#in an olympic competition or within the soul
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omfg i really hope u finished sk8 the infinity bc that is the most fun, colourful, draindead show I have ever watched and I would sell my soul to the devil for a s2 to come faster.
but like, who’s ur favourite character? langa will always be dear to my heart bc of just how dense he is sometimes. like he genuinely cannot comprehend most things that happen around him and that just adds to his charm.
also am i the only one who was super fucking weirded out by the way adam interacted with the kids?? the dub is just so much more creepy than the sub and he’s just so much worse around these children- the way he speaks to miya, the nicknames he gives reki and the way he behaves with poor sweet langa is so uncomfy to watch???
I finished it and I LOVED it.
Langa’s my favorite character for much of the same reason. Oh my god he’s so dense and so good. My beautiful boy. All he knows is Board and Love Reiki. He’s so chill. He was just like “I have Never Skateboarded in my Life. The first try should be on this Death Mountain in an event with explosives involved. I will destroy the competition.” I simply adore him. I think we should just keep putting him on different types of boards to see if he can qualify on an Olympic level in them within the span of months. Surfboard. Wakeboard. Other types of board. He is so beautiful and so good.
Oh Adam is so uncomfortable to watch during this, especially his entire thing with langa. He’s always giving him roses and touching him and calling him his Eve. He has an entire wall filled with video footage of him. He had cameras following him when he wasn’t even at S. He openly calls Reiki the third wheel as if Langa doesn’t go into immediate depression if his boyfriend is not there to watch him skate. If the post-credits montage is accurate, then he parachuted from the sky with a bouquet of roses when Langa turned 18. Like this is fully stalking and deeply upsetting please go away.
#sk8 the infinity#this show is so so good#and Adam needs to have a restraining order be brought against him#sir leave that gay teenager alone#I cannot wait for season 2#every interaction with the kids is fully inappropriate but langa he’s like. targetting.#he won’t stop touching him#he keeps giving him gifts and calling it a courtship#he has /cameras following him at all time/#he thinks of langa’s extremely homoerotic best friend as the third wheel and keeps trying to hospitalize him about that#like. he sent him a letter addressed to the third wheel. like man. langa does not like you.#if I had joes upper body strength I would have punched that man already
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I just discovered your blog and I already love it! Can I ask you what would be the favorite video games of the groups Destiny, Sea salt and Wayfinder please? What would they play or like? If that's too much feel free to reduce to the characters you like the most or ignore, it's really okay! Thank you and good vibes!
A/n: Woo just slowly gonna try and go through the requests! I added a few extra bonuses, hope you enjoy <3
Multiple KH Characters and Their Favorite Video Games!
Destiny Island Trio:
Sora: Fighting games- preferably Smash. He mains himself main characters (Mario, Link, Kirby, FE protags). He sucks. He is the guy who button mashes and corners players to beat the hell out of them.
Riku: Fighting games- preferably Tekken or Street Fighter. Mains Jin or Lee. Attempts to be strategic but gets way too competitive fast and is busy mashing all the buttons off the controller.
Kairi: Way too good at fighting games. But she’d probably play lots of Pokemon or monster collecting games. She has many setups that are both competitive or just fun ones for a fun challenge.
Sea Salt Family:
Roxas: Persona fanboy. He hasn’t played 1-2 but he can’t pick a favorite between 3-5. Plays all the spinoffs or has someone else play them for him. His favorite characters are the protagonists. Hears jazz music and assumes this is a Persona 5 reference.
Xion: Resident DMC and Souls-like player. Girl is a monster on the controllers despite being just being born. The way she can effortlessly combo and dodge all attacks makes her a fearsome opponent.
Axel: Mario Kart. Axel is pretty average at video games (unless they’re like, retro or arcade) but Mario Kart? He’s on it like Donkey Kong. He mains Funky Kong.
Saix: He has two wolves inside him- the logical gamer and the second, more absurd gamer. Sometimes he wants to unwind, so he might pick up a basic platformer like Mario or Sonic, but on the other side- he’s a menace in a Warriors game. He’s hacking and slashing. He’s killing everyone in his path. Also, he’s a completionist. He has to get the best markings and everything. Won’t settle for less.
Wayfinder Trio:
Terra: Minecraft and fighting games. He tries his best lmao. He’s just got pretty big hands so often he messes up with combos but he’s also pretty impatient and tends to spam certain moves.
Aqua: Rhythm games definitely. Watch her effortlessly get all perfect scores in one try. Even the hardest OSU! map has nothing on Aqua. She also kicks ass at fighting games.
Ventus: He likes Mario and Sonic at the Olympic Games and Mario Party. He always loses at almost any game against his friends though.
Bonus Characters:
Namine: I feel like she enjoys visual novels and Okami. She really loves aesthetic games and is a patient player.
Xemnas: does not play video games beyond Candy Crush or Solitaire. You kids and your “Splatoons” or “Bayonettas”, go pick up an old Final Fantasy game smh.
Xigbar: Call of Duty. Fortnite. PUBG. Overwatch. He’s a menace and plays all sorts of FPS games. His sniping abilities IRL translate very well into games. Also likes the Hitman games.
Vexen: Bookworm and civilization manager games. He’s big on Age of Empires and is a top talent within the community. He loves playing as the Vikings or Mayans for competitive play. He’s also made many custom maps.
Zexion: Tower Defense managers and Ace Attorney. He loves deducing the crime or finding the best way to defend his base with the minimum amount of units possible.
Xaldin: He doesn’t play games (lie). He plays romantic visual novels. Plays all kinds of them. Otomes too. He is a lonely man. Also loves cooking games.
Lexaeus: farming games. He just has a fun time playing Story of Seasons. Rune Factory is nice too but he prefers SoS because he loves the farming aspect more.
Demyx: Guitar Hero. No argument. This man did all the crazy achievements and was going at it for days.
Luxord: Yeah yeah solitaire and gambling- have you considered he loves playing the Yakuza games? Well now you do. He loves the games dearly and cherishes them and likes to be the biggest Yakuza on the block. Also yeah, he plays lot of gacha games.
Marluxia: Doesn’t really play video games, but he’d most likely play some horror games with Larxene or town management games.
Larxene: Horror games or multiplayer games where she can troll people. Banned from multiple servers and people refuse to play with her minus Marluxia. Aesthetically though she loves Trish from DMC and thinks Vergil is number one.
#kh#kingdom hearts#kh hcs#headcanons#sora#riku#kairi#marluxia#larxene#luxord#demyx#lexaeus#zexion#vexen#xaldin#xigbar#xemnas#namine#terra#ventus#aqua#axel#saix#xion#roxas
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"If it wasn't difficult, everyone would do it. It's the difficulty that makes it great."
Timeline
Age 0:
She is born as Anna Morozov to Kokomi Saito and Damyon Morozov in Moscow, Russia.
Age 5:
She sees her father skiing and snowboarding and feels inspired by him.
Unfortunately, a life-threatening injury kills his career.
Age 6:
She asks her father if he can teach her to snowboard. He agrees.
Age 7:
Within a year, she learns how to both snowboard and ski.
Age 10:
She enters her first snowboard competition.
She comes in first place, which motivates her to work harder.
She continues to train, wanting to be better than yesterday.
Age 12:
She tries her hand at ice skating, but fails at it spectacularly.
Age 15:
She is qualified to compete in the Winter Olympics.
She wins two gold medals in snowboarding and one gold in skiing.
Her parents are proud of her.
Age 18:
Her father starts to change; he becomes less like a father and more like a manager and a trainer.
Age 19:
She participates in her second Olympics.
She wins three more gold medals.
Her mother is happy for her, but her father stresses that she needs to do better.
This causes her to question her self-worth, making her stressed.
Age 20:
Her father begins to compare her to the great Russian snowboarders of history.
He also gives her new nicknames, increasing her reputation.
Does she likes it at first, it starts to become annoying as she cannot get a moment's peace.
Age 23:
She participates in her third Olympics.
She manages to earn another gold medal, but it is the only one she is able to win.
Her father is not pleased and reprimands her.
The stress of it all causes her to collapse during a practice session.
She stays in the hospital for a week so doctors can monitor her health.
While she is resting, her mother urges her father to ease up on her as he is affecting their daughter's mental health.
He refuses, citing that this will be good for her in the long run.
Age 26:
Her mother sadly passes away due to tuberculosis.
The shock of it causes Anna to make a mistake during a practice run, leaving a large, permeant scar on her right leg.
Age 27:
Due to her injury, she is forced to miss the Winter Olympics.
Her father is not happy with her and again reprimands her.
This pushes her over the edge, as she yells at him that he doesn't care for her, only for her success.
She informs her father that she is leaving the family home and that she is no longer boarding for him or anyone else.
She runs away to her mother's home country of Japan.
She changes her name from 'Anna' to 'Kokomi' in honor of her mother.
She uses the money from her sports events to rent a small apartment.
She spends her time recuperating and getting her thoughts and soul in order.
Her father tries to call and message her numerous times, but she always ignores him.
Age 28:
After a year of rest, she decides to go back to snowboarding.
She heads for the mountains but quickly gets lost, spraining her ankle and landing her in the middle of a bear's den.
She is saved by a strange mountain man named Ted Bridges, who allows her to stay in his chalet until she is healed.
He shows her the safe areas to ski and snowboard without disturbing the local wildlife.
After several months of talking and getting to know each other, she asks if she can rent a room in his chalet. He agrees.
Age 29:
She becomes acquainted with Kotan Anchikar, chief of the Ainu tribe.
Age 30:
Present.
She becomes the third member of the Hakodate rap battle team, Kuma no ie, alongside Kotan Anchikar and Ted Bridges.
Schedule
12 a.m. - 7 a.m.: Asleep
7 a.m. - 8 a.m.: Freshens up
8 a.m. - 9 a.m.: Joins Ted and his son for breakfast
9 a.m. - 12 p.m.: Spends her time snowboarding/skiing
12 p.m. - 1 p.m.: Eats lunch
1 p.m. - 2 p.m.: Naps
2 p.m. - 4 p.m.: More snowboarding and skiing
4 p.m. - 4:30 p.m.: Checks her equipment for any signs of damage
4:30 p.m. - 5:30 p.m.: Freshens up
5:30 p.m. - 7 p.m.: Helps Ted make dinner
7 p.m. - 8 p.m.: Eats dinner with Ted and Aiden
8 p.m. - 8:30 p.m.: Cleans dishes
8:30 p.m. - 9:30 p.m.: Studies Japanese language and culture
9:30 p.m. - 11 p.m.: Free time (Drinks or watches TV)
11 p.m. - 12 a.m.: Asleep
Character Hashtags
Regular Hashtags
#Snowboarding champion
#Free from his restraints
#Lady of the snow
Trauma Hashtags
#It stopped being about 'fun'
#I can't live your life or dreams
#Made out to be more than I actually am
Other Info
Hobby: Drinking
Weakness: Hates Responsibility
Trauma: "My father ruined snowboarding for me."
Twitter: @Ladyofthesnow
Drinks: Yes
Smokes: No
Special Skill: "It may be due to my Russian heritage, but I can drink until I pass out and still wake up with no hangovers."
Intro Quote: "In the sleet or in the snow, no one stands a chance against me."
Trauma Quote: "You took the love of something dear to me and made it all about you! I am not you, father! I will never be you!!"
Ending Quote: "Mother... am I doing right by your name?"
#hypmic#hypmic oc#hypnosis mic#hypnosis microphone#hypnosis mic oc#kokomi morozov#hakodate division#get more info#twitter#trauma#paradox live
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Some thoughts I’ve had recently:
Based around the idea of being so proud of the work they put into making each other the best they can be and in their highest moments/ standing on podiums they look could look at each other and see how both their’s and the others work has paid off.
Something that no doubt would be so rewarding for them but may possibly have added to the complexity of their relationship (and maybe hindered any possible romantic feeling if that was ever a possibility) was through all this work they did to become the best, they kind of in a way.. raised each other to be incredible humans. Like it was on each other to create the best possible human and athlete. They each had this… literally, hands-on role in each other as humans growing up and developing skills and world views.. It was this mutual agreement to not only become the best ice dancers in the world but within that they took their responsibility so seriously to always- every moment of everyday make the other feel confident and capable of becoming the best. From literally the earliest years of their partnership tessa talks about working with psychological ideas to nurture their partnership and they obviously really connected to the idea that becoming the best meant taking care of each other, respecting eachother, not putting the other down in order to thrive. For them at such young ages to commit to this partnership over everything else in life- then be lucky enough to have the people around them to instil in them these values of care and respect and trust, then them at these tiny ages actually understanding those things and wanting that to be the core of their partnership… they are two incredibly rare, intelligent, compassionate souls that’s for sure!
They couldn’t be their best if they were made to feel by the other like they were the drag on the team or weren’t working hard or wasn’t into the dance/character.. they themselves were allowed to feel those things- eg T feeling guilt over her injuries or S never feeling he was the dancer T was, but it was never to be as a result of the other making them feel like that. So through T’s injuries, S saying that the only girl who could go through what she went through and within a year be olympic champion- he had to be the one to make her believe that. She had enough self doubt on her own and opinions from others to put her down- S was not allowed to make her feel that way.
In a really interesting sense their relationship, or huge components of their relationship- specifically athletic partnership is the way it has been trained and drilled into them. They are/were.. put bluntly, an arranged marriage who’s relationship was trained to be successful. And the weirdest thing is there is a huge amount of emotion immersed in that quite cold description of it. It’s not to say their relationship is fake or manufactured because through learning how to trust each other with their lives and knowing what the other needs to hear and feel to be their best, they did develop incredibly deep feelings of affection for each other. And as I said above, it took two incredibly special humans with (if you want to believe in magic) some ‘written in the stars’ kinda fate attached to them. Nothing about them at all feels trained or scripted- it’s so real and that’s why so many people had a hard time accepting it. It just seemed too perfect that two people could appear to love each other that much and it not be romantic.. it’s because they practiced it everyday for over 20 years.
So at the end of their competitive career, even years later T still never fails to share her overwhelming emotions in the moment looking at Scott getting his gold medal.. to be able look at each other and feel so much pride and happiness for each other’s achievements, within that undoubtedly is self pride in the influence and work they put in to making that person the best they could be. And that is not at all a selfish emotion to feel- to think ‘you got here because of me’ because there is two of them and they feel that exact same way about eachother and hell no, they would not be there without eachother and they know that and don’t let anyone forget it.
People like to use the ‘business partner’ label as the butt of the joke with them or drag them for emphasising the work they put in to becoming so successful in the sense of their relationship but they really, truly wouldn’t have had they not cared so much about making each other the best they could be and omg.. for them actually at the end to look at the other and think ‘wow, look what you achieved and was here with you every step of the way’.. I mean what more could you want??
Ahhh..
I’m still finding new ways to understand them even in the slightest sense and the smallest new insights can lead me to have new thoughts about this incredibly complex, beautiful love story 💕
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Take Every Thought Captive
Today's inspiration comes from:
Don't Give the Enemy a Seat at Your Table
by Louie Giglio
"I’m a college dropout. Not because I’m not smart enough. But because when I was eighteen years old I was losing the battle of my mind. The Enemy had gained a foothold in my life, and that foothold was called laziness. I could sleep through morning classes like a champ. If there had been an Olympic competition in skipping class and making excuses, I’d have gold medals hanging on the wall. Eventually, the letter arrived from the dean of my program requesting that I kindly take some time off from pursuing my university education.
No worries, I thought. I’ll enroll at the junior college in town.
Not long after, I received a similar notice from them. I had succeeded in failing out of two schools in the same year.
Talk about the Enemy sitting at your table and eating your lunch!
All the while, I still had huge dreams. Through a powerful experience of being called to ministry, I knew God had big plans for my life. I could clearly see my future. But I had lost sight of what it was going to take to get there. I was pumped about eventually going to graduate school for further ministry training. I had just lost interest in the undergraduate grind necessary to get there.
Once the light bulb came on and I connected the two steps, I literally took the next exit on the freeway and within an hour was sitting in that same dean’s office, begging him to let me back into Georgia State. He was gracious, and I was awakened to my future plans and what it was going to take to get there. My identity wasn’t being a college strikeout. I was called by God to preach His Word. I had the capacity to sleep through class, for sure. But, as I demonstrated, I also had the ability to crush two years’ worth of classes (crush in the very best way) in a little over a year. I graduated with my original freshman class and enrolled in grad school on schedule.
I won the battle of my mind. I woke up every day convinced God was going to accomplish through me all He had called me to do. I believed I could be who He created me to be.
Can you see where you want to be?
I’m not only talking about where you want to be in some personal accomplishment, business success, sports endeavor, or financial goal. I’m talking about where you want to be in your soul. I’m talking about being in charge of your thoughts, attitudes, and actions. I’m talking about moving into purpose and living the life God has designed you to live.
