[Jerrin Bloodlette, Vampire]

Maybe I can control my lust more, and in the beginning, truth be told I certainly tried. The blood calls to me though. Even now, as I am much older, it still calls to me, and I still must answer. It isn't a matter of if I will feed or not, it is a matter of when I will feed. Some victims are fed upon with little care, and I choose not to even consider the horror they experience, because emotion, be it fear or ecstasy, is all the same to a vampire.  Others experience great ecstasy, the host sharing that with the vampire, unto death. You must understand that drinking the blood for sustenance is only part of it. Through the blood, we also drink experiences and emotions. Things we know of, but never feel. We never feel, unless feeding. This is why some vampires gorge and become bloated and often times quite mad from it. They crave the feelings. The feelings that they felt when alive. It calls to us, over time, and it's call becomes louder and louder until it is all we can hear. The taste. The ecstasy. The desire. The fear. The anger. The hate. The love. The warmth. The life. It all matters, the very things that make humans human. We feed on the blood, we feed on their humanity. 
But we are not human. 

 

[Jerrin Bloodlette, Vampire]

A town, even a large one,  is no place for a vampire, not even one with great wealth. I could not bear to sell the house, nor the plantation surrounding, but it was growing increasingly evident that I could not stay. The bodies were, and forgive the saying, piling up. No, of course I did not indulge past more than needed. I tried to restrain myself, even considered starvation as a way out. 
Vampires do not really starve though. My attempt only proved that the disease will feed, with or without my consent. I awakened in my darkened room to Ms. Harting changing me from the blood soaked clothes I wore. I believed that this was the first time she suspected me of being a murderer, though she claimed to believe it was my illness. 
I suppose she was not wrong. 
Now I am sure she knew something was different about me even before then. Being an atheist of sorts, she did not believe me to be a vampire, a devil. However, she may have suspected me of being a murderer, much like the killer stalking Whitechapel in London at this time. She spoke of him quite often, and read the stories of the murders to me. It interested her, but I did not find that odd, as it interested most people at the time. I listened with marginal interest, drifting between the need to sleep and the desire to feed. 
It may have been because of Jack the Knife, or The Apron as they called him at this time, that she suggested we move to London, a place where even a vampire could blend. Especially a vampire. Her reasoning was to seek the best doctors, to see to my illness. She knew I hardly ate, she knew I was weak most days, and she knew bright sunlight was torture to my eyes. Indeed my whole body if truth be told. You see at this time I had not yet learned to sleep in a coffin, which is to say, in a place completely devoid of any light. Though I avoided direct sunlight, and kept my thick black curtains closed, I still tried to function during the day. It seems foolish, perhaps now, but we did not have information at our finger tips, as we do now. I assure you, there are more vampires than one may suspect, even today, but they know more of their own illness than I did. I knew only rumor, and I knew it was hard to separate truth from fiction. 
To understand some things about me, I must write some truths now, no matter how depraved they seem, about my condition. 

[Jerrin Bloodlette, Vampire]

It easy to look back at a different time, and criticize things that they have done and believed. Superstitions have now been judged by science, and yet, with my appearance, science is being judged by superstition. Who is to say what is real and what is fantasy? In the end, it is a matter of the mind, of thought. What is fantasy is real to the one that believes. The same is true for science. What one believes, is real.
I say this because Bart Harting believed fully that they buried me alive. Of course I was not alive then, nor was I alive as he was apologizing to me, even in tears at the horror I must have went through, awakening in a coffin buried deep beneath the earth. He was ashamed for not having examined me better. Of course "these things were journaled as having happened in the past". "Any educated man would have known of such". I merely listened to him go on about it. The irony of it was that I had no idea how to explain my return, and in fact, considered simply removing every living soul from my home if it came to that. Yet, here was a student of mine, giving me the reason I needed. I had been through a tragedy. I had been attacked. My wife had been killed. I contracted some disease that left me with a slow heart rate and hardly no breath, and they buried me. This he chose to believe. 
For the next few weeks I surrounded myself with the elect of the colleges, the thinkers of our time. They were more than willing to come to my call. I was quite wealthy, and they always desired my charity, which in the past was given freely. Now it had to come with a price though. If Abrielle would see me now, bartering charity for the precious peace of not being hounded by the suspicious, she would be shamed. 
They vouched for me though. They quickly challenged any archaic thought that I was something other than a sick man. They ridiculed the religious, the very priests and men of God that use to call me friend, and called them out as fear mongers. I let them do this. I dare say, it even amused me. Or maybe the disease, the curse, was amused. Sometimes it is difficult to tell the difference between who I was, and what I am now. Sometimes who I was hauntingly returns to chastise what I am. 
Weeks turned into months. Months into a year. Bart Harting left to finish his schooling at the university, but not without finding someone who could properly handle my affairs. Of course it had to be someone with no notions of vampires and undead and werewolves. Someone that did not believe in a God, therefor did not believe in a devil. He found her easy enough. His sister, Natalie Harting. Ms. Harting, to those that did not know her well enough. One of the most well educated women I had ever met, especially for those times. 
She perfectly satisfied my need. 

