Mike™
Skilled Metahuman
Posts : 115
Join date : 2011-01-09
Age : 30
Location : Steel City, UK
RPG character
Name: Mike Stokes
Code Name:
Villain or good guy?: Evil
 |  Subject: Waking Up (Closed)  Fri Aug 19, 2011 9:26 pm | |
| The sheer cold silence in Cell 24A, all over in the Intensive Treatment ward of Impel Down, laid the comatose Mike Stokes laid, not a shrivel of movement from him for almost 2 month's now. His beard now rugged and his hair grown a couple of inches, he didn't look the same man that entered Impel, as the sheer cold breeze outside blew through the busted window, which had a large thick metal chain like fence placed over it. Making the room temperature pretty much whatever the weather was like outside. As a feint whistling was heard in the distance, growing louder and louder, as it was on of the workers at the asylum serving the meals to other inmates in their cells, eventually arriving at 24A, the locks on the door clinked and clanked open, the door grinding open as the man came in with a drip bag, liquid food inside, as he hooked it up on Mike, tapping the tube connected a few times as the processed mush ran through, feeding into Mike's wrist. The man nodded his head, his attention turned to the man laid out in the orange jumpsuit. As he peered closely into the shut eyelids of Stokes, his hand raising in-between his and Mike's face and a few snaps of the fingers. Seeing if Mike was truly out of it, as he shrugged his shoulders, a light murmur of approval, the man got into Mike's face again, a yelling out at the top of his lungs for a second. And Mike was the one in the loony bin. But, working a job like this, guess there has to be an outlet, but not this time. As he looked closely at Mike again, shaking his head in disapproval, the left hand of Stokes clutched around the neck of the worker.
With the man, in shock to say the least of what is happening, Mike's eyes opened, looking over to the man, his grip tightening. Mike brought the man over by the neck nose to nose. As Mike stared at the man, dead in his eyes.
Mike || The Mouth || Stokes
Where...am I?
The worker said nothing, just trembles and murmurs of terror, luckily, with Stokes having not moved in so long, the worker could eventually pull himself away from Mike, backing away from Stokes as he hit the button that every prison had outside the door. A panic button, as a screaming beep filled the hallways of Impel Down, Mike began to pick himself up, using objects nearby for assistance, he managed to pull himself up, falling over to the sink nearby with his legs buckling underneath him, Mike's feet trembled over to the next object, this time a a toilet basin, as he came closer, the worker had no choice but to draw his tazer stick, essentials for all staff at Impel Down, never know what could happen. As he charged towards Stokes, Stokes used the strength he could in his arms to lift the lid of the toilet basin, swiping it 90 degrees to his right, and slamming across the side of the mans face, who fell like a ton of bricks, Mike dropped the lid on the bed, falling over, the distant orders of guards in the distance. Mike panted for breath, looking to his side, finding the tazer stick, Mike's hand clasped onto the bed, pulling him to his knees, a few more breathes, before pushing himself to his feet.
As he stumbled out of his cell, his feet draping across the floor, as he was out of his cell, a number of guards closed in to Stokes' left, they paused for a minute, noticing the nightstick, as they charged forth. But Mike was in no happy mood, rather fowl, as he jabbed the tazer stick into the middle guard, who shook viciously as the guard on his left swung his tazer stick at Stokes, who ducked down, the stick travelling over him and into the unfortunate guard on his right, as Mike spun himself, swiping the feet of the guard on his left, who dropped to the floor, Stokes clambering over him, glancing at the guard before throwing his fist down, knocking the guard out cold. As Mike now took his tazer stick, using the two to push himself to his feet.
Mike walked forward, as he did though, a blue type of energy beamed across the doorway he was about to make his way through, on the other side, another set of guards, this time five, with two making their way towards Stokes, a firm and angered grunt from Stokes, his teeth grit as he spun the sticks over in his hand, now pointing to the floor as he staggered over to the guards, who weren't expecting much, but got alot more. As Mike lunged forth, striking the two down like he had stabbed them, except they was just in for a nasty shock, the adrenaline of the situation helping Stokes push himself to his feet, as another guard ran at him, throwing his tazer forward, Mike ducked his head to the left, the arm of the guard flying past as Stokes lifted his right knee to stop the guard, grabbing the arm, as he pushed on the shoulder, before kicking him to the ground. But as he did, he was caught off guard by another guard, who had sneakily made his way around Stokes, clubbing him viciously around the back of the head, as Stokes dropped to his knees, then falling to his right onto the floor. His vision blurred, as the confused Stokes was grabbed by the two guards, being dragged back into his cell, the door slamming shut. Automatically locking behind it, as the voices behind the door now checked on the other men. Mike laid out the floor, staring to the ceiling, tired, out of breath, shaking with the coldness of the night, dazed and confused, what a welcome back to the real world.
End | |
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