Perhaps the Enemy has convinced you that you can’t move from where you are to where you want to be. You’ve listened to the voices of fear. You’ve been caught in the spiral of sin and temptation. You’ve convinced yourself you have no value. Your mind is clouded by worry and uncertainty. The Enemy has accomplished this by sitting down at your table, but you don’t need to let him stay there and get comfortable. You do not have to entertain the Enemy’s voice.
Through Christ, you can move to a place of victory in your life.
This happens when you learn to win the battle for your mind. The Enemy knows this. One of his main ploys is to go after your thought life. He’s patient too. In the garden of Eden, the serpent didn’t shout his temptations to Eve over a loudspeaker. He planted seeds in her mind and waited. He prompted her to question God’s goodness. He coaxed her to wonder if God was withholding something good from her. Eventually Eve relented and let those seeds take root. Eve acted out what she had been thinking about.
That’s how the Enemy works. If he can win the battle for your mind, then he can win the battle for your life. In Numbers 13, when Moses dispatched the twelve spies to explore the land of Canaan in preparation for Hebrew conquest, ten spies returned with a fearful, faithless report. “We can’t attack those people,” the ten spies said, shaking in their boots. “They are stronger than we are…. We seemed like grasshoppers in our own eyes, and we looked the same to them” (Numbers 13:31, Numbers 13:33).
Hang on. How did the ten spies know what they looked like in the Canaanites’ eyes? Did the spies ask their enemies, “Hey, what do you think of us? How small and puny do we look to you?” No, a seed had been planted in the spies’ minds. They tended that seed and let it grow and acted on it, and as a result, they wandered in the desert for the next forty years. They never tasted the promises of God for their lives.
It didn’t have to be that way, in the wilderness never tasting God’s promises — not for them, and not for you and me today.
Victory can be yours. Right here. Right now. Victory is about examining the seeds that have been scattered in your mind and not letting them take root. It’s about pulling up and throwing away the thoughts that do not coincide with the heart of God. It’s about changing the way you think. And one prayer helps in particular.
Victory is about examining the seeds that have been scattered in your mind and not letting them take root. It’s about pulling up and throwing away the thoughts that do not coincide with the heart of God. It’s about changing the way you think.
Readiness for the Power Prayer
Maybe one of the seeds planted in your mind is doubt. You don’t know if any of this teaching is going to work for you. You’ve tried other ways to change before, and none of them worked, so why should this? Or maybe some change will come, but it won’t last because it’s never lasted before.
Already the Enemy has influenced your mind. Seeds can be scattered in your mind anytime, anywhere, and particularly when you read a book such as this. Before the truth can set you free, you need to see the lies that are holding you hostage. Ask the Holy Spirit to reveal to you which lies you’re believing. Ask Him to be specific. Are you having any of the following thoughts?
I’ll never change.
I’ll feel better if I sin.
The gospel doesn’t really work.
I’m not worth much.
No one loves me.
No one believes in me.
I deserve to be bitter.
I deserve to be filled with rage.
I am my failure.
I am my addiction.
I’ll always be this way.
None of those thoughts came from God! Jesus Christ, the Good Shepherd of John 10 and Psalm 23, did not tell you that you’re a failure. He doesn’t prompt you to worry. He doesn’t provoke you to fear. He provides clarity, not chaos. He doesn’t stick your nose in the vomit of sin. He provides green pastures, not dry wastelands. If any of these things are in your life — fear, worry, temptation, feelings of worthlessness, feelings of confusion — guess what? The Enemy has shown up and dropped a seed in your thinking. He knows that if he can lodge a deceptive thought in your mind that goes unchecked, it will eventually take root and settle into your heart. If you harbor a deceptive thought and let it take up residence within you, in time, you will act on that thought.
Maybe you’re saying, What’s the big deal? It’s just a thought. Nobody sees it except me. It’s harmless. No. All the thoughts we entertain in our minds eventually get played out. Either our attitudes will reflect those deceptive thoughts or our behaviors will.
As he thinks in his heart, so is he. — Proverbs 23:7 NKJV
One way or another, those thoughts will harm us.
That’s why it’s so important for you to step into your new identity in Christ immediately. Jesus is already in the story of victory, and He has invited you into this story with Him. The way you step into that story is by reminding yourself of these truths:
I was a sinner saved by grace who is now a new creation. I do not have to sin.
I am in Christ, and Christ is in me. Christ has all victory, and His victory is mine too.
God is always faithful. He will always provide a way out. I can always take the way out.
Stepping into these truths changes your mind. All twelve of the spies knew that the promised land was good. They all viewed the abundant milk and honey. They all saw a single grape cluster so big it took two men to carry it on a pole (Numbers 13:23). But ten of those spies didn’t believe they could get to the promised land.
How about you? Do you believe you can live in victory? If the answer is no, the deceiver is winning the battle for your mind. He’s real, and he has a real plan. He’s circling your table, ready to sit. So keep this in mind: the stakes are high. This is your life we’re talking about. This is your now. This is your future. This is your family. This is your sanity. Your peace. Your success. Your calling. Your destiny. This is everything God has made you to be. The Devil wants to destroy you. He has no mercy, and he has all the time in the world.
Fortunately, any seeds the Enemy scatters in your mind don’t need to remain for more than a millisecond. Seeds do not need to take root. Any new seeds can be immediately removed. Even seeds that have been there for years can be removed. And it’s not about you using your superpowers. I want to drive this point home. Victory is not about something you do. That’s not the message here. The message is the gospel of Jesus Christ. It’s about what Jesus does for you.
Jesus won the total victory Himself. God makes the way.”
Excerpted with permission from Don’t Give the Enemy a Seat at Your Table by Louie Giglio, copyright Louie Giglio.
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World Olympic Day🥇
Unleash the Olympian within and let the spirit of competition ignite your soul. On World Day, we celebrate the pursuit of excellence, unity, and sporting dreams. Together, let's embrace the power of sports and ignite the flame of passion! 🏆
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I GOT MY FIRST ANTI! *waves* HI!
(context: @people this was on my ulana/boris piece from yesterday. i used the chernobyl tag, which i thought was safe, and tada.)
Dear @sleepcircle--From looking at your blog, you seem to engage with people. Engage meaning that you discuss, reply, talk a lot, etc. For obvious reasons (because you may thrive on agonistic exchanges, because apparently people on and off the internet do that; because there is no possible way for me to ascertain your good faith or bad faith regarding said exchanges, although I will--for now--assume the former), this will likely be my only reply to you. I mean no offense: I just don’t troll.
(1) I don’t think you understand how writing works.
(2) I don’t think you understand how fiction works.
(3) I don’t think you understand how shipping works.
(4) I’m sorry you may have felt disturbed by the content you read. However, the fic was (i) entirely under a cut; (ii) explicitly identified in the title and summary, making it easy to avoid for those who are not interested in it; (iii) Ulana Khomyuk is, in a sense of the term that you may or may not agree with, fictional, ie. there was no one with that exact name, playing that exact role in what we construe as the historical event).
(5) I’m glad you enjoyed the writing.
(6) You may not perceive it as so, but telling people that their work is felt to be a problem in a laconic statement seems agressive.
#me living my crucial life#ANTIS!#elenatria and potted_music i have no idea how you do this#just this one thing sucked the life force out of me#this is why i will never ever have a twitter account#because everybody on twitter seems to just fight all the time#see? all this post made me want to write was to think and talk about how#agonistic and antagonistic and agony all come from the same greek word#agônia and its cognate verb agôniaô#a fight and to fight respectively#in an olympic competition or within the soul#but nooooo
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The whole culture of exercise and athletics, as epitomized by the Olympic Games, had been essentially snuffed out with the rise of Christianity more than twelve hundred years before. Constantine the Great, the first Christian Roman emperor, formally banned gladiatorial contests in A.D. 325, and some seventy years later, Theodosius I brought the Olympic Games to an end completely. This wasn’t simply because exercise and athletics were antithetical to the tenets of Christianity but instead because athletic competition was linked to pagan rituals (such as blood sacrifices of animals) and dedicated to the pantheon of Greek and Roman gods. Cathedrals replaced gymnasiums as sacred sites; it was the holy spirit—the soul—that was now to be glorified, not the body. Not that this happened overnight or with a single decree. But certainly within a few hundred years, the notion of exercise for the sake of exercise was considered indecent. And by the time Mercuriale took the subject on a thousand years later, the art of exercise was, as he put it, “now extinct.”
[...]
In ancient Greece and in the early Roman Empire, there was at least one gymnasium in every town. The gymnasium was as much a part of culture and society as a theater and marketplace—albeit a place for men and boys of the upper classes alone. Women were not permitted into gymnasia—even just to watch. While it’s true that Plato says in the Laws that “women, both young and old, should exercise … together with the men,” should does not mean they could or did but suggests an ideal, one that, in reality, didn’t occur broadly until the nineteenth century. Mercuriale, neither advocating nor opposing the notion of women exercising in gyms, neatly sidesteps the issue: “It is not the place to investigate here.”
Gyms were generally official buildings, owned by the city, and with dedicated staff, including trainers and the ancient equivalent of “towel boys.” Day-to-day administration was the responsibility of a general manager called the gymnasiarch. Private gymnasia existed, too, and for these, records confirm, visitors paid fees just as one does today—they were gym members, essentially. By the sixteenth century, in Mercuriale’s Italy, the only gymnasia left were in shambles—half-buried relics of major buildings, such as the Baths of Caracalla.
Mercuriale had fixed, even grandiose, ideas about what a gymnasium is, how one should be designed and built, based on the text of the Roman architect Marcus Vitruvius. His ten-volume work, De architectura (On Architecture, ca. 25 B.C.), the only surviving major book on classical architecture, provides specific design details on everything from aqueducts and central heating to the construction of prisons and theaters, as well as the machinery and materials that were used. In the fifth volume, chapter 11, he describes the “rules” for a proper palestra, the name given by the Greeks to a large athletic facility devoted to wrestling and with spaces for exercising, viewing, and bathing. (The ancient Greek word for “gym rat”—yes, they had them, too—literally translates as “palestra addict.”)
[...]
The sweat of athletes was considered a prize commodity in the ancient world. What a waste, you might have thought, had you been me two thousand years earlier, watching my dad toss sweat onto the rocks. After competing or simply exercising, athletes would scrape the accumulated sweat and oil from their bodies and funnel it into small pots with a metal tool created expressly for this purpose, a strigil, shaped like a celery stalk. This presumably funky-smelling mixture, called gloios, was considered so precious that some went so far as to take scrapings from the bathhouse walls against which athletes had leaned and left sweat tracings from their bodies.
Ancient Greek and Roman writers such as Dioscorides, Pliny the Elder, and Galen all attested to this practice. Pliny reported that the masters of the gladiatorial schools at one time sold such scrapings for eight hundred sesterces, equivalent to thousands of dollars. Hard as this might be to believe, records of ancient business dealings confirm that Pliny and company were correct.
Gloios provided a significant revenue stream for the Greek gymnasia at which it was sold—a needed supplement to membership fees at private gyms. It was used for medicinal purposes, the belief being that gloios must contain the essence of arete—the striving for excellence that defined a great athlete. But athletic sweat wasn’t used, as one might guess, to enhance athletic performance. It was used to treat the most uncomfortable maladies on one’s most private parts—hemorrhoids and genital warts.
-- Bill Hays, Sweat
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Jacqueline “Jack” Devereux (FC: Astrid Berges-Frisbey)
Pronouns: She/Her
Rank: Apollo
Skill Set Strengths: Gymnastics and Acrobatics, Art and General Counterfeiting, Linguistics, Surveillance, Long Cons
Areas of Opportunity: Smuggling, Operational Organization, and History
Weaknesses: Marksmanship, Hand-to-Hand Combat, and Technological Aptitude
Positive Traits: Disciplined, Calculated, Careful, Balanced, and Intelligent
Negative Traits: Cold, Frigid, Impersonal, Disloyal, and Snobbish
Timeline
Born October 22nd, 1988 in Nice, France to well-to-do French/Spanish aristocracy on the verge of financial ruin
Child of mixed trades - a passion for fine arts, but a talent for gymnastics
Begins competing as a gymnast, earnings gold and silver trophies. Nearly qualified for the Olympics, before an injury and growing dependence on pain killers disqualify her from competition (Age 19)
Earns a scholarship at The Royal College of Art in London, England and emerges with a Fine Arts Degree (Age 23)
Employed as a junior, art restorer for the National Gallery when she catches a counterfeit art piece - catching the attention of Pantheon’s ranks
Joins Pantheon and is placed as an Apollo (Age 27)
The Pantheon’s go-to for art counterfeiting and cons requiring steady hands and athletic flexibility
Languages Spoken
French (Native)
Spanish (Native)
English (Fluent)
Portuguese
German
Mandarin
Italian
Learning Japanese and Cantonese
Character Parallels
Marcia Roy
Olenna Tyrell
Amy Dunne
Mystique
Black Widow
Blair Waldorf
Full Biography
There was a certain, gilded path for the members of Spanish aristocracy. A life that promised importance, lineage, and relevance - long after one had come and gone from the world. It was an old world ideal, but for Duque Lorenzo Jiménez, it remained the expectation. Never mind that the Jiménez’s finances were built on the dwindling foundation of ancestral wealth. He would argue that nobility is synonymous with grandeur. They simply needed to show it to the world. To dig within, and shine. In the bloom of young love, Marianne Devereux promised just that. A highly accomplished painter from a well-to-do family from the South of France; the artist encapsulated what Lorenzo wanted for himself. A grand existence of popularity and influence, shrouded by the classist structures he enjoyed so well. The promise of a son came soon after their wedding, cleverly picking the name ‘Jackson’ after the Pollock painter. But a misread sonogram brings a surprise, and in his place, is her. It’s Jacqueline, they decide. However, the affectionate nickname ‘Jack’ was solidified throughout Marianne’s pregnancy - and it sticks.
Life is not without its share of disappointments, and Jack is exposed to the tumultuous nature of her parents’ marriage. At a young age, the cracks began to appear over the polished glass of the couple. Her father’s taste for champagne, caviar, and excess slowly but surely diminished their financial status. A man of privilege, who never knew a day’s work in his life, placed the blame on his partner. An art career that once showed promise, proved fruitless in the years to come. Year after year, her popularity dwindled. And with it, the financial prosperity of the young family. In the cold, imposing ancestral home - Jack lived in relative solitude. When the marble halls weren’t shaking with her father’s wrath and her mother’s cool resentment, it rang a hollow silence. Something cold and imposing, in all that surrounded her. A cold state of being, as it turned out, made for survival. Jack managed through the toxicity of her family, by virtue of numbness. The singular source of emotional expression, brought by a paint brush and a canvas.
It was the first of many things that her father would take away from her. In its place, is the rigor of gymnastics. What began as a six-year-old’s hobby, evolved into a vocation. Sure, Jack was a tried and true natural - likely inherited from athletes from her father’s side. Something special in her bones, that made her pliable and agile. And sometimes, it was enjoyable. Nothing to be disliked about being excellent, and earning her hyper-critical father’s approval. Still, she would search for a canvas when the night light turns off. By day, she is her father’s trophy. But at night, she is her mother’s daughter. Hers was a technical talent, lacking in her mother’s artistry - you needed a soul to put humanity on the tip of a paintbrush, and stroke genius. One ought not to be fooled by the liveliness of the Jimenez’s home - there is not a soul to be found. As the years trudged on, the unhappiness and instability of her parents’ marriage clung onto the slimmest of threads - Jack’s athletic success. It’s not long before gold and silver medals line their home. The accolades prove to be a commercial success, drawing benefactors and sponsors alike. A cash cow, a champion, a winner - it’s who Jack Devereux-Jimenez is destined to become.
At only twelve-years-old, she began her career as a professional athlete. By nineteen-years-old, it comes to a screeching end. All before ever making it onto the Olympic arena, no less. The mounting pressure, combined with a slow-recovering injury push Jack to performance enhancing drugs. Orange pill bottles smuggled in her leather satchel, pried open after each intensive session. A minor crutch, she argues, that would dissipate when the true competition began. Jack is a winner, but even winners need a push up the hilt. But when it comes to light, she is disbarred from competition. A name that verged on grandeur, blacklisted and forgotten. The sponsors and accolades follow, and so too does her loveless father. Her parents’ marriage is undone, and Marianne and Jack are thrust onto the world on their own. A great many disappointments come from the unraveling, but in some ways, Jack feels relief. She is free - from her father, the Jimenez name, and the volatility of their home. An estate that is sold to settle the family’s debts.