[Jerrin Bloodlette, Vampire]

I watched the servant girl pass, her dark skin blending in the night. She was singing a song in her own language, but not a kids song like she should have been singing. I could not tell you what the words were, but the song was definitely dark and morose. I liked it, I listened for a while. I, loved this child, that I did not know. Her song moved me, and I felt a tear fall. Living a life of poverty, and servitude, would bring anyone to sadness as hers. My hunger was very strong in those days. It was new. It was an unknown to me. Also, and do not judge me on this, seeing the life that mortals lived made me feel pity for them. The release I would give her through death would surely be better than the life she lived. 
Maybe it is a way to stifle my shame. Shame is absolutely what I felt, afterwards. I stood over her, her dead brown eyes permanently staring into something I never saw. Her death was real. Her death was freeing. I still tasted her blood even as the shame came. With the hunger gone, shame was all that was left. No freedom for me. 

 

This went on for some time. Night after night.  At first people spoke of disease, the plague having invaded our house. Something new maybe. However, superstition took over, and they soon became to suspect that there was something more than a plague. I was tired of hiding in the woods near the home. Tired of stalking prey as an animal. I was the master of my home, and it was time to return. 

[Jerrin Bloodlette, Vampire]

I died, but not in the sense that a mortal would consider, of course. Were it a complete death, I would not be writing this now. It was an undeath, as people have come to call it now. Of course my heart had stopped beating, I had no breath in my lungs, and I was lying in my own filth, when they found me. To them, I had died. Of a disease, of terror, or maybe just of heartache. Back then we could come up with all kinds of reasons to fit something we had no understanding of. Science was not prominent, and no more real to people than their own superstitions. 
They had my funeral. My friends and family came to mourn over me, speak words over me, and dedicate me to our God. All meaningless. I cannot tell you what happens to one that dies, a real death, but I can tell you that I was locked in a body that could neither see, hear, speak, nor move, in any way. It was horror, it was a nightmare, and yet, in the end it is what saved me, if this can be called saved. Had they not been prompt in burying me next to Abrielle, the sun would have burned me like any vampire. I believe that the body had to go through rigor first, as the rest of my humanity was disposed of. When I came to, and able to function again, it was days later. I was in a coffin, but it did not concern me. I had no need for breath, I could see well enough, and my limbs felt quite strong. I did not feel a need to test whether I could ascend to the surface, as much as I knew I could. It was like any new creature, coming from it's cocoon or womb. It was natural to me. I knew immediately that I was something else, I knew immediately that I had become the creature that killed my wife. 
I knew I was vampire. 
I had heard many tales of vampires and the like, and considering the days past, I had no doubt that there were some truth to the things told. I felt as much as knew that I could not stand in the sun light. I knew I must find a place to hide, and gather my wits. I knew I would have to feed. 

I will stop here and impart some wisdom upon you, the reader. A vampire's mind, though very similar to the mortal, works somewhat differently. Knowledge and cunning are as much our defense as strength, and other unnatural powers that form within us. Not all of us are the same as far as our abilities are concerned, but we are all the same in one thing. Survival. It changes how we feel, if feel is even the correct word anymore. Maybe it is best to say, we no longer feel the same as humans. Kinship is different. Our thoughts and our responses are different. Survival is different. Love, is different. Raw emotions are real. Anger, lust, hunger. Deeper emotions are no longer needed, therefor, discarded. A vampire may call you friend, and believe you to be a friend, but his nature will always surface. Lust will always rule him, even as he tries to deny it. I say this as a vampire, never fully put your trust in a vampire. Whatever moral compass humanity possesses is lost in the new creature. Survival is an emotion, and is our strongest most dominant. 
I remember love, I remember what it must feel like, but I do not feel love. The false love, we call it lust and desire, has taken it's place. I realize this can be very confusing, especially to a mortal, but as I tell my tale, you will come to understand the difference,. How alike the two are, lust and love, but in the end, how different. 

