R E V O L U T I O N CITY, Forming PERFECTION {Rated M}

R E V O L U T I O N CITY
When Human Became a Vulgar Term..

THE C A S T:

-- Leader of Organization X {Played by Taph: Xillius}

-- Right Hand (Leader's Right Hand) {Played by Spotty: Jessika}

--Loner {Original Organization X leader, now ousted}{Played by Shadow: Rigel}

-- Members of Organization X {Allowing: As many that are interested.}
Crazy -- Cecil
Indigo
Phoenix --
Iumi

-- Outcasts (Shunned from Organization X for sympathies to lesser species){Allowing: Only two or three...one per roleplayer}
Luna
Vorhchta
Phoenix --
Spotty -- Alise

-- Heroes (term for humans, is a NEGATIVE term in relation to Organization X members){Allowing: As many that are interested, just be aware that humans are hunted and killed. Easily.}
Pointy -- Sampson



THE I N T E R E S T E D?:
Please view this discussion to join: R E V O L U T I O N CITY

THE S E T T I N G :
Boston, Massachusetts. The United States of America
The East District -- Possibly the largest residential population of Heroes in the entire world. Most buildings lie in disrepair and ruins, abandoned and ignored by Organization X. Human filth live here because Organization X are gracious enough to let them stay.
February 17th, 2008
6:13 PM
Rainy, overcast.

THE I N T R O D U C T I O N :

And so it begins.

The end of time, yes, the end as we know it. Yet how to describe this end? It wasn’t the real end of the human race, they had evolved, improved, and so created a superior race. Yet if humans evolved from the ape, and we preserve them, would it be so horrible to preserve the primitive humans? Perhaps, maybe, the truth could not be told, for hunting creatures like primates was allowed for quite a bit of time. Still this was different, humans could not be treated like animals simply because they weren’t. Humans were above animals, intelligent beings that relied on brain power to create their civilization. And when the time came and people began to exploit more of the human mind, abilities were found, abilities that created a center need. The need for perfection.

“We can’t be perfect.”

The disgruntled voice of the man spoke to the shadows of his mind as he sat in on the steps of the old church, thinking of past services in which redemption could only be received through the lord Jesus Christ. How different things were now, it seemed perfection was trying to be earned by the evolution of humans. The coined termed for the evolved humans seemed unfitting to him. They were all humans, all a Homo sapiens, yet somehow it seemed people had forgotten that.

It was odd that he hadn’t been noticed, odd that he hadn’t been killed like his older sister. He was primitive, unwilling, and destructive. Well, perhaps that is a little overboard. This man hadn’t destroyed anything, he wasn’t truly primitive, but he was indeed unwilling. He as unwilling to accept the fact people like him were slowly dying out. He was unwilling to accept the fact that his little sister had evolved while the rest of his family were doomed to be Heroes forever.
Heroes, it was not a vulgar term really. It was a term of hope in reality. The simple hope that through the once simple person a Hero would arrive. And with all these Heroes, there was bound to be one of them who would arise to the task.

“A stupid thought.” The man replied to himself. The thought that such an inferior race could with stand the onslaught of murder everyday seemed less and less likely as the world progressed. It seemed that he sooner or later he would die, and the sweet relief of eternal peace was almost a calming thought.

Almost.

His name was Pedat Miguel Sampson. Standing at six feet exactly he wasn’t a small guy, and with a heavy build, he wasn’t exactly as delicate as a ballerina either. Sampson, because Pedat was really a horrible name, had dirty brown hair that was cropped short to keep the forming bald spot from coming in being too obvious. A short beard was formed around his lips, but it was simply for the lack of shaving for a few too many days. Scanning the street as the rain fell, it could be argued he had supersonic hearing.

It wasn’t that, he was simply utterly not special, or maybe in this time, special indeed. He knew what to look for, what to listen for, and the silence from the patter of the rain seemed to unsettle him. Sampson brushed off raindrops from his long tan trench coat and opened an umbrella before daring to come under his dry shelter on the steps of the church. This was the night, he knew it, this was night to remember, and a event much like this city was famous for would be bound to happen.

Brushing the handle of the gun on his holster, he made sure it was there. It was funny, guns weren’t used anymore. The thought of Heroes having power was scary. With these weapons they could achieve a greatness, become a killing machine. A smirk rose upon Sampson’s face as he walked boldly forward, daring for someone to question to him.

For while he would gain peace in his death, he be sure to rain hell down during his life. It was time for him to be a Hero, time to be destructive.

Time to begin.

Boston was a filthy city.
A filthy, particularly rainy, city on this evening.

Then again, wasn't this place, this city, founded on some sort of principle...some sort of idiotic movement in human times? When they fought with meager muskets and canons, used bodies as shields. Times had changed. And in this female's mind? It was certainly for the better.

