Gifted
plotter
application
Finnegan |
23 |
Homosexual
I joined in January 1970. I've made 26 posts and threads.
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Post by Fletcher Cazden on Mar 22, 2017 19:27:14 GMT
So gather ye demons, it seems it's your day I sin but I've paid more than ten thousand graves Fletcher groaned and sat up. His head throbbed and he could feel something warm dripping down the side of his face. He lifted a hand up, wiping the liquid out of his eye, and looked around. His surroundings were unfamiliar and for a moment he began to panic. Then, like a wave, everything came back to him.
Flashback~~~
Fletcher walked cautiously into the abandoned police station. He didn’t know what he expected to find there, but it didn’t hurt to try. Maybe there were weapons somewhere; guns, nightsticks, that sort of thing. It was a stretch, a very big stretch. The possibility that the place had already been raided and emptied was huge, but there was still a tiny chance that the others could have missed something. Fletcher held onto that small hope as he climbed through the wreckage. The concrete hanging from the ceiling looked like it could fall at any minute; the wires poking from the ceiling and walls could still be potentially dangerous. Even if there was no electricity there was still the possibility of getting scratched or cut. Some of the metal was old and rusted, so there was always the chance for infection. The place was like a deathtrap.
The young introvert moved further into the building, stepping carefully over fallen pieces of ceiling, broken desks, chairs and other debris. As he made his way around the rubble, he began to hear voices. They were quiet at first, but as he got closer they became louder. Fletcher peeked around the corner and saw a small group of people, they stood around talking like it was a normal day at the office. He had no idea if they were hostile or not, but betting on the weapons in their hands, they probably weren’t. It was best to come back later after they’d left. There was no telling what their reaction would be to a stranger.
Fletcher backed up slowly and started to turn when he was suddenly slammed into the wall from behind. He cried out, swinging his arms in an attempt to escape his attacker. It was no use. They dragged him into the room and held him on the floor at gunpoint.
“What do you think you’re doing here, this is our territory. You think you’re some kinda tough guy who’s gonna take it from us? Pathetic”
The leader, or what seemed to be, kicked him several times before ordering the men to throw him somewhere. Fletcher didn’t know what to do. He could fight back, but that runs the risk of getting shot. He could use his power, but in stressful situations like this it became almost entirely unreliable. Fletcher sighed, resigned. He let them shove him into a mostly standing cell and block up any exits with broken desks and debris. He would find a way out later.
~~~End Flashback
Later had turned into much later, there was so much debris covering the exits. Who would go to so much trouble for one person. Eventually he had collapsed on the floor in exhaustion and fallen asleep. Maybe now that he was finally energized he’d be able to escape. Wiping the rest of the semi-dried blood from his face, he stood. There was a small ringing noise in his ears, probably from the strange silence. It seemed he was completely alone until he heard something nearby. It sounded like someone shifting things aside, probably another scavenger making a path into the building to find whatever it was they were after.
Fletcher decided to try his luck and called out to the stranger.
“Hello? Is anyone there?”
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Deleted
I joined in January 1970. I've made 0 posts and threads.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 1, 2017 20:06:02 GMT
He seemed to be going into town more often than he was used to. He was still uncertain on the exact reason why. Maybe he wast starting to like his chances of finding someone to talk to since the outskirts and the woods often gave him nothing more than trees and mutated animals to talk to. He was sure the trees appreciated it, but the animals were not as appreciative. He had all he could need in the wilderness, other than medical supplies and actual weaponry. The chance of weaponry was what had drawn him to the police station to begin with, yet he had remained loitering behind nearby buildings for quite some time. He remained silent and lower, straining to listen to his surroundings. The scent of other humans was strong around the station, and he could hear too many voices and scuffling within. One person was about all he could handle right now, even if he was more confident in his ability to beat his way out of a group if the need presented itself. Guns, however... Can't beat those outta the air. Well, he probably could with his strength, but the risk of getting bullets embedded in his hands was not one he would take. Sparrow waited, keeping his ears and eyes alert until he spotted a group of survivors leaving the police station. Golden eyes followed the group until they were out of sight. He waited a few more moments, simply listening to the world around him, until he deemed the coast clear. He stood, grabbing a ratty backpack he managed to save from his luggage buried in the rubble of his hotel. He carried very little inside: a half-filled water bottle that he had refilled from a running spring, the shirt he should be wearing but discarded into his bag to keep him from ruining one of the few