[Jerrin Bloodlette, Vampire]

Vampires are made, usually, by their first kill. The drinking of blood locks the human within the disease, until the humanity is completely destroyed. This of course is my own educated opinion of the disease, as it seems to function in so many different ways, among different people. Bart Harting, the student who "saved my life", had no way of knowing that by giving me blood through an IV, he actually fed the sickness. 
I had slept the next day, but not a good sleep. My mind was tortured with what had happened, and with the knowledge that my beautiful Abrielle was dead. How could I know that I was turning into the same creature that killed her? There are so many ironies surrounding me now, but I shan't get into that presently. 
I awoke that evening, and at first I felt well. I felt better than I did before any of this occurred, and I started pondering whether it was all some kind of fevered dream. I removed myself from the bed, something drawing me to the window.
It was the night. It was fascinating to me, though I cannot describe well enough why. It seemed lit up, but not in the natural sense. It was while I was curiously looking at this that I became violently ill. The well being that I was feeling left me, and I became once again weak. I fell to the floor, knocking over a lamp as I did so. I will not get into the detail, but suffice to say my body decided to violently evacuate my stomach's contents. It was a horrid mess, as my nurse entered to check on me, having heard the lamp break. She ran to get help, but it would not come soon enough. It would not have been enough anyway. 

It was then that I died. 

[Jerrin Bloodlette, Vampire]

Blood was dripping from me as I awoke, and the stranger was hunched down in front of me, looking me over. He had only a drop of blood on his lips, but I knew I was drained of almost all of my own. His face was flushed, and it was now I could see his features clearly. He was French, of this I little doubt, but his accent seemed far more ancient than any French I had spoken to. He smiled at me, and while I believe he was genuinely being friendly, as friendly as a hunter can be to the game just downed, his fangs were quite imposing. He spoke to me, of strange things, at times speaking in an ancient dialect that I hardly understood, though I am quite well learned in most languages. As a doctor practicing all over Europe, it was necessary. 
It was then I caught the eyes of Abrielle, glassed over, and lifeless. Sobs began to escape my lips, weak as they were, as I felt the warm tears flowing down my face. The creature followed my gaze, and the smile left his lips, replaced by what could possibly be shame. He told me I should not worry, that I will not feel anything soon enough. He wished he could assure me of an afterlife, but he knew nothing of it, and had no such reassurances. It was then that he sensed something, turning his head up a moment as if really listening, then he was suddenly gone. To this day, I know not why. 
One of my students that was well versed in my procedure of blood letting and replacing gave me an IV, though nothing like you know of now. Still, it kept me from brain damage or a heart attack. Those things, viewed through hindsight, would have been preferred, though I do believe in the end, I still would not have died, not a natural death anyway. 

The worst was yet to come. 

[Jerrin Bloodlette, Vampire]

He strolled in the distance, which was not odd at all. Many people walked the paths during one of Abrielle's parties. Myself and Abrielle were deep in conversation, and today I no longer even remember what it was. The sounds of music drifted down from the house, as sound does in cool air. The wine of evening had us both feeling warm, and feeling for one another like lovers do. We had been married for nearly ten years by this time, and still, we were deep in love. Or perhaps, my memory, as memories do to us at times, simply fools me. I do not think that is the case though. My, condition, seems to lock it's victims into a frozen time. Have you ever wondered why so many with my disease are horrific? Think of the moment they were changed, and what must have been going through their minds at the time. It is not like the movies suggest, not when a real vampire does it. There is nothing romantic of the real disease. 
He seemed so far off as I turned from a glance at him, and looked to see Abrielle staring up at me, her blonde curls dangling down her cheeks, accenting her blue eyes. I don't remember what words passed between us, but it was the words of romance, those words you don't say as much as you feel. Then the kiss. Not a deep passionate one, for we were not alone. It was a kiss of things to come, later, when we would be alone. Then her smile. She lit the path up with her smile, far more than the torches. The world could pass on when I was looking upon her like this, and it would not have mattered to me. 
Yet I should have been far more diligent of the world. Of what it had created. I am unsure of what I could have done anyway. 

It was shocking that when I looked away from Abrielle he had closed the distance and was standing right there, a smile on his face. He wore a top hat, and looked well off, yet he also looked like he was out of time. I do not remember why that, even now, stays with me, but it does. 

I greeted him, and asked if he was enjoying the party. Even now it had not struck me how much was wrong with it all. Of course it was teasing the back of my mind, but truly when you have never encountered such as he was, you do not grasp the danger you are in. He was quite polite, and very charming, as he thanked us for the wonderful evening. He knew much of us, and said how he admired the things we had accomplished in our short lives. This seemed odd, as he did not appear older than us. Still he was very flattering, and caused my wife and I to look at one another, unable to hide our own smiles. He used our own vanity to lull us into pleasantries. 
I can't say what happened at this time. I have no conscious thought of it, even now. One moment we were speaking, and the next I was coming from a daze, feeling as if I had fallen asleep and dreamed the most wonderful, and horrific, dream. The stranger had my Abrielle in his arms, they were swaying as if dancing, his head tilted as if kissing her neck. She did not resist. At first it seemed right to me, and shamefully I remember a smile on my lips. Something though continued to tease at my mind. This was wrong, and because this was my Abrielle, my wife, my love, the spell broke. 
I rushed him in anger. Anger that he dared touch my wife. Anger that she was not resisting. He struck me as one would swat at a mosquito, barely acknowledging me. I flew back from the blow, and struck a tree with such force, everything went black. 

