using audio, because it's less overlooked, but she doesn't need many recommendations for what she was going to ask. She didn't think it was worth it if she asked about the benefits of school vs two jobs. She has already chosen. Education in this place was pretty worthless.]

Is there a place where I can commission a scabbard for a sword? I'd really something simple to an accessible price. I don't need the sheath to be ornamental. I'm just sick of wrapping this with a dirty shroud if that makes sense.

[Something I can afford. She refuses to depend on the so-called "kindness" of others.]

Thanks.

[She types without meaning it. She ends the message with that.]

awakenings

[Good morning, Siren's Port. We hope you slept well last night, because at some point around ten in the morning, the network will be greeted to the sound of someone shrieking in anger at the top of their lungs. Oh, and this face in the screen:]

Where the hell is that bastard?

["Joker" is seething into the screen, eyes alight in absolute madness. His hair is flopping into his face, strings of green over his pale skin.]

Joker, you son of a bitch! Whatever you did, I demand you fix it and get the hell out of my body!

[Someone's sounding crazy. No surprise there.]

[ooc: also, replies will be coming from

not_funny]

deductives

A hounding color, silver's lesser sister Has a breath along the way, a cease. This public chariot yields a final pause Like Schubert did in older annuals. But this cross borne hit more than a note sooner: And its travels are Frosted in path. So another Gothamite leaves us with more questions than answers. I'm not sure if anyone could call themselves friends with Mr. Nygma, but he's gone, regardless. This was found carved into a table in his flat. He could have left a harder one, to be honest. And yet, perhaps he's better off than us.[And that's the closest he'll get to publicly acknowledging recent affairs.]Feel free to solve it yourself.

ace_of_knaves

[Joker is hanging over the camera. His hair is damp and his eyes are large and wild. He looks like a cornered animal.]

No.

[His chest heaves and his eyes dart back and forth as green strands fall into his face from behind his ears.]

NO!

This is not what's supposed to happen! Why is this freaking island still here!? Why am I still here!?

[He throws his head back and howls.]

WHAT HAPPENED TO MY PERFECT ENDING!?

doeswhathewants

[The NV clicks on suddenly, picture sideways, a bit of ice melting on one corner of the screen (likely what knocked the device over and turned it on). The porch of the HoA and the lawn beyond it are recognizable.

As is the owner of the NV, standing on the lawn in the midst of snow drifts and a handful of large, blue skinned humanoids that are subsequently attempting to kill him.

Loki is clad in green leather.

And a gold horned helmet, which he is currently using as a weapon, running towards one of the blue skinned creatures with a hearty battle cry, goring the forst giant in his midsection. Swirls of ice, of green magic and a miniature army of garden gnomes dressed as the various Avengers are a perfect picture of chaos doing battle. The surroundings somehow remain in tact.]

I will defend the Port from ALL the frost giants! [He crows as the frost giant falls, body smashing to ice as it hits the ground. Loki's smile is wide, pupils dilated, cheeks flushed]

Pickles! They will sing your praises in Valhalla and the Hall of the Dead! I will do all of the cocaine!

[A gnome dressed as- well, it looks like Robin Hood, but it's really Fandral, moves to the NV and wags a finger at it before turning it off.]

cheerhealer

Sylar has his collar off. If you see him on the streets, run. Fighting against him is useless unless you can cut his head off.

He can regenerate now. [ Blood is smeared on her face and on the little Pomeranian in her arms, mixed in with dried tears. She shuts the feed off immediately after that little PSA. ]

( private to peter ; extremely difficult to hack )

( private to loki ; moderately difficult to hack )

[ OOC: replies to the public post will likely come after a few hours ICly. ]

awakenings

[The little hologram that shows up on everyone's NV is that of Re-l Mayer, wearing a pair of jeans and a tank top, and not looking like she's bothered in the least by the temperatures. More importantly, she looks agitated, though it's difficult to see too much detail considering the hologram isn't very large.]

Am I the only one going out of my mind over here? The same goddamn thing, day after day after day... It's worse than home! At least there I could take a day off without feeling guilty because the same people keep dying and getting hurt. No one's listening. No one's believing anything. I've even had to resort to looking up a fortune teller and someone with precognition powers to ask if they see anything in the future, some sort of disaster or time loop--

[She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.]

I just look insane. I've had to watch the same accident happen every day. I've gotten the same call about a couple that keep getting hit by the same truck speeding out of some parking lot.

[It's grating on her. The helplessness is mounting, stifling. She can save a few people but everyone else dies anyway. And it just keeps happening without any way to stop it.]

I want any officer who can hear this to meet me tomorrow morning outside of where that traffic jam is going to be around 9am. We can set up one or two traffic cops and hopefully something will change. If not, we can intervene this time. All of us. [They have enough magic users and powerful people on their team that they should be able to stop it.] And then we can move on from there. I don't care if this needs to be repeated every single goddamn day until something happens. I can't do this alone.

[She folds her arms across her chest, though it might look like she's almost hugging herself.]

Please tell me someone's figured out what the hell the cause of all of this is. We have enough geniuses in this city that it shouldn't be too hard.

meaculpable

--One of you lot once said that insanity is merely the act of repetition, wherein rather than expecting the same tired and tested outcome, one comes to believe that his actions have purpose. That he will, in fact, somehow change his allotted fate through stubborn force-of-will alone.

[ Those of you who know him well enough may tell that Lucifer is slightly...annoyed. ]

Though I've never fully come to appreciate the mortal need for witticism, I suppose it apropos that my third visit to this Port finds me seeing that nothing has changed, that you lot have yet to find your freedom.

[ He says the word like a curse. ]

Four here exist with the power to remake the universe at their whim. Two with the power to ignore the laws of this Creation entirely.

[ You can almost hear him smile. ]

I wonder. [ And here, he deliberately trails. ] How long will it take until one of us visits Delirium's realm.