What sort of freak - or idiot - didn't know about the Revolutionary War, anyway? Jessika certainly didn't see why history was very important. Aside from the Great War that ended the heroes' tyranny on the planet. Oh yes, Organization X had spread to all continents, all edges of civilization. And all the while, she'd been at {The Leader's} beck and call, some claimed she was some sort of power-hungry, perhaps even obsessed physically with {The Leader}; her promiscuous tendencies were well known enough...but the truth was, the only side that was worth being on, was the winning side. That was the side that was written in history books, the fact that was trained to children in schools. Loyalty and allegiance, those were the means of survival. Those ideals kept one from being an Outcast, or worse, being thrown out into the world alone.

Flicking her gaze down at her wrist, then up at the street lights that were just starting to illuminate the street, the brunette pursed her lips in irritation. Come now, weren't any of the human filth up to coming out to play? She wasn't on assignment at this very moment...but she was positive {The Leader} would be contacting her soon enough. Running a hand through her hair, tossing it in a far too appealing manner over her back, the girl appeared to be somewhere in her early twenties. Walking the streets alone at this hour was definitely a mistake only made by those that were extremely suicidal, exceptionally idiotic, or...a combination of both. Judging by this female's appearance, even excusing her tight fitting, black tube dress and black heels, she seemed to pour more doom vibes from her person than the street or surrounding, rundown neighborhood. So really, it didn't appear she was suicidal or idiotic. In fact, she rather hoped someone would fuck with her.

A sort of smirk curved her lips at that thought, emerald eyes scouring the shadows and alleyways for someone to fit that category. The girl had very striking, memorable features...and frankly, any person, Organization X or the filth known as heroes, should recognize her instantly. She was the Right Hand. {The Leader}'s muscle...though a woman...and petite, not exactly muscular at all. In fact, if on the receiving end of her smirk...it would easily be a blessing she wasn't anymore intimidating than she undoubtedly was.

Some memory from her childhood. What was the game? Hide and go seek? Some phrase...what was it.. ?"Olly Olly Oxen Free...!" She murmured to the night, wicked sort of grin tugging at the corners of her lips. She was looking for fun...and until she was needed, she'd walk the streets and /find/ a piece of human filth, even if it took the entire night.

Brushing a fallen lock of hair behind her ear, she paused her advance, checking her black clutch for her cell. If {The Leader} did contact her anytime soon, it was best to be prepared. Often she was ridiculed for her borderline obsessive loyalty to {The Leader}...but anyone who ridiculed her too loudly were taken out by her own person, if not silenced by {The Leader}. It just wasn't wise to mess with the natural order of things. She opened her palm, feeling the first few droplets of the oncoming rain shower. The girl stepped back under the awning of an old building, lips pressed together in a thin frown. Flipping open her compact mirror, she checked her appearance in silence, the epitome of innocence and goodness. To the untrained eye.

Now to wait.


ooc;;

You're not finding out her powers until Jessika meets your soon-to-be-dead characters.
^^

Somewhere in Boston, the heavens were weeping for the state of the beloved planet that they had overseen for so many years. It had fallen into chaos, evolution turned to revolution, revolution to delusion, delusion to genocide. The rain beat down upon the cold, grimy streets of the Boston slums, almost as if it were trying to cleanse the town of its sin.

Sin was in, so it seemed. Murder was no longer a crime, not if you were one of the evolved, the elite. In fact, butchering the lesser life like cattle was encouraged. Locked away in a dilapidated building, several sins had taken up residence. Not in the building, but in the heart of a bitter man. He wanted it all burned to ash, frozen in death.

“Wake up…” came the words with a hiss, a serpentine flair accenting the male voice. It was malicious, angry… amused. Steel-gray eyes looked over the unconscious form of his prey, there was no pity, just disgust for what lay tied to the support beam. “You’ve been out for three days…”

“Wake up you piece of organization trash!” a kick was thrust into the poor grunt’s side, causing the younger boy’s eyes to flutter open. What the poor child found greeting him was the portrait of a god dethroned, the brightest burning star in the constellation of Orion extinguished. Rigel A. Chandrasskar had his gaze locked upon the young man, a cold, calculating smile plastered onto his features.

“They’re not hardening you little bastards up like they used to… are they?” he spat, kneeling down and taking hold of the lad’s chin. “How old are you, boy? Eighteen? Nineteen? Perhaps you just turned twenty, hm?” the necklace he wore rattled and clinked when he dropped onto one knee, causing the captive male to focus on it.

It was gruesome to say the least. Hannibal Lector would have most certainly approved. A simple rope necklace adorned with bloodied human finger bones, index fingers to be precise. Bits of rotting flesh still clung to the severed digits. It was nauseating.

“E…eighteen…” the grunt managed to whisper, trying his best to get his face from Rigel’s grip.

“Ah… you’re still just a baby then,” he stood, walking over to a crate turned table. “That’s a shame, I was hoping to get one with a little bit more experience than yourself… picking off the runts never did send too much of a message.” He fumbled around atop the crate, looking over his tools for a bit. “This will do…”

Rigel had taken a rather large and serrated knife, strolling back over to the boy. Standing over the poor child, his features would be some of the last things that the little grunt would ever see. Bluish-white hair not unlike the sheen of his namesake star was flared out in adisheveled mess, falling past his chest with splotches of blood dried in.