[Jerrin Bloodlette, Vampire]

Memoirs. What are they truly for? Vanity, nothing more. It is simply the thought that one's life must be documented, because we are, of course, so important. Yet still, a deep desire has taken over me to write. My story may be interesting to some, but this is not why I choose to record it. My thoughts wander often now, and I sometimes find it difficult to even remember who I was. Is that really much different than a mortal? Yes, if I consider it deeply, I can still remember what a mortal life is like. 100 years is a long time when a mortal is young, but shortens quickly enough as they age, until it seems like merely a vapor in the wind at the end.  Through it all, mortals change, and forget who they were, and settle for who they are. Dreams come, dreams go, and they pass away, many times, with their greatest dreams unrealized. 

It was the 18th century, when I was young and in love. My wife, Abrielle, was beautiful, and we were well thought of among the aristocrats. Her orchards and my steady healing hands had created quite a life for us. My only power was my knowledge, you see, I was a doctor. I come from a line of healers. The name, Bloodlette, has nothing to do with what I am now. It was a method, considered archaic and ineffective, but mastered by my ancestors. It was passed on to me, as I took over the family business.

Europe was thriving at the time, with Bach and Handel serenading the wealthy. Slave trade was strong, and the gap between the haves and the have nots was evident. I had very little time for my social duties, as my studies ruled my life. Abrielle was the only one able to distract me from my work to rub elbow with the haves, though many times, during our own parties, we took long walks through the orchards, lit by torch throughout just for such walks. It was, to me, heaven, or what heaven should be. 

It was during one of these heavenly walks that "he" came. 

[Question on playing a truly vile villain]

It's your character, play whatever you wish to play within the rules, and I have no idea what they are pertaining to this. As said above, you cannot worry about the eggshells, triggered people will get triggered by something else eventually. Just understand some people will not play or rp with you. 

Somehow being a serial killer is an acceptable rp reason to kill, rape, and destroy things......but you know, don't do it because of racism. That is laughable. These feelings "woke" people have about such issues are only manifested by societal proprieties, which are only pushed by politicians for gain. That is not to say people would not find racism disgusting otherwise, but we should not be looking for it under every rock, nor thinking someone killed due to race is a worse crime than someone killed for their wallet. The dead are dead, all the same, and reasoning is hardly a matter to them. 
My point is that people play vile disgusting characters all the time, but this picking and choosing and trying to shame someone for their reasoning is childish, and foolish. No one claims the person playing the serial killer has serial killer tendencies, no more than I suspect the vast majority that play heroes on here have heroic tendencies. My personal characters are story driven, and some are bad guys, and interesting bad guys make for good stories. It doesn't mean I wish to rule the world, destroy the world, or break reality. It simply means antagonists are as important as protagonists. 

As far as actually playing the character, I would find it boring and too cliche for my taste. I don't think it has a long life. However, to each their own. 😉

[Mutant Kind (Story Arc)]

Bone Mush was pretty sure he and Nadiah could win, but it was not a certain victory as he had hoped. The Mutant Kind member showed why her group was so resilient, and every blast from her blasted pistols wore he and the Death Doll down. 

"I don't see her again," Nadiah said, and Bone Mush rolled his eyes. Of course they could not see her with all of the smoke, but how in the world was she able to see them, in all of the smoke?

 

Battle Dove hovered back into the smoke, and tossed her last smoke bomb. She was getting low on rounds as well. The smoke hid her, but thanks to Hardrive's targeting drone she could see through the smoke. The two Skull bosses were scanning about for her, and regaining some of their dark energy while she contemplated her next move. She could leave, as the door to the cave was not blocked. She may not have arrested the two leaders, but she was able to put quite a dent in their operation all the same. 

"Or you could take care of business Dove," she could hear father say in her ear. If Swope Incorporated was her mother,  then Anthony Swope was her father. He raised her to be his personal assassin, and she did her job well for many years. 
But not anymore.
Still, a full on blitz seemed like the best option.  

Bone Mush could not tell where all of the bullets, grenades, and caltrops were coming from. If the mutant was alone, she was sure hitting fast and hard and moving around as if there were others. The razor sharp caltrops made walking difficult, and running impossible.  Nadiah had already fallen to the attack, and if he was not careful, he would as well. The darkness that surrounded him was wavering. Bone Mush did not wish do hard time in the Zig again. 
"I will give you this one Battle Dove, but we will meet again," Bone Mush called into the smoke filled cave, just before everything went black.

