Those With Power

[Killing_Time]

Villa let out a sigh. She had enjoyed the luxury of a warm shower and her suit was at the moment drying. She wore some of her normal clothes.
She sat on her knees on the flat roof and looked at the cityscape as the wind caught her hair, just as it had done earlier, before her life felt like it had been washed away and replaced with a new one.

She had taken her time getting used to the base, and had discovered what comfort the place had to offer. The most she had kept her hopes for was a bed and a chair.
To her, the room she had was like an entire house on its own. It made her appreciate her choice to join but on the other hand it scared her. How could she really truly be sure she was safe here? And even if she was, could she fit in? She felt awkward about approaching Angel with her behaviour during the mission, and even more awkward talking to Marc. She knew she had to apologize but how should she go about it? She felt insecure. She hadn't felt like since... Since when?

She shook her head.
Villa placed her pistols before her before she began to take them apart and place the different parts in a puzzle only she really understood.

[Thunder]

Thorsten was hiding out in the garage. He wheeled out from underneath the Ferrari Ryan had used earlier (he'd caught the chassis on a couple of pavements on the way down).

He'd discarded his jacket and tie, and was now down to his shirt (Which was now covered in motor oil). His hair and face were a mess, both from his escapades earlier and his recent fatherly affection for his car.

He pushed the button to lower the car off the hoist, and wheeled it into the nearest garage. Then he wandered over and threw a tarp off the next car, matched it with its keys and wheeled that one into the next garage.

The sorting and tidying process was occupying part of his mind while the rest reflected on his actions earlier.

On one hand, he had killed two guys that were out of ammo and about to flee.

On the other hand, they were armed terrorists and it felt good to put them in their place, even if it was six feet under.

He chewed his lip as he continued sorting, wrestling with his own conscience.

I've never killed someone before.

He'd expected to feel awful about it, or even anything, but he was just numb.

They must've had some kind of family.

Bastards deserved what was coming to them.

They were terrified. I killed two men that were scared to death.

Yeah, cause they saw that they'd just made a huge mistake going against you.

He stopped dragging a trailer with a motor launch across the floor and kneaded his eyes. First sign of madness? Talking to yourself. Second sign? Talking back.

"I need a fuckin' drink."

[Polo]

Such a shame. And yet, they seemed so competent. Morons, incapable bastards doomed from the very start.

Steven stepped into the prison holding cells. There were no police officers to be found, had they presumably left before hand, Steven did not know. Nor did he really care, he wasn't exactly meant to be here.

There were eleven people, some grouped together in more than one cell, some of them had evidently been hurt from the events that took place prior to their captivity. There was no doubt in Stevens mind that these were the people he was after.

“Where's the leader of your little bank heist?” Steven shouted out “You know, the one whom I signed the contract to!”

A man stepped forward from within one of the prison cells. He was bruised down the left of his cheek. He smiled complacently, trying to maintain a tough-man like stance “Ah, Steven. I assume you've come to bail us out, like we agreed to..”

Steven smiled. He admired the man's blunt and forward statement, seemingly without a care if anyone would even over hear him. Steven chuckled, as funny as the man's confidence seemed, he was only here for business.

“Well, are you going to bail us or not?” the man said.

“What?” Steven said surprisingly “Hah, no. I can't have that.”

“What?! But you said th-”

“Next time, I won't be so stupid as to hire low-life scum like you” he growled “All you ever gave a shit about was how much money you were ever going to get. I can't have you walking around the streets again.”

“Shut the fuck up.” The man said, he was starting to lose his complacent attitude “You said you'd get us- but you... We can talk about you to the officers.”

“Do you think they would really believe someone like you?”

“Yeah, well, they'd have to because... Everyone knows you're corrupt. One word from me and uh-” he was really starting to lose his demeanour now. Steven had almost changed personality completely. Something was different about him. Something was different about this. “One word from me and they'll probably start investigating.”

“That's probably true, but then again there's a problem with that you indecorous fuck.”