A scar ran across the length of his throat, the reminder of where they had not only dethroned him, but tried to commit an act of deicide. The bastards had tried to kill him. They had tried and they had failed. Organization X apparently forgot how difficult it was to kill a God made flesh.

At least that’s what Rigel thought. He truly thought that he was not only above the pieces of human shit dubbed as “heroes,” but his evolved comrades as well. Dropping to his knees once again, he violently seized the wrist of the young recruit, lifting the teen’s index finger back with the knife.

A scream pierced the dimly lit warehouse, echoing off of the walls and only giving Rigel the greatest joy as the worm writhed in his grasp. With one final sickening crunch, it was done. Slipping the boy’s now severed finger into the pocket of his partially unbuttoned and short-sleeved blue work shirt, Rigel smiled down at his captive, tears streaming down the face of the poor little animal.

It was a delicious sight to behold.

“Wh… who are you?” the poor, scared little soldier asked, gripping his left hand as tight as he could, just wanting the bitter, nauseating pain to go away. The warm flow of blood didn’t help, it only made the child sicker to his stomach. It was… it was horrible. Is this what they did to the humans?

“Who am I?” Rigel smiled. “Who am I…” he stepped away for a moment. “I am the alpha and the omega,” the man started, turning back at the grunt. “I am the life and the death,” he smiled, a bluish white flame engulfing his hands. “I am the beginning, and I am the end…” he let loose an unending stream of the fire towards the boy.

In a flash, the grunt’s pain had ended. He was quite literally frozen in death, encased in a skintight suit of ice, horror still plastered onto his sweet young face. “To put it quite simply... I’m going to be God,” Rigel concluded to the human ice sculpture. “And while the lord giveth…” he launched a forceful kick, steel lined boots severing the frozen head from his plaything. “The lord taketh away.”

Slipping the serrated blade into his white cotton pants pocket, Rigel calmly strolled over to the crate as if nothing had happened, taking a finer knife into his hands and plopping down to have a seat. “Soon enough… each and every one of them will be around my neck…” he took the severed finger from his shirt pocket, whittling away at it with the smooth blade.

He was whittling it like a young boy would whittle a stick, flesh peeling away much, much easier than the bark of a branch. Rigel would strip it bare, then that would be one more little trophy added to his necklace. One more little sign that showed he was once again going to be the brightest burning star in Orion.

"Vengeance is mine, so sayeth the lord..."

The sound of soft tinkling bells, clanging against one another as they were bounded by a scarlet thread, was an aid to the anxious ears of the young man leaning against a steel pole, feeling the chill through shirt and jacket.
His eyes seemed just as bothered; hooded to block the emissions of light above, soft amber radiance that created murky shadows and even stranger opportunities.

It was this face, so young and mixed with malevolence and sorrow, this face that had been recognized as none other than Masquerade. No last name, no sign of heritage just a austere shadow that was twisted into the depths of his left eye- the color of lilacs and scarlet lilies. The right eye appeared typical, a distinct color of green; bright and dark.

Ecstatic yet miserable.

Masquerade stood beneath the glow of amber, as if awaiting an announcement while under the spotlight. His visits to this unproductive and trifled place were more frequent than usual, it was uneasiness and boredom that tweaked at his heart and encouraged his body to move on its own accord. He was nineteen, young yet considered mature and all knowing.
The left eye, of twisted shadows, lilacs and lilies, nervously assessed the surroundings.

Boston has once been a metropolis had it not? Now it was the main site of despair and cruelty. Masquerade, with head titled to the faux light above, sighed softly. His hands were tucked deep away into his pockets, a black jacket draped around his shoulders with a scarf shielding his neck, woven of violet and black thread.
Tilting his head to one side he listened to the soft music of tinkling bells, his face now into a smooth mask of relaxation- so rare. The scarlet thread was short and used to hold three bells into a group, the trio of copper instruments were woven into his hair. Blonde disarrayed tresses, two streaks of green- bright like his right eye- swept over to shield and hide his shadow infested stare.

Lilacs and Scarlet lilies.
Filling a garden full of color.
Of paleness and blood.

A garden for Gods.

From the dawns of time, there were always a sub-division of humans born as inferior-- constantly being ridiculed, abused, even killed off. Through out history-- countless wars, enslavement, mass murders, genocide-- the battle to attain perfect human race raged on then and it continues to rage on now. Survivors of past persecutions still have the warrior's first raging within their hearts. They still want justice and they want it now, even the restless spirits of those killed off howl in their misery for justice! Otherwise all the lives lost prior to the present for this cause would all be in vain.