In the aftermath, the mother-and-daughter find their way to Paris, where Marianne’s expertise earns her a coveted spot as a curator for the Louvre. In the simplicity of their two bedroom apartment, Jack heals in the arms of her lost love - putting paint to canvas. A therapeutic act that allows her crutches to become awash. But Jack is not one for keeping still, for just getting by. She is flexible, malleable - and her thirst for excellence can be foregone, for more subdued passions. She builds a portfolio, leveraging her familiar name and inherent talent to earn her place in London’s coveted Royal College of Art. A welcome reprieve, too. The space between Jack and her mother felt smaller and smaller, as resentment simmers just below the velveteen words. Jack leaves for London, and four years later, accomplishes a Fine Arts Degree. The name, Jacqueline Devereux, embossed on the degree. It is a new moniker, for a new Jack.
At first, The National Gallery is the perfect fit. As an art restorer, she is surrounded by fantastical works that spoke to her cold heart. But Jack was never made for ordinary life, or the straight-and-narrow. She is made to win, to see the world, and to bring her own grandeur to life. When a ‘Woman With a Parasol; by Monet is brought to her for restoration, it takes all of five minutes for her studied eye to catch the misnomers. The subtle changes in stroke, the off hue in red, and the tightness in the lines. It was a counterfeit. An impressive one, but a counterfeit nonetheless. But it passes through chains of authentication, caught only by a junior art restorer in the basement of The National Gallery. When the falsity of the piece is brought to the committee’s attention, an investigation takes shape. Never mind the loss of history, the millions in loss it represented caught headlines. And Jack, centered at the eye of the storm. As she makes her leave from the studio in the late hour, footsteps follow her through London’s sleepy streets. They chased her down, nipping at her heels. She believed them to be the perpetrators, offended by Jack’s ability to catch them in the middle of their con. Instead, the mysterious and hooded figures claim their loyalties to Pantheon. Their arrival is not judgement, but the promise of heaven itself - a place where her staunch eye, careful hands, and athleticism could find value.
The swift but calculated decision comes easily, almost too easily. Her workplace comrades, apartment leases, and social media presence is abandoned within the month. She vanishes from her life, but she is not missed. And it’s that ingenuity, that malleability that prompts the committee to decide instinctively. Apollo, a “Jack” of All Trades. A perfect fit for a woman that simultaneously blends in and stands out. She is young, willing, and bountiful with potential. So, they build her up by breaking her down. They dismantle her skills to their bare bones; from starting off on a beam, to drawing shapes instead of restoring images. She is patient through the process, trusting in this new mold. Keen and willing, as her abilities evolve throughout the years. But it’s always been in her, deep as poison. It only needs to be drawn out.
In Jack, there is a light touch and a cold-cut sensibility. She lacks harsh lines or impassioned stances. Her motives for joining Pantheon are simple - Jack is a winner. At what, and against whom? Those were all just details. Nowhere else could pull together her expertise, and draw out the sleeping champion. Nowhere else would value the cold, vacant stare or the way attachment is rootless. She sees that - and she commits. Her specialized skill set, acting as transferable and valuable to each crew. In the years that follow, Jack evolves each of her skills. Her gymnastics turned invaluable in espionage and stealth - lithe form allowing her to blend seamlessly and without notice. No area too guarded, that her physicality cannot navigate through. Jack’s ability with a paintbrush and canvas make her a skilled counterfeiter, forging dummies for the Pantheon’s missions. And even her background of aristocracy proved beneficial. A number of learned languages, combined with her ability to mislead quickly cement her as the quintessential Apollo. She grows, until she is the grand beast that her father could only dream of. In seven years, her reputation within Pantheon’s ranks is one of cold disposition, married with a competitive venom. It’s perhaps the only time that those around her could scratch the surface - when one proved to gnaw at the insecure young girl behind the skilled woman. Despite her divisive attitude, she is adaptable and flexible to the nth degree. Poetically called Agent Monet, she is old world whimsy in a seemingly forgettable scene. A known pragmatist that leaves things as she finds it, as if she was never there at all.
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'Shanna O'Hara, Lady Plunder is the daughter of a diamond miner named Gerald O'Hara. Born in Africa, she spent the majority of her childhood growing up in the jungles of Zaire. At the age of six, her father went to kill a rogue leopard that belonged to her mother, Patricia O'Hara. While hunting for the leopard, Shanna's father accidentally killed her mother. This traumatic incident led to Shanna's lifelong crusade against the use of firearms. After the incident, Shanna moved back to the United States to live with relatives. Shanna grows up to become an accomplished Olympic athlete, specializing in competitive swimming and track and field. She then became a licensed veterinarian.
After completing college, Shanna began to work for the Central Park Municipal Zoo in New York City as a zoologist. While working at the zoo, Shanna raised many animals, including a female leopard named Julani. During this period another shock to her system came when Julani was shot and killed by a zoo guard. The following day, the zoo director proposes Shanna take Julani's cubs, Ina and Biri — Yoruba names meaning "bright" and "black", respectively[4] — to the Dahomey Reserve in Africa.
While in Africa, Shanna becomes more attuned to nature, patrolling the jungle and living freely in the wild lands. She begins to wear Julani's fur pelt as a sight-and-sense cue to help with the raising of the cubs. In the jungle, Shanna becomes more and more at home with herself and her new native element, all the while protecting the reserve from poachers as Shanna the She-Devil.[volume & issue needed]
During her stay in Africa, her father is kidnapped by the Mandrill. Shanna searches for him until the wizard Malgato kidnaps her to the Savage Land, a prehistoric jungle within Antarctica. She escapes with the help of Lord Kevin Plunder, a.k.a. the jungle lord Ka-Zar. Shanna returns to Africa to look for her father, and learns he was killed by the Mandrill. Seeking revenge, she goes to North America to aid Daredevil and Black Widow in stopping the Mandrill and Nekra's plan to overthrow the American government.[14]
After this, Shanna travels between San Francisco and the Savage Land, finally returning to Africa only to find Ina and Biri have been killed by a cult leader named Raga-Shah. After a short grieving period in North America, Shanna tracks and kills Raga-Shah by feeding him to her python Ananta. Around this time, she begins therapy with psychologist Dr. Dorothy Betz.[volume & issue needed]
Shanna returned to the Savage Land and became Ka-Zar's lover. They discovered their lost world was only part of a larger realm, Pangea, filled with wondrous races. The couple's relationship was tempestuous: Shanna married Mele of the Botor who died in a hunting accident while with Ka-Zar. Shanna was also targeted by the demonic Belasco (who felt she resembled his lost love Beatrice). When Ka-Zar was seemingly killed while they were in New York, a distraught Shanna rampaged, was institutionalized, and nearly romanced Peter Parker. Shanna was rescued by a revived Ka-Zar, aided by Spider-Man, and the two returned to Antarctica, where they were married despite interference from Belasco and others. They employed the native warrior woman Zhira as nanny and protector of their son Matthew.
They survived the temporary destruction of the Savage Land by Terminus and its later re-creation by the High Evolutionary and Garokk.
Shanna briefly attained a mystical bond to the spirit of Africa, foiling Sir Guy Cross-Wallace who slaughtered and consumed wildlife, seeking the bond himself to rule the continent. Shanna was also briefly given power over the natural world by the High Evolutionary. Together, Ka-Zar and Shanna fight to preserve the Savage Land from external threats and from pollution by technology.
Shanna and Ka-Zar find Skrulls mining the rare metal vibranium in the Savage Land. Soon afterward as part of the "Secret Invasion" storyline, a Skrull ship crashes in the Savage Land releasing earlier versions of modern superheroes (who claim to be the originals replaced by Skrulls for some time), and who have escaped. Shanna and Ka-Zar soon learn however, that these are simply more Skrulls in disguise. Spider-Man soon encounters Ka-Zar, Shanna, Zabu, and some of the natives accusing them of being Skrulls. Just then, the Captain America from the ship attacked thinking the same for Spider-Man. Ka-Zar, Shanna, and Zabu help Spider-Man fight the Captain America from the ship until it is hit by a dart that causes it to regress to a Skrull named Pit'o Nilli. Shanna then kills Pit'o Nilli.[15] Shanna stays behind with Zabu to fight off anymore Skrulls left in the Savage Land while Ka-Zar heads with the New Avengers and the Mighty Avengers to New York to fight the Skrulls.[16]
Ka-Zar and Shanna later encounter the return of the Ethereals and end up fighting them when it comes to the Ethereals wanting the tribes of the Savage Land to be united with them.[17]
As part of the 2012 Marvel NOW! branding in the pages of Savage Wolverine, Shanna agrees to guide a group of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents to a mysterious island within the Savage Land. A dampening field generator causes the transport to crash, and all the agents are killed by the native Neanderthals. At the same time, Wolverine crashes on the island,[18] and joins with Shanna the She-Devil to destroy the dampening field generator. When Shanna the She-Devil is accidentally killed by the Neanderthals after running into Amadeus Cho, Amadeus and the local Neanderthals perform a ritual that involves a Man-Thing different from Ted Sallis that was rooted in the Savage Land for a long time. A blood sample was taken from it and Shanna was reborn. Then they encountered the Hulk where fight between him, Wolverine, and the giant gorillas accidentally damaged the dampening fields which freed the alien Morrigon who returns to his master Visher-Rakk.[19]
During the "Empyre" storyline, Shanna the She-Devil falls under the control of the Cotati that were operating the Savage Land.[20] This was because of Shanna's connection with the Savage Land's lifeforce and the Cotati took advantage of that. Shanna tries to get Ka-Zar to join them as Matthew states to Black Knight that they have to do something. Doctor Voodoo used a trick to do a mental trick. Scarlet Witch does the same as she tries to free Shanna from the Cotati's control. To assist her, Scarlet Witch brings Ka-Zar into Shanna's mind where he learns that some creatures in the Savage Land are dying and trees are falling. As Matthew and Black Knight fight the Cotati, a Doctor Voodoo-controlled Man-Thing fights the Cotati's control and defeats Ventri. When Ka-Zar frees Shanna from the Cotati's control, he is stabbed by a Cotati using Black Knight's Ebony Blade.[21] As Scarlet Witch and Doctor Voodoo work to extract Ka-Zar's soul, Shanna the She-Devil uses the same waters that revived him in order to heal Ka-Zar. It works as Ka-Zar turns the tide on the Cotati invaders where dinosaurs show up to help
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Take Every Thought Captive
Today's inspiration comes from:
Don't Give the Enemy a Seat at Your Table
by Louie Giglio
"I’m a college dropout. Not because I’m not smart enough. But because when I was eighteen years old I was losing the battle of my mind. The Enemy had gained a foothold in my life, and that foothold was called laziness. I could sleep through morning classes like a champ. If there had been an Olympic competition in skipping class and making excuses, I’d have gold medals hanging on the wall. Eventually, the letter arrived from the dean of my program requesting that I kindly take some time off from pursuing my university education.
No worries, I thought. I’ll enroll at the junior college in town.
Not long after, I received a similar notice from them. I had succeeded in failing out of two schools in the same year.
Talk about the Enemy sitting at your table and eating your lunch!
All the while, I still had huge dreams. Through a powerful experience of being called to ministry, I knew God had big plans for my life. I could clearly see my future. But I had lost sight of what it was going to take to get there. I was pumped about eventually going to graduate school for further ministry training. I had just lost interest in the undergraduate grind necessary to get there.
Once the light bulb came on and I connected the two steps, I literally took the next exit on the freeway and within an hour was sitting in that same dean’s office, begging him to let me back into Georgia State. He was gracious, and I was awakened to my future plans and what it was going to take to get there. My identity wasn’t being a college strikeout. I was called by God to preach His Word. I had the capacity to sleep through class, for sure. But, as I demonstrated, I also had the ability to crush two years’ worth of classes (crush in the very best way) in a little over a year. I graduated with my original freshman class and enrolled in grad school on schedule.
I won the battle of my mind. I woke up every day convinced God was going to accomplish through me all He had called me to do. I believed I could be who He created me to be.
Can you see where you want to be?
I’m not only talking about where you want to be in some personal accomplishment, business success, sports endeavor, or financial goal. I’m talking about where you want to be in your soul. I’m talking about being in charge of your thoughts, attitudes, and actions. I’m talking about moving into purpose and living the life God has designed you to live.
Perhaps the Enemy has convinced you that you can’t move from where you are to where you want to be. You’ve listened to the voices of fear. You’ve been caught in the spiral of sin and temptation. You’ve convinced yourself you have no value. Your mind is clouded by worry and uncertainty. The Enemy has accomplished this by sitting down at your table, but you don’t need to let him stay there and get comfortable. You do not have to entertain the Enemy’s voice.
Through Christ, you can move to a place of victory in your life.
This happens when you learn to win the battle for your mind. The Enemy knows this. One of his main ploys is to go after your thought life. He’s patient too. In the garden of Eden, the serpent didn’t shout his temptations to Eve over a loudspeaker. He planted seeds in her mind and waited. He prompted her to question God’s goodness. He coaxed her to wonder if God was withholding something good from her. Eventually Eve relented and let those seeds take root. Eve acted out what she had been thinking about.
That’s how the Enemy works. If he can win the battle for your mind, then he can win the battle for your life. In Numbers 13, when Moses dispatched the twelve spies to explore the land of Canaan in preparation for Hebrew conquest, ten spies returned with a fearful, faithless report. “We can’t attack those people,” the ten spies said, shaking in their boots. “They are stronger than we are…. We seemed like grasshoppers in our own eyes, and we looked the same to them” (Numbers 13:31, Numbers 13:33).
Hang on. How did the ten spies know what they looked like in the Canaanites’ eyes? Did the spies ask their enemies, “Hey, what do you think of us? How small and puny do we look to you?” No, a seed had been planted in the spies’ minds. They tended that seed and let it grow and acted on it, and as a result, they wandered in the desert for the next forty years. They never tasted the promises of God for their lives.
It didn’t have to be that way, in the wilderness never tasting God’s promises — not for them, and not for you and me today.
Victory can be yours. Right here. Right now. Victory is about examining the seeds that have been scattered in your mind and not letting them take root. It’s about pulling up and throwing away the thoughts that do not coincide with the heart of God. It’s about changing the way you think. And one prayer helps in particular.
Victory is not about something you do
Readiness for the Power Prayer
Maybe one of the seeds planted in your mind is doubt. You don’t know if any of this teaching is going to work for you. You’ve tried other ways to change before, and none of them worked, so why should this? Or maybe some change will come, but it won’t last because it’s never lasted before.
Already the Enemy has influenced your mind. Seeds can be scattered in your mind anytime, anywhere, and particularly when you read a book such as this. Before the truth can set you free, you need to see the lies that are holding you hostage. Ask the Holy Spirit to reveal to you which lies you’re believing. Ask Him to be specific. Are you having any of the following thoughts?
I’ll never change.
I’ll feel better if I sin.
The gospel doesn’t really work.
I’m not worth much.
No one loves me.
No one believes in me.
I deserve to be bitter.
I deserve to be filled with rage.
I am my failure.
I am my addiction.
I’ll always be this way.
None of those thoughts came from God! Jesus Christ, the Good Shepherd of John 10 and Psalm 23, did not tell you that you’re a failure. He doesn’t prompt you to worry. He doesn’t provoke you to fear. He provides clarity, not chaos. He doesn’t stick your nose in the vomit of sin. He provides green pastures, not dry wastelands. If any of these things are in your life — fear, worry, temptation, feelings of worthlessness, feelings of confusion — guess what? The Enemy has shown up and dropped a seed in your thinking. He knows that if he can lodge a deceptive thought in your mind that goes unchecked, it will eventually take root and settle into your heart. If you harbor a deceptive thought and let it take up residence within you, in time, you will act on that thought.
Maybe you’re saying, What’s the big deal? It’s just a thought. Nobody sees it except me. It’s harmless. No. All the thoughts we entertain in our minds eventually get played out. Either our attitudes will reflect those deceptive thoughts or our behaviors will.
As he thinks in his heart, so is he. — Proverbs 23:7 NKJV
One way or another, those thoughts will harm us.
That’s why it’s so important for you to step into your new identity in Christ immediately. Jesus is already in the story of victory, and He has invited you into this story with Him. The way you step into that story is by reminding yourself of these truths:
I was a sinner saved by grace who is now a new creation. I do not have to sin.
I am in Christ, and Christ is in me. Christ has all victory, and His victory is mine too.
God is always faithful. He will always provide a way out. I can always take the way out.
Stepping into these truths changes your mind. All twelve of the spies knew that the promised land was good. They all viewed the abundant milk and honey. They all saw a single grape cluster so big it took two men to carry it on a pole (Numbers 13:23). But ten of those spies didn’t believe they could get to the promised land.
How about you? Do you believe you can live in victory? If the answer is no, the deceiver is winning the battle for your mind. He’s real, and he has a real plan. He’s circling your table, ready to sit. So keep this in mind: the stakes are high. This is your life we’re talking about. This is your now. This is your future. This is your family. This is your sanity. Your peace. Your success. Your calling. Your destiny. This is everything God has made you to be. The Devil wants to destroy you. He has no mercy, and he has all the time in the world.
