Coffee, Readings, Explosions of My! (open)

A warm gentle breeze caressed Jack’s face as he walked down the street in Jump City. It was an odd city for sure, with it’s over abundance of superheroes and its crowded population. Grandmother had mentioned that this city was always filled with new people crowding the streets and businesses. Maybe he would find someone who could put up with his obnoxious ways and wacky pointless stories. He found the architecture to be nice though, and Jump City was rumored to have an enormous library filled with books. He began to wonder which direction the library was and what books they had he hadn’t read yet. Books were one thing Jack loved, coffee was another. The lack of sleep over the past few days had made him tired, grouchy, and just plain mean.

Jack passed an odd looking coffee shop that advertised free fortune readings. He seriously hated wannabe Diviners and the way they read the cards. They were copycats of real Diviners, like himself, and never gave accurate readings to people. Then again he couldn’t complain to bad about accuracy, because he never gave an accurate reading anymore. Temptation prompted him to enter the coffee shop and he was immediately engulfed in the smell of incense. Not the good stuff you get from Arabic markets and whatnot, but the stuff they sold at the local mall that was made in China. The smell was enough to make any person gag, and Jack’s stomach immediately began to coil and twist with the creeping of sickness. A flimsy, young woman flitted Jack’s way and immediately reached for his palm, he assumed she was going to try and “read” his palm as so many others had before her.
As the women went to tell Jack what she thought, a loud explosion erupted from outside. The sound waves caused the glass to break in the shops and the sound of screams and chaos filled the air. Jack ripped his hand from the woman and headed out into the smoke filled street. He slid his gloves on and wondered where the idiot who caused the explosion was.

Bane had spent the day snooping through endless amounts of malls, listened to the talking of shopkeepers, and trying to find a decent coffee shop. Even though Bane ran her own shop, she had never learned to make coffee that tasted good. So to compensate for her lack of coffee skills she always spent days trying to find the perfect coffee joint, and hoping that the pastries were just as good. Today was no different then her previous attempts to locate her amazing coffee shop.

As she was leaving the retched coffee shop of choice today, that had raved of fortune telling, good coffee, and a pleasant atmosphere, but what they rating didn’t tell her was that the coffee had tasted like dirt, the shop so crowded you couldn’t breath and was filled with this atrocious smell that made your stomach curl and your brain scream with agony. After putting up with this chaotic atmosphere she was walking out the front door when a handsome young man walked past her. His face was what made her day at that moment, it was all scrunched up and he looked ready to lose whatever he had eaten that morning. She giggled to herself and headed down the street towards a bank. Then an older man rolled down is window, looked at the bank, and blew it up. The waves of energy that rolled of the explosion knocked Bane into the Old Man’s car. She looked up at the Man, his face reflected a cruel soul. The Man then waved to his driver and drove off, crushing Bane’s hand in the process. The young man from earlier had exited the shop, and was looking around for the culprits. Then everything went black and Bane was out like a light.

With all the smoke and chaos Illusion was unable to locate the idiot behind, what was a small problem to start with which then promptly escalated into a monstrosity of an issue. But he did see a long, sleek, black car pull away and tried to read the license plate. A69… the rest blurred away as the car turned right and disappeared. He pivoted around and saw a young girl, maybe a little younger than he was, crumple to the ground. Normally he would have left the poor thing to the police or an ambulance, but even passed out she radiated a certain power that drew him in. Closer examination revealed her hand had been crushed, but little twitches and fidgets made it seem like her hand was trying to fix itself. Was she a superhero? He wouldn’t be surprised if she was, seeing as this was Jump City. Ahhh… what is a gentleman to do? He couldn’t leave her here, in the gutter. His conscience won, and he picked her up and started walking.

Ooc: Mind in I join?

OOC: Sure, the more people the better.