“Wh-whats that?” The man was starting to look extremely frightened now.

“How could any of you possibly talk, if none of you have any tongues?” Steven grinned nefariously...

...

[Aval]

Ugh fuck it.

Despite specific instructions to the contrary, Ryan swung his legs over the side of the infrimary bed and stood up, swaying slightly. He was still feeling woosy ill and achey from the morphene and general anesthetic. And the fact that people had just been poking about his torso and replacing major organs.

Resting after surgery was all very well, but in his case, what's the worst that could happen?

A couple of moments in the corridor and Ryan decided that he'd really rather not talk to anyone right now. He felt humiliated at his performance and vulnerable in the state he was in.

I need a cigarette

Might as well give the new lungs a warm welcome.

He made his way to the peace and solitude of the roof.

But, there was someone else on the roof. That psychopathic gunman woman. Villa was it? Jesus she was scary.

He almost didn't recognise her, she was currently wearing very unsleek, cheap and rather battered baggy sportswear. Ryan caught himself assuming that, based on her attire, she was struggling to take care of herself.

My god, you're a judgemental dick today, Ryan.

In casual clothes she looked so... Different. Normal sort of? Ryan couldn't decide if her skin tight bodysuit or softer baggy casual wear was more flattering.

He patted himself for a cirgarette before realising that he was wearing a hospital gown. And it was suddenly very cold. And windy.

Villa still either hadn't noticed him or ignored him.

Do I say something here?

Sureley she should have been the one to acknowlege his presence first

Either she's waiting just as awkwardly for you to say something or she hasn't noticed you and when she does she'll be all "What the fuck don't sneak upon people" or some shit.

He shuffled his feet.

Okay, just fucking say something

"Uhm, hi?"

[Killing_Time]

Villa looked up in surprise. How come she hadn't noticed him before now? She fiddled with her mask which she still wore, more for the comfort of feeling slightly anonymous than anything else.

She pinched her eyes as she tried to remember. "The man who can't die," she concluded out loud. She couldn't remember his name but given the injury he received previously he should be the immortal one.

For the first time she found herself observing one of her newly acquired team mates. He was normal looking aside from his hair, which, given his facial features, puzzled her a bit. She wondered if his hair was dyed but didn't ask. It was nothing but a brief thought after all.

"Isn't that cold?" she nodded at the simple dress-like clothes he wore.

[Aval]

"Ah- yeah. Very cold. They could at least give us underpants or something."

Akward.

She was looking at him strange. Oh shit she's going to shoot me or something. Ryan avoided eye contact and slid into a sitting position, pretending to be fascinated with some duct vents behind her.

"You can call me Ryan, by the way. It's quicker. Viyer was it?"

[Killing_Time]

Relief. A name she could work with. "It's Villa," she corrected him. She was going to be annoyed but given her own name-memorizing skills it wouldn't be fair. At least he sort of got her name right. "You just call me Springer."

She dried her hands in a dirty cloth and began to reassemble her voros-like pistols after cleaning the parts that needed cleaning. She was slightly excited about talking to Ryan. She hadn't tried conversation like this for a long time, not since she had friends in the weapon smuggling business. Real friends.

She had noticed Ryan sounded slightly nervous and decided maybe he just needed something to talk about.
"What part of town are you from?" she kept fiddling with one of the now half-assembled pistols as she spoke.

[Aval]

"Around New Swindon. Don't ever go there. Horrible place. I think the guy across the hall has died or something and nobody's noticed or bothered to check yet."

Another pause followed.

"Villa's a pretty unusual name? You european or something?"

[Killing_Time]

Villa looked back up, cocked her head and allowed a small smile. "I've seen worse I'm sure."
She paused for a bit at the question and looked down at her almost assembled pistol. "Hm. Villa's only my real name as long as I wear this," she replied and pointed her mask.