Fortunately, any seeds the Enemy scatters in your mind don’t need to remain for more than a millisecond. Seeds do not need to take root. Any new seeds can be immediately removed. Even seeds that have been there for years can be removed. And it’s not about you using your superpowers. I want to drive this point home. Victory is not about something you do. That’s not the message here. The message is the gospel of Jesus Christ. It’s about what Jesus does for you.
Jesus won the total victory Himself. God makes the way."
Excerpted with permission from Don’t Give the Enemy a Seat at Your Table by Louie Giglio, copyright Louie Giglio.
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Catherine Deneuve in The Truth.
Jimmy Stewart once said that he would quit acting when he no longer liked himself on screen. I thought this was a pretty good rule to go by and so I adopted it for myself. I also thought that age would be the deciding factor – it seemed rare to me that any actor did any of their strongest work during their later years. The obvious physical decline, the dimunition of energy, a loss of creative rigor, the loss of that zing, and a changing of priorities seemed inevitable for all actors. That is until I saw Catherine Deneuve’s performance in Hirokazu Kore-eda’s The Truth – it is striking to the extent that it has forced me to re-examine my beliefs on acting and aging.
Deneuve plays Fabienne Dangeville, a Cesar-winning grand dame of the French cinema. The character’s echo of Deneuve’s own life is obvious, but how much of Kore-eda’s script is based on Deneuve is difficult to discern. Although in an interview with Filmmaker Magazine, the director stated the following; ‘When Catherine Deneuve agreed to appear, I conducted a long interview with her about her own career. So her own experiences and emotions are definitely reflected in the final film.’ He adds; ‘Catherine Deneuve was quite clear from the beginning that she was nothing like Fabienne. So she was able to distance herself from the character and sort of chuckle about her.‘
Dangeville is visited at home by her daughter, a New York-based screenwriter – Juliette Binoche – along with her husband, a sort of second-rate American TV actor beautifully played by Ethan Hawke, and their young daughter. Dangeville has recently published her memoirs which in turn creates family strife because Binoche views them more or less as a work of fiction. Against this backdrop, there is a film-within-a-film; we see Dangeville at work on the set of a sci-fi feature, where she is determined not to be outdone by the young starlet playing the lead. Dangeville is vain, self-centred, competitive, ruthless, unappreciative of the work of her entourage, but she is also charming, witty, mischievous, charismatic and serious about her art.
Catherine Deneuve’s performance as Fabienne Dangeville is one of the strongest in her extraordinary body of work. It would be a classic by any actor, but what makes Deneuve’s performance here so striking is that she delivers it at the age of 75. Most would have retired from acting altogether by this stage of life, but Deneuve is busily doing some of her best work. In Hirokazu Kore-eda’s The Truth, she is vibrant and vivid; her wit and charisma are intact, her playfulness and intent are unabashed, and she still posesses an intense emotional energy, mostly revealed through the eyes. And critically, she maintains her creative appetite even after appearing in well over 100 films stretching back to 1957. Again, most actors seem jaded at this point, but Deneuve’s creativity is as focussed as it ever was.
What’s the secret then? Why is Deneuve so unusual in maintaining the standard of her work well into her 70s? What is it about her that enables her to do that?
Might we look back at her early performances during the 1960s and see in her reserve and her coolness a young soul setting itself up for the long haul?
Deneuve is a minimalist. She has never been an especially physical actor, nor has she relied on emotional force in the way that, say, Claudia Cardinale did. Deneuve’s is the art of witholding. She pares it back, giving importance to the small details of performance, so that when something does happen – a flicker of emotion across the eyes, a gesture with the arm – it is expressive. Her aesthetic is inside-out to that of most other actors. By her own admission she is an instinctive introvert, and it is this introversion, this desire to withold, coupled with the automatic exhibitionism that comes with standing in front of a camera, that produces her fascinating on-screen tension. Deneuve is cool, still, precise, she doesn’t strain when many actors do – she channels rather summons. This minimalist aesthetic is less reliant on energy levels, and more about the actor’s relationship to camera. It is a spiritual, concentrated form of acting and therefore does not require the body to be in the shape of an Olympic athelete. Naturally then, this minimlism would more easily cope with the aging process, take it in it’s stride, may even benefit from it.
Another clue to the longevity of Deneuve’s excellence may rest within the film itself. The Truth features some lovely meta-moments when Deneuve’s Dangeville discusses acting itself. In one such scene she imparts the following to Ethan Hawke…
” Save your energy for your acting … it’s not a job you can do halfway …. the daily grind doesn’t matter … you know what I think? … When actresses start getting involved in charity and politics … they’ve lost, vis a vis the profession. They’ve lost the battle on screen, so they dive into reality. They pretend to fight against reality . Understand? It’s not the contrary. I’ve always won that battle. That’s why I can withstand solitude. ”
Yes, it’s difficult to discern how much of Hirokazu Kore-eda’s script is influenced by Deneuve’s own life and work, but one senses that the bit of philosophy imparted above, would meet with her approval. To live in solitude and fight against reality is to live in one’s imagination. In addition to a minimal aesthetic then, the maintenance of a potent imaginary life is intrinsic to artistic longevity.
The Truth, UK poster
Catherine Deneuve in The Truth
Hirokazu Kore-eda, Catherine Deneuve and Ethan Hawke
RELATED READING
A Lesson From Catherine Deneuve In Belle De Jour – Accentuate Your Individuality
Catherine Deneuve In The Hunger – Compassion And Acceptance
RESOURCES
Hirokazu Kore-eda – Interview in Filmmaker Magazine
RECENT POSTS IN THE GREAT ACTING BLOG
Acting As If…
Michel Piccoli – Vision Of An Actor
Subscribe To The Great Acting Blog
Catherine Deneuve In The Truth – Artistic Longevity | The Great Acting Blog Jimmy Stewart once said that he would quit acting when he no longer liked himself on screen.
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2019 Mini Bang Entrants
cover art by @thats-my-bulma
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DIVE by @rockykelboa // Rated E // 13,448 Words
Vegeta is a former boxing champ that inherited his father's dive bar. This story is told from his perspective during one night's work as he tries his best to put up with all the people around him […]
Artwork by @gilbec7796 / Artwork by @bianww
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Sanguinary by @ibitchytimemachine // Rated E // 21,309 words
How much does our circumstance shape who we turn out to be? When Prince Vegeta spies a vicious woman in the fighting pits of Vegeta-sei, his decisions regarding her will shape the lives of his people […]
Artwork by @k17
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Aspara, Queen of Sadala by @lisac1965-blog // Rated M // 15,922 Words
A refugee on the planet Sadala, Bulma, along with several young Saiyan women, is taken by order of King Vegeta to the palace to vie as queen. Forced to use her Saiyan name and conceal her human […]
Artwork by @jadefyre
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Healing by @starrcrossrose // Rated M // 24,525 Words
Life is about survival. Survival is about strength. "Show no weakness." That's all Vegeta has ever known. It's all he would ever know, and all he would ever need. At least, that's what he thought. […]
Artwork by @hannabelllecter
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The Dark Prince by Embarassedbutkinky // Rated E // 18,241 Words
Bulma's company has fallen on rough times, and she's willing to do just about anything to save it. When two demons show up and offer her success, she's willing to sell her soul, but that's not what […]
Artwork by @bianww / Artwork by @arinanodraws
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Beatae Memoriae by @ambrosiaswhispers // Rated E // 15,724 Words
What starts as a normal Friday takes a dark turn when Vegeta is injured due to a gravity room malfunction. The memories of his life on Earth are almost entirely gone, and he sees his home as a prison […]
Artwork by @greatrageshortlegs
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War Thunder by @jonahwhalesw1 // Rated E // 24,994 Words
In the midst of World War II, the Nazis, backed by the technology and vast armies of the Cold Empire, threatens the World, making the Axis powers nearly unstoppable in might. But standing against […]
Artwork by @gilbec7796 / Artwork by @choobi-doodles
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Life at the Edge of a Blade by @bearstarseraphffxi // Rated G // 20,459 Words
After an argument while watching the Winter Olympic Figure Skating Short Program competition, Yamcha challenges Vegeta to a competition at the local ice rink. Little does Yamcha know this simple bet […]
Artwork by @theash0 / Artwork by @gilbec7796
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Blinded by @scarletraven1001 // Rated T // 14,800 Words
Career-driven and focused, Bulma usually finds men boring. When a blind date leaves her stuck with another loser, her wandering eyes land on an intriguing hottie, grudgingly wasting the night by […]
Artwork by @rucifie / Artwork by Tepepany / Artwork by @katschusa
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A Mermaid's Tale by DBZBV1991 // Rated M // 15,740 Words
The youngest princess of a flourishing kingdom falls in love with a prince of a kingless empire. The problems should end there. Instead, this is just the beginning of an incredible adventure about […]
Artwork by @bianww
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#badman by @1vulgarwoman // Rated E // 17,319 Words
MMA champion, Vegeta Prince, is trending on social media, and he isn’t exactly happy about it. When rumors about his dark past threaten his career, he finds an unlikely fan in genius scientist and […]
Artwork by @king-geets / Artwork by Tepepany
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Captive by @janxangel // Rated T // 24,979 Words
In this universe, the events of the past are a bit different, which has led to some big changes as the present and future unfold. Bulma leads a nation, and Prince Vegeta has become her prisoner.
Artwork by @theash0 / Artwork by @rutbisbe
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Elusion by @piccoloisgreen // Rated E // 19,550 Words
By nature of its design, the Planet Trade Organisation divides everyone it encounters into three core groups; (1) those who work for Cooler, (2) those who work for Frieza, and (3) the deceased victims […]
Artwork by @hannabelllecter / Artwork by @thats-my-bulma
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Within by @blacksheep1105 // Rated T // 11,020 Words
Vegeta’s regular nightmares drive him to train excessively, leading to him getting hurt in a dangerous Gravity Room accident. After Bulma treats his wounds he notices that she had begun to ask too […]
Artwork by @rucifiesart / Artwork by @katschusa
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Legends by LeonaHart // Rated M // 11,909 Words
Legends of old tell of a god of destruction, long before Beerus, who was the mightiest in existence. He longed for a race of warriors, created in his image of greatness, that won every battle and […]
Artwork by @sbubbia
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Z-Men by @supersaiyanerd // Rated T // 9,994 Words
Vegeta Ouji finds himself thrust in a new world when laser claws burst through his hands. Bulma Briefs has grown up understanding she's meant to do terrible things with her unearthly psychic power […]
Artwork by @dragonbabezee
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Revel (In Our Time) by @jadefyre // Rated E // 19,958 Words
Rising from the ashes of the Red Ribbon scandal, ColdCorp sets out to do what its predecessor could not: create an android with human intuition and machine reflexes. While its Director prepares to […]
Artwork by @rutbisbe
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Meet HALEY STERLING. They are EIGHTY-EIGHT years old and hail from SYDNEY, AUS. Haley embodies the constellation, CORVUS. They use she/her pronouns. Their faceclaim is VIRGINIA GARDNER.
Corvus reminds me of somersaults through the grass on a cool summer night, calloused hands and bruised thighs, crystal clear laughter, cups of tea left to chill on the windowsill and then forgotten about, anime with a prominent cherry blossom motif, bubble tea, a collection of succulents (each named and loved), cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment, and the excitement from catching a rare pokemon.
BIOGRAPHY
To understand Haley is to understand her family, and even that might raise more questions than answers. If you ask her though, it’s really quite simple. She was lucky enough to grow up in a community that promoted individuality and love in its purest forms. There was never a moment where Haley felt like she didn’t have the world at her fingertips, and even before she had her first incident of accidentally charming one of her cousins into the middle of a mud pile after he pulled her hair, she knew that magic wasn’t just a gift from the stars. It was, and always has, surrounded her.
Now, as for Haley herself, she’s never been able to sit still for very long. She would always be running around the acres of land owned by the commune, and trying to get her to focus on anything for more than ten minutes was like pulling teeth. Not that that was an issue within her community, but it did have the side effect of Haley wanting to try out any and everything she could get her hands on — from music (yikes) to soccer (girl is not a team player) to surfing (she’ll leave that to her sister; Haley is much too big a baby). Then, at the age of 6 (a newborn, by magic standards), she began taking gymnastics and everything fell into place. Even as a child, Haley had a competitive streak that told her family she would excel at sports. When that was paired with the unparalleled feeling of nailing a new move or improving her balance, it was like finding a second home. And not to brag, but Haley is good at gymnastics. It’s the one thing she’s able to pour every last ounce of her ambition and drive into. She knows she could’ve been an Olympic athlete if she really wanted to, but there’s bound to be some eyebrows raised when they ask for her age and she tells them she was born in the 1930s. That’s okay, though. While she loves the feeling of victory, Haley much prefers the internal satisfaction of knowing that she’s spent decades honing her skills.
If family is her first greatest love, and gymnastics is her second, then being a total fucking nerd easily takes the number three spot. She practically cried when she attended the first Star Trek convention in 1972, and she eagerly watched every episode of Astro Boy as it premiered to English-speaking citizens in the 1960s. If it can get you labelled as a nerd, Haley has probably tipped her toes into its waters. While gymnastics helped her to focus herself, nerddom gave her a chance to escape into any number of different worlds. There was a particular peace that came with pretending she was onboard the Enterprise, or being sucked into the Digital World alongside Tai and his friends. That’s not to say Haley isn’t in touch with reality; she is, and she hates it. A little escapism never hurt anyone, right?
Her passions ultimately became the one thing to keep her sane over time. Corvus appeared on her skin at a young age and for years, no one quite knew what it meant other than that Haley was a true witch. The first premonition Haley had was at the age of 14, when she saw an older member of their commune being crushed by a tractor. She cried and cried and cried, not realizing that it had been in her head rather than reality. That peace only lasted for a few days, when that tragic incident came to pass out of nowhere. It scared people to know that Haley had seen something horrific, and it scared her even more when those visions never went away. They were unpredictable, and for a time, Haley was terrified to even sleep, worried that they would find their way into her dreams as well. Those years... were not kind to Haley, lets put it like that.
If she were anyone else, or raised any other way, Haley doesn’t know if she would have survived. But she did, and while she refuses to talk about the sleepless nights or the painful waking days, in hindsight, she has a certain respect for them. Instead of letting them drive her mad, Haley turned to her vices as a means of keeping herself in high spirits. It never fully worked to make the visions of death and pain more palatable, but it did allow her to have some form of hope. There was a period where she thought that telling people about their fates could make them change it, but she quickly learned that those things will always come to pass no matter what. To be quite frank, there is nothing Haley can do about it. And she’s had to accept that.
At the end of the day, Haley can list many of her faults before anyone else has a chance, She’s not the brightest crayon in the box, her competitive nature has a habit of getting the better of her, and she’s terrible at reading a room. She’s insecure, naive, a little too loud and a little too much for many people. But in her eyes, she’s already seen the worst that humanity has to offer. Rather than letting her fear control, she’s spent decades of her life working through balancing the good with the bad in her life. She didn’t initially want to go to Polaris but when she heard Jemma would be attending, Haley could think of nothing better than joining her. It’s really just another adventure, and one she intends on enjoying.
INCLINATION
In terms of magic, Corvus is one of a handful of constellations able to tap into darkness in its truest form. Much like its symbol, the Crow, Corvus is often times viewed as somewhat of a bad omen, which is not completely unfounded. Individuals with this sponsorship have the gift of premonitions, but only in the extreme. The things they foretell are nothing if not horrific, and it’s not unheard of for people with these powers to lose their minds from the tragedy they see. As a sick joke, Corvus also draws its energy from the negative thoughts of others — the more a user is disliked, the more powerful they are. The key to mastering Corvus lies in having a soul that remains true in spite of knowing the worst; the magic users that Corvus chooses to sponsor are always at random, with the stars hoping someone will stand up to that test.
CONNECTIONS
Filling the role of Samantha Evans’ nerdmance.
Filling the role of Robin Wright-Yang’s opposites attract.
Protector: So Haley is a bit of an idiot. Scratch that, she’s a major idiot, and she has a penchant for trusting too easily. And, with a power as capable of dark magic as hers, its not hard to believe that some people would want to use that for their own agenda. This person is someone who not only keeps an eye out for Haley to make sure she doesn’t accidentally buy a time share or get indoctrinated into a cult, but who also is there to help keep away any more nefarious scammers.
Penned by Jeanne ★
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Young Hope: Chapter 27
The twinkling night sky glistens over the metropolis of Townsville, the Spicer manor lighting through the darkness as the sound of applause escapes its walls.
Within the living room of the abode itself, a small crowd of friends and family applaud and cheer surrounding the oldest son of the estate; Kingsley holding what looked to be a gold medal in the palms of his hands.