As the old man made his getaway, a figure seemed to appear before the car, standing in the middle of the street. He stood quite some distance away from the scene, and it would take the car several seconds to reach him. Because of the distance, details were difficult to make out, but he wore ragged jeans, combat boots, a shredded white tee, and an open brown leather jacket. A Famas hung on his back, though it had no visible means of support. His dark brown hair was slicked back against his skull. He was looking down at a spot right before his feet, so his face wasn't visible. As the car neared, he calmly reached behind his head and drew the Famas, holding the weapon close to his chest in a practiced grip. His head slowly raised as he looked up at the rapidly approaching car. His face was tan and noble, and he may have been handsome if it weren't for the ear to ear rictus grin that dominated the lower half of his face. His hazel eyes were manic and he tilted his head to one side like a dog inspecting a curiosity, eying the car as it roared toward him. Without bothering to look down the sights, he took aim and squeezed the trigger, firing a fusillade of rounds from the hip. He didn't look like he was going to move if his attack failed to take down the vehicle or incapacitate the driver.

She remembered the explosion, the dust, the screaming and the pain. Oh my God, the pain. It was almost as if she had stuck her hand in a meat grinder multiple times and pummeled it with a hammer afterwards. The blackness was comforting, well it was and it wasn’t. Her past was filled with darkness punctuated with bursts of happiness. But this darkness was similar to her sister. Warm, caring, but ready to destroy whatever had caused her this pain.

Her eyes fluttered and she looked up at the young gent carrying her. Being unable to decide if he was going to help her, or be a creeper to her, she twisted her body out of his grasp and landed on her feet. “What the hell do you want?” She snarled completed with an icy glare. Gunshots rang out around her and she looked past Illusion, to see someone firing at a car. Not just any car, but the one that crushed her hand. What was he doing?

Illusion stopped walking and glanced down at the young girl in his arms. She was such a unique creature, and one he hadn’t met yet. Then she started fluttering and twitching, woke up and twisted out of his arms and snapped at him. What had he done, to deserve to be snapped at? “Honestly I want nothing,” which was in fact a total lie. He did want to know her, or at least talk to her some more. “You umm… passed out in the gutter,” he was trying to be nice, but this girl’s bad attitude was starting to rub him the wrong way. “So, I thought the appropriate thing to do, would be to move you so you didn’t get run over again. Or haven’t you noticed you got your hand crushed?” Retaliating was something he was good at, and this girl would learn that. Then he noticed she wasn’t really paying attention, and turned to see what she was staring at. It was THAT car, the one from earlier, but who was the guy firing at it?

The Old Man was starting to finally enjoy himself. After his mad escape out of London’s most secure loony bin and jail, he convinced a friend to get him passage to the states. Well convincing would be an understatement, it was more like he killed the man’s family, friends, and then burnt down everything the man had owned. But after all that the man was still not persuaded to help the Old Man, so the Old Man had him tortured until his opponent gave up. That was all that was needed, just a tad bit of torture and he could get anything he ever wanted. He didn’t kill the man, he would still be useful in the future, but he was left in a perpetual state of pain for the rest of his life.

Once he got to the states the Old Man reconnected with some other old friends and collected on the debts that were owe to him. After all that he needed to pick a city to start over in. An assistant has suggested Jump City, because it was filled with villains, but with villains came the superheroes and all that junk. It worked for the time being, he also had heard rumors of a certain item, a box to be exact, being held in one of Jump City’s banks. The only question was which one? He had to start somewhere, and start he did.

The bank job had been unsuccessful and the box not found, but he was undeterred. There would be more banks, more explosions, and more chaos. He signaled to his driver to leave and in the process he ran over some girl. Not that he cared or anything. His driver rolled down the window and told the Old Man about the young man in the road. Before he could finish his sentence a barrage of bullets sprayed the car, and the driver died. Ahhh thought the Old Man a super has come to save the day, to bad he will be in vain. The Old Man looked old, and he was, but he was not fragile or weak in anyway. The driver still has his foot on the gas, so the Old Man opened his door and nimbly exited, while dodging various flying bullets. He landed on his shoulder and rolled over, stood up, dusted himself off, and pulled his own gun and started firing at the man who had wrecked hi car.

