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Post by Luka on May 17, 2008 19:16:34 GMT -5
[glow=red,2,300]The Bridge of Sighs, named such because of it's unfortunate position between the old prison and the gallows. The bridge is a solid stone and wood structure with a slight curve to it. Water still flows underneath it, and it's probably the calmest feature in the area. Someone seems to have remembered it's previous function and a large demon massacre happened here. Various skulls stuck on poles decorate the area. It depends on the person whether or not this detail ruins the view of the horizon...Fighting is Allowed.[/glow]
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Post by Adrian on Jun 29, 2008 21:03:20 GMT -5
What looked like a young man floated upon the waters that went underneath the bridge. But how did he end up here? Not even he could say for sure as the person was unconscious but thankfully clothed to a certain degree. Though damp it was clear that on his head he wore a pair of riding goggles that are shaded black & have an insect eye design.
Below that he was a loose yellow shirt, his left hand covered by a yellow glove that had black fingertips. Meanwhile his right hand possessed a long black glove that went up to the elbow with the hand portion designed identical to the other glove. For some reason there was one huge belt going through the pant loops. The pants themselves being baggy-esque and black with yellow flames at the bottom. And finally for his feet they were yellow combat-boots with black laces.
Of course at the moment this was all damp as his body washed up underneath the bridge. Wet brown hair at about shoulder-top length clung once out of the water. Coughing marked the time lapse between being washed up and coming to in a rather miraculous way. The likely young man crawled up further underneath the bridge. After a few moments his eyes opened fully in an exhausted manner, just sitting there until he decided to crawl back to the water's edge at a slow pace.
Why? To see what he looked like of course!
The reflection which stared back possessed a unique pair of violet eyes. It was an event almost similar to the Narcissus gazing into his own reflection. Except not nearly as handsome and the fact he didn't keep gazing until becoming a flower. Or however the hell that story ended about why reflective surfaces weren't always a good thing.
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Post by Adrian on Jun 29, 2008 21:40:19 GMT -5
A group of people could be heard above him on the bridge, yelling about something in a language he didn't understand. Oh wait, yeah he did. Took a second there for the nearly drowned person to remember! It was a language called Italian, being spoken fluently at that. But these people had made the mistake of speaking a language he did not ACTUALLY understand on a conversational basis.
REWIND.
He knew it was Italian, but did not actually know any Italian at all. Whether listening to or even trying to speak it. Tough luck for the near-drown victim, eh? Needless to say this irritated him in the realm of curousity, wanting to find out what they were speaking so feverishly about. Such an investigation brough him still looking wet & dripping a bit to the bridge topside.
What he found was a concept he didn't understand: crime. A couple thugs on yellow motorcycles that he did not know were called the 2008 Honda CB1000R Hornet had stopped a tour bus. Right now they were both inside said bus with the people at gun point. Apparently the economy was not very good for men of whatever qualifications they had. Or else just not good enough in their opinion.
Not that it mattered in the least to the violet eyed young man, until a gunshot rang out. That frightened him in the same way someone reacted upon hearing thunder really close for the first time. Like, shaking the damn windows close. As a result he ducked down to the ground and out of some bizzare instnct pulled the goggles down over his eyes. Creeping toward one of the bike's he found quite obviously from the noise that it was still running.
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Post by Adrian on Jun 30, 2008 2:04:45 GMT -5
He actually touched the motorcycle, somehow lucky enough to have not accidentally touched the throttle right away he straddled the bike. And not in the way that required use of the word mechophilia. If it was even a word at all rather than being made up entirely on the spot just now. Either way he seemed to have some vague memory of someone on a similar device but unable to remember who. . .while still having a general idea on how the machine worked.
Then, came the brilliant tour bus passenger and basically hostage that decided to attract attention away from their situation. And toward the unfortunate soul who was basically stealing a motorcycle out of curiousity. One induced by fragmented memories. Regardless of the reasons a man named Chapello armed with an illegal machine pistol came running off the bus after the vehicle about to be stolen. Both men were actually wearing motorcycle helmets to conceal their faces from identification. Words were being shouted in a language that did not really need to be translated as it was kind of implied.
Just like the gunshots that followed.
But what happened next thankfully was not beyond description as the goggle-wearer lifted up his arm which had the yellow glove. As a result a sheild formed just in time to stop the first bullet along with those that followed. It held up against every last one, appearing to be some type of energy shield in the design of a bee or hornet's hive structure. Standing there in amazement this thug started to try and reload his weapon with a fresh clip.