he had left, and a makeshift shiv made from sharpening a stone. Travelling light gave him enough space to throw just about anything in his backpack, but this was also one of those rare moments he actually remembered to bring his back into town. He usually stashed it somewhere for safe keeping, and the dirt that smeared across it was evidence enough that he buried it more often than not. Curling his clawed fingers around one of the straps and slinging his bag over one of his bare shoulders, Sparrow straightened up and strode toward the police station with more confidence than someone travelling solo should. His head tilted to the side as he trailed around the building, eyeing potential entrances. Broken windows, possibly blocked doors, collapsed walls... Hm, what would be easiest? Doors, obviously. He paused at a set of double door, reaching out to grip the handle. With a turn of the wrist, he found the door to be locked, and a frown began to turn down the corners of his lips. With only a little less restraint, he turned the handle once more, this time causing the handle to snap off. He brought the handle up to inspect it, disappointed that it broke off so easily. " Shouldn't police stations have sturdier doors?" He grumbled, dropping the handle to the ground and moving on to the next door in the set. This time he grabbed the handle and yanked on it, this time ripping the handle and a chunk of the door off. He crouched down, peering into the hole, only to find a bunch of rubble on the other side. " Huh. Guess they are pretty sturdy." Dropping the handle again, he took the even easier route and kicked the door in, breaking it off the hinges and causing it to collapse against the rubble inside. He really could have just scouted out the door that group used. The man ducked inside, climbing over the fallen door. He easily pushed the rubble out of his way, clearing a route outside for when he needed to book it. If those scavengers came back, he wanted nothing of them Golden eyes snapped up as a voice called out from deeper within the station. Male. Human. He could not determine if he was a threat or not from his voice alone. If he could make such judgements, he would probably have an easier time socializing. Or not. Sparrow glanced over his shoulder, peering through the opening he had created. He could just leave, or he could let curiosity get the better of him. It only killed the cat, not the wolf. With a soft sigh, he adjusted his backpack on his shoulder, starting forward and traversing his way over and obstacles as he tried to find the source of the voice. " Just some squirrels," he called out in response as he drew nearer to the source. " Smells like blood in here. Y' hurt, stranger?"
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Gifted
plotter
application
Finnegan |
23 |
Homosexual
I joined in January 1970. I've made 26 posts and threads.
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Post by Fletcher Cazden on Apr 2, 2017 0:06:57 GMT
So gather ye demons, it seems it's your day I sin but I've paid more than ten thousand graves The stranger’s odd response made him snort with laughter. It had been awhile since he’d joked with someone.
“I was unaware squirrels could speak. You must be the first of your kind sir.”
Fletcher made his way to the wall, peering through the cracks in an attempt to locate the other man. He didn’t normally crack jokes, but then again he didn’t usually have someone around to crack jokes with. This someone seemed to have a heightened sense of smell. He was probably another survivor who was “gifted” with certain abilities when the bombs dropped. If you could actually call them gifts, they were more like a curse. People could be somewhat friendly towards you, but turn completely hostile once they found out how “enhanced” you were. Many considered these powers and such to be an unfair advantage. Which he supposed they were.
“I’m fine, just a little roughed up. I could sure use a bit of help though, if you’re willing.”
He tried his best to keep his voice steady and calm. If he showed the slightest sign of nervousness it might make the other man uneasy. Fletcher had always found it strange that he claimed to despise being around others, but was always considerate of their thoughts and feelings. He supposed it was just him being a decent human being. He hoped that’s what it was. He also hoped that this stranger was kind enough to help him out of his predicament. It would make things a lot easier for him.
“You might want to watch out too, there was a group here earlier. No telling when or if they’ll come back. They’re the reason I’m stuck here,”
The young introvert took a deep breath and turned to the task at hand. He didn’t really have any muscle, he was far too lanky for his liking. It didn’t hurt to try though. Fletcher grabbed onto the bars and pulled as hard as he could, straining against the weight the concrete slabs put on them. He assumed the previously mentioned group was going to leave him there to starve , or come back for him and do gods knows what. Maybe they got a kick out of beating helpless people, he wouldn’t doubt someone out there did.
“If it’s not too much trouble, I need a bit of help moving the concrete slabs that are stacked against the bars of this cell. They’re quite heavy and I don’t exactly have the strength to move them.”
Normally Fletcher wouldn’t admit his weakness, but the situation seemed to demand that he do just that. Hopefully the stranger wouldn’t try to use that to his advantage and try to rob him or whatever else people around here liked to do.