The cheers of the small crowd dying down, the boy genius reads the words engraved in the medals reflective gold; saying:
“1st place in the Townsville national gadgeteers competition.”
After reading the engraving aloud, Kingsley turns back to the welcoming crowd behind him, announcing to them all that:
“An award that I couldn’t have begun to imagine winning these past few days.
I can’t thank everyone enough for their love, their smart thinking, and their endless support. I sincerely mean it when I say I couldn’t have won this without all of you. Thank you.”
“I was all you, Kingsley. You earned that reward.” Persi compliments.
“You did such a fantastic job sweetie.” his mother applauds.
“Way to go, Spicer.” Cayenne simply cheers.
Despite the almost overwhelming ovation the boy genius gets, only one among the cheering circle outright refuses to join in; Kingsley younger sister glaring through the crowd with her bleak and contemptuous gaze.
Chloe’s sour mood only worsens when she witnesses their father approach her smiling brother take the golden medal from him and claim that:
“Beating out the entire gadgeteers expo on the first try ain’t something any genius can do. How bout we put this somewhere everyone can see.”
Venturing out to the bookshelf on the side of the living room, the father perches the golden reward right in the middle of the shelf; taking center stage next to a collection of various other award owned by his son.
“Aw dad, that hunk of gold ain’t nothing. Its the people that helped me along the way that matter more.”
Kingsley’s cheesy line causes the crowd to erupt in a whale of applause and laughter, the cheering proving to be the last straw that his red headed sister can take before taking her leave in a bitter huff; her mother being the only one to notices her departure.
In her stomping huff through the living room, Chloe fails to catch the emergency news broadcast playing on their television; the reporter warning that:
“-advise everyone to stay inside their homes for the night. The coma epidemic that has been plaguing the entire city this past week is still ongoing and a plausible source has not been identified. Again, our station advises everyone listening to stay in their homes and lock any and all ways in.”
Reaching the front door of their home, Chloe readies to head out; her hand on the knob right when she hears her mom grab her attention with:
“Where are you going, honey?”
“I’m...I’m going over to Serena’s for a bit. I promised to help her out with her potions.”
“Alright, sweetie. Are you going to be okay?”
“I’ll be fine mom. I just need to go.” the red head states before making her exit.
As she watches her only daughter close their door behind her, the mother can’t help but let out a worrying groan; knowing full well that Chloe is not as fine as she claims to be.
Strolling down the lonesome darkened streets of Townsville, the young red head can’t help but rant aloud to herself about on:
“Stupid Kingsley and his stupid rewards and his stupid accomplishments.
Its not like I don’t have any kind of rewards that I earned over the years, no. It’s always just about Kingsley, isn’t it. Of course everything I do just winds up getting swept out of the spotlight.
I win the national spelling bee, he wins the science fair project.
I take home the gold in the school athletic olympics, Kingsley gets all the praise for his portable fusion reactor.
I get an actual A+ on my science test, my brother gets rewards on teaching the whole damn class on fission experiments!
It’s not fair! It’s just not fair!”
Despite her self pitying cries ringing through the entire block, not a single soul around is there to hear her plea; her screaming eventually dying down into apathetic silence.
“You’re right. It certainly isn’t fair.”
The unexpected voice echoing nearby suddenly makes the young girl jump, Chloe’s gaze swiftly scanning through the immediate streets in attempting to find who has shared their sympathy; alas finding nobody else around.
“Just keep it together, Chloe. You’re probably just hearing things. Nothing but your own imagination.”
“Oh contraire, my young budding rose; I’m no mere illusion conjured by your young adolescent mind.
Nay, you’ve been humbly graced by a being from the very heavens themselves; here to free you from your woes and ease your mind.”
Despite shaking in her shoes, the young lady stands still in the midst of this new disembodied voice; questioning on with:
“Why are you so worried about me?”
“Because, dear Chloe; your brother isn’t the only special one in the family. You boast so much more potential than you realize. So much so that it could surpass your own brothers feats, leaving you the shining star in everyone eyes.”
“Really...how?”
“All that you need is already is already around your little neck.”
The voice in her head revealing such, Chloe pulls out the amazon crystal tucked underneath her dress; its pink glow permeating through the surrounding darkness.
“My crystal?”
“Indeed. That little trinket you have holds underneath its silky smooth shell the awesome power of the gods, awaiting for you to unleash its raw energy into this world.”
“It has that much?...I was only able to fly and make such small things with it.”
“It can do far more than just that. That stone can do far more than you can possibly imagine. Such potential around your neck could surpass even gods, much less, your own brother.
I can show the kind of woman you could truly be with such power under your control, all you have do is open your heart...to me...”
Such a golden promise echoing in her head, the red heads entire body ceases to tremble as she stares upon the glimmering sheen of her amazon crystal; the consuming shadows around her fleeing from its growing pink light.
As the afternoon sun bakes down the rooftop of the blue boys abode, both Tore and Mally stand at their mothers own bedside underneath; their eyes locked to her motionless, sleeping body.
The dark purple dressed witch doctor slides her hands across the moms body, gliding her finger towards her eyes to open them; the mothers pupils bleak and soulless.
“Hmm...this definitely isn’t good. How long has she been like this?” Serena questions.
“Mom’s been in bed for a day and half straight. I thought she was just tired, but she been out cold this morning too. We tried everything to snap her awake; shake her, cold water, smelling salt, nothing worked.” Mally explains.
“We thought she might’ve been hurt on the inside or something; but no matter how much I heal her, she just won’t wake up.” Tore adds.
“We tried phoning for every hospital in town, but they’re too busy to even tell us to fuck off.”
“I doubt any of them would be much help anyway. Her body isn’t the problem here.” the witch doctor informs.
“Its her soul, isn’t it?” all of them hear from behind.
All in the room glance to the door to find the purple merc leaning against the doorway, Roy staring to the mothers unconscious body.
“Roy! You’re back!” Mally exclaims.
“How’d your date with Roxy go?” Tore asks.
To his blue brothers question, the merc can’t bare to make direct eye contact with either of them; his gaze drifting to the corner of the room.
“Oh...that bad huh?”
Fixing his eyes back to the three, the purple merc continues to asses the situation at hand by claiming that:
“Her souls isn’t there, is it?”
“That’s right on the mark. Even with her body at its healthiest; without her soul dwelling within her, she’ll never wake up.”
“No problem then, we just find her soul and put it back in. Should be easy enough.” Tore simply states.
“If only it were. You say a day and a half has passed since her souls been taken. If it doesn’t get back to her with two more, then her physical body shall become malnourished and she’ll eventually… she’ll eventually die.”
The witch doctors harrowing warning sends the trio in a frightening scare; all three of them gazing upon the comatose body of their literally soulless mother.
“Roy, can you tell where mom’s soul flew off to?” the blue boy questions his purple brother.
“I might. A few sweeps around the city might give us the clues we need.”
“The hell are we standing here like idiotic asshats here? Let’s get lookin!” Mally declares.
“First, we need to contend with a couple of migraines ready to bust through our door.” Roy warns.
“What migraines?”
Right on questioning such, all of them hear a loud crash echoing out from the living room; the sound of wood breaking filling the house before somebody scream:
“Knock knock, fuckers! We in the house!”
“Cayenne! Why’d you break the door down!? We could’ve just knocked!”
“Those migraines.”
Racing into the living room, everyone discovers both Kingsley and Cayenne standing before them; chunks of the front door scattered beneath their feet.
“Hey guys, you couldn’t have come at a better time.” the blue angel greets.
“Mind if I kindly ask what kind of drugged enchilada dipping sauce you ate urged you two to reduce our front door into an example of cheap wood craftsman ship?” the merc question.
“It was me.” Serena points out.
The trio glancing to the witch doctor behind them, they find Serena with her phone out; claiming that:
“I told them to meet me here.”
“This is perfect. We could really use your help, I-”
Before the blue boy could finish asking for their aid, Cayenne pushes Tore aside as she approaches Serena; soon questioning her if:
“Chloe said she was crashing at your place last night. You seen her?”
“What? I’ve just been sorting through potions in my basement the other night. I didn’t hear her say anything about coming over.”
“Did something happen to her?” Mally asks.
“She went out during a little party we had last night and hasn’t come back home since.” Kingsley informs.
“You try reaching her through her cell?” Tore wonders as he rises, dusting off the splinters stuck to his clothes.
“We’ve tried everything. Phone, voicemails, e-mail, social media accounts; nothing comes up.
She’s never been off the radar on her social for this long before, my parents are going insane; they launched a full blown police investigation just to find her.”
“And you sure she’s just not passed out in a ditch crying somewhere, cause a full night toiling in your own overblown teenage drama bullshit can do that to a kid?” Roy wonders.
“It doesn’t matter what happened to her now. All that matters now is that you hustle your asses outta here and help us find her. Got it?” the spice queen demands.
“Yeah, not to sound like a veiny throbbing cock here; but fuck that. We got our own problems to deal with.” the merc turns down.
“Sorry guys, but Roy is right. We don’t have the time. We gotta save our mom before she withers away.” Mally adds.
“Its alright guys. We get it. Hope you guys can save her in time.”
Out the broken down doorway, Tore, Roy, and Mally all glide out towards the west side of the city; leaving behind them their three visitors.
As they stroll away from the broken down door frame, the witch doctor turns her attention to the boy genius and asks if:
“Now Kingsley, do you happen to have anything on you that your sister might’ve worn before she disappeared.”
“Uh, yeah. Gimme a sec...”
After confirming such, Kingsley digs through his jean pockets to pull out a lone diamond earring; claiming that:
“This is what she was wearing the night before the party. Its one of her favorite earrings.”
“Kingsley, why did you bring that with us?” Cayenne wonders.
“I figured bringing it to police could help them track her down. Couple of sniffs from their German shepherds noses would’ve gotten them running after her trail in no time.”
“I can assure you that my magic is far more efficient then any dogs the police may use.”
Taking the small accessory from the genius, Serena clasps the earring in the soft palms of her hands; a soft pink glow leaking out from the cracks of her fingers.
This enchanting glow soon ventures ahead through the suburban air, the trio witnessing the pink trail drifting towards the city ahead; the witch doctor declaring that:
“This aura trail should reveal to us the path Chloe had taken in the last 24 hours. Hopefully, she hasn’t strayed into a bad part of town and-”
Before Serena could explain any further, she feels herself rising from the concrete pavement; glancing to her side to witness the spice queen sweeping her off her feet.
Ascending from the roadway herself, Cayenne grabs hold of the boy genius beside her; tossing both him and the witch doctor on her back as she declares that:
“The hell we standing around like a couple of jack offs here for then? Lets getting moving!”
All three of them left on the clock, the spice queen whisks both of them away from the calm suburban neighborhood and towards the deep urban jungle of downtown Townsville.
The trio flying past the countless towering skyscrapers, the boy genius is left stuck on his phone; quelling the incoherent blubbering sounding out on the other end with:
“Mom...mom...mom…please calm down. I’m sure if the police are too busy to help us, then I’m sure we can handle it ourselves. We already have Chloe’s trail and are following it as we speak...Yeah...Yeah...love you too...Bye.”
As Kingsley puts his phone away, the spice queen underneath him grabs his attention with:
“Think that might take more time then you think.”
“Why?” the boy genius questions as he gazes to the skyline ahead of them.
Before the airborne trio, they discover another of the red heads aura trail venturing out in a different direction; Kingsley questioning the witch doctor with them if:
“Uh Serena, this wouldn’t happen to be part of your spell, would it?”
“It certainly looks that way. Maybe Chloe took a little detour.”
“Doesn’t matter what the hell she’s doin; we just gotta pick one. Thinkin that the new trail can get us to her faster?”
“I don’t think so. For all we know, it could be a route she took before hand. Lets stay on the one were following just to be on the safe side.” Kingsley claims.
“Whatev.”
Their course fixed, all of them keep to the aura trail they were following; the trio continuing to glide deeper into the urban jungle.
Following the red heads pink aura eventually has them reach Townsville’s city square; Cayenne stops in the middle of the air right before the square, causing her two passengers to nearly fall.
“Ah, Cayenne! What happened? Why’d you stop?” her best friend questions.
Once getting their grips back on the spice queens back, both Kingsley and Serena gaze out to the site that caused her to halt in her tracks; their collective jaws going agap.
Woven throughout the entire city square like a bright pink spiders web, Chloe’s trail venture in and out its countless twist and turns; rising and falling across both its streets and skyline.
“Chloe flew this much in just one night? That-That’s insane. What was she even doing going through here like this?”
“The fuck is this clusterfuck? How the hell are we supposed to figure out where she went with this horseshit?”
Cayenne barks.
“This is quite the troubling predicament! I’m not sure any spells I can do right now can sort through this mess.” Serena admits.
“You got any that might?” the boy genius questions.
“I could whip up a concoction that would be more than up for the job, though it may take some time for me to brew.”
“Just give us a call when its ready.”
The boy genius suggesting such, the witch doctor leaps off the spice queens backside; dissipating in a wave of sparkles.
After Serena leaves them, both Kingsley and Cayenne continue forth with their search; following one of the many aura trails woven through the city square.
Flying out from around the neighboring corner, Tore, Roy, and Mally continue their own search through the depths of the urban jungle; the purple merc concentrating as they glide across the city skyline.
“You getting any kind of read yet, bro?” Mally questions.
“Nrr...Still nothing…I’m starting to think whoever took moms soul might’ve dragged it outta town by now.”
A frustrated growl escapes from their orange haired sisters teeth; the skater claiming on how:
“We don’t have that kinda time! If they really did ditch town, then we’ll never find them like this. We need a lead or something to give us an edge in this investigation.”
“More like a whole damn police report.”
While both of his siblings continue flying forth, Tore breaks right in front of the massive TV screen beside them, the screen broadcasting the news network as its reporter states how:
“The coma epidemic plaguing the city this past week has exploded last night. Cases of over 6 dozen people left comatose in their homes coming in from every corner of the city.”
Before straying too far ahead, Mally glances back to discover their blue brother left staring to the city square television; grabbing her purple brother with:
“Roy, hol up. Think Tore might be falling behind.”
“Dammit, again? Swear to Hera, if he thinks he sees a crack in the road that looks like a third world country again; I’m gonna smack him into it.”
The duo retreat back towards their brother’s side, finding him captivated by the massive monitor perched over the town square; the black winged merc claiming that:
“Christ sake, man; we’re on the job. Get yer sorry blue ass in gear and-”
“Hang on, Roy. Look.” their sister implores; pointing to the oversized TV itself.
As all of them gaze upon the ongoing news report, they hear the reporter herself continue her story with:
“Hospitals all over town are crowded with all the countless comatose victims coming in, and the increasing numbers not giving them a single break.
Even as the police are unfortunately still at a loss on who might be behind these escalating attacks, the boys in blue vow to not to rest until they catch the culprit responsible. I’m Jessie Blankman, signing off.”
After the news broadcast comes to a close, a commercial for pine scented baking soda comes on; Mally talking over the commercial by questioning if:
“You think all that might be related to our moms soul getting snatched?”
“Could be a good place to get a lead at least.” the blue angel claims.
“It ain’t like we got anything else to go off of.” the purple merc reminds them.
A destination in mind, the trio rocket away from the jumbo sized monitor and further above the skyline; gliding north away from the city square.
“Yeah, no. You guys ain’t getting in.”
Out at the front entrance of the hospital itself, a lone police officer prevents the trio from barging inside; standing against the entrance doors.
“What!?” Tore shouts.
“Fuck off!” Roy bark.
“Why not!?” Mally questions.
“Its cause the staff and police in there are way too busy taking care of all the comatose patients coming from all over the city.
So unless any of you have sustained any life threatening injuries or know any victims inside for visiting hours, I’m afraid I can’t let you all in.”
“As a matter of fact, officer, we do know somebody inside and we oh so desperately want to see them in their hour of need.” the blue angel dramatically feigns.
“Oh really, mind giving a last name?”
“Of course, dear police woman of the law. Its...uh...”
While attempting to conjure from the bowls of his mind a plausible last name, the blue boy gazes around for whatever he could for reference; first catching a passing truck with buttered corn on a kob.
“Corn...”
The next to enter is field of vision be an open manhole, several worker attempting to redirect traffic as one of them accidently falls in.
“hole...a...”
He manages to craft the final piece of his faux last name by glancing to a sign on the wayside, finishing with:
“Sign...”
Turning back to the officer with a smile, the blue angel takes in a deep breath and claims to her that:
“You’re not really buying this, are you?”
“Obviously not.”
“Even if you don’t believe that bullshit, we actually do have somebody that has medical treatment.” Roy suddenly protest.
“And that would be-”
Before the police woman could finish questioning the merc, everyone proves shocked to witness the young purple teenager slug himself right in the kidney; the self inflicted punch causing Roy to double over in pain.
