(Sorry it has been so long! If your confused, you can always read the other two again, it shouldn't take too long <3 <3).
---Japan, 7:32 am---
Martha Walls did not give the ring back to Elliot. 'It doesn't belong to you, it never did belong to you' she spoke to him earlier in the night. 'Who did the ring belong to?' He thought. Why was it so special? The morning sun had just begun to reflect on the stationed black limo while Martha had necessary business to attend in a random gas station, and would always leave the vehicle with her deceiving red lipstick on. This was Elliott's fourth stop.
Theme tune:
"We are almost there," The beautiful voice says from the front of the limo. It was the mysterious black figure that had been driving all night. Elliott noticed her time to time, but for the most part forgot she existed.
"Please," Elliott whispers, "I don't know anything."
"You know enough", and the girl turned around to face him, "we don't want to hurt you!"
Elliott noticed that the girl's eyes were sad. Deep, strong, grey pools of sadness that Elliott almost drowned in. It wasn't obvious at first. The girl's face was beautiful; olive skin colour, young, she shared many similarities with Martha in this way. But only her skin was Latina; her facial structure appeared Caucasian white (Martha was half Japanese anyway). Her plump lips withheld a beautiful smile. Everything about this limo driver spoke nothing but happiness. But her eyes- her soul- said otherwise.
"Can I at least know y-y-your name?" Elliott stuttered. The girl's sad, grey eyes looked forward again, at the road.
"Georgia Corinthos."
Martha was now walking back to the black limo and took a seat.
---Unknown location, Unknown time---
It had been days for Javier. Hours? Weeks? He could no longer tell. It felt as if he never slept in this godforsaken white cube he was trapped in. Javier tried to avoid this- the Mutant Control Centre capturing him, and especially his daughter, Esmeralda. He thought of her pale skin, her soft, beautiful purple hair, and her awful mother who Javier swore death upon.
Javier soon learned that resistance equalled pain. Who or how the pain was triggered throughout his body he didn't know- some technology he is unaware of. But the pain was very real. For her sake, he was internally wishing that Esmeralda did not fight back. Javier had endured multiple experiments. Some not so bad that involved him mentally evaluating certain situations. He even laughed at the scientists sometimes when they expected him to magically make a sheet of paper float. How stereotypical. But others were painful, where needles were stuck into his skin and DNA was extracted... all while awake.
"Lunch Javier!" A gender-neutral voice called from, once again, an unrecognisable location. But the sound still was capable of bouncing off the walls for seconds after. A shoot opens within the ceiling, and a tray slid to his feet down a white, futuristic slide.
He wasn't hungry.
"Eat, I promise it is good," the voice called strangely. Javier, after the rash treatment he has received: the pain, torture, humiliation, he easily noticed this change in manner. He investigated the packaged meal carefully and extracted an envelope. He did not tear it, but politely un-opened the seal, and a single seed slid into the palm of his hands. It was Javier's key. Javier's escape.
---Kumamoto, 10:15 am---
Elliott was lead by Martha and followed by Georgia into a Japanese Meditation centre somewhere in the city outskirts of Kumamoto. The location was luxurious: sparkling ponds, perfectly raked gravel into geometric shapes, fluffy green grass, red wooden bridges that stretch across streams, small and scattered temples of meditation- and far from Tokyo.
They were walking slowly. Martha was slightly ahead of Elliott, but close enough to have a conversation. Georgia straddled behind, her sad grey eyes scanning the floor.
"I know you have many questions," Martha sympathises, "but I'm not the right person to answer them."
"Well, then who is?" Elliott asks. Martha reaches the entrance to the tallest temple in the grounds. The red painted door itself was twice as tall as Elliott. She opened it after three gentle knocks, and by the calm breeze, the door opened itself.
The floor was of grey concrete that glistened against the sun that found its way into the temple. The octagon walls of the building were painted wooden panels. Random Japanese ornaments hung around the edges of the temple. Nothing particularly caught his attention, except for the young, long-haired blonde man who's hair was tied in a tight bun. His back faced Martha, Elliott and Georgia as they stood at the entrance. Elliott was hesitant.
"Enter," Martha spoke bluntly.
Martha and Georgia stood just inside the building, by the entrance, watching- spectating- what was to come. Elliott took short and small steps forward approaching the man who sat cross-legged on the floor. The temple was silent, so his footsteps sounded like gunshots. With one seemingly loud footstep, the blonde haired man turned his face sideways, and Elliott caught a long glimpse of one of his cat eyes. The pupil was simply a slit of darkness of a void, and the rest of his eye was a dull yellow. Golden fur lined his cheeks with that connected to his blonde hair behind and in front of his ears. A tail unfolded from underneath the man, and his tail was decorated with a leopard print. Elliott's breath and words were taken from him as his this particular sight overwhelmed him. As the man calmly stood to face Elliott, his eyes faded human, his tail vanished, his fur shrivelled away, and his body became more... human.
"Yes!" The man said with ecstasy, approaching Elliott, "I was expecting a Japanese girl but..."
"We went to Ku Kon, Cameron. We couldn't find her. She was already gone," Martha confirmed.
"Shame," Cameron sighed.
"Do you mean that article in the paper?" Elliott asks, "I saw that that's why I was there last night," he says, glancing back to Martha, but she only watched him with her blue, penetrating eyes.