"I swear to you all. I'll avenge your deaths, your hard work and sacrifices will not go to waste. I assure you, my friends everyone's sacrifice will not be in vain." A man whispers his prayers as he holds tightly a red pendant in his hand, his memento of the fallen leaders of Organization X. Being the only survivor of the original ten, Xillius Cassius, dedicated his life to the goal of the reconstructed Organization X-- to create a perfect race-- and vows to never turn his back on it even if death were to breathe on his neck.

Rising to his feet and raising his head, a look of solemn oath and loyalty resonates off his seemingly immaculate face. To many-- he was their powerful leader, to other-- their mortal enemy and humanity's disease. Golden brown hair parted from the center, with a few rogue strands over his face, elegantly fall around the sides of his face as it's length decrease further behind his head. Light blue eyes, the right one being partially brown because of sectoral heterochomia, glance attentively at the ledge and he walks over to the edge of the building. A scar running across the side of his neck is his reminder of his past struggles, for he had to fight to be the success he is now.

As true warrior at heart he was bound and determine, and now Xillius was rewarded for it as his kind flourishes throughout the world, as they out number their enemies. The tables have turned, favoring the gifted now. The path to a perfect race keeps being carved deeper and deeper, thus all imperfection needs to be eradicated in order to complete it. Though for now, peace among gifted and normal remains in this gloomy district, as he refrains from commanding his forces to totally annihilate the human filth.

Rain begins to tap the man's head as he observantly keeps an eye on things from above. "What's this? The once hunters cower, now that their prey has over powered them," he utters with a pleasurable grin of content as he turns around and climbs down the side of the building. No one, except for his followers, really dared to be out even though the hour was not late, though there were a few humans here and there.

Xillius, unlike others, did not plan on being a tyrannical dictator of the world, no, all he wants was a safe environment for the next gifted generation so that they may live in prosperity. He did not want gifted children to be abused nor exiled for their unique talents and abilities, like he was during his childhood. However the only way to stop such discrimination, is to clean out society of all it's imperfection and impurity. In his youth he did not support pointless killing or anything of such barbaric caliber. However drastic times called for drastic measures. "Weed out the filth and make way for an Era of peace and perfection." Thus were his beliefs in order to create Organization X's ideal society.

Walking down the tattered side walk, the man blends into the dark scenery with his all black attire as he scans the area and checks up on this district to see if everything was in order. "Jessika sees to be keeping this part in line and under control, excellent," he comments on his right hand's accomplishment and he continues his check. The weather was particularly cloudy and rainy, "Interesting," he whispers in intrigue. It was as if the weather was pronouncing the coming of his next orders. At midnight tonight, Xillius will initiate his next orders to his plot, but until then, 'Keep your current post and inform the others to maintain their posts as well. Also, prepare for my next orders which I will release before the next day arrives,' he sends the pre-made text to Jessika.

'Commence the count down, the day of redemption is upon us!'

((Huzzah! I posted. I hope 'tis alright. ><' ))

Well. Fuck, this place is a dump. How can any self-respecting being live in this filth? Guess that says a lot about Heroes or whatever they're called. Why were Mom and Dad were worried about these people again? What, are the Heroes going to rush me with garbage? Pfft.

The previous thought happened to belong to a young man who was standing nearby one of the decrepit buildings, though if thoughts could think themselves, this one would surely wish to belong to someone else. To put it in the nicest terms, this young man wasn't really in tune with what many people affectionately refer to as "reality". Much of this was due to the sheltered life he had led during his earlier years. Obviously before the Great War, his kind wasn't looked upon with friendly feelings. He should know.
Having other's feelings and emotions assault him, forcing him to feel everything another was feeling tended to give him a pretty clear cut answer on what other people thought of him. As soon as his parents had learned of his ability, they had kept him away from the outside world. Hell, he hadn't learned about the Great War until well after it's conclusion...and because he had eavesdropped on a conversation between his parents. On the bright side, after that incident his parents began to tell him what was going on in the world around them, as if they finally acknowledged its existence.

What? No, he hadn't made like a ninja and stealthily slunk out of his house earlier on today. Lies! Vicious lies!
Besides, his parents wouldn't have understood. They waited years to tell him about some god awful war, some Organization X, its single leader along with the right hand lady, why would they let him go out and experience that world? He loved them dearly, but come on...let him have one adventure. As his golden eyes scanned the destruction around him, he suddenly found himself wishing that his parents had put bars on the windows. Fuck this shit, he was going to go home.

He ran a hand through his dark hair, a glare reserved for the rain that continued to pour just beyond the reach of the roof he was standing under. Did the outside world have to be this...wet? Honestly, how much water could this place need? They weren't fishes last he checked. Until he spontaneously sprouted a tail, fins and some gills, this fucking rain should let up. He grumbled vicious words at the rain as he pulled his black jacket's hood over his head, his hands trailing over the rabbit ear-like extensions atop the hood.
Yes, rabbit ears. Hey, for all he knew having a hood with rabbit ears attached could be some sort of camouflage. Yup. He was just some over-sized humanoid rabbit...who happened to have one of those rabbit ears pierced with a Celtic cross earring.
Getting back to the over-sized rabbit bit...yes. He was a rabbit and rabbits were cute, so the Heroes would leave him alone, as cute things were always of a “good” alignment. Honestly, these people lived in garbage, how bright could they be?