After coughing out pint of blood from his mouth, the merc looks up to the officer as he moans and wheezes if:
“Now you mind letting us in.”
The officers shock swiftly deflates before the downed purple merc, the police woman dead face demanding that:
“Please leave before I have you all arrested.”
Along the opposite side of the hospital behind the dumpster, Tore has his hand firmly placed along his purple brother’s side; a soft white glow enveloping the part of his waist as he screams:
“What a big blue bitch! Practically spilling out my own insides on the hot concrete and she won’t ask if I was alright. Outta have her sorry sexy ass fired for turning down somebody in need like that. Fuck her with a barbed cattle prod.”
“Since just busting through the front door is obviously not an option, how else are we supposed to get inside?” Mally ponders.
“I don’t get it. Can’t we just sneak inside through the roof?” the blue angel wonders.
“And have a ton of people wonder who we are. And why we’re there? Face it. There’s way too many staff on hand right now to sneak inside reliably.”
“Not to mentions it would eat too much of our time up. Unless we happen to have a police uniform on hand, getting through would be next to impossible.”
Right in that moment does the sharp sound of a brief siren horn penetrate their ears; all of their eyes drawn to the nearby corner.
Peeking beyond the hospitals brick corner, all three of them find the back of a lone cop car parked along the side of the building; housing only a single police officer inside.
“Guess we found our uniform. Now we just have to find a way to get it.” Tore claims.
“I think I might know how.” Roy claims with a devious grin.
“Does it involve beating the crap outta that cop?” Mally questions.
“Yees.”
From the comfort of his heated cop car, the lone policeman peels back the paper lid of his steaming cup of noodles; the aroma of vegetables and pork filling the inside of the vehicle.
He digs his fork into a bit of the soft noodles dwelling within the cup, pulling them up towards his mouth as the steam escapes from within.
Mere seconds before he could savor their flavor, a desperate plead for help penetrates the shell of his cop car; the officer hearing somebody cry out:
“Officer, help!”
Glancing to the side, the policemen discovers an orange haired girl right outside his window; hearing her further plead on how:
“My brothers bleeding out behind the hospital. I can’t carry him by myself.”
Hearing this, the upstanding officer swiftly puts his cup of noodles away and rushes out the door; promising the girl that:
“Don’t worry. I’ll help you carry your brother inside. Where is he?”
“He’s around the corner! Hurry!”
Claiming such, the kind officer follows the young girl out beyond the corner of the hospital; rushing out to the other side as he informs how:
“Hang on, son. The docs inside will patch you right...uh...”
Perplexing the policeman, he finds not a single soul awaiting behind the corner; not even so much as a body to discover.
“Hold on, where is you broth-”
Just before the officer could finish questioning the girl, he soon feels the brunt of the purple angels knuckles punch him square in the face; the blunt strike proving more than enough to knock the man in blue clean out.
Hog tied and stripe of his uniform, the unconscious officer is tossed right in the dumpster; the blue angel shutting the lid and turning to his siblings to ask if:
“So, you think he’s gonna be okay in their while we “Borrow” his clothes.”
“Ah don’t worry. I’m sure the dozens of diseased ridden rats and cockroaches’ll keep him plenty busy.” Roy claims as he dusts off their freshly pilfered uniform.
The merc then tosses the blue uniform over to his blue brother and demands that he:
“Now get dressed, you’re sneakin in.”
Catching the uniform in his arms, Tore wonders:
“Me? Why can’t either of you do it.”
“Reason Mally can’t do it is cause nobody’s gonna reliably believe that a cop would be that damn short.”
This passive aggressive comment gets the purple merc a hockey stick to the head, alongside his sister claiming that:
“I’m still growing, asshole!”
“And the reason you can’t?” Tore persists.
“Agh! Cause strolling around as an officer with one arm is just asking to get ya stopped constantly with:
“Oh, how did you lose your arm?” or “You must have been some hero willing to sacrifice your limb to save someone else.”
Like “Bitch, I ain’t got any of yo time for your curious bullshit! I’m on the fuckin clock! Move yo sexy ass’s aside; I got shit to do.”
I’d just be that kinda Saturday night show on repeat the entire god damn time.”
“Alright, fine. Just gimme a couple minutes to get dressed and get in there.”
Requesting this, the blue angel ascends to the roof of the hospital with the uniform in hand; parts of his clothes fluttering down to his awaiting siblings.
Coming out from the doorway leading to the rooftop, the blue angel enters the polished white halls of the city’s hospital; tucking in his blue hair underneath the signature police cap.
Passing by a hallway mirror, the officer impersonator stops to take a good look at himself in uniform; realizing that he pulls off blue like a beast.
Still, that ain’t much of a surprise. We’re talking about the guy that combos with a blazer pretty damn well. Wonder if this uniform comes in white.
Interrupting his self reflecting be the harsh sound of a child’s cry; the disguised angel’s eyes drifting off to the nearby door.
Glancing through the doors window, he discovers a woman and her child at the beside of a comatose patient; the little boy left sobbing in tears from his fathers unconscious body.
A saddening site that further drives the blue boys determination, though urges him to look somewhere else to let his siblings inside.
While venturing away from the occupied patients room, the disguised boy in blue hears a sudden voice underneath him filtered by static; Tore glancing to his belt to find the police radio going off and broadcasting another officer that says:
“Officer Barbrady, come in. Do you copy?”
Despite his initial nervousness, the indigo angel detaches the radio from his pilfered belt and opens communications with:
“Uh...Y-yes ma’am. Just stationed at the Northwest hospital; attempting to interview the families visiting the comatose patients.”
“Good. Stay stationed there to keep us updated on how many vacancies are left. Lord know’s there are only so many they can take.”
“Right, I’ll keep you updated with all that. B-Barbrady out.”
With her fellow officer hanging up, the police woman puts her radio away as she gazes to the site of the break in before her and her crew; a pair of paramedics carrying an unconscious man out of their home via a stretcher from the broken doorway.
Passing the pair of medics carrying the poor man away, the officer takes a good look at the door lying on the porch; taking note the untouched hinges along its side.
A peculiar site indeed, especially counting no signs of blunt force or evidence of tools; almost as if somebody was inside and slide the hinges right off and put them back on.
The question in mind being why exactly somebody would go through this much trouble just for a break in.
As the police woman ponders such, she turns her attention to the other officers exiting the home; questioning them if:
“You guys find any else to report? Any prints inside yet?”
“Aside from the victims prints, we got nothing.
You think with a seamless break in like this, they’d at least steal some loose change from the couch cushions; but absolutely nothing was stolen.
No money, no tech, no jewels, no valuables; not even a single cent.”
Hearing all this, a small growl escapes from between the police woman's teeth; the officer then claiming how:
“That’s over the 50th case like that this week. We practically got the entire city’s force spread thin over this epidemic. Worse off, the docs back at the hospitals ain’t reporting anything wrong with them.
It’s just not making any sense.”
Watching their investigation from along the roof of the building across the street, both the spice queen and her boy genius bitch witness something that the police fail to see; the site of their red headed sisters trail leading inside the very home they stand in.
“And that would be the forth broken in house her trail has lead us towards. You wanna start assuming the worst or should I?” Cayenne questions.
“It’s just not making any sense. What’s Chloe doing breaking into random people’s houses like this?”
“You mean more than usual?”
“Cayenne, I’m being serious here. We haven’t got a clue what she’s doing flying around town like this to people houses owned by people who’ve been rendered comatose; not to mention the site of police wherever we follow the trail not leaving the best impression.”
“Kingsley, chill. I’m sure she’ll pop up on our radar sooner or later. Serena’s already workin on something that can trace her out.”
“I’m not even sure we have that kinda time.”
“The hell else are we supposed to do beside fuck off with dicks in our mouths?”
“Hmm...We might have better luck if we go back home and get better equip. A couple of gadgets in the basement might help us out.”
Claiming such, the boy genius rides upon the spice queens backside and take off into the city skies; both of them gliding out back towards the direction of the Spicer manor.
Back inside the white halls of the hospital, the boy disguised in lawful blue peeks inside another patient room; finally discovering one with a patient with no visitors.
A rather pitiable site seeing this poor man rendered unconscious without so much as a single visitor by his bedside; but nonetheless making his room the perfect point of entry for his siblings to fly right on inside.
The lone mans room proving the perfect entry point; Tore checks around to see if the coast is clear; darting his eyes around the halls for any unwanted witnesses.
Finding the halls clear of anyone, the boy in blue rushes inside and shuts the door behind him; soon passing by the bedridden patient and right to the window.
Looking beyond its glass, the blue angel glances down to find both of his siblings in waiting; unlocking the frame and sliding the window up.
On the ground floor underneath, both Mally and Roy patiently await for their blue brother to give them a way inside; all the while the orange girl persist on asking her purple brother on how:
“So you not even gonna tell me how you lost Roxanne so fast? Cause last I heard, you guys were doing alright at the least. What the hell happened between you that night?”
“And I keep having to mention that I don’t wanna talk about it. Seriously, can you at least give me the courtesy of a week to let the scars heal before prying right back in?”
“I’m just wanting to figure out how it all fell apart. You were so excited to see her when you left and when you got back, you looked so dead inside. Why?”
“What part of “I don’t wanna talk about it.” can I not get through your fucking helmeted skull!?” the merc aggressively questions, his tone taking the young girl back a bit.
“Al-Alright, fine. You win. We’ll drop it.”
“Egh...Sorry about that. It’s just been a little hard on me to get past; especially since it was about her-”
Before the merc could continue to explain, both of them hear their blue brother overhead, announcing to them that:
“Hey there kids. Wanna break into a hospital? Get yer 99 cent asses in here pronto.”
Flying up to the floor their brother stands with the skater at his back, Roy and Mally climb through the open window; soon finding the comatose patient whose room they broke into.
“Nice work, bro.”
As the merc passes by his police disguise brother, Roy can’t help but correct him on how:
“And my sweet ass is definitely worth more then a fuckin dollar, asshole...Its at least a hundred.”
Coming to the slumbering gentlemen’s bedside, the purple angel takes a quick scan through the man’s comatose body; repeatedly poking and slapping the poor guys face.
“You think its like how mom was left?” Mally asks.
“Yep, this poor bastard is just like how she was. Dead asleep and without a soul to speak of.”
After inspecting the slumbering patient, the merc takes a glancing out the door’s window; his senses picking up a good few people inside the neighboring room gathered over what he finds to be an empty bed.
Its probably a safe bet that its a family weeping over the condition of their loved ones; it be pretty damn stupid to believe them to be crying over literally nothing; a pattern that the merc can sense all through parts of the entire buildings.
“And if the rest of the patients are anything like this guy, then we might have ourselves a good lead.”
Turning back towards his two siblings, Roy goes on to explain how:
“Whoever is flying around reapin souls outta people in the middle of the night like some vampiric asshole fresh of the cusp off discovering his crazed soul fetish is the same mofo that ganked our moms very own soul.”
“Great, have any idea who it might be?” the skater questions.
“Eh, not sure. Only really know a handful of people that can casually pluck souls outta people like a picking fermented apples from the orchard of a drunken fruit farmer.”
Taking a turn to peek outside himself, the boy in blue witnesses staff roll in another comatose man through the white halls; a family of a woman and two children tailing the mans bed.
A small smile forms between his cheeks as he declares that:
“We might be able to find out. Time for this uniform to work its magic.”
Inside the room that the slumbering man had been left within, the doctor tending to the patient turns away from the comatose victim; gazing to the wife and claiming to the family how:
“We have no idea what kind of ailment is troubling your husband, ma’am. All the tests we’ve done on the other patients like him have come up completely negative.
I hate to say this, but I can’t accurately tell how long your husband may be in this coma for.”
Hearing this news causes the wife to look to her two children, streams of tears welling in their eyes.
“I’ll give all of you some privacy.” the doctor offers as she leaves the room.
The door behind them shutting, the daughter of the two children gazes up to their mother and asks:
“Mommy, will dad be okay?”
“Oh, daddy will be alright. We just need to give him time to sleep.”
“How long will it be until he wakes up?” the brother of the two kids question.
“I’m...sure that it won’t be long until he gets right back up and gives us all a big hug.” the mom claims with trembling breath.
From giving her two children this false hope, she hears the door behind them open once more; the family glancing to the doorway to witness a lone blue haired officer coming inside to greet them all with:
“Afternoon there, ladies and gents. How are ya’ll holdin up?”
“Wait, who are you?” the woman questions.
“I’m...with the Townsvilles police department, here under investigation on what’s been causing this comatose epidemic sweeping this fair city’s citizen.
You think you’d be comfortable answering a couple questions?”
“Oh...yeah, of course.”
Once wiping away the tears in her eyes, she looks down to her two children and asks them if:
“Kids, can you go to the cafeteria to get some snack so mommy can talk to the nice policeman?”
“Yeah, mom.”
Upon their mothers orders, the two stroll out the patients room; leaving the woman and the faux officer alone with their unconscious father.
“I know how hard it must be talking about all this so soon, but-”
“It’s fine, really. Maybe talking about this with somebody like you can at least give my family a little piece of mind. To know that someone out there is at least doing something to fix all this.”
Claiming such, the woman pulls a seat from the edge of the room as the false officer does the same; both taking their seats as the blue hair policeman first starts off with:
“Obvious question outta the way: What were you and your spouse doing the night he was struck with a coma?”
“M-My husband and I were in bed around 3 in the morning. I was feeling parched and my husband happened to have gotten out of bed to go to the bathroom; so I asked him to grab me a glass of water while he was up.
While I was trying to drift off back to bed, I hear the sound of a strong wind blowing across my house; followed by the sound of breaking glass.
I thought that maybe the windows broke, so I got myself up to find my husband so we could fix it.
When I raced into the kitchen to go grab him however, I found him passed out onto the floor with bits of water and glass.
As I looked through my kitchen for what might’ve happened, I look over to the door and I find it pried right off its frame with the hinges still screwed on. It still perplexes me how he wound up like this last night.”
After retelling the events that transpired the night her husband was struck with a coma, a harrowing sigh escapes from her lips; further claiming on how:
“The kids haven’t been taking it well either. I just don’t know what else to tell them. They love their dad so much, he means the world to them.”
Despite his eyes drifting away from the woman’s last comment, the faux officer gazes back to the wife and presses further with:
“I don’t wanna cause you any further distress then you must be already going through, but did you happen to notice anything peculiar when you checked on your husband?
Something leaving the scene perhapes?”
“You mean aside from the door being taken off?”
“Clearly.”
“Well, there was one thing that I caught the minute I found my husband. When I saw him on the ground, I notices something shining just outside my window.
I go outside, thinking that somebodies out there; call the police and get a give them a good description.
But the moment I get out, the light was already too far in the sky to see who it might be. All I could make out was a bright pink glow.”
From within the dark corridors of the Spicer abode, a bright pink glow reflects off the kitchen tile as it escapes into the black recesses of the manor; the darkened halls swiftly filling with light as the front doors crack open.
Behind the wooden door stood both the boy genius and the Spice queen, Cayenne gazing to the shadowy halls ahead and wondering aloud:
“The hell are your lights out for?”
As both of them stroll further through the darkened halls of the manor, the son of the abode calls out to his parents with:
“Mom, Dad. Any of you home? Did the police call yet?”
The young boys call falls on deaf ears however, Kingsley’s voice echoing through the shadowy halls of the manor.
“Think they might’ve just fucked off?” Cayenne wonders.
Pulling out his phone, the boy genius takes a quick glance to his messages, claiming on how:
“I didn’t get any texts. Maybe Dad’s in the basement.”
As the duo venture further through the darkness of the manor, both of them turn on whatever lights they can; all the while repeatedly calling for both of the boy geniuses parents.
“Mom, Dad! Where are you?”
“Mr and Mrs. Spicer? You can put the explosives away, its just us.”
In hopes of covering more house, the duo split apart, the spice queen heading towards the kitchen while the boy genius heads for the basement.
Cayenne finally glides inside the darkened corners of the manors kitchen, gazing into its shadows to attempt and find a light switch; her eyes drawn to a lone hand breaking from the void.
Curious of whose hand it is, the spice queen enters further in the kitchen; a horrified glare forming the further she comes in.
Creaking open the basement door, the light from the hallway above leaks into shadows below; the boy genius standing in the doorframe as he stares down into the black void of his underground lab.
“Dad...you in here?” Kingsley calls out to his father, his voice ringing down the steps.
With his call baiting no response. The boy genius prepares to descend the steps into the darkness below, carefully climbing down each step at a time.
He doesn’t even get to a quarter of the way down before his ears catch the call of his friend crying:
“K-Kingsley!”
Hearing such, the boy genius himself swiftly climbs back up the bright hallway; soon sprinting across the halls as he shouts:
“Cayenne, what’s wrong!”
His urgent question yielding no response, Kingsley hurries through the halls of his manor; following the source of the spice queens call towards the kitchen.
