A Place To Crash (Honest)

Guest

It was around two in the morning, and the cold winter breeze was strong in Jump City's slums. The harsh winds rocked some of the more decripted building, and kept the countless homeless residents of the slum in them for warmth. This place was a death trap. This place meant death. Axle knew it. Axle knew he needed to find shelter soon. The small skeleton of a boy walked the lonely streets with his arms crossed for what little warmth it would provide. The demon inside him screamed in his head constantly for food, but Axle refused to steal. Stealing could lead to conflict, and conflict could lead to him killing... Again. Axle walked for what seemed forever down the gritty little road that was littered with used needles, and syringes. His shoes were falling apart, and only made the walk harder. Finally he saw a light that wasn't the dim orange of a street lamp. An open window? Why the hell would a window be open in freezing weather? Was the owner of the small flat having a cigarette? Axle saw no smoke other than his warm breath against the cold air. He decided to check it out. He would just peak through the window, and see if anybody was home, and if anyone was he'd go. Quickly the boy scurried up the frozen fire escape. He felt a tingly sting in his small hands as he touched the cold metal, but that wouldn't stop him. Axle pulled himself up, and peared through the ajar window.

"H- Hello?"

The timid boy's small voice squeaked. He heard no responce, and with that he pulled himself over the ledge, and into the apartment. Axle shut the window behind him to keep the cold out, and began to feel warm as he felt the little flat's heater kick in. He wondered around, and saw several high tech looking devices (none of which he knew what it did). Honestly Axle didn't care though. He just wanted food. Then he saw it. Just across from the living room was a fridge. Axle's face lit up, andthough hesitant at first he ran over to it. He began eating the first thing he saw which was an apple. The boy took a bite, then sunk down to the floor relieved that he was going to eat for the first time in several days. Axle stuck to the apples, and quickly devoured three of them. He was about to bite into a fourth one, but then his eyes widened as he heard something. The owner had returned.

Guest

The silent alarm had been tripped the second that the intruder had entered her abode. Really, the Polish teenager should have know better than to leave her window open, but she had clearly underestimated the stupidity of those around her, the idiocy of whoever had picked her place to rob tonight. “Idiots these days,” Backlash muttered as she trudged through the oily sludge, a signature mix of the winter cold and the disgusting living conditions, “with their Justin Biebers and McBurgers and Trek Wars... it’s sickening.” Backlash had already spent a long day at S.T.A.R. Labs with check-ups, training sessions, and general nagging from her two ‘mentors,’ doctors Wes Randell and Brooke Gray. The last thing her nerves needed was a break-in. The punk-ish teenager named “Katarzyna Dolinski,” better known as the superhero “Backlash” before she dropped off the grid, swore and swore some more before reaching the front door and running her palm over the covert scanner that granted access to only her palm-print. “Nienawidzę ludzkości,” she stated in a clear voice. Password recognition authorised, a hydraulic hiss sounded as the door opened.

Backlash simply took off her oversized trench coat, threw it on the floor, and made her way to the living room. Her pure-white eyes were sparking as she turned the corner, annoyance bubbling through her veins more that anger or fright. Without the lights on, the average human being wouldn’t be able to tell that her skin was black as the deepest, darkest corners of space and that her hair was bright white. But the glow alone that emitted through her freakish eyes highlighted her strong bone structure, sharp cheekbones, and numerous piercings. A frightening enough sight to at least spook someone pretty badly. But whoever it was, they weren’t in her field of vision. But an opened fridge was––a perfect item to use against the unknown enemy. Outstretching her left arm and lightly flicking her wrist upward, the fridge began to hover under the command of the magnetic fields Katarzyna could control using her customised metal prosthesis. Walking forward, a little more briskly now, she rounded the corner of the counter-top that hid the felon and immediately dropped the appliance. A kid sat there, a few apple cores around him. A kid, of all types of people, of all kinds of criminals that lurked in the shadows and slime of crime and punishment. Backlash hated kids, but she couldn't help but to just stared at him, at his oddly pink hair and neglected look, his jutting bones and sallow skin.

“You––” Backlash began. Her tone wasn't peppered with her usual angst and sass. Just disappointment and discomfort. “you... you really shouldn’t be here, kid.”

Guest

Axle heard something heavy hit the ground on the other side of the apartment, and jolted up like a startled cat. He quickly took a step backwards, but ran into the counter and feebly fell back to the ground. Dazed and in the dark he heard a loud slam in the exact place the fridge had been, and looked up to see her. She had white eyes that felt like they were looking into you, and skin so dark it made the night sky look bright. Axle pushed himself away, and put his back to the cabinet behind him. He pushed his bony knees to his chest, and clutched them tightly.
"Pl- Please... I- I'm sorry... Th- The window was o- open, and..."
Axle stuttered terribly in fear. He didn't want his own defense mechanism coming out, but also was actually scarred of this woman. His small body shivered like a leaf, and his grimy pink hair fell over his wide red eyes before he brushed it away.
"Pl-... Please d- don't hurt me..."
He whimpered as his lip quivered slightly.

Guest

Backlash frowned. "Relax, kid, and shut up. I'm not going to hurt you... but I might kick your butt."

There was an odd mixture of comfort and threat in her statement as she continued to stare the boy down. He hadn't stolen anything but a few apples, she noticed, and decided to play it cool for now. She had a long day and didn't feel like doing much, let alone put too much energy into this young stranger, and she didn’t like whiney children anywhere near her. But he looked harmless enough––not that looks really divulged anything; Backlash knew that better than most. What she did know is that he also looked like hell, and that although hygiene didn’t take the highest rung on her ladder of responsibilities, he was grossing her out. Not that she should care. Katarzyna sighed, rubbing her temples and shaking her head lightly. She could kick him out, but then she’d feel guilty. She’d also most likely get a scolding from one of her caseworkers at S.T.A.R. if she had indirectly, or directly, let a vagrant child die. Mind made up for her, Backlash casually turned to plug her refrigerator back in, pushing it back into place once she had and opening it up. There wasn’t much in there now that the apples were gone, just a few litres of Mountain Dew, tortilla shells, and what used to be pizza.