The young man dejectedly made his way out into the rain, moving rather slowly for someone who had been eager to return to his home just moments before. Well, shut up. He was going to be in a shit ton of trouble when he got home, so he might as well earn every bit of the punishment that was sure to come. Also, if he caught a pneumonia, the parental units might go easier on him. Or that would make him more susceptible to their talks about “mature behavior”.
Fuck.

He picked up his pace at that last realization, his head ducked down low to avoid getting a face full of water. As he had observed earlier, he had no gills to speak of, so he'd end up a twitching, coughing mess on the ground. At the very least, there wouldn't be anyone around to see an epic fail like that.
His pace abruptly slowed as several things hit him at once. Those things happened to be emotions...very powerful emotions coming from two different people. The young man let out a soft hiss and pressed a hand to his forehead.
Damnit. Why did people have to feel so...loudly? Alternatively, why did he have to be so damn sensitive to their emotions? He'd become a homicidal maniac on his own time, thank you very mu-
Wait.
His already pale skin drained of all color when he finally realized what was happening or what was about to happen.
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. He needed to get out of here yesterday.

After a few stumbled steps, he instantly made a beeline back in the direction of his house, feeling sicker as he continued along. The emotions were becoming overwhelming and the problem was that he didn't know the exact direction they were coming from. All he knew was that he was somehow getting closer to the individuals responsible for the doom feelings.
As he was mostly focusing on not collapsing on the spot, he didn't notice the church he was beginning to approach, nor did he notice the woman standing across from the aforementioned building.
Sucks to be him.

The female's gaze moved across the street, perfectly manicured eyebrow lifting inquisitively at the huddled person on the church steps. She continued her inspection of her soft features in the mirror, corners of her emerald eyes observing the male form from afar. Closing the compact mirror, she started out from under the awning, lifting the arm wielding the clutch above her head to shield herself form the rain. A malicious, ill intending smirk devoured her lips. "Sir--?" She called, only to have the rest of her words die on her lips.

Just as she would slip into the street and confront the misfortunate individual, her cellphone chirped an alarm. Thrusting herself backwards under the awning with a growl, she lowered her arm, flipping open the clutch purse to procure her cell. The new form was acknowledged only out of her peripherals for her attention was fixed solely on the device in her hand.

Keep your current post and inform the others to maintain their posts as well. Also, prepare for my next orders which I will release before the next day arrives

Excellent. Her smirk only widened at this news and she quickly sent a typical reply, "Of course, Sir.", before forwarding the order to the lesser ranks. She enjoyed the power and influence she wielded in Organization X, so much that..it practically rolled off of her in waves, was almost tangible the pleasure and amusement she received from being favored by the Leader, by Xillius. Her gaze flicked down the sidewalk, nodding in acknowledgment to the other stationed on this street.

Several different...agents were stationed all over The East District, not that any new why...but the feeling of anticipation was thick in the air. Something was finally going down. Were they going to eradicate the Hero filth on this night? Even Jessika, secretly rather irritated and displeased, wasn't entirely sure what Xillius had planned for this night. Would this be a repetition of Kristallnacht? "The Night of Broken Glass"? An incident during WWII...with the Nazis? So, maybe she remembered a little bit from History class after all. Jessika could only hope this would be a massive slaughtering of the human filth. In the morning, the headlines would be ablaze with the Organization X's greatest feat. The destruction of Boston, The Eastern District.

...bah...it was never too good to get a head of the game. While normally not one to kick down her own confidence, the rain was making everything, lofty goals included, so damn...gloomy and depressive. Shivering very slightly, she rather wished she had worn something besides this revealing, black designer dress. And heels. Stuffing the cell back into her clutch, her malevolent gaze fell back on the two forms across the street.

Attempt number two.

Lifting both arms above her head, she dashed across the street, towards the pair. She was allowed to play...they both happened to be on her post. "This rain..." She pouted, once in earshot of the other two males. Immediately she recognized the Hero filth, for...exactly what he was, human filth; the other...well...at least he wasn't some sort of Outcast. Out of the rain, she lowered her arms to her side, toussling her hair, and brushing the bangs slightly from her eyes.

If Sampson recognized her as the Right Hand, it would only hasten the best part of the game...
If he didn't recognize her? Aside from being thoroughly disappointed....she could toy with him. After all, it didn't seem she'd be hearing from Xillius for a few hours.