The young man finally reach his rough and tough friends side, finding Cayenne left completely paralyzed in horror as her gaze is locked to the shadows of the tiled floor.
Gazing into the kitchen himself, the young man is meet with a nightmare of his becoming a reality; a deep and primal glare of incredible dread forming across his face.
Before the two teenagers lie Kingsleys own mother, struck motionless upon the kitchen tile and rendered completely unconscious.
This dreadful site fresh before him, the young man sprints back towards the basement; Cayenne glancing to her departing friend as he retreats from her side.
Rushing through the basement door, the boy genius jumps down the darkened steps in a single bound; landing right at the very bottom.
“Dad!” he cries out as he flips the light switch.
The lights above flood the entire basement with their glow; illuminating the underground lab and revealing yet another site that conjures the young mans horrible nightmares before him.
Kingsley’s own father lying motionless across the workbench; the tools at his side falling to the polished marble floor.
Along the back of the hospital, the blue angel tosses his pilfered police uniform inside the very dumpster they left the hog tied officer in; glancing to his purple brother as he review that:
“So all the info we managed to cope outta the victims families all say the same damn thing. That somebody shining a bright pink light around is going around and harvesting souls as fast as a farmer on the cusp of a nuclear winter.”
“So we just gotta find and beat the shit outta this bitch and we’ll get everyone’s souls back; even our mom’s.” Tore claims.
“If only it were that simple. We still don’t got any clue whose behind this soul stealing spree. All we have to go by is that the thief likes bright pink. Not exactly the best lead to go off of.” Mally reminds them.
“Actually, I think I might have a hunch of who our culprit might be.” the merc testifies.
“Really?” his sister questions.
“Who you think it is?” his blue brother wonders.
Just before their purple brother could answer them, the trio hear somebody’s phone go off; the orange skater pulling out her mobile device and checking her messages; claiming that:
“Got a texts from Kingsley. Saying we need to come to his place ASAP.”
“What for? Don’t they know we’re busy?” Roy questions.
“He doesn’t say. Must be important enough enough to type in all caps though.”
“The hell are we waiting around for. Let’s move!” Tore declares.
Just as the trio take off towards the direction of their friends manor, a dump truck turns the hospital corner and pulls up to the dumpster; the truck grabbing hold of the dumpsters side and pouring its contents in the back, the unfortunate tied policeman tumbling right alongside the miscellaneous garbage.
Resting upon the Spicer’s living room couch, both Kingsley’s mother and father lie peacefully next to each other; all the while their son beside them gazes upon them with a mix of wayward panic and fear.
“So, both of them were like this when you came in?” Mally asks.
“Yep. Completely out when we got here. Tried everything to wake them up. Even smacking Mr.Spicers face around a couple times. Not even a wink.” Cayenne confirms.
“I..I just-I...I don’t know how all this could happen so fast…
Just last night, everything was going so well. Surround by friends and family after winning the biggest inventors show in town, I was the happiest I could ever be…
Now...and now...my family is practically falling apart before my eyes. And I don’t know how to make it all better. I don’t know how to fix any of it!”
In the midst of the boy genius’s panicking episode; his best friend grasps the boys backside; urging him to:
“Kingsley, relax. I’m sure we can get through this.”
“Who-Why would someone do all this!?”
Approaching the comatose couple, the blue angel gazes upon their still, motionless bodies; opening the fathers eye to find his pupil bleak and lifeless.
Once taking a look at the two, Tore turns to his purple brother and questions if he:
“Think its the same?”
“Exactly the same. Like our mom and all those other patients at the hospital, both of their bodies are completely devoid of any trace of a soul left.”
Pulling away from the boy genius, Cayenne turns over to the merc himself, questioning the purple bastard if:
“Hold the hell on here people. You tellin me you three know what the fucks going on with this comatose bull?”
“Sure do. Whoever stole our mom’s and everyone else’s souls just paid both of Kingsley parents a little visit here.” the skater explains.
“And we might have a pretty good guess who might be behind it.” the blue angel adds.
“Who you think it is?”
Hearing Cayenne question them such, the trio gaze upon one another with worry in their eyes; Mally breaking from their stare and warning that:
“You guy might not like hearing who we think it is.”
“Please...just tell us.” Kingsley pleads as he pulls himself away from his parents bedside.
The spice queen can’t help but look to the boy genius with concern, asking him if:
“Kingsley, you sure your up for this.”
“All I know is that there isn’t enough time for me to be sure. We need to act now if we wanna start fixing all this. Even if it may seem impossible, we need to keep going.”
Her friends little speech makes the spice queen crack a small smile, Cayenne turning to the trio and demanding that:
“You heard the man. Lay it on us.”
When pressed to continue, a small hiss escapes from between the purple mercs teeth; finally claiming to the two of them that:
“We...We think that the culprit might be your little sister.”
This shocking speculation reaching their ears, their determination is swiftly cut short in but an instant; their pupils shrinking to the size of peas.
“What?...”
“That...That’s….That’s fucking horseshit! Don’t fucking joke like that!” the spice queen screams, seemingly on the verge of lashing out at them at any moment.
“Were...being serious here, Cayenne. All the friends and family of the patients I’ve talked to at the hospital gave almost the same story; that shortly after finding their loved ones comatose, they saw a bright pink light leaving the scene.” Tore explains.
“I can’t make any sense of this. What would drive her to suddenly go around and take peoples souls, especially from our own parents?”
“You two notice anything off about her before she went MIA?” the merc questions.
“Well, mom did say Chloe was acting strange before she left, like she was trying to hide the fact that she was upset about something. She didn’t say anything that night cause of the party and thought she needed some time to herself.
God, why didn’t I notice anything? I was so busy celebrating with my friends and family that I didn’t even realize she wasn’t with us! What kind of big brother am I!?” the boy genius self deprecates, tears welling in his eyes.
In the midst of the boy genius’s potential breakdown, Cayenne grasp his side and urges him to:
“Kingsley, relax. I’m sure we’ll find her. There’s still time to salvage all this.”
“She’s right Kingsley, we don’t got time to break down and cry here. All of us need to work together if we wanna sort all this out.” Tore explains.
“Mind if I cut in this little moment to remind everyone that we still don’t got a way to tell where our little cherry coke culprit is at and we basically still have next to nothing to go off of?” Roy interupts.
“Aren’t you the one with the senses and social decency of a dirty bloodhound? Why can’t you just sniff them out yourself?” the spice queen rudely counters.
“That usually be the case, especially with how much power that little necklace of hers is carrying. And yet despite that, I can’t feel a thing.
Can really only think of two reasons why; either she got the hell outta dodge and fucked off outta town.”
“Or?” Tore wonders.
“She found some a way to cover her tracks. And judging from the little soul harvest that happened last night, it’s probably more of the latter than the former.”
“So what does all that mean?” the boy genius questioning.
“He’s full of shit is what it means.” Cayenne rudely claims.
“Still, even with all the people she’s been reaping, I doubt she can carry them all on her at once; especially given the rapid rate she’s collecting them.” the merc continues.
“You think Chloe might be stockpiling them somewhere?” Tore wonders.
“If that’s true, then how come you can’t find where they’re all that?” Mally adds.
“Could be cloaking them all the same way she’s cloaking herself. Don’t know how though.”
“Alright, I had just enough of this bag of prepackage zebrashit. What the hell makes all of you so sure that Chloe doing all this instead of being in the hands of child trafficking psychopath?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. You happen to know anybody else that can glow a bright shade of neon pink...No?
Well then, may I courteously invite your spicy mouth to taste the jalapeno chili sliding out of my rectum?”
“How bout I make you taste something else, you purple prick!?”
Before the spice queen could throw a single punch to the merc’s smug ass face, the blue angel gets between the two of them; Tore confessing to the spice queen that:
“Look, we don’t know if its Chloe for sure. But given the increase in coma cases since last night, it just something we should keep in mind.”
“Imma about serve both of ya’ll a fresh hot can of whoop ass stew if you don’t shut yer damn mouths.”
Its then that the entire confrontation is put to a sudden stop when all three of them hear the orange skater go off on them; screaming to them that:
“All of you just shut up! We’re all on the clock here and we can’t waist the minutes giving each other piles of crap.
If any of you wanna help us get everyone’s souls back and save potential hundreds of live, then can all of you kindly stop flinging yer shit like a bunch of fuckin monkeys!”
Hearing such a booming outburst come from the orange skater causes everyone to grow completely silent; the spice queen can’t help but give her a little applause.
To his guest’s loud outburst, the boy genius takes a glance back to both of his comatose parents lying upon the felt of their couch; affirming to all of them that:
“She’s right.”
Kingsley gazes back to the rest of them with a determined glare, continuing to back Mally’s statement with:
“If were actually gonna get anywhere in this mess, we need to stop fighting with each other and combine both of our investigations into one.
We won’t rest until we find Chloe and who’s been taking everyone’s soul.”
“Guess we know who’s callin the shots here. What you think we should do?” the blue angel wonders.
“First thing we should do is try and gather more info on all this. A clue or two to point us in the right direction.”
“Didn’t you say something earlier about the police investigating Chloe’s disappearance?” the skater reminds.
“The boys in blue are workin on it, but I doubt they’d be much help. And I doubt they’ll be so ready to hand over their confidentials to a bunch of random ass kids.” Cayenne confirms.
“Not unless you pull in a couple of favors from the inside.” the purple merc corrects.
“From a merc job of yours?” Tore guesses.
“Somethin like that. Caught wind of a little scandle involving Townsville’s boys in blue a couple weeks back.
They might help us if they don’t want their shit to get leaked. The kinda shit that makes people wanna punch you in the throat and beat the juicy red organs outta you while gasping for air.
Calling in a couple of those kinds of favors should get us hooked up with all the info we need on both cases.”
“Sorry but, are we really gonna go so far as to blackmail the police to get what we want?” the boy genius questions.
“Yes.” the spice queen bluntly states.
“I-...Tsk, alright then. Guess I’ll stay here and read what I can from it all.
It might be best for the rest of you guys to go around and ask our friends for anything they might’ve saw.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Mally claims.
“Gotcha, Captain.” Tore salutes.
“Right behind ya.” Cayenne states.
“Hopefully we can muster enough clues out’ve it all to fix this whole mess before it all comes tumbling down on us.”
Throughout the entire police station, the few officers within scramble through the insides in efforts to manage the oncoming calls and reports; the sound of footsteps and voices ringing inside the entirety of the station as they man the phone lines and carry in new documents.
Taking the brunt of all this stress be the very captain of the force himself, glued to his private desk as he looks over the constant cases coming in; taking a couple of ibuprofen pills with his coffee in between his hefty breath.
Come on, Captain Blanks; get a hold of yourself. Everyone in the city is hauling in coma reports and counting on you to get to the cause of this epidemic. Hopefully, we can find whose behind all this; for the sake of the city’s sanity...and ours.
In the midst of his constant work on the tablet, the intercom beside him sounds off; somebody on the other end informing the chief that:
“Captain Blanks. There’s a private call directed to your office that’s attempting to get through. He says he’s a friend of yours.”
“Are you kidding me, Jackson? Do we look like we got time for any kind of prank these teenagers have up their asses? Turn them down!”
“Uh, the caller’s saying he want to talk to you about something called, uh...The Strawberry Jamboree of Mildreds farm.”
Hearing this bizarrely specific phrase is all it takes to instantly send a freezing chill up the captains spine; the man left standing stiffly silent as the tablet in his hands drops to the floor.
“Uh...Sir…Are you still there?” the receptionist questions.
“Put him through.”
“What?”
“Now Jackson, and close the other lines!.”
“Y-Yes captain!”
Once the captains receptionist hangs up, the cap’s own trembling hands grasps the neck of the private phone beside him; putting the phone up to his ear and hearing the caller greet the captain with:
“Hi, Blanky babyyyy!”
“What the fuck are you doing calling me at a time like this, Roy? You realize how busy we all are?”
“Chillaz, big guy. I’m just calling in to cash in a little favor we settled on, that’s all.”
“I seriously don’t have a single second to spare for you to fling your bullshit at me. The entire police force is up to their necks in constant comatose cases coming in from all over the city and we’re spread out thinly enough as is. I sure as hell don’t need another headache on me to worry about right now.”
“Well ain’t that just a big coinkydinky for us all, ain’t it. A couple of my pallies and I are busy looking in the same exact thing; comatose people and all. You know we all have loved ones going through this shit, so you can probably understand.
Which is why I’ll be needing to cash in that favor we agreed on a couple weeks ago on the farm; preferably in the form of whatever documents and evidence you guys managed to gather on the whole case. Sound cool?”
“Are you being real with me? You’re just expecting me to drop everything we’re working on to sneak out confidential reports and documents with our ongoing case just to hand it all over to some random asshole on the phone? You know what that’ll make me look like?”
“Can’t make you look any worse if the news outlets hear about all your little “guests” you took over at the strawberry farm.”
“How the hell do you think I can haul out countless documents and reports from a hot ongoing case without getting my blue ass caught?”
“I don’t fuckin know. Just copy a bunch and send it my way; it ain’t my problem. But it will be your’s if the entire state catches on with what kind of fertilizer their grocery bought strawberries are grown with.”
“Nrrgh! Fine, just gimme a little time to work, kay.”
“Thanks, blanky babyyy! Tell yer girl I said hi!”
Their little negotiations ending with the purple merc giving a little smooch, the captain hears the line disconnect; the line ringing in his ears as a cold shutter runs down his spine.
The captain slams the phone back on his desk as he waltzes out behind his desk; opening his door to face the sectritary on the other side and demanding:
“Jackson, grab all the documented files we have on the comatose case, pronto.”
Standing to the face of a house stationed along the suburbs, the orange skater roughly knocks upon the front door; hearing from the other side a familiar voice urging her that:
“Hang on a second!”
After hearing this, Mally witnesses the door fling wide open to reveal the ice dragon herself; a slightly offput glare forming upon the skaters face when finding her snacking on a lone strawberry.
“Oh uh, you. Nnn...Maylord, right?”
“That-that’s not even a...”
After stammering this, a small sigh escapes from the skaters lungs; continuing past the ice benders excuse to guess her name with:
“Just look, I’m tryin to get around a little problem I have going on here. You happen to have heard anything from Chloe in the last 24 hours or so.”
“Mind I ask why you wanna stalk her that badly? You that thirsty for cherry red coke?”
The icy manipulators accusing questions causes the skater face to glow beat red; defensively flustering aloud that:
“No-I-wh-Ju-It’s-it’s just for business reasons, okay!?”
“Yuh huh. Sure.” Opal sarcastically agrees as she readies to shut her front door.
Before the ice bender could slam the door shut, the orange skater jams her foot in the door frame; admitting to Opal that:
“Fine. It’s cause Chloe went missing! She didn’t come home last night and Kingsley and the others are trying to find her.”
The ice bender hearing her sudden visitor claim such, she opens her door for the skater once more; letting out a little sigh before answering her with:
“Alright. I might have seen something up with her.”
“Like what?”
“Well, I was walking back home from the mall last night after getting a pair of cute shoes for only half off last night; figured since I had most of my winter gear on, I might as well take a little stroll along the scenic route cause I haven’t had a good walk in forever.”
“Is this gonna take long?”
“I’m getting to it. Anyway, I take a little stop over to this small part of downtown; the place with the cute little ramen shop that do the chocolate fortune cookie. I figured why not grab something to eat since I mom wouldn’t be home until ten.”
“So where does Chloe come in?”
“Patients dammit. Before I could go right in, I look over and see her right across the street all by herself. I figured that she might just been lost or going home so I thought why not grab a bite with her; it’ll give us some time to catch up.
As I was walking towards her however, I notices that she was talking to herself; all while holding out that little pink gem of hers from around her neck.
And as soon as I found her, the red head just flew off without so much as another word. I’ll be honest, it kinda creeped me out a bit.”
“You happen to catch which way she was going?”
“If I remember correctly, I saw her heading out towards the east side of town. Don’t really know why’d she want to go there really. I hear its kind of a mess over there.”
“Alright, thanks a bunch Opal.” the orange skater claims.
Having finished questioning the ice bender, she starts to take her leave from Opal’s home; but not before glancing back to point at her strawberry and warn her that:
“By the way, don’t eat those strawberries; they’re made out of dead people.”
The sudden warning causes the ice girl to cough up whatever pieces of strawberry she has in her mouth; the pieces falling to her front step as she panics with:
“Pffth, ah, cak! What!?”
In front of another home far deeper in the bowls of the city, the spice queen herself gives the door a less than gentle knock; a little green eyed girl cracking its wood open as she gazes to her bigger cousin.
“La prima? I didn’t expect you to pay us a visit. Usually its the other way around when our papa needs a babysitter. May I invite you in.”