Unfortunately for Chapello this brown-haired mystery man could move much faster across the distance between them than anticipated. Especially considering he looked like something that 'the tide washed in'. To say the least he was certainly surprised to find himself impaled upon a lance-like weapon which actualy felt like it was. . . DISSOLVING HIM! A cry of agony sounded from the fiend which alerted his partner something had gone wrong.
When he came running out of the bus bearing a hostage, not quite expecting to find someone stealing a black leather jacket off his former accomplice. It occurred with the 'theif' crouched at a certain angle appearing t be completely unarmed. A jacket which had a collar plus a fluffy secondary collar as well. . . actually fitting the young man quite well. At this demands were made of him that could not be understood precisely, leading to a somewhat ironic development as the younger stood up & turned to reveal he held the freshly loaded machine pistol.
That went off, somehow managing to shoot the gun from the man's hand before any trigger pulling could be done on his end. After that the youth rushed in to finish off his enemy rather quickly in the same manner as his partner. Once that ended he merely took one of the bikes, revving it up before riding off toward the old prison.
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Post by Luka on Jun 30, 2008 2:30:53 GMT -5
Not many people ventured into the prison anymore...Which was either a good or bad sign of how the times had changed. Most of it was blocked from view by the arch of the bridge, which was either a good or bad thing for the people who lived nearby it. Mostly the people who passed through were maintainence workers who checked on the buildings or people hunting for ghosts or some other sort of stupid dare or macabre curiousity.
A lull in "personal" activity brought one such individual to the area today. The person who roamed its halls today couldn't decide whether this was a good or bad thing...Their arms were currently folded behind their head as they strolled along at a leisurely pace. The air was muggy today so their thin jacket was tossed casually over one shoulder. Full soft lips formed a lazy O as they whistled a tune that bounced off the narrow corridors.
They had taken a quick tour of the interior and were heading back toward the main courtyard are of the prison when the heavy loud buzzing of a bike caught their attention. "Hmmn?" they hummed curiously, leaning to peer from behind a pillar. Who could it be? The pouty lips pressed together in a soft smile as one word crawled through their head.
'Interesting~'
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Post by Adrian on Jul 1, 2008 0:56:51 GMT -5
Anyone with fashion sense might have arrested the Rider for his goggles, either for the design or merely the impracticality during driving. But perhaps he had a unique talent that they expanded upon. Either way it was certainly a risk to be riding at the speeds he did while not wearing a helmet. The only thing clear about his current goal appeared to be reaching the prison currently inhabited by a person he did not even know existed at the moment. Quite frankly with his current attitude he might not even care in the slightest should they pop out in his face. But then again that would be getting into his personal space which was not exactly a wise idea with this particular one.
Did he even have a name?
Beyond that trivial matter, the distance closed between the yellow motorcycle and the prison at an unfaltering rate despite whatever condition the path may have been in at the moment. Hopefully the maintenance workers had been earning their pay. . . to keep there from being random bits of debris that could throw someone from their vehicle. If nothing blocked the entrance to the prison it would be an unstopping ride inside until reaching the inner workings where being on foot seemed a tiny bit more practical. Such a risky ride would be brought to an abrupt end by a surprising show of force that occurred as follows:
Upon noticing he had reached the appropriate building, a sudden lean to the right was made in coordination with his boot-clad foot stomping down onto the ground. The result unveiled the potential for inhuman strength as 70mph was lost within three seconds of action. Burnt rubber filled the air not only as a result of the tires but an almost unnoticeable amount had gone missing from the right boot bottom. After the kick-stand had been lowered this somewhat mysterious person started walking directly toward a pair of doors as if following something. A scent of some kind perhaps?
Maybe something had been left behind in this structure for him as a present of sorts, hidden away from the humans. Did anyone at all care to follow him to this prison? Not a single thought seemed to have been given to subtlety, perhaps a sign of either desperation or dedication to completing the objective some instinct told him had to be done. A baser drive that whispered to him like a voice wanting power, more power than he had at the current time. It might be enough to make someone shiver if they were sensitive to these types of things.
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Post by Luka on Jul 2, 2008 1:59:14 GMT -5
Indeed...the goggles, they did nothing!...But make him shudder. The frilly--sorry, furry collar around his neck reminded the bug-watcher of a certain favorite purple boa worn constantly by someone long-deceased. But as with all things...it likely served a purpose. He wasn't that shallow...at the moment.