Our intrepid bunny protagonist belatedly realized that he wasn't alone. This was something he probably should have noticed before now but as was pointed out earlier, he wasn't all that in tune with reality. Also, the emotions that he was sensing and experiencing were overwhelming to the point that he lost all perception on the area around him. He finally halted in his movements, a hand pressed over his face as his fingers viciously massaged his temples.
Damn! Good plan, Cecil...yeah, just sneak right out of the house and go to some goddamn trash dump. What brilliant ideas you come up with, self. What next? Shall I run screaming? Sputter out nonsensical gibberish? Fall over and play possum? When he was hit with the next series of emotions, Cecil seriously began to consider the last thought out option. While he had never encountered a sadistic being before, he recognized the calculating sadism that was, to his senses, pouring out of the woman who had just approached him and...that other guy who was standing on the church steps. Cecil was getting the feeling that he was caught between a rock and a hard place, only to a much more dramatic degree.
On the one hand, he was fucked. On the other hand, he was epically fucked.
If he got home alive, he was never leaving his room ever again.

"The rain is the least of my worries right now," he mumbled in response to what the woman had pouted out. After taking a deep breath, he began to carefully manipulate the emotions that were rushing into his consciousness, whittling them down to the point where they were tolerable, at least. Of course, those actions wouldn't affect Sampson's and the Right Hand's emotions at the moment, Cecil had just more or less created a redirection route for his intake on their emotions. Instead of blasting all willy nilly through his mind, they were contained to specific routes and areas so that he could actually use his mind for its intended purpose. Thinking.

Ooookay. Freaky sadist woman wants to do all sorts of disturbing stuff. How best to avoid freaky sadist woman? Also...in avoiding freaky sadist woman, I'll have to avoid church man, too. Fantastic.
"Hate to skip out on this all..." Whatever the hell it is. "Buuut I just remembered something really important I have to be doing at some other undisclosed location. Right about now, actually. Bye!"
With that last chimed statement, Cecil attempted to make his retreat.
Pay no attention to the rabbit. He's not important.
Nope, not at all.

ooc: Here's Cecil since I'm lame enough to look for pictures. xD

Strolling quietly down the middle of no real street in particular, a strange figure could be seen. Well, not so strange anymore, now that humans were no longer in charge. Which had been a huge relief to this creature when the fact had become apparent. And now they were even pretty close to being all gone. Well it certainly served them right, there was no doubt about that. Even if it was that very species that had made him in the first. Of course, then some others had tried to exterminate him.

The creature shook its head a bit, not fond of his own extremely rambling thoughts. Now focusing on his surroundings...he finally noticed that he was getting wet. Seemed it was raining. An animal-like grumble came from him as he was hit in the eye by a particularly large raindrop.

After flinching from this, he reached to his side and grabbed a gas mask-looking thing; with a respirator and all that stuff. With a sense of urgency, he squeezed it over his head--with seemed like a perfect visage of some kind of canid...coyote, wolf, or probably a mix of several different such creatures. As he finally got his mask on in a manner that wouldn't leave his ears too severely crushed under it, he panted for a few moments in relief.

His head wasn't the only thing that had a wild appearance, though...the entire shape of his body and frame seemed heavily influenced by...whatever animals he was based off of. From his completely feral-looking legs, to his grubby paw-like hands--and slightly swishy tail--he was shaped as if he should've been on all fours. However, this was only half of what made his appearance noteworthy.

His attire was somewhat...extreme. It was a vicious-looking uniform he currently had on; a dark gray hooded jacket and pants with padding in various places. Not to mention the mask, what with its large eye lenses that had an oily sheen to them. Needless to say, even thought he was just barely under five feet tall, it all made him look pretty imposing, if not a little overdressed...

Other that that, he had some pretty predictable looking equipment...a loaded holster on one side and what seemed to a nightstick-like thing on the other. And one fairly important thing to note would be an armband; one that read '099'. Indeed, that was his 'name'. He liked it well enough, though.


Finding his current street to be a bit dull, his mind began to wonder again...until suddenly, a sharp pain bluntly appeared on the back of his head. He let out a muffled yelp, both from the sting and surprise. Shaking his head and spotting the broken glass that had just jingled around him...ouch, some horrible, horrible person had thrown a rather large bottle at him.

"F-freak..!" He heard a high-pitched voice yell at him from a pile of garbage bins. Now thoroughly agitated, a smothered growl could be heard from him as he went to teach the little runt a lesson. Almost immediately, the young little human scumball had tried to run off. That wasn't much use, though, as 099 was much faster.

Within moments, he had the kid by the arm, who was now thrashing around like a tiny savage and yelling various hurtful things. Not one to take getting attacked and made fun of at the same time, the once-experimental canine creature reached for his nightstick; or shock wand, rather.

With a sloppy, muffled snarl, he began smacking the kid back and forth across the face, giving his a nasty dose of electricity each time. 099 almost seemed to lose sight of his anger as the human bully began to do nothing more than twitch, at which point he actually stopped.

With a gruff snort, he threw the naughty little violent psychopath harshly on the ground. Satisfied with what he'd done, he continued his stroll, merely leaving the human there, still twitching slightly. Unfortunately, 099 was still quite riled with having been assaulted and bullied and all. Taking deep breaths through his respirator, he attempted to cool down a bit as he wandered aimlessly.


