Twain Saber
g i f t e d
Smile at your enemies, it messes with their heads
Posts: 28
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Post by Twain Saber on May 8, 2009 1:06:58 GMT 1
“Everything is great until proven otherwise.” The soft beep of the electronic tea kettle sounded in Twains ear from the kitchen. Twain perked up. Ramen! Oh joy! Twain leaped over the piles of trash in her bedroom and out into her living room. She began pouring the boiling water into the Cup ‘o noodles. Her attention was briefly taken away by the television that was playing softly. On it a woman was talking about a 37 year old man found dead in a garbage can the evening before. Twain remembered her Ramen just as she poured boiling water on her hand. Twain let out a string of colorful words and then stuck her reddening hand under the tap. She examined it as the cold water ran over it. It was bright red and looked like a bad sun burn. Twain pouted at it. Twain pouted all the way into her bathroom and put some lotion on her pained hand. She then wrapped it in white gauze. The red mark went up her wrist so she wrapped it there to. Finally her hand was wrapped after several minutes of difficulty. She shook her hand out to stop the pain but it didn’t help much. She sighed and resigned herself to the dull burning sensation. Twain grumped her way back out to the room with the television, almost killing herself by tripping over a chair that had a mysterious green substance on it. Twain figured it would be better not to wonder what it was. Twain plopped down on the couch and looked at what was on. Amazing! Hannah Montana! Twain then began rocking out the theme song. Who ever said she had to be mature? Twain laughed when Jackson came out, he was by far the best part of that show. Twain saw her shoes lying beside her on the couch and figured it was a sign. She began to put them on. After all it was a nice day out and she could use some fresh air. Maybe it would get her mind of her pained hand. Twain was right, it was a nice day. And the fresh air did clear her head. The birds were twittering and kids were laughing, it was a picture perfect day. Anyone else would have been suspicious about some demon conspiracy. Not Twain, Twain was as optimistic as usual. Hell if people burst into song she wouldn’t care and just join them. Twain was in a good mood and it was a good day, nothing could bring her down. SMACK! Except that. Twain groaned and opened her eyes. She had just been walking in the park right? That was less than a minute ago. Ugh, why was it dark? Why did it smell so foul? That did not sound like a human noise. Twain let her eyes flutter open. Wow she must have hit her head pretty hard after- DEMON! Twain cringed at the smelly green thing peering down at her. Gah! No panicking, you are not some incompetent human girl. Damn it smelled nasty! Twain’s hand instinctively flew to her back. Damn, she left her swords at home. Twain groaned mentally. This thing new she was awake now, so she had to get rid of it. Twain reached out and grabbed its ankle. She shut her eyes and focused. After a sizzling and a popping sound, she was covered in a thin layer of ash. Her head throbbed and she moved her head to see if there were any others. Damn, four! She could take them all out with just her power but…that was bad news. She wished she had though to bring her swords. Twain looked around some more to find she was in a warehouse. Great, she had been kidnapped. And it was night. And she was screwed.
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Jonathan Locke
g i f t e d
Perfectionism [per-fek-shuh-niz-uhm] -noun: The state of being Jonathan Locke.
Posts: 60
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Post by Jonathan Locke on May 8, 2009 21:03:21 GMT 1
Damnit![/color] Jonathan thought as he saw the girl wake up and a demon start to approach her. He was peering into the warehouse using night vision binoculars. He'd been tracking the demons since the park and hoped to take the whole nest, he was just thinking about making a move, but now it looked like the girl was in trouble and he'd never get there in time...
Suddenly the demon burst into flames.
...Oh.[/color]
Well that brought him some time, but he'd still have to double-time it to the warehouse to get there before the other four closed in.
About ten seconds later he, uncharacteristically, came smashing in through a window. Expertly rolling in his heavy coat, Jonathan reared up in front of one of the demons and expediently chopped off it's head with a swift slice from his long wrist blade.
He quickly looked around, the other three were closing in. One threw a punch that Jonathan caught and used to wrench the demon over backwards before dropping a mean roundhouse kick onto it's chest. Another approached and Jonathan threw a flurry of punches it's way before the final demon caught him with a shot from behind, Jonathan instinctivly flipped over and went sprawling across the floor on his back.
He whipped out a pistol as he slid and took a few pot shots to ward the demons away - he didn't seriously expect to hit anything from where he was and eventually slid up next to Twain.