“Hate to rush ya, Bianca; but I don’t got a lotta time on my hands. You all happen to know what’s going down to coma epidemic around here?”
“I don’t know about-”
“Yo Cayenne, I got somethin! Get yo ass in here!” they hear echoing from inside.
“Ty, me hermano! What did I say about shouting in the house!?”
A nervous giggle escaping the young girl, she glances back to her older cousin and offers how:
“May I offer you some pizza while your here. It came just this momento.”
As Bianca invites the spice queen inside, Cayenne’s eyes venture upwards as she walks into the living room; an impressed whistle leaving her lips.
“Holy shit, Ty. I figured you were all over this shit, but god damn.”
Standing before the spice queen be an entire wall covered in, documents, notes, records, statements, and plenty and plenty of photo’s; all weaved in a web of countless strings.
“Hell yeah, bitches! I’ve been lookin all this from top to bottom like some cracker browsin the wine section at Wal-Mart.
I got me some juicy conspiracies here on how all this a ploy by the government for testing some kind of new military weapon on their hands like a bunch of damn guinea pigs.”
“Yeah, that’s great Ty, but-”
“In fact, the only reason they though of settin it off here is cause they wantin to see how many homies get hit with it. They seein if they can get anyone with super power to fall fo it too, hoping to snuff us out if we catch on to them.”
“Ty, I need you to-”
“But I’ve been on to those motherfucka’s since this shit started. Right behind them trackin every move they do, takin pic, doc, notes, whateva I got my hands on.”
Once realizing she could get her little cousin to stop his indulgent theory ranting anytime soon, the spice queen takes a seat right on their cousins couch; a frustrated sigh leaving her lips as she sits down.
Her littler cousin, Lequan soon comes in the living room with a whole box full of steaming pizza and takes a slice as he sits next to his older cousin; the spice queen soon taking a slice of her own as she waits how the storm of verbal diarrhea gushing from Ty’s mouth.
Might as well, it ain’t like he’s gonna be stopping anytime soon.
A massive stack of countless files slams itself down upon a wooden desk; the impact of which makes the entire table tremble to its legs.
The boy genius is left utterly bewildered by how tall the collection of police reports and documents that the purple merc had promised.
“Uhn...not to sound ungrateful for this frightening amount of information to work with here, but mind if I ask which strings you had to pull to get all this?”
“Mind if I ask you if your sexy twink ass really wants to know what dark secrets bellow underneath your city’s police forces that they’d kill to keep outta the public eye, or do ya wanna close those cute little blowjob lips of yours and get started on going through all these reports and documents that your precious purple pal got for ya?”
It takes the boy genius a good few seconds to think of a response to the merc’s lewd question; constantly opening and closing his mouth until he finally requests that:
“Heya, how bout you take the time to search through the city with the others a couple times. I’m betting they could use someone like you to help out.”
“Alright, I get it. But just so you know, I’ll be waiting.” the merc claims as he leaves the boy genius with the huge stack of reports.
As soon he hears the sound of his front door shutting, Kingsley lets out a spine curdling shutter; quaking in his shoes as he wonders aloud:
“It must be a real story on how Mally wound up getting a guy like that as her brother.”
Facing another house nesting in the suburbs, the blue angel frantically beats the face of the homes front door; Tore watching as a small orange haired demon cracks the door open with a less than patient glare.
“Heyo Alex! How ya doing, ya little demon? I was wanting to ask you if-”
Before even hearing whatever nonsense the blue angel has to spew out from his mouth, the little demon slams the front door right in his visitors face, walking back toward his living room as an annoyed growl leaves his lungs.
Seriously, there’s only so much irritating bullshit that a demon can handle at once; and that big pile of it just outside is something no demon should have to deal with. Better off digging through actual manure than delving into whatever kind of migraine inducing nonsense that blue idiot wants subjugate all of us through.
Before Alex could put that potential headache behind him, the sound of breaking glass soon reaches his ears; turning back to find the blue nuisance delving straight through the window.
Witnessing his indigo intruder arise from the carpet in a mess of glass shards and blood, the orange haired demon backs away against the wall as the blue angel lumbers over; hearing the bloody blue dumbass ask:
“Think I could I could ask ya a couple questions, buddy?”
With his blue intruder slowly approaching, Alex forms a sharp blade from his trembling arm and warns him to:
“St-stay back, you dimwitted oaf! I’m sharply armed.”
“Oh, guessin your two busy to help Kingsley out, huh?”
As soon as the demons ears catch the sound of the boy genius’s name, Alex’s frightened demeanor takes a complete one eighty; a sharp gasp escaping his mouth as his blade arm returns to normal.
“My Kingsley needs me?”
“Um...well, he’s trying to find-”
Before the angel could finish explaining, he feels his demonic host grasp the collar of his glass coated blazer; exclaiming that:
“What in burning depths of Satans own boiling bathhouse are we standing around like some brain dead urchins here for? If my Kingsley needs me, then there’s no time for us to gawk around! To the manor we go forth!”
Declaring such, the little demon races out his front door faster than the angel’s eye could catch up; Tore watching as Alex takes off towards the setting sun in the horizon.
Glancing back inside, the blue boy discovers the demons own mother sitting in the living room; staring upon the angel that crashed through her window.
“Hi, Ms Utonium. Nice to see your son eager to help! Bye!”
Once giving his short greeting, Tore charges towards the neighboring window leaps right through its fragile glass; crashing through as he yells out:
“Yeet!”
After witnessing the young man casually break through both of her front windows, all that Alex’s mother could muster was a frustrated sigh; pinching her forehead as her gaze drops to her glass shard covered carpet.
Back within the Spicer abode itself, Kingsley continues studying through the dozens upon dozens of police reports and document scattered across his desk space; the constant noise of paper sounding through the house as he scans through the files.
The boy genius suddenly stops filing through the reports when inspecting two of them at once; noticing an odd and sudden change in the case reports.
This doesn’t make any sense. According to the documents filed before the other night, the reports that came in had the witnesses describe something else leaving the scene; something leaving behind a rainbow like trail while fleeing. Why the change in color? Maybe to throw people off?
The suspect might be changing, but something in most of the reports have been consistent all the way through.
The vast number of comatose victims that have been coming up from all this have been primarily men, very rarely do any woman seem to have been effected. A rather specifically bizarre demographic to target; could be something to keep in mind when sussing out a suspect.
Something else to note is which direction the culprit escapes towards; most of the witness reports claiming that they see them escaping out towards the east.
Roy did say something about how they might be stockpiling them somewhere; a likely place they’d store them all in the east side of town.
Even if given little clues on whose going around and reaping out people souls, there could still be a way to figure out where the culprit might be keeping them all.
With all this, at least we all can wake everyone from their coma’s; hopefully we can do it in time before those not on life support don’t…
This thought dwelling in his head, Kingsley takes a glance back towards the living room; both of his comatose parents lying peacefully on the couch next to eachother.
No...It won’t come to that. We will wake everyone before they die. Even if it takes every ounce of effort that all of us can spare.
This motivation ringing in his head, the boy genius turns back to his report littered desk and pulls out his laptop; bringing up an entire detailed map of Townsville right on screen.
The twilight lit sun shining at his side, the purple merc glides across the sunset kissed skyline; all the while pondering aloud on how:
“It just don’t add up here. How can this soul reaping shit stain even hide from my senses. Hadn’t had much trouble tracking people down before.
Think you can quit with the “thou must not interfere with the holy plan” bull of an excuse and actually help us out for once, Hera?”
“I’ve told you countless time that there are rules that a goddess like myself must abide by. Though that doesn’t mean I can’t relay helpful advice to my messenger.”
“And?”
“As embarrassing it is for me to admit, I’ve had just as much luck as you have attempting to find this soul snatching suspect...or Chloe for that matter.”
“You too, huh? Think they might be some kind of undead robbing people of their lives and eating them like screaming chunky beef stew.”
“Believe me when I say that I’d notice somebody like that roaming around. Raising the dead is practically a steep taboo. Shouldn’t be much of a surprise to say how it doesn’t work out as well as people wish.
No, I’d wager it be somebody whose capable of high level concealment magic. How else could they hide themselves from us?”
The goddess in his head claiming all this, the merc’s gaze drifts towards the streets below; a discomforting groan escaping from his line.
“A bit nervous, are we?” Hera wonders.
“It’s just the small bits that are getting to me.
The fact that I can’t tell where the culprit or the victims are, the sudden and unexplained abductions, the mentions of powerful magic; all if its just screaming to me in loud and weird profanity on how all of this feels eerily familiar.”
“You think you have an idea on who might be behind all of this?”
These familiar patterns ringing in his head, it quickly dawns on him who exactly fits the bill for it all; Roy’s purple eyes suddenly shrinking as a chill runs down his spine.
“Roy?”
Before the goddess in his head could speak any further, the purple merc turns a complete one eighty and rockets straight back towards the manor he flew from.
Slumped on the couch at her cousins place, Cayenne is about on her last straw having with Ty’s constantly spewing conspiracy bullshit; hearing the young boy continue on and on with:
“That’s why they hopin to use these weapon to take over the African government to line their pockets, the crackers up top tryin to cut my brotha’s from right underneath them.”
“Come on...” the spice queen utters.
“And once they done with my homies, they gonna go for the Chinese next. Hoping to get their hands on the market and squeeze out as much as they can from their hoods.”
“I really don’t give a shi-”
“The last part of their plan involves finally makin this whole thing public and reveal what they been doin the whole time. Scarin everyone to do as they say and finally take over the-”
“Ty!”
His cousins sudden outburst finally gets him to stop rambling on, at last giving the spice queen the time to say that:
“I ain’t here to listen to your constant conspiracy ranting. I’m being serious when I say I need actual tangible evidence on this case. Not one of your overblown theories; practical facts.”
“Oh ho, you say my conspiracy game is bullshit; but I manage to snag me a couple a good pics. Including one with the bitch behind all this. Saw her sorry ass leavin a scene of the crime just last night.”
“Wait, “Her”? Ty, what did you see?”
“Right so check it. I was going around town under one of my investigations into this shit. Trackin the patterns of which homes she was hittin.”
“You mean you just stumbled on it?”
“While going through one of the neighborhoods, caught myself a little pink light landin nearby, went to check it out.
Wind up flying to the next street over and found the glowing girl leaving just as fast from one of the homes.
As the pink bitch was flyin off, I pull out my phone and got me a pic of her.”
Gazing upon her cousins phone, Cayenne finds on the screen a sort of blurry photo of a shadowy figure surrounded in glowing pink trail through the night sky.
“This it?” she wonders.
“I...Well...Th-the hell did you expect in the midst of the action. This line of work ain’t about quality. Lucky I wound up getting what I did before the bitch flew off. Took off faster than a damn Lamborgini going down the hood at night, just racin to get outta there.”
Inspecting the photo closely, Cayenne is able to make out some specifics of the runaway culprit; looking around to be a young teenage girl with long hair reaching her mid waist.
Though she can’t make out much else from the womans figure underneath the shadows; she can tell that the source of the bright pink glow seems to be emanating from around her neck.
These details fail to paint a hopeful picture for the spice queen, the voices of the merc and his two siblings claiming who the culprit may be ringing in her head.
“Ty. Could you make out anything else? Like something about her hair?” Cayenne seriously question.
“Well, seein as I got your attention. I was think that we could figure out what those CIA bitches be up to-”
Interupting her cousins words, Cayenne grabs hold of Ty shoulders and brings him face to face; firmly questioning him:
“What color was the hair, Tyquell?”
“Damn girl, chill! It was red, kay. The hell’s the big deal for?”
Having confirmed a wavering fear in head, Cayenne puts her cousin down and almost immediately sprints for the door; breaking down the door just as Bianca heads inside.
“Aw, prima Cayenne leaving already. I was just finished making churro’s for us.”
As the spice queen speeds through the sunset kissed skies, she pulls out her phone and quickly attempts to call her best friend; hearing the dial go off on the other end.
“Come on. Pick up, pick up, pick up, pick up, pick up.”
Unfortunately for her, Kingsley fails to answer; his phone going straight to voicemail.
“God dammit, Kingsley! Why won’t you answer!? This is something you need to hear.”
Dwelling within the dimly lit recesses of the Spicer abode, the young boy genius’s phone is left on silent as he peruses through the dozens of documents littering his desk.
On the screen of his laptop lay the map of Townsville, with several lines and points decorating the east side of the city.
“It has to be somewhere around there. The reports all mention what direction the suspect is going, all them pointing towards a general direction.
But where are they putting the souls, they have to hold them somewhere big enough to fit all of them; somewhere nobody would bat an eye to...Wait...”
Its in pondering such that he glances to the papers once more, taking another look at the report to read on the exact directions the witnesses claimed the suspect was heading.
It all then dawns on him; rapidly sliding over to his laptop and gliding the mouse to the east part of the map as he claims that:
“I know where they are.”
Just before he could circle the location he has in mind, the side of his bedroom wall suddenly busts inward; enveloping the entire room in a thick cloud of wall dust.
As he coughs up the puffs of dust, the boy genius races out towards the direction of his door; reaching his arm out to its handle as he sprint.
Just inches from the doorknob, a wayward pink beam blasts off the handle; keeping Kingsley from escaping.
With nowhere to run, the boy genius gazes towards the light permeating from the dissipating clouds; witnessing a single floating figure slowly glide in.
“No...No…Why?” Kingsley utters as he backs against the face of his shut door, the approaching figures bright pink light blanketing his own.
Above the brightly lit stone hanging around the intruders neck formed a sinister grin; her red lock flowing along the sides of the young girls pink dress.
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Congratulations Bee! We are delighted to welcome Tommaso Romano to tumble around the city of Fair Verona. Please complete our after acceptance checklist. We are looking forward to seeing you develop him! Please send in his blog within 48 hours.
Character
Name: Tommaso ‘Tommi’ Angelo Romano
Birthdate and Age: October 29, 28
Preferred Pronouns: He/Him
Faceclaim: (Must be over 21) Nolan Gerard Funk
Family Affiliation: (Capulet, Montague, Romano or Neutral) Romano
Profession: Part time MBA student and Athlete
Claim: (claimed or unclaimed) Unclaimed
Children: (Does your character have children?) None
Designation: (Dominant or submissive.) Dominant
What is their symbol?: Swords. A sword tattoo on their middle finger, a sword bent into a bracelet. Sword cuff earring.
Kinks: Wax, orgasm control, lingerie, tpe
Anti-kinks: Bodily fluids of any kind
Biography:
Tommaso is the youngest of the group of Romano siblings that Carlo and Arden belong to. Tommaso always looked up to his brothers, especial Carlo (and Arden, not that Tommaso would ever admit to that) who are the closest in age to him apart from their sisters, and so it was no surprise when he chose the designation of Dominant like them. Tommaso was an average student but was diligent and hard working. He was always athletic and strong, though, and enjoyed many physical pursuits. His hard work and diligence was never more apparent than when he was in the gym. Tommi’s true passion though? Gymnastics. And in true Romano style, he put his whole self into it, striving to be the best. This was also how he got the attention he craved from most of his family, including his brother Carlo.
Tommaso is stubborn. This passion of his was not exactly welcome within the family at large, but he was conniving as well. Knowing that an athletic career would only be achievable for a handful of years, Tommasso promised to work on his MBA part time, ready to join the family business once he was too old to compete in gymnastics anymore. The only thing that made this even an option, was the fact that he really was that good. Eight years Tommi was named to the Italian National team, seven trips to the World championships, ten world medals, named as an alternate for the London Olympics, the the games in Rio Tommi placed a heartbreaking 4th or 5th in his specialties and 5th overall. Tommi is now gearing up for the Olympics in Paris in 2020 as team Captain.
Which is what has finally brought Tommaso to Verona where his brothers are; the National athletics competition at Verona stadium. This is also his first introduction to Verona and her population. He’s studied and trained all over Italy and the world, but not yet in Verona. Also, he knows that his reluctance to find a claim and settle down will be pushed hard once he arrives in Verona as it’s very likely after this competition season leading up to the 2020 Olympics, he will finally stop competing. Being grayromantic though, Tommi has very little desire to actually claim anyone. While he is very comfortable with using people, submissives, for his physical pleasure, release, and needs, the Dominant has no wishes to be used strictly for his name. However, Verona is filled with other Noble families and if he can possibly meet a worthy claim and settle on an agreement of sorts, then perhaps he will be able to please the Romano heads one day.
Tommaso, as the youngest child, is a brat; no two ways about it. And because of his lack of romantic inclinations, and his not so discrete hetero-flexible activities, he is well aware that if he were a submissive, the chances of him having been sent off to the Aunties long ago are quite large. But he is also charismatic, charming, cunning, and conniving, sometimes even disarming members of the family with his soulful eyes, perfect smile, and charming wit. Not that it works on Madam or Lord Romano, but either they see something in the Dominant, or he has flown completely under their radar until now.
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