Ooc:

Well, there he is...I hope that wasn't too wordy. > >


Also, here's picture of him...it's kind of old and ugly to me now, but it should help in case I was too vague...

http://i87.photobucket.com/albums/k123/Sil...sh_2006/X99.png

(Spotty has me as an Org. X member on the plot board. (So ya know))

And so it rained, The sky had broken open this morning and spilled everything onto the dark earth below. Everything hid from the rain. The people, the rats, the pests.... But not everyone feared the ominous rain, as was so obviously seen. A figure could be seen from the shadows, movements catlike, body lithe.

She was a smaller person, though not short. She was willowy, of medium height. Years of neglegence were obvious, her golden curls were mottled, caked with dirt. They had been cut to her shoulder to allow for more comfort, though mainly for movement. Her sparking blue eyes now shone a dull night-storm gray-blue.

Her lightly tanned hand inched around the corner of the building behind which she was standing. She was streaked with dirt and oil, sometimes blood. She was different than she had been, lucky she was even alive now.

She had been a delicate flower, an innocent girl. She wore pink and bows, doted on the children and animals. Until.... they took over. By force or what, she had no recollection. Her parents- murdered. Her sister- raped and killed. But why, of all people, they chose to leave her? She had only seen the bodies of her family strewn across the floor, killer gone and away.

But that was the before, this was the now. She had become like a rat, hiding, pillaging and killing for what she needed. She lived like a rat, too, body shielded by what little clothes she had left. But now, she seemed to consider herself above these 'Heroes', she cared only for herself. She blamed them for what had happened, her ruined life and current state.

But if she was discovered and accepted by them... Her feelings welled up inside. She could only imagine all the 'Heroes' she would kill, a hunting sort of game. She had turned against her older self, sadistic and cruel.

Now... let the games begin.

This had to be one those atypical and eccentric encounters, Masquerade eyed the girl and boy personally. Studying really as he tilted his head to the side in deliberation. He had encountered numerous beings before, ordinarily they were drawn to the lilac and scarlet in his hidden eye, the bells laced into his air seemed to answer for him. For the boy never was one for idle chatter.

He listened to the banter of the boy, eyes aimed at the cross dangling from one of the rabbit ears on his head, he ignored the woman. Brutal ways and vindictive intentions bored Masquerade, the world could only protract so much blood- no need for the whole damn city to become filled with his fetid tang right.
His arms crossed over his chest, not minding the rain at all. His bells chimed as if adding comment and sentence to the peculiar conversation, more so the boys odd ways of retreating. He was curious but he didn’t bother to stop him- run away while you can.

His green eye turned to the woman, there was something memorable about her that Masquerade conscious refused to remember, his mind overwrought to find out who she was exactly but to no purpose. He didn’t speak though, only giving sign that he was taking their words into consideration were his hands. He wasn’t one to use sign language though, he just shrugged his shoulders and used his left hand to wave the woman off in a parting gesticulation.
He wasn’t in the mood to engage in discussion associations, he just wanted to scan the area for danger- she obviously was one of such… But… Masquerade wasn’t interested at the moment.

Now Sampson is human, and although he is lesser evolved, the man was far from stupid. With a slight sigh in the back of his throat he turned with a smile on his face to Jessika. He wouldn’t lie and say that Jessika wasn’t attractive, but just because a snake was a beautiful didn’t make it any less deadly. And really in this situation he had to avoid not only the snake but avoid being a mouse.

It might be confusing why the thought of being a mouse passed through Sampson’s mind, but if you knew him perhaps you would understand. Heroes had less and less become the snakes of society simply because a new breed of snake had arrived. And as that happened they become the mice of society, the prey. Seeing as Sampson was the very much a Hero in the physical aspect, he always ran the risk by being a mouse. And Sampson had in countered a very dangerous snake.

He would have to say Jessika was a cobra of some sort, highly decorated and very dangerous. That just meant he would have to be a rat instead of a mouse. Like one of the rats that lived in the church garden. The huge variety, the Warf rat that killed small dogs, and stood on its hind legs to challenge a human.

“Well hello Miss, I do believe you picked the wrong outfit for today.” Sampson kept a polite voice as he raised the umbrella to be over her head. A coy smile raised upon his face as he turned to Cecil. “You aren’t going to duck out on us are you? I mean you have nothing to worry about.” The thought of using a shield seemed very good to him, and seeing as snakes weren’t picky when it came to small mammals, a rabbit would do very well for this occasion. Very well.

It was already known someone die this day, the more dead body counts on the other side meant the more kill count for his.