The figure cackled, a high pitched sound heavily tinged with hysteria. It seemed he was enjoying himself - perhaps happy that the fight was going to continue. A bullet to the front passenger tire saw the getaway car spinning into the sidewalk, though curiously it hit in precisely the right spot to avoid the crowds of fleeing civilians. Anyone who had been paying close attention would have been certain it would have spun right into them. The figure charged forward, his quarry in sight, firing consecutive three round bursts as he did so. Anyone not looking closely enough would think him reckless - potentially allowing a car to plow into a crowd of people, firing a gun at someone who had innocents behind him. But anyone looking closely would notice that his rounds were impacting around the Old Man's feet on the ground, as if the figure were merely keeping his opponent on the defensive. As with the car, the figure seemed to have absolutely no fear as bullets passed within inches of his head, only a manic grin.

Wow, it hadn’t taken much to upset him, just a serious look, some posturing, and a snappy remark. It dawned on her that he was being nice and that he meant no harm. “I would tell you I’m sorry, but I’m not. However I am grateful to you for pulling me out of the gutter.” Intense pain crawled up her hand into her arm. She pulled a bandage wrap out of her back pocket and wrapped her hand. The pain subsided to a dull throb. Illusion lost her attention when the guy in the road kept firing at the car until it crashed. It seemed as if he was shooting at random, and she hoped he wouldn’t do anything stupid. The Old Man from earlier was shooting back, but he was also dancing as the guy shot at him. She turned to Illusion and smiled. “I do love a good old fashion shoot out, shall we join?” Laughing she drew her own hand gun and crept closer to guys in the street. Then, still laughing, she pointed her gun at the young man in the brown leather jacket. Why him? He had the Old Man pinned, and she wasn’t sure if he was friend or foe yet, that’s why.

Man she was cheeky and interesting. Most girls annoyed Illusion so much, that he was avoiding them most of the time. All they talked about was shopping, and sparkly pink things, it was enough to make him gag. But this girl, she was all spitfire and intrigue. It seemed as if she was possibly a doctor of some sort by the way she wrapped her hand, maybe not, but he had lost her attention when the guy behind him kept shooting at the car and its previous occupants. Illusion turned as well to watch what was happening; the girl smiled at him and pulled a gun of her own. What was going on??? “Shoot outs are fun I guess, but I’m honestly not a fan of weaponry. But then again I have my own versions of destruction.” The girl was creeping up on the shooters but instead of following her, he summoned a friend. More like called a friend, since the Hanged Man visits a lot and drinks most of Illusion’s alcohol. The smell of old trees, rope, and some kind of rot filled the air. The Hanged Man appeared with a bottle of something in his hand, and a rope attached to his ankle trailing behind him. “Illusion, it’s so nice to see you, what have you been doing?” Than Hanged Man gave a huge grin and swigged some more gut rot. Before Illusion could tell him what was going on the Hanged Man understood immediately and moved between the young girl and the Old Man. A traitor is what the Hanged Man is when he is standing upright, and a dangerous one at that. Even though the Cards are considerably ancient they know much about the modern world. That’s why the Hanged Man pulled his favorite gun, a Smith and Wesson 500 Magnum, and pointed it at the Old Man. Illusion moved between Bane and the Hanged Man more for his piece of mind, and so he could see what was going on. “Now that everyone is pointing a gun of some sort at everyone else, what the bloody hell is going on?”

The young brat in the road was a damn good shot, and his shots kept the Old Man dancing. Instead of anger or irritation the Old Man felt pride. He was proud in the fact he had just got out of basically a prison, set up a huge plan involving many heists and explosions, and now he found a worthy opponent to fight with. Then things got complicated. The young girl from earlier appeared with some strange fellow, and was aiming her gun at the brat. Then the strange fellow called a friend of his who appeared with a bottle of whatever and a large handgun, which was in fact pointed at him this very moment. Still dancing a little, he smiled at the girl, “How is your hand my dear, I bet it’s paining you so much right now.” The thing with the huge gun looked ready to blow his face off if his caller so desired, that would be detrimental to his plans, getting shot that is. “A good day to you kind sir, but I have no quarrel with you right now, just the fellow down the street shooting at me currently. So will you kindly bug off!” The Old Man reached into his jacket pocket with his free hand and withdrew several small round shapes, about the size of a small bouncy balls and threw them at the brat in the road as well as the young people next to him. He threw a kind salute, and the bouncy balls exploded. Releasing shrapnel, smoke, and the normal chaos that comes with explosions. He cackled and wondered what they would do, not they couldn’t see.