thanks[ahref="http://adoxographyv2.boards.net/user/285"style="color:#c2ac5d;"]malin
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Deleted
I joined in January 1970. I've made 0 posts and threads.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 5, 2017 13:29:25 GMT
" Y' must not listen, then. Squirrels got a lot t' say if y' lend them an ear." He had no idea why he was even continuing with the squirrel joke. It had cause whoever was inside to laugh, so that was at least some sort of achievement. His steps slowed as the voice grew louder until he arrived at the cells used to house temporary inmates. If he recalled correctly, it was more often to keep someone overnight for misdemeanors. Less security than an actual prison and probably a lot cleaner back in the day. Glowing eyes swept over the interior, finding even more piles of furniture and rubble. It was more obviously man-made than what he had forced himself through just to get inside, and he could only assume that the group of scavengers were to blame. If they made this place their base of operations, then he should be a little more cautious than he already was. " I could help, assumin' y' have acorns for payment." Okay, enough of the squirrel joke. Now he just sounded foolish. The man reached up and rubbed at the back of his neck as he strode further inside, his eyes quickly snapping to the cell that the voice came from. " You're more than a little roughed up, stranger. Yeesh." Sparrow stepped toward the cell, eyeing the man beyond the metal bars. He was not too surprised by the other man's condition. If he had been ganged up on by that group, then he was more surprised about him not being in worse condition. People were savage when desperation took hold, and those who had already strayed from the law before this all went down were the worst of them all. Not that he had too much experience to back himself up on for that; he was mostly referring to disaster movies he had watched. " Don't worry 'bout them. I'll hear 'em comin' a mile away," and that was just an under exaggeration. Sparrow took a step back, watching with interest as the man tried to pull away the bars. It was laughable, really, but he kept his face void of his amusement. He could not stop his tail from wagging from his suppressed amusement. Hopefully the scruffy tail was hidden enough behind him for the other man to notice. " You're gonna pull a muscle doin' that," he grumbled, sighing as he pulled his hand away from the back of his neck, waving it dismissively in the air as if to shoo him away. " Stand back, stranger." The brunet paused and waited, glowing golden eyes continuously peering into the cell. He only moved again once he was certain that the captive man was out of the way. He stepped forward, nudging the blockage with his bare toes, having discarded shoes last month when he accidentally tore his only pair. Tanned hands reached forward, fingers curling around two of the bars. While getting rid of the blocking slab might have been a reasonable course of action, Sparrow got right to the point, giving the two bars a sharp tug. They bent underneath his grip before tearing away from the cell's gate. One of the deformed metal bars was swiftly tossed to the side as his freed hand jutted out to catch falling debris. That, too, was quickly tossed away along with the other bar. Without too much effort, he swept aside the remaining debris with his foot, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of concrete against his skin. Golden eyes turned up at the new opening, sizing it up before he stepped aside. " That's big enough, right?"
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Gifted
plotter
application
Finnegan |
23 |
Homosexual
I joined in January 1970. I've made 26 posts and threads.
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Post by Fletcher Cazden on Apr 23, 2017 17:07:12 GMT
So gather ye demons, it seems it's your day I sin but I've paid more than ten thousand graves Fletcher snorted, it was quite strange. He hadn’t laughed in a long time and joking with someone he’d never met was an odd thing to think about. He shook his head and continued to pull at the bars, they moved slightly and then slid right back as soon as he let go. A sigh of frustration escaped his lips and he ran a hand through his hair.
“It’s not as bad as it looks. I’m sure it would’ve been worse if I’d fought back.” He laughed again, though it sounded more like several quick releases of breath. “Yeah, they’re not the quietest people, or the smartest. They seem to enjoy attracting attention to themselves.”
He raised an eyebrow at the man, but stood back nonetheless. He was unsure of what exactly the other man would do, maybe he was a pyromaniac of some sort and planned to blow a hole in the wall. Fletcher took a few more precautionary steps back and eyed the bars warily. He reached into his pocket, wrapping a hand around the weapon concealed in it. There was no telling if the man was as friendly as he seemed. He didn’t know whether or not the man would turn on him as soon as he was freed. The thought made him uneasy and pushed it aside. He shouldn’t be so quick to judge, though he’d never been much of an optimist.
The other man grabbed the bars and for a moment Fletcher thought he might be sizing up the challenge before him, but then he started to pull. The bars ripped apart as if made of plastic, he stared on amazed. The stranger easily caught the falling debris and tossed it aside. It seemed he wasn’t completely alone in this crazy new world. Of course he knew there were others out there with powers, he’d found that out when he’d met Dexter at the hospital. His heart sped up momentarily at the thought of the young redhead, but he quickly pushed those thoughts aside.
“Yeah, that should be fine. Thanks stranger, I appreciate the assistance.”
Fletcher walked up to the whole and sized it up before carefully moving through it. It was just a tad small, but that wasn’t a problem. He climbed through and straightened up, brushing some of the dirt off. Fletcher turned to face the stranger and nodded.
“Thank you for the help. Is there anything I can do to repay the favour?”
His eyes swept over the man, taking in small detail and storing them together. The man was tall, they practically saw eye to eye, Fletcher was only slightly taller. His eyes stood out, a golden yellow that looked as if they glowed. His hair was a natural colour, though it looked as if the tips had been dyed red. His quick once over also revealed long nails, or maybe they were claws. Either way he should be very careful with how he acted around the man. He didn’t want to anger him and end up get clawed to death. Taking a deep breath he gave the man a slight smile and held out his hand.
“Name’s Fletcher, and you?”
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