"No, we won't," Battle Dove said, as the Skull boss fell into unconsciousness. Her gun was still smoking, as the thud of his body sounded through the cave. Then all was silent, for a moment. 
"You still there," Hardrive asked, worry in his voice. Battle Dove rolled her eyes and sighed, keying up her mic.
"Yes, I am still here," was all she said, as she pressed for PPD assistance in loading up the Skulls. 

[Where Are We Lore'wise?]

13 hours ago, Blackbird71 said:

If you're asking "where?" the answer is Rhode Island.

 

If you're asking "when?", the answer is a bit more complicated, mainly due to the seven years the game was shut down.  Each individual or group seems to treat it differently.  I've seen some RP SGs treat it as if it's been an actual seven years since Galaxy City, and others act as if it's only been a few months since that event.  Unfortunately, there is no defined canon answer at this point.

I think you gave me a definitive answer! Thank you very much. 🙂

[Mutant Kind (Story Arc)]

Of course it was a trap, that is the way of these cowardly gangs, and Dove knew it. 

What she did not expect was 4 powerful beings, as they never seemed to get along well enough to come together as this. Most of the dark force that was thrown at her missed. They could not see through the smoke bombs she was throwing around. Still, she was caught by some of it. It burned, but it was not due to heat. It burned with unimaginable cold. The numbness almost caused her to fall, but she was able to hold on and fire her rounds in the direction the darkness was coming from. 

"Dove, answer me, are you alright?" The voice asked in her ear. 
"Shut up Hardrive, I am trying to concentrate here," Dove snapped. 
Her rounds found two of her targets, and thankfully dropped them. All that remained of the bosses was a woman, and the man that had called her by name. 

"Come out of the shadows," the woman called. "Unless of course you are really a scared little bird."

Dove landed on a few feet from the Death Doll, her eyes scanning all around for the other one. 
"Did your friend abandon you, or is this come kind of plan," Dove asked, a smile on her face. 

"Some kind of a plan," Bone Mush said, exiting the shadows that hid him. 

"Then it seems I have stepped right in it," Battle Dove said, eyes scanning from one Skull to the other. 
Bone Mush could not understand why the woman was so calm. Did she really think she was a match for him and Nadia? Both were well versed in the use of darkness, and this mutant did not seem to care. 

"It seems you did," Bone Mush said with confidence, but his confidence was beginning to waiver.

 

The dark miasma seemed to reach out to her, but Battle Dove quickly hovered above it. She aimed a weapon at each of the Skulls, and fired. Both were hit, but neither fell. There was a reason these two were still in the fight. They were bosses among the Skulls, and that made them especially dangerous. 

 

[Where Are We Lore'wise?]

I cannot seem to find anything that tells where we are lore'wise. I know we are in the age where Galaxy City was destroyed, but where are we at as far as everything else. I know you can get little snippits here and there with the ingame lore, but I would like more than that for actual story telling. If there is a link to something, please let me know, or, if you are in the know of it all. Thanks in advance! 🙂

[Mutant Kind (Story Arc)]

Bone Mush was once a prominent up and comer on the underground rock scene, and never thought his life would come to this. A life of worshiping death. Sure enough, it had. Still, it was a life. People assumed he was killed in the fall of Galaxy City, but that was not exactly true. Not exactly.

 

"You cannot escape this cave, little dove," Bone Mush called, looking about into the shadows. "I know more about you than you think."

Bone Mush was not sure why he was telling her that, but it was the truth. He had learned all he could of Mutant Kind in the last couple of weeks since they interfered with the hit on the bank. He also knew this one was not involved, not directly anyway. It was the fire one and the one with claws that had shown up. Still, someone had to pay. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.

Not exactly.

On the streets, where he grew up, if they give you a black eye, you rip their eye out. If they break your tooth, you break their neck. They arrested one of his, he killed one of theirs. A dove for Bone Daddy Lonnie, as it was.

 

"There," Nadiah said, pointing into the shadows. She was what they called a Death Doll. Death intrigued her. She loved being near it, and even welcomed it at times.

 

Bone Mush looked to where she pointed, and could barely make out the shadow in the smoke, and only because her guns were blazing a path through his gang. It didn't matter to him, he knew they were probably not lethal rounds. It didn't matter if they were anyway.

"Everything you have in your dark souls, aim at her now," Bone Mush said, and the others did as he commanded.

 

[Mutant Kind (Story Arc)]

2 weeks later

 

"I told you I was not using lethal rounds, Hardrive, why don't you believe me," Battle Dove said through the mic, looking about for her next target. The Skulls had become more vicious in the past few weeks, since Firelord and Pitt Viper took down one of their leaders. It was as if they now had something to prove, and maybe they did.