"Hello!" Jonathan beamed, taking a few more shots that the demons dodged. "My name's Jonathan. I don't mean to be rude, but how handy are you in a fight?" He asked in a jovial way, though his eyes told a slightly different story. Jonathan hated having to throw himself in with no planning; he wasn't a Slayer, he couldn't take multiple hits while he decided what to do, he thrived on good planning.
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Twain Saber
g i f t e d
Smile at your enemies, it messes with their heads
Posts: 28
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Post by Twain Saber on May 8, 2009 23:02:57 GMT 1
Twains eyes went wide when a man busted into the warehouse. He began taking on the demons with expertise and obvious talent. Twain wondered if he was a demon of some kind, after all she had never seen a human do that. Twain didn’t think of getting up and helping until he slid down beside her and introduced himself. Twain nodded when he asked about fighting. Right, demons bad, they kidnapped you. Twain stood up and shook herself off. Damn if only she had her swords! Twain shrugged, she would have to make do.
Twain looked around for something she could use. Perfect, two lengths of metal were lying on the ground a few yards from her. She dove and grabbed them; turning to the demons that had appeared after the original four had been taken care of. With a quick flick of her hand she had thrown one of the lengths at one demon, hitting him in the chest. Twain smiled and took the metal in both hands. It was heavy and not very sharp, no matter; she could work with almost anything. With a swift strike she had lopped one demons head off, splattering herself with its red blood.
Suddenly one of the demons caught her off guard and punched her to the ground. The metal flew out of her hands and she was knocked to the ground. Twain cringed as it approached her. She hated doing this. Twain focused her eyes on the demon, if you had amazing eyesight you would have been able to see the red aura of Twain’s like force filling the demon and then breaking up his mass into ash. Twain cracked her neck as her life force returned to her. She stood up and brushed herself off. She walked over to Jonathan; he was only slightly shorter than her so she was looking him roughly in the eyes. It was rare to find someone taller than her.
“Hey, Jonathan. Thank for helping me out. I don’t even know how I got here. I am Twain Saber, I would offer to shake your hand but mine is currently covered in demon blood.” Twain said and smiled at her helper.
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Jonathan Locke
g i f t e d
Perfectionism [per-fek-shuh-niz-uhm] -noun: The state of being Jonathan Locke.
Posts: 60
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Post by Jonathan Locke on May 9, 2009 14:24:36 GMT 1
"Don't sweat it." Jonathan said with a smile. Now that things had calmed down, he was able to get a feel for Twain's aura. There was power there, and a generally likeable personality. Cool.
A pack of cigarettes materialised in Jonathan's hand from seemingly out of nowhere and he lit one up.
"Smoke?" He offered. "You handled yourself well there, Twain. What's your story, if you don't mind me asking? And how come nasties seem to burst into flames when you're around?"
That was an interesting ability...
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Twain Saber
g i f t e d
Smile at your enemies, it messes with their heads
Posts: 28
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Post by Twain Saber on May 9, 2009 17:44:16 GMT 1
Twain nodded and accepted a cigarette. She didn’t usually smoke or anything, but every now and then it was nice to pass the time. Twain lit the end and then inhaled. She held the smoke in her lungs before letting it pass out through her lips. The shapes that smoke formed made her smile. Then John asked about her power. That took her by surprise and she began coughing. At first it was simply from the smoke in her lungs, but it gradually escalated. Twain coughed into her arm. When she could breathe properly again she looked at her arm. On it was a splattering of new blood, her blood. Twain wiped I bit away from the corner of her mouth.
“I really shouldn’t smoke…” She mumbled to herself and then looked back at John.
“Well I essentially break up the molecules of something by forcing my life force to inhabit it. It doesn’t usually burst into flames, most of the time the simply are reduced to a pile of ash. I suppose the friction of this species could have lit a spark. I was not paying much attention. Unfortunately my power comes with a price, I have internal bleeding, sever illness and my life is shortened by roughly two days every time I use it.” Twain said, surprised at how professional she stated it.
“I wouldn’t give being a mutant for anything though, who cares if it shortens my life.” Twain smiled at John. “What about you, you hardly seem human.”
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Jonathan Locke
g i f t e d
Perfectionism [per-fek-shuh-niz-uhm] -noun: The state of being Jonathan Locke.