“I guess we’ll just have to order some pizza,” Backlash said to no-one in particular, then remembered that bringing a fresh pizza down here, to Crash Alley, was suicide. “Right...” not sure what to do, Katarzyna simply grabbed one of the large bottles of Mountain Dew, closed the fridge, twisted the cap open, and started drinking from it. After more than a few large gulps, she sat down on the kitchen floor opposite the intruder.

“Wanna tell me what you’re doing here?”

Guest

Axle nodded quickly, and pursed his thin lips together. He didn't want to upset her especially since she hadn't thrown him back out yet, but Axle knew that would happen anyways eventually. After his brother left most of Axle's faith in adults had faded. Axle's eyes traced the woman carefully making sure to take all of her strange appearance in. He slowly pushed himself up, but kept his head down incase anything happened.
"I-... It's cold out there... Ma'am... A- And your window was open..."
He began in his usual timid manner.

Guest

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Backlash retorted, "it's cold outside. That's what happens when it's winter time and you have barely rags for clothes. And I'm not a 'ma'am.' I'm sixteen. Too old for you and too young to be dealing with you. Call me Katarzyna, and if you can't pronounce that, call me Katarzyna anyways." She stood up before he could come to full height, a play of both superiority and self-preservation, although he appeared to be just a tad bit shorter than she. "Cold doesn't cut it, and neither does an open window. You're in Crash Alley, kid. You're supposed to be dead by now, statistically. And I'll have you know that the only reason why I'm not going to kick you back out is because I have people more important than you and even more important than myself to answer to."

Eyeing him with scrutiny and all the biased judgement in the world, Katarzyna wrote him off as safe enough leave be while she called S.T.A.R. Something about the kid really put her off, though, and it wasn't his oddly-hued hair. She just couldn't put her finger on it. Kat sighed, dismissed the thought because it would get her nowhere for now, and sat the bottle of Mountain Dew at his feet like someone putting out a saucer of milk for a stray cat. "Get yourself a glass," she instructed, gesturing to a small cupboard, "don't put your mouth on the actual bottle. I don't have rabies, but you might. There's some Lucky Charms somewhere in there, too. I think."

So far, all this dialogue delivered in such an interested, casual manner. Backlash, under any other circumstance, would have tackled, throttled, and jailed any shmuck who thought her flat would be a good one to loot. But this was a kid. 'Oh God, he's just a kid.'

"Kid," she continued, turning her back on him and proceeding down an adjacent, smaller hallway, "I don't know who the hell you are, but you chose the best place to loot from tonight."

Guest

Axle watched the strange woman with fasination. It seemed she was going to let him stay after all witch he was extremely greatful for. She was scary, but atleast she was nice. Axle bent down, and took the bottle, and did as instructed. He couldn't find the cereal, but it didn't really matter since the apples had filled him for now. The boy sipped slowly from the cup before setting it down, and shuffling down the hall after her.
"Ma-... Katarzyna... M- My name isn't kid... It's Axle."
He said trying to not sound as harmless as he seemed. He didn't want her to just see him as a little boy, even though she sort of scarred him.

Guest

ooc: Cheers to disgustingly long reply wait times!
bic:

Katarzyna didn’t stick around to wait for the kid’s response; she didn’t care what his name was. She only cared that he was stinking up her house, and his lack of non-tattered clothing made her uncomfortable. “Stay,” she said briskly, annoyed that he was following her, “you’re not welcome where I’m going.” And with that, she walked a few more steps forward, reaching her destination: her room. The door looked to be made of some type of metal, and the security tech that decorated it caused it to resemble a high-security prison entrance rather than your typical entryway. She then went through a series of identification processes: palm-print, retina scan, heat signature scan, and finally, a password she muttered in a low tone, barely audible and unrecognisable unless one knew Polish. “Guillermo del Toro jest uroczy,” she said, smiling a little to herself as fond memories of one of her favourite directors came to mind. Katarzyna loved movies, especially movies that had amazing CGI and stellar visuals. Guillermo had mastered that craft long ago. But before the familiar hydraulic hiss and sound of numerous locks being undone, a computerised voice interrupted.

’Foreign heat signature detected,’ the automated voice droned, ’metahuman, age approximately 900+ years old. Please dispose of personage or enter visitor code.’

Backlash spun around, a look of surprise and sudden interest lightening her too-cool demeanour while making her appear something sinister, “You’re a meta?” she scowled, “and you’re almost over nine-hundred years old? Explain––no, hold that thought. Stay here. Leave, and I’ll put the word out that there’s a defenseless little kid running around all by himself.” A number pad emerged from one of the panels in the door and Katarzyna typed in a code.

’Visitor access granted,’ the electronic voice stated, ‘security protocol więzień activated.’

Finally, the door opened inside, Backlash slipped through, and within a few minutes, the Polish super-teen reemerged with a black t-shirt with a big ‘ACDC’ logo on it and a pair of dark grey sweatpants. “You’re about, what...?” Backlash scrutinised Alex, “five foot? Five foot one? Try these on,” she shoved the small pile of clothing at the intruder, “bathroom is over there, clean off your face or something while you’re there. I’ve got to think about what to do with you, but first you’ve gotta... do something about your grossness.”

Guest

DISCONTINUED BY HONEST.

( Due to the tardiness of my fellow roleplayer and their lack of
communication, this thread will no longer be continued )

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