They remained pressed tightly against the pillar as the bike ripped by, the whine of the engine echoing harshly off the walls. It was an annoying sound...
It was a few moments after they disappeared into the structure's internals did the figure push away from the pillar and slip back into the building, the details of their body appearing to unravel and dissolve into their surroundings. Their current objective? The bee, of course.
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Post by Adrian on Jul 2, 2008 17:42:53 GMT -5
Correction, Hornet.
Further within the prison and perhaps completely unaware he had been followed the nameless Rider continued going down the hallway. His destination appeared to be the section where prisoners accused of the worst crimes had been kept. A place that with each step farther inside seemed to be a bit more reminiscent of some area within Silent hill. Despite the effort of the maitinence workers they could never succeed in restoring this area to a sanitary state. No one could logically explain why, but some said the black ichor of those seemingly souless men had stained the area permenantly and refused to leave.
Inside this place one cell i particular was chosen with the bars rusted into place from the last time anyone had bothered to replace them at all. A hard stomping kick with his boot was just sufficent enough to knock in the barricade made pitiful. Entering the cell, eyes hidden behind goggles were searching for something that apparently others before him had missed. But what might have gone unnoticed by decades of semi-dilligent workers? The world, as it seemed, was about to find out. . .
The dank, pungent scent of the area began to change strangely enough to the sweet aroma of honey. Perhaps Captain James T. Kirk had just farted? Either way such a scent flooded up the entire cell and soon the entire cellblock until the air was thick with it. And then something awe-ful occured: Up from the cracks in the cement floor began to crawl insects. Several innumerable insects which had been left behind here by someone which this nameless Rider had the memories of or some such thing. It must have been from an underground hive that had been left behind. But these were not any casual insects. . . it was the deadly and rather infamous Japanese Hornet.
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Post by Luka on Jul 2, 2008 20:15:09 GMT -5
The person following the bee didn't give off any sort of special presence or aura and remained pretty much undetectable at the moment. They followed behind their target casually, remaining a moderate distance behind him. The watcher silently clasped his hands behind his back, rocking back and forth on his heels when Cobier took it upon himself to kick down the cell door.
He continued to watch, quite interested...until the bugs arrived. When the wasps started to swarm up from the floor is when casual was flung out the window. Almost.
The watcher had to force himself to hold his breath, his hands balling into fists at his sides.
'H-how disgusting--!' he thought to himself.
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Post by Adrian on Jul 2, 2008 20:35:50 GMT -5
As more of the six-legged creatures emerged, ones on the ground began to take flight as if they had been out long enough to fully 'awaken' from being cooped up so long. If it had even been a long time since their hive was deposited here underground. Those that could fly soon left the old cell, heading into the cellblock which still carried the calming aroma of honey. It may have been that which kept them from attacking the man right away, but it became quite clear from their buzzing to the man in the cell. . . that someone else was here with him.
Not showing an iota of fear of the winged harbringers of death as he stepped through where they made a path into the cellbock. He stood there as they seemed to literally swarm around his body yet never attack. This showing of no fear continued as he oened his mouth to speak, breathing freely as he demanded their dentity in a somewhat irritated but low tone. It was not a yell, more an annoyed question spoken at an audible level that would register over the humming or buzzing of the lethal Japanese Killer Hornets.
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Post by Luka on Jul 2, 2008 21:06:19 GMT -5
Cobier's stalker stood stone-still, his hands still balled into fists at his sides. Ah...so his cover was blown. Oh well. A small smile twitched on one half of his mouth, the expression one of slight annoyance. Whether it was annoyance at the fact that he was found out or annoyance at the swarming insects was unclear.
He laughed. The light notes drifted through the cell block. A soft, quiet sound that likely had not ever penetrated into the stone walls except for in the minds of madmen.
The air in the center of the hall outside of the cell shimmered before a strong, sharp wind gusted and blew the dust covering the floor into the air. His camoflage unraveled in a flurry of sharp filaments, shredding the insects nearest them. Their cleanly severed heads and bodies hit the ground like the little pollen whores that were their prey.
The devil stood in the hallway then, clothed in the guise of an angel.
"Hello." he greeted softly. "...Here I am."
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Post by Adrian on Jul 2, 2008 21:29:41 GMT -5
"That's not a name, floss-boy."