Posts: 60
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Post by Jonathan Locke on May 9, 2009 21:07:31 GMT 1
Jonathan shrugged lightly as Twain explained her power and it's horrendous downside. He could sort of relate; when he'd first started using Kaita it had felt like his nerves were on fire every time. Eventually, his body got used to it and it didn't hurt so much, but he could still seriously hurt himself if he wasn't careful - focus was everything.
"Well, I guess you could look at it as having your life shortened by two days, but on the other hand, you're like, what? Nineteen? Twenty? So you could easily argue that by using it today you shortened your life by about four days, but extended it by about sixty years in the long run because otherwise you'd be dead right now." Jonathan reasoned. He took a drag of his cigarette and exhaled it slowly.
"As for me, well... I'm not a mutant, not really, but I was taken into care as a kid. A demon adopted me and trained me in a demon martial art called 'Kaita' that allows me to increase my offensive capabilities by focusing my internal energies. You can't see it happening and a lot of people just assume I'm a Vampire or Demon myself. Luckily, part of the Kaita is being able sensing other people's energies, so I don't often get someone's species wrong very often."
He smiled at Twain lightly.
"I guess when you think about it, our powers aren't really all that different... it's all just about being able to move around your energy."
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Twain Saber
g i f t e d
Smile at your enemies, it messes with their heads
Posts: 28
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Post by Twain Saber on May 11, 2009 18:59:04 GMT 1
Twain nodded and twirled the lit cigarette in her fingers, careful to avoid the hot tip. The man had a point, though she should have remembered to bring her sword. Well, just stay positive. She was alive and had all her limbs. She could have gotten her legs chopped off. That would suck.
“Yeah, I suppose that is the best way to look at it. After all I am still alive right now.” Twain smiled.
She was trying to ignore the dizzy feeling that had come over her. She felt hot and was sure her face was flushed. She swept her hair out of her eyes with a swoop of her hand. Jonathan began to talk about his power. Some word Twain was sure she could not pronounce. She was having trouble focusing her eyes. The world kept getting distorted. She ignored it. She was not going to be stupid and let her illness get the better of her. She could crash when she got home.
“When it comes down to it your power is either mental or physical. I would classify mine as physical yours to maybe. A lot of powers run on the same basic concept. I am no genius though.” Twain said still working on ignoring the symptoms of sickness.
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Jonathan Locke
g i f t e d
Perfectionism [per-fek-shuh-niz-uhm] -noun: The state of being Jonathan Locke.
Posts: 60
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Post by Jonathan Locke on May 12, 2009 19:04:49 GMT 1
Jonathan nodded in agreement to what Twain was saying about powers. If he was honest, he'd never really put a lot of thought into different types of power. Not beyond identifying them, anyway.
Speaking of identifying... she doesn't look very well.[/color] Jonathan thought to himself, a brief focus on her aura confirmed it.
He leaned his head to one side and regarded her for a moment.
"Hey, you feeling okay?" He asked with genuine concern. "You don't look so hot right now, I got a car a few blocks away if you wanna go home?"
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Twain Saber
g i f t e d
Smile at your enemies, it messes with their heads
Posts: 28
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Post by Twain Saber on May 12, 2009 19:39:54 GMT 1
Twain wondered what one should say when asked if you are feeling okay. If it were someone she was close to she would respond truthfully, but when it is someone you are not close to things change. Twain did not want to appear weak above all things. The sudden shock of illness was fading and things were becoming clearer again. She hoped it didn’t come back till she was safe in her own home so she could suffer in silence. Twain shook her head and looked at Jonathan.
“No, I think…” Twain stopped as a wave of dizziness came over her. “Actually, that would be great.”
Twain hated appearing week but she knew her limits. When help was offered sometimes it was best to just accept it. Chances were if she tried to walk home in her current state she would pass out.
(Should we continue this at Twains apartment?)
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Jonathan Locke
g i f t e d
Perfectionism [per-fek-shuh-niz-uhm] -noun: The state of being Jonathan Locke.
Posts: 60
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Post by Jonathan Locke on May 12, 2009 22:53:57 GMT 1
Jonathan nodded, stubbing out his cigarette on the floor.
"Cool..." He said, gently taking Twain's arm and leading her out of the warehouse; she seemed disorientated and he didn't want her bashing into something.
"But I warn you now, if you puke in my car I'll have to kick your butt." He told her with a friendly smile.
((Sounds like a plan! I'll let you start it - starting a thread at someone else's place seems kinda rude... :-P ))
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