"I believe you, just like to keep it on record," Hardrive said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

Aaron was a valued member of Mutant Kind, but he was not a mutant. He was just really good at his job.

"I am in the main chamber of the cave," Battle Dove said, looking about. She could see the fires burning, marking where most of the skulls would be. Keeping warm or staring into the flames, it was hard to tell with them. Most were drugged out, on superdine or worse. That made them dangerous. There were some that were even more dangerous. Their leaders were not only hopped up on drugs, but somehow tapped into supernatural powers, from demons or something. Battle Dove, on her own morals, would have no problem killing them. Arresting them only put them back on the streets, eventually. That somehow felt more wrong to her than putting bullet in their heads and being done with it.

Still, the Mutant Kind charter demanded they only use lethal force when absolutely necessary. Given Battle Dove's training, she hardly needed it for these guys, even their leaders.

"Do you have room to fly," Hardrive asked, making Battle Dove roll her eyes. His concern was unwarranted, nor wanted. She had been trained since a child to deal with far worse than these guys.

"I have all the room I need," she said, and she was not lying, this time. The cave was large enough and high enough that she could take flight. The suit she wore would help to protect her, and her aim was perfect. The Skulls would not know what hit them.

 

Dove took to the air, and flew to the ceiling, into the shadows. She counted maybe a dozen or so. Some were pushing one another, others actually fighting. Those were of little concern to her, they were the ones so high they presented little threat. Then she saw the ones she was looking for. Two men and two women in masks. Death Dolls and Death Walkers, as they were called. They were bosses, and they were bossy. They loved to kill, and it did not matter who. Given too much time between kills, they were liable to kill each other.

"I see my targets," she said, with Hardrive simply replying with an okay. If he had his way, she would be wearing a helmet with a camera to let them record everything. Thankfully she and most of the others were able to influence Firelord into not ordering such. Forgetting the camera on one time could become very embarrassing.

Dove stuck to the shadows at the top of the cave, making her way to the other side of the Skull leaders. Reaching behind her, she removed the smoke canister, and tossed it. Smoke began to fill the area around the bosses, and the cave erupted into chaos.

 

Bone Mush looked about the cave, with many of the Skulls coughing and choking on the smoke. He and the other three bosses were not effected as bad, but it did make it hard to see. He was not that concerned, this was actually expected, and very much wanted. Whoever was here, surely one of the members of Mutant Kind, was simply stepping into the trap he created. Their leader would regret stopping their bank heist, and arresting one of his captains.

[Mutant Kind (Story Arc)]

'We are Skulls, and you really have no idea what you are dealing with, hero," the man in the skull mask said, mockingly saying hero.

"Mutant Kind is a sanctioned department affiliated with Freedom Corps and backed by the council," Firelord said, almost as if reading it word for word from some card, but then added, "And I know your type, and I know your group, and I know who your leaders are. I also know you are not leaving this bank with a single penny."

The gang members all looked to one another, then to their leader, who simply nodded.

 

"I have Pitt Viper heading your way sir," Hardrive02 said through the micro earpiece to Firelord.

"Copy that," the leader of Mutant Kind replied.

 

Scott Meyers was not bullet proof, in fact, if a single piece of shrapnel struck him, it could be very critical. Yet he was able to raise the temperature around him to the point that the bullets completely disintegrated beforehand, and even though the gang members were firing their illegal automatic weapons directly at him, near point blank range, not a single bullet made it through.

The trick was never defending himself, it was using his fire in a non-lethal manner.

"You are all under arrest," he simply said, then ignited the air around the three gang members who were firing on him. Through intense training, he was able to localize it, but it was enough to flash burn the area, dropping the three into an unconscious state. That left their leader, who was apparently unarmed.

"They did not prove themselves well," the man said, looking down at his unconscious allies, then back to Firelord. "I am proven."

Firelord suspected the leader to have some sort of supernatural abilities, and being Skulls, it surely was of the arcane type. He was not disappointed in his assessment, as dark power flowed from the man's hands. It struck with force, almost as a solid, though it looked like smoke, knocking Firelord back, even through his protective flames. The impact took the leader of Mutant Kind by surprise, and he was unable to catch his breath immediately.

"You did your research on us, no doubt. We did out research on you. Did you think I did not know you could burn away most attacks?" the Skull leader said with a jeer, just before the ground around him erupted in flames, encircling him.

"No doubt in my mind that you did," Firelord said, in a raspy voice, finally able to catch a breath. "Do you think you are the first Bone Daddy I ever faced,' he asked, refusing to admit the attack was surprising.