She had felt it as a bit of a poke in the stomach. She was half Finnish, though it wasn't anything special. After all, how many residents of Hope could call themselves native?
She had decided not to say too much. Protection was important, vital, in fact. The more people knew, the less safe she felt.

[Aval]

"Ah. I see." Said Ryan, a little distracted by her expert handling of her firearm. There was something alsmost amusing about how casual all this small talk was while Springer was recrafting her killing machine. How casual all this small talk was with a girl he had just seen gleefully kill enough people to make him count on both hands.

Ryan mouth actually split into a bit of a titter.

"Sorry, I don't really know what I expected; but you just seem so... normal." He chuckled.

"I sound ridiculous don't I?"

[Killing_Time]

Normal? Was that a good thing? Was she the kind of nobody you saw on the street? Someone you wouldn't have to judge as bad or good, someone you would assume had a family, an apartment and a life worth living? He must've been referring to the mission compared to now.
She decided to just go with it.
"Everyone changes when they're facing a battlefield," she said trying to sound wise. "I don't think you sound ridiculous. After all I think we all expected something different from one another."
She had a little smile in the corner of her mouth as she looked at Ryan. She had definitely expected something else.
She changed position and leaned back on her hands, without even noticing, she had her elbows bend awkwardly to allow a more comfortable resting position.
"Planning on staying with Angel's team?"

[Aval]

"Erm..."

Shit. Big question.

"I guess so. I mean I really need the money. And it seems to be the best way I can really make a difference at the moment, if you know what I mean? Not dying's a pretty useless crimefighting thing on its own."

"Why? You having second thoughts?"

[Polo]

(a quick mockup of my character. Nothing special)

---------- Post added at 05:08 PM ---------- Previous post was at 04:15 PM ----------

This was no good, he hadn't expected this. Steven was wandering down the halls of the senator building, heading up towards the 50th floor to return to his office. He grabbed a mobile from the inner pocket of his blazer. He looked down at it grimacingly before halting to a stop. He tapped on the buttons slowly before turning the mobile off and returning it back to its rightful place in his blazer pocket.

He looked back up, peering off down the hall way. The floor here was wooden too, the walls draped in a formal green attire. These hallways were so similar, so formal and yet so disconnected from reality. I hate coming down here every day, Stephen thought to himself. He turned round and approached a nearby elevator. He hit the button for the 50th floor.

Moments passed. Such moments like these felt so wasted. Such inefficiancy. Stephen knew it, to him time burnt away before him. He closed his eyes, trying to lose himself as the transport arrived. God he hated this, he hated every second of it. Why did he have to -- The elevator doors sprung into life as the opened before him. He was greeted by a ding from the inside as he walked in.

He stood inside for no more than 5 seconds before he found himself sitting down. He needed to rest. He waited again as he was taken towards his office. He let out a lengthful sigh.

Kill them. A voice rattled around within the confined elevator walls.

"What?" Stephen said in reply. He wasn't spooked by the voice, nor did the expression of his grimace face change either. It was almost as if he was familiar with it.

Kill them all.

"No, I can't."

Why not?

"Because..." Stephen burrowed his head into his legs "Because otherwise I'll fail."

Failure is to be accepted if you wish to succeed.

"No. I can't do it."

You don't get it do you?

"Don't get what?"

Kill them. Kill them indirectly... Murder Them.

"Maybe..."

The elevator dinged once more as the it came to a stop on the 50th floor. Stephens head perked up. He put his hands on his knees and pushed up from the ground. He opened his eyes.

[kronosdragon]

Arlaen was on her fifth drink when she decided to stop. She was feeling tipsy and decided it was best not to go any further. She got off her stool and tossed the bartender a ten.

"Here you go. I'll be off Felix. Talk to you later."

She wobbled unsteadily for a moment before managing to balance on her crutches. She limped her way back to the elevator and headed back up toward her room. She felt like going out for once, but of course, she couldn't blend in like this. She glared at the blades on her arms and snorted. Of all the times -
The elevator opened to an unfamiliar hallway.