The gunman had, by this point, closed the distance between himself and the Old man quite considerably, and at this distance, rust red stains on his tee shirt and jeans were visible. Some matched up with holes and tears in his clothing, others appeared splattered across him. Curiously, his jacket was devoid of such stains. In addition, this close it became apparent that something was off about him: the way his skin moved across his muscles was off, as if it didn't quite fit him right. As the explosive balls bounced at his feet, he dove forwards into s combat roll and the little balls seemed to pick up speed as they bounced passed him, as if acted on by an unseen force. As the man dove, his left hand placed his rifle on his back, and his right reached behind his waist. There should have been no way he could have avoided the shrapnel as the explosives detonated: no one could dodge that much flying metal, and no one was that lucky. But as the small cloud of deadly metal flew past him, he completed his roll unscathed as if by some miracle, rising fluidly to his feet with a wickedly serrated combat knife in one hand and a Glock in the other. Most might think he was the luckiest man alive. The religious might call him a saint or a living miracle. The observant just may notice that the puffs off asphault that were kicked up by impacting shrapnel gave him a wide berth. He fired again, aiming for the Old Man's shoulder, continuing to sprint toward him, his hawklike eyes noticing the others, but he seemed to be ignoring them for the moment.

Confusion. Then Fear. Bane knew the guy she’d been talking to was unique, but she couldn’t pinpoint it. Now she knew, he was a summoner of sorts. The confusion came from who and what was the person or thing standing next to her was. Where the fear came from she wasn’t sure. There was just something about the Hanged Man that scared her. Wait, how did she know he was the Hanged Man? She wracked her brain and finally figured out the solution. Tarot cards, that had to be it. The guy had summoned a tarot card, but that's insane no one had that much power. The Hanged Man appeared to have no interest in her, but she was still wary, he was a traitor after all.
The Old Man was really a jerk, and his sharp irritating words struck an unknown nerve. “Nope, it doesn’t hurt anymore, but I imagine your heart hurts seeing as you’re like almost 100.”Sudden explosions rocked the air, and Bane found herself falling yet again. Today was defiantly not her day. She did notice however, the way the shooter moved, dodged, and retaliated against the Old Man. Damn he was good.

The Hanged Man had a bored look on his face, which told Illusion something better happen soon, or H.M would leave. Now the Old Man on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying what was happening even if he was out numbered four to one. The Old Man continued to harass his new found friend, which severely pissed him off. Who was the jerk, thinking he owned the world? The Old Man released something into the air and loud explosions rocked the street. He turned and saw Bane start to fall, but before he could get there the Hanged Man snagged her and backed up out the fray. Illusion looked at the Old Man just as an explosion went off to his left, and shrapnel peppered his side. He staggered a bit before backing up as well, and left the two shooters to themselves.

What was he doing? The punk who was shooting at him was dodging all the bouncy balls and shrapnel. Nobody was that good, or that lucky. Maybe he was a metahuman of some sort, but what kind? The punk did a fancy roll and came up out of it firing. One of the shots pierced the Old Man’s shoulder, causing him to falter a little. Now he was pissed. He raised his right hand and concentrated on a small tattoo of a spider web. A small, fiery spider exited his shoulder wound, feeding on his blood until it was the size of a tennis ball. It scurried down his body and grew with each step. As it hit the ground the spider was the size of a medium sized dog and growing with every second. The Old Man gave a caring smile at his spider and directed it at the punk who was shooting at him. He was going to teach this kid a lesson, a painful, fiery, torturous lesson.

The gunman was close now, merely a matter of feet away. His eyebrow rose slightly at the Old Man's resiliance, but his real surprise came whith the sudden appearence of the spider. He shouldn't have been surprised do easily, and his grin twitched in irritation as he vowed it would not happen again. He decided to change his tactic with the ntroduction of this new dangerous enemy and dove to one side, letting loose several rounds at the spider before landing on his shoulder and allowing his momentum to send him into a roll. He stood and threw his knife at the Old Man, the blade glittering in a deadly spin as it flew towards it's intended target while he fired almost randomly at the flaming spider elemental. He never said a word - as silent in combat as he was efficiently deadly.