He replied with a roll of his eyes, not actually growing angry over the fact those that might be considered his servants had been decimated so easily by mere wires. On the other hand his opponent had no idea of knowing just how many of those Hornets dwelt within the hive beneath this abandoned prison. There could be thousands upon thousands of them, beyond the amount that could be killed by those wires and even beyond their control. For this swarm was a very special one, to say the very least.
Enough hornets to be called a swarm came at the young boy who seemed always over-confident in his abilities. Unfortunately it had been earned by being so masterful in killing opponent with those wires. But oh, the one who could wipe away that smile or arrogant sneer that seemed to permiate the air around him when not etched into his Angel face and replace it with a look of fear. . . that one; that man was truly someone to be feared.
All of the hornets in that swarm now understood what they were dealing with, each one out of what seemed like a hundred or more moved about independantly of the other. Only the target they had was truly shared. Their master seemed unconcerned with the fact that his opponent would likely dice up this assault as well. But why? Perhaps the idea was to show no fear in the face of any opponent, just like the Hornets.
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Post by Luka on Jul 3, 2008 1:55:38 GMT -5
"A name?" the boy mused. "Well, you've got to earn that..." The invisible filaments gathered around their master once more, the few threads that glittered with insect gore dissolving away like fine silk.
He continued to smile even as the swarm descended. Being much shorter and far smaller than Cobier, the boy took up much less room and thus was effectively cut off from view as the insects covered the area surrounding him.
Until they were all knocked back again, that is.
He strolled forward, his boots crunching down on the massacre at his feet.
"Do you think that perhaps I have earned your name though?" His fingers twiddled together playfully as he stopped his advance. "You did insult me after all...something that was uncalled for!" he sighed out as if his feelings were truly hurt. His head turned to the side in a feigned lament as a thick coil of filaments thrust past his head and through the air at Cobier like a spear.
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Post by Adrian on Jul 3, 2008 2:09:43 GMT -5
When the spear of filament had come close enough to the unmoving one, his arm with the yellow glove came up as if it could block the attack. And it did, in a sense. Instantaneously some type of energy shield in a formation similar to several small shapes that resembled a hive's insides. The Hornet-keeper moved his arm so as to deflect the spear toward an area away from him so that it was not a direct blow to him or the defense he had put up against his foe. Not to mention there was the slight bonus of a jolt likely passing through those wires of filament due to the energy neccesary to summon & wield it.
"You've earned nothing but my contempt. You're not trying hard enough floss-boy!"
Perhaps foolishly unworried by the filaments or merely pretending as such, he outwardly gave them no second glance as his confident voice rang down the hall for his nameless opponent to hear. Without a word more Hornets had begun to swarm toward the other from their underground hive in a much larger number than previously seen, hundreds of them now. It would be safe to say the second time of getting through without a scratch would be dfficult. Or more accurately, a sting. A stinger with a venom so potent it had been sceintifically proven to actually dissolve human flesh aside from being an incredibly painful feeling. So if this Puppetmaster's technique depended on concentration, even one sting would be enough to break it momentarily.
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Post by Luka on Jul 3, 2008 2:59:15 GMT -5
"Oh well." he sighed, "Wouldn't be the first time." The boy shook his head, "People nowadays are so uptight..." He shook out his hand then, his brows furrowing into a frown as his right hand clenched and unclenched. Had he somehow felt the jolt there?
"No matter..." he muttered to himself, his soft brown eyes remaining calm, the light glittering on their surface seeming to almost reflect...kindness?
He turned his back on his opponent then, rotating quickly on his heel to face the swarm. The insects were large to say the very least...quite large. Which may or may not have been an advantage.
"I know an old irritating guy," the boy said as he stepped forward, his hands rising in the air as if he were conducting a symphony. "Who likes little creatures too. No one thinks they're cute but him. Do you think your friends are cute, too?"
He tugged one hand in then as if beckoning them close. A wall cracked. He curled his fingers inward. The ceiling began to crumble. Heavy chunks of stone rained down...then stopped.
"Oops."
His other hand re-mimicked the motions, the floor that glittered with broken insect bodies squirmed. The head re-connected to their bodies, the seperated pieces snaking back toward their respective places as if they were pieces of popcorn laced together for decoration. Which they might as well have been. They rose up then, their buzzing wings sounding different from their other, more alive compatriots as they rose into the air. Their reanimated jaws snapped hungrily as they dove forward, crashing into the other swarm with gusto.
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