"What the? Did I push the wrong button?"

She looked again and saw that she was four floors above her destination and slapped her forehead.

"No more alcohol for you young lady..."

She pushed the correct button this time and came out on the right floor. She hobbled down the empty, tiled hallway, the clicking of her crutches being the only sound echoing off the walls. She felt rather alone, and didn't want to be. She had half a mind to go back to the bar. At least she would be with someone. But she decided ultimately that she needed the rest and continued to her room. After making her way there, she unlocked the door and walked inside, shutting it behind her. She set her crutches beside the bed and climbed back into it, feeling useless.

Of course, I HAD to go and get my leg shot to hell...What good am I if I can't get anywhere?

She sighed and watched the news a little longer before shutting the television off and leaning back on her pillows, drifting off to sleep.

[Killing_Time]

Heh. She remembered she had turned down the offer of getting paid for joining. She thought for a while at the second question. She realized she might've been indirectly planning to ask Ryan so he could return the question. Still, it washed over her unexpectedly.
"I'm not sure." She looked at the cityscape. Not sure I fit in, she finished in her thoughts.

She decided to move the conversation on. She still needed some space to think that question through, and she still needed to work out some apologies before she could give a clear answer.
"I think if you plan to stay maybe you could be trained or something. Everyone can learn to throw a punch or operate a firearm," she said with a hint of optimism. Her eyes glanced down at her one now complete pistol and the other which was still laid out in several pieces.

[Aval]

Great show today, Ryan. Now everone thinks you're incompetant

"Hah. Yeah, well, I mean I'm not totally useless in combat; like I could probably handle myself in a fistfight. I did karate as a kid, sorta. Well I was only eight and I only got up to a purple belt but-"

Ryan decided to stop babbling. She seemed to be fascinated by her weapons. Although Ryan had very little experience with firearms, seeing a gun deconstructed like that made him appriciate how complex and well crafted they are as machines. Delicate yet robust. Earily beautiful but designed to kill.

...morphene.

"I guess I should really learn more about guns and shooting if I want to be any use though."

[Killing_Time]

Villa couldn't help but smile. Ryan reminded her of someone she used to know and whose trust was worth that of friend's.
She was in conflict with herself whether or not Ryan's last remark was a call for her expertise or if he just said it because it was true. "Hm," she said and continued: "I guess that's true."
"At least you were better at fighting than me; I only did ballet as a kid," she said as she tried to make it sound as a joke.
It felt as if an eternity had passed since then.

[Aval]

This is why you don't exaggerate, Ryan.

Noting her athletic physique, Ryan doubted he could compare to her in any straight combat. the corners of his mouth curled upwards as he tried to imagine her dancing in a leotard and tutu.

"No offense but you really don't seem like the type to have ballet lessons."

[Killing_Time]

Villa realized she had said something that she had never told anyone else and now she was panicking inside. Was this a right or a wrong step? Was it okay to talk about these things? Should she reply, it's nothing but a joke, or go with it?
Okay, it was probably okay. She had decided she needed to change her life. She couldn't keep to herself like she had previously. She needed people she could talk to.
"You don't seem like the type to have karate lessons."

Villa slowly realized she had already made up her decision to stay.

[Wadling]

"Well there was also that time when Angel found me." Felix said "I can't even remember what happened. But I somehow managed to-"

He turned to see that Arlaen was no longer there.

"She left about five minutes ago, man" The bartender grinned "I was making bets with myself to see how long it would take for you to notice. You sure can talk about yourself."

"Hah" Felix laughed "Cocktails, I see no tails, all I see is you. A cock!"

Felix burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

[Aval]

Ryan's smirk grew. My god she's completely terrifying

"You remind me of someone I know."

I should really phone home at some point.

"So why are you up here and not at the bar with the others?" Ryan asked.

[ALTERNATE POST CURTOSY OF WILL!:

"Well... What's that supposed to mean?" Ryan pouted, his feelings crippled by his sudden insecurity. He realised he was not a man, not even half a man. He may as well kill himself, but he couldn't even do that! "I'm so fucking USELESS!"