"You are burning me," the man yelled, trying to shield himself from the flames. There was no doubt the fire was hot, and that the Skull would surely suffer mild burns if he did not have protection, but Firelord also knew these men were not to be trusted. They were cowards, liars, and the worst of the lot that were already a bad lot.

 

"Bone Daddy" Lonnie was not in as much distress as he was trying to put on, but the flames were intense enough to keep him in place for the time being. Surely they could not last forever. The darkness, granted to him by demons and devils, was sufficient enough to keep the worst of it at bay. He did need to buy time though, because he was not sure what he would do with this Firelord. No doubt the man had the ability to burn him to a crisp, but also no doubt the man did not wish kill him. Maybe if he bought enough time, his boys would come too and get the "heroes" attention.

This thought was going through his mind when a hand grabbed him by the hair, and pulled his head back. The back of his head rested on this knew attackers fist, and he watched claws extend from the other hand.

"I have two sets, if you were wondering, one for each hand. Tell me, would you like to see if my claws can penetrate whatever putrid power you have protecting you?"

Lonnie decided he did not wish that, and all thoughts of getting free were now gone. He simply extended his hands, to allow them to be cuffed, as the last of his fire cage subsided.

"Good choice, because once you put other's life in danger, my honor code no longer protected you, and demanded I insure you are no longer a threat," the new hero said. Lonnie knew of this man as well, who called himself Pitt Viper, and knew he had lost several of his gang buddies to those very same claws.

 

"Well done my friend," Firelord said, watching PPD load the gang members into a wagon. The "Bone Daddy" had special dampering cuffs that left him very docile, and unable to use his abilities.

"Same to you," Pitt Viper said. Firelord smiled a bit. The man known only as Pitt Viper spoke perfect English, with no trace of an accent, from anywhere. He also spoke many other languages, fluently, and with no trace of an accent in those languages. In fact, his ability to master language was such, that the absent of an accent was almost an accent in itself.

 

Hardrive02 watched everything unfold from security cameras around Atlas Park. He enjoyed being out on missions, the very rare times that he was, but the computer room was more his comfort zone, where he felt at home, and most useful. Codes and programs was his super power. Okay, not a super power. Not really.

"How did it go," the voice said from behind him, but Hardrive02 knew who it was.

"Went well Hardtop," he simply said, without turning about.

"Good, keep me informed if there is a need," the mutant called Hardtop replied, before walking away.

Hardtop was good friends with Hardrive, the first Hardrive. The actual mutant, Hardrive, before the man lost his life in a raid by some villains from the Rogue Islands on their base. Aaron Brocaby was not sure if that was the reason Hardtop did not like him, or maybe it was because he was not a mutant like the others. He was however sure that Hardtop did not like him. Not that the man made an effort to show dislike for him, but any attempt at being friends with Hardtop failed in Hardtop simply excusing himself.

 

"We are heading back to base," Firelord said, "have some coffee on if you don't mind Hardrive."

Hardrive did not mind at all.

[Mutant Kind (Story Arc)]

"You asked for the profiles of each member," Aaron said, placing the jump drive on Meyers' desk. He looked to the leader of Mutant Kind for a moment, but realized he would get no response. It was just as well, Aaron was monitoring several other situations at the same time through his visor, and knew that any real interaction with the man code named Firelord would only divide his attention further. With nothing else said, he turned back around and quietly left the office.

 

Scott Meyers looked up from his monitor as Aaron was leaving, and was about to say "thank you", as the door was quietly closed behind the young man.

Scott looked at the drive a moment, then slipped it into the USB. His new computer had to be updated as his old one had an unfortunate accident. He was called Firelord for a reason, but there was times he did not feel that he was lord over fire, instead, fire was lord over him.

 

"Well Aaron, may as well start with you," he said to no one, as he clicked to download the young man's information. It took only moments before Meyers was able to click the profile.

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Aaron Brocaby, Code Name Hardrive02, Tech Support leader- second member to don the costume of Hardrive, as the original was killed. Though not actually possessing the mutant ability to interface with computers, as the original did, his technological IQ is so high it would almost seem as if he does. He is the only member of Mutant Kind that is not actually a mutant. Hardrive02 spends most of his time monitoring the team and providing tech support from the base, but will don his techno armor time to time if need be.

 

Pitt Viper, real name classified, Team Captain-  this member is also a  part of a secret order that follows strict codes of honor. He has an enhanced ability to heal, and his mutant gene has been verified. While there is a mystery surrounding who he is, and what this order is, Pitt Viper is a proven and valuable member of Mutant Kind.

 

Note: Viper does not reveal his face to anyone except members of his order, as his code dictates that his identity remain secret throughout his entire life. If someone was to see his face, he and the offender must undergo a "cleansing", which can end up in death of one or both. This has never been tested, and Mutant Kind members are warned early to not push this issue.