Cecil froze in his retreat when he sensed yet another individual's emotions, curiosity to be precise. What the hell? Either he was more oblivious than usual today or people were popping out of the fucking sidewalks.
In all honesty, he really wouldn't be surprised if it was the latter. This place really didn't have a nice feel to it, even without the homicidal vibes rolling off of both Sampson and Jessika. As for the other he just sensed...well, whoever the other guy was, his emotions were complicated. Cecil couldn't even begin to sort through them all and he wasn't even sure there were very many true emotions there, anyways.

A curious and cautious glance was flicked in Masquerade's direction, an action he regretted almost instantly. Oh snap, whoever that guy was, he was giving Cecil bad feelings.
Not in the sense that Masquerade would do anything shitty. It was more along the lines of if Masquerade were to be pissed off, all hell would break loose. So he was surrounded by three creepers then? Fantastic.
Cecil blinked upon realizing he hadn't moved any further since he had paused earlier on. As he was about to start walking again, Sampson spoke. A weird sort of look contorted Cecil's face for a moment before he managed to smooth it over with a grimace. He rubbed the back of his head and let out a nervous chuckle. "Yeah...'fraid I do have to go. Sorry, but curfew and all that. Parents wouldn't be happy if I came home late."

My ass I have nothing to worry about. You're only a homicidal creeper and that chick isn't any better...and there's always doom bringer number three over there. He scowled slightly and began to walk off once more. Hell no he wasn't going to let himself be killed. The purpose of life was to live, after all. Being killed was counterproductive to that whole bit.
Cecil hated setbacks, especially permanent ones. So this was one adventure he was going to skip out on, kaythanks.

Masquerade continued to analyze the situation, contemplating each event with his hidden eye of lilacs and scarlet lilies- although hidden his eye never ceased to miss anything. That rabbit boy was looking at hi, eyes seeming trouble, but then that other guy spoke, his green eye flickered over to him. This was getting appealing- not a very excellent thing.
When things got interesting Masquerade got involved, the bells chimed as he tilted his head to the side, a exceptional smile breaking across his face.
“Mustn’t upset the good ole’ parents now eh friend.” His voice sounded rather off, a outlandish intonation that added more to his disposition. He watched the boy continue his withdraw, yes run away, don’t want to get killed.
He tilted his head to the former pair, green eye studying them both. He decided then and there to not make conversation, he crossed his arms over his chest and gapped his lips. A peculiar obscure like haze was fashioned, his lips immediately sealed shut as the strange emerald fog was caught by the breeze and carried off, expanding in size before it finally disappeared with an anomalous hiss. With his arms crossed over his chest he closed his eyes briefly.
This was turning into an discomfited night, mainly because Masquerade wasn’t accustomed to being around so many people, he usually tried to avoid confrontation…
For various reasons.

With his hand now revealed his extensive nails were seen, sharp tipped weapons that Masquerade had used countless times in self defense and pity. He could still sense the brutality from the woman, however the male with the umbrella sheathed over their heads eluded him. Masquerade couldn’t figure him out, even with his strange eye. He huffed, another fog-mist of green escaping from his lips before evaporating off into the rainy sky.

To be brutally honest, Jessika would have been horribly offended if any of the males in the general vicinity didn't find her attractive. With the inappropriately revealing, tight, curve-fitting black dress, spiky heels, thick, long lashes, and quick smile, she was beautiful...but a dangerous sort of beautiful, one that made it very obvious that if distracted by her appearance...one was done for. It was too adorable that the human was intelligent enough to figure out such a thing.

A smirk tugged at the corners of her lips when the human filth spoke, giggling erupting from her red lips. "Perhaps, but you know Boston weather, just as fickle as some of its inhabitants...no?" The intentions and insinuations behind that sentence were practically poisonous, just as one cobra's bite. The tipping of his umbrella to fit her form was rewarded with a fetching smile, batting her lashes in only the most coy, most rehearsed manners. She tousseled her hair with her hand once more, a gesture that seemed to be a habit, more than one of vanity, though appealing all the same.

Annoyance rose in her cheeks when bunny boy made excuses and went to leave. The Hero was up to something...and now one of the soldiers was just going to waltz off into the night? She glanced in the direction of Masquerade, quirking an eyebrow inquisitively. Goodness, the Organization X members that had come out this early were not among the best... tsking very softly, she reached forward, pulling Cecil by the arm of his sweatshirt and jerking him back. "Ah, but you know..." Or one should know, "Someone above your parents issues a far different command."

Organization X members were stationed all through out the Eastern District. Every individual standing in this city should be aware of such a thing...unless they were living under a rock. "Wouldn't do to upset greater powers..." was her foreboding last comment; releasing Cecil's person, but her gaze failed to liberate the bunny-eared male from the situation.

With a pale hand, she tugged upwards on the lowering neckline of her dress, once more flicking a very much 'what the fuck'?! sort of expression in Masquerade's direction, before returning her attention to the man. "Call me Jess, won't you?" She tapped his nose, lips pulling in a dangerous smile, "What's your name?" Not that it mattered, it most certainly didn't matter... "Thanks for this," She added pleasantly, touching the edge of the umbrella. Time to play.