With that, Ryan lunged at Villa, imagining her in a furry suit, showing his not so subtly repressed sexual deficiencies. Villa casually sidestepped the attack and Ryan flew over the side of the roof and plumeted to the floor.]

[Killing_Time]

Really? She couldn’t imagine Ryan was the sort of person to know people like her… She was having a hard time deciding whether she judged herself too harshly or if she was just a lot better at socializing than she originally thought.

"So why are you up here and not at the bar with the others?"

“Bar?” She hadn’t been looking around enough to notice that. “I… I had to take care of my pistols and… and… You know, I’ve never had a drink before,” she admitted, her shoulders falling down as a sign of subconscious defeat.

[ALTERNATE POST ALSO CURTOSY OF WILL!:

Villa jumped after Ryan and caught him just in time to save his body from breaking an unnecessary amount of bones.
The moment as they looked into each other eyes, Villa holding Ryan in her arms, was romantic enough, though it was clear Ryan was not the man in the newly founded relationship.]

[Aval]

"Never drunk? At all? What do you do to make TV interesting?"

[sgt_Angua]

The alarm clock woke Gish from the nap she had so desperately needed. She turned off the alarm and got dressed before taking a comb from the nightstand. Her hair was still slightly damp from her shower before the nap, when she had been too tired to dry it properly.

Gish allowed her mind to wander as she combed her long black hair. She wondered if she would ever get used to the team: a group of people stranger even than their respective powers. Two in particular interested her, perhaps because of her medical training, or maybe because it was simply too much to try to understand at once: Ryan, the man who could not die, and Marc, the man who could make the dead walk.

Gish had no opportunity to question Ryan about his ability, although he had mentioned that he healed at the same rate as other humans. He had suffered enough blood loss and damage to his lungs for Gish to believe his claim of immortality. She would have to wait until he had recovered some before she could question him further.

She found Marc much more confusing. She had not seen the man who had first identified himself as Marc since the mission started, and another clearly dead men had identified himself as Marc, spoke in the same style, and was accepted as Marc by the rest of the team.

The four surgeons Marc sent had proven vital, as they had arrived just as the surgeons at the base were starting to tire. She had been assured that the dead surgeons were perfectly hygienic before she allowed them in the operating room, and watched them closely as they worked. They proved very good at their work, which was more than she could say for those employed by the base. Several who seemed in full strength suddenly claimed to be exhausted at the sight of Marc’s surgeons, which was no way to act when there were people needing medical attention. Gish had remained in surgery longer than she would have liked because of those cowards. She or any other Monaran could outlast the average human in surgery, but even she had her limits. She would have to talk to Angel about his medical staff when he had recovered.

Gish put down the comb and removed the padded guard from her sword-arm, revealing the long, dark, beautiful blade. She covered it again with her prosthetic and began braiding her hair with expert fingers.

She should talk to Marc too, to thank him for sending the surgeons. Perhaps she could even ask him how he could make the dead walk. He didn’t seem to be the sort who would take offence or ridicule that sort of questioning.

Gish climbed into her float chair and moved off in search of Marc. She planned to start her search in the medical portion of the base, but discovered him in the hallway only halfway there.

“Hello, Marc,” Gish said, before he noticed her. “I would like to thank you again for sending those surgeons. They are quite skilled, and were much needed. The base did not have a large enough medical staff to handle the three wounded today.”

[Killing_Time]

Villa began to put together her second pistol, trying to occupy herself with something. “You don’t need a TV when you live in Hope,” she said, her voice slightly sharper than she intended. Should she just say it as it was? No home, no TV, no bed, no nothing.

She stopped working and looked at her pistol as she realized one component didn’t fit in where she wanted to place it.
She didn’t realize at the time, but her mood and posture had changed dramatically showing someone who was more fragile – Or perhaps simply more human than assumed.