 

Hammer Stone, (real name and code name), Team Captain -was apparently born hundreds, possibly thousands, of years ago, even he does not know how old he is. His first memories was of living deep within  the Maunaloa volcano of Hawaii, where he was nurtured by its warmth. Emerging from within after an eruption opened up a whole "new world" to him, he was thought to be a god by the natives. Hammer Stone has always been humble and kind, and though not sure if he was a god or not, he felt uncomfortable with the ordeal and returned to the volcano years later, promising to help if they ever needed him. In 1984 Maunaloa erupted once again, and once again Hammer Stone found himself among the people, who were far different now than he remembered. Instead of being worshiped as a god, he was feared as a mutant. He was taken in by Mutant Kind after tests showed he did possess the mutant trait. He took the legal name Hammer Stone, and has no identity other than that to protect.

 

Note:It is theorized that as a mutant born baby, his parents may have thrown him into the volcano as a sacrifice, possibly thinking him a demon baby.

 

Tesh Jinkens, code name Mindreader Tesh -was born with the ability to read and control the minds of others. She is considered one of the top experts in psionics. While Tesh is a member of the Super Group Mutant Kind, she prefers to take a backseat role as much as possible. Tesh seldom uses her natural eyes to see, as it causes distortions between her natural sight and her psychic abilities. Tesh views the world through her mind's eye, and sees people as psychic imprints. She has stated in the past that were she to only see with her natural eyes, she would probably not be able to recognize even her closest friends.  She keeps herself blindfolded, and has done so since a very young age.

 

Daryl Stote, Code Name Shockwhip - Freedom Corps recommended this man, even when he was still locked up in juvenile detention. He has the ability to produce electricity and guide it where he wishes. His days as a petty criminal are behind him, and he even practices eastern style martial arts to help himself improve his skills and abilities, as well as attitude.

 

Daichi Misasagi, code name Arashi Kitaru: was born and raised in Tokyo, Japan. He now has a duel citizenship with the US, and works with the team Mutant Kind. Another Freedom Corps recommendation, he has proven himself a valuable member of the team so far, with a desire to help people when he can. He has the ability to create and control storm clouds, on a local level.

Melinda Ferarri, code name Battle Dove - was born with small wings on her back, and an obvious mutant. Her mother was alone, and mostly homeless, and thus gave her up for adoption. She was adopted by a company, as opposed to parents, and raised to be an asset of Swope Inc, a shady business run by billionaire Anthony Swope. Brainwashed and turned into an assassin by the age of 13, she spent 6 years being used by the company that claimed to "mother her". She ran into Mutant Kind, and was taken in by them, after she failed to assassinate it's leader, Firelord. Mindreader Tesh, a psychic, saw the brainwashing and was able to remove it. Battle Dove is now a valued member of the team.

Bart Poloski, code name Snowjob -wished to use his mutant abilities to help the innocent. Having the ability to freeze air in a local area, he can create ice by using the moisture in the air. He is constantly training this, and learning new ways to use his abilities to fight crime. He was approached and offered a position in Mutant Kind, as him being a mutant is on public record with Freedom Corps. Originally Snowjob wished join Hero Corps, but after several failed attempts, he joined Mutant Kind.

 

Harry Swindol, code name Scramble,-he joined the group so Mindreader Tesh, a team member and psychic, could help him with his own psychic abilities. Scramble cannot read minds, or even control them, but he can scramble minds, even to the point of leaving the person a complete vegetable. Tesh, being a powerful psychic, has to be careful when dealing with Scramble. Add to it that Scramble has bouts of schizophrenia, he could become dangerous, though to this date he has not harmed any innocent people.

 

 

(OOC: These are all my alts, but not a complete list of members of Mutant Kind, an actual in-game SG. Of course I leave other player's character profile up to them.)

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Firelord sighed, staring in thought a moment, before clicking off the information on his computer and looking around his office. The new base was coming together well, thanks in part to the assistance of Freedom Corps. Already Hardrive02 was able to monitor the streets, and sending members out where they were needed. His own contacts in the city kept them informed as well to the activities of the criminals. The City Council saw Mutant Kind as a good asset, and the members saw each other as family. It was all coming together well, but Firelord could not help but sense the storm on the horizon, that all heroes of the city seemed to feel.

 

 

 

 

[The Big Question of Continuity]

Unless it becomes something ingame, i really have no plan dealing with the lost time. The world didn't end for my characters because some irresponsible company said so. It really just feels to me like everything picked back up where it left off. I stay away from dates and such when writing on the boards anyway,  so it won't effect me in that manner. I may pick up Paragon Vanguard as moving back, without really addressing why and where he went. Truly just plan to avoid the ordeal as much as possible.