"Anyhow, you are here! What is your gift!" Cameron asks with a wide smile, grabbing Elliott gently by both shoulders, "show us what you can do!" Cameron seemed too excited to see Elliott here. Cameron was desperate for something.
"It's-" Elliott pauses, "it's not like that..."
"What do you mean?" Cameron questions, one eyebrow raised but his friendly manner remained.
"I'm not like you," Elliott replied, "I'm just ordinary-"
"Then why are you here!?" Cameron shouts immediately, clearly angered. His arms withdrew from Elliott's shoulders. Elliott watched his eyes as they began to change again, back into the uninviting slit of darkness. Elliott took steps back in fear as Cameron panted in aggression. Martha placed a steady hand on his shoulder from behind to calm him.
"Cameron, he can help," Martha confirms, "he found this, after all."
Martha reveals the ring carved with an X that he took from Elliott earlier. Cameron's manner changed. His anger relaxed into curiosity, and then sadness. Elliott noticed this curiosity and sadness in his eyes. He saw it in Georgia's before. What was it about this ring? No one will tell him what the ring means, or who it belongs to, who they are, what they do, why they are here. Why was Cameron so defensive? He was getting frustrated- he thought he had been very patient.
---Philadelphia, 1:21 pm---
Sam paced endlessly in the central streets of Philadelphia. The sun was high in the sky, and the sky a rich blue. All of this beauty was ignored by the typical business man and woman- they all had somewhere more important to be. They ambled past Sam mindlessly, the occasional man side-eyeing him on the fast journey past. From the few nights before, where Sam awoke from his apartment that had spontaneously combusted in the night, he has been unsure of himself. A body amongst all the others, afraid of who he was. He could feel the venom in his veins, the poison in his sweat. Something had changed in his body or his hormones. It all connected to his nightmare he had; that was the only explanation he had. He simply felt... toxic. He woke naked and had to steal an entire outfit- his money burnt too.
"PRIDE FOR LIFE!" A young, overweight girl screamed in his left ear.
"AH!" He jumped nervously, "don't scare me like that!" He exploded abusively at her. In truth, he was only scared. She wore too many colourful layers, and her smile was too wide. So wide, it was almost annoying. Sam could see every single tooth in her mouth, and her glasses highlighted her eyes like a telescope would.
"I apologise, sir," this young girl sniffled, "but me and my friends are promoting the acceptance and awareness of homosexuality in the city of... hey, are you okay, sir?"
The company of another person was well overdue, and this began to make Sam sweat from his armpits drastically. Ever since the night of the fire, he avoided any human contact. The way they had stared down at him was... uncanny. He attempted to hold his composure.
"I'm listening," he gritted his teeth, but his sweat began to burn holes in his brand new white shirt. The smell of toxic sweat was simply awful to both of them. The oblivious, mostly uneducated girl did not register that he was, in fact, creating the liquid burning his shirt himself.
"Sir! SOMEONE CALL 911!" She panicked horrendously. Sam wanted no more attention, not ever again, "Sir! Your shirt! Let me help!"
She clutches his hand as the first action of support and immediately lived to regret the decision. Her eyes spun to the back of her skull at the touch of his fingertips, and she collapsed in a violent epileptic fit. Her telescope glasses shattered against the concrete floor. Her legs and arms convulsed unnaturally as white-yellow, bubbly foam spewed from her lips. Sam stood motionless at the scene as a brave few rushed to save this poor girl. In the havoc of the growing circle of spectators, Sam slipped away into a very dark alley between two tall buildings, and stayed there for a long time.
---Kumamoto, 10:35 am---
While Martha and Cameron debated heavily within the temple Elliott had just entered, Georgia had been kind enough to take Elliott's hand and guide him away. They went on a walk together around the ponds and between the willow trees. She remained silent. Elliott broke this silence.
"I didn't get many answers."
Georgia did not answer for a moment. Her eyes had been stolen by the beautiful scenery around her.
"Sorry, just this place never gets old," she said joyfully. A fake smile to cover her painful eyes.
"So you were the limo driver?"
"Yeah."
"How long have you been here?" He asks nicely.
"Only a few months," her manner of reply was honest. They took small, gentle steps in the gravel together.
"Where did you come from? None of you seem particularly Japanese."
"We all used to live in America," she smiles a nostalgic smile.
"Why did you leave?" But then Georgia's smile faded. Triggered by Elliott's question, her eyes then glistened and faded into nothingness as the world around her dissolved. She did not respond but walked aimlessly ahead.
"What's wrong?" Elliott asks again, but rather aggressively. He was not a violent person, but questions needed answers. He had come to far to learn nothing.
"Tell me what is going on here!" He begins to shout, giving Georgia's shoulder a gentle shove.
"Stop!" She bursts. She stops in her tracks and leans her back against a willow tree. Tears were close to streaming down her beautiful, young skin. She needed a moment. Elliott could see her figure vaguely in between the fine vines and leaves of the willow tree as if they were strangling her- but she let it. "I understand," she spoke, "I understand you want answers," and she revealed herself again to him by standing in a spot of sun, "but we are hurting right now. It may look glamorous, but our past is- something else."
Elliott asked one last question he was dying to know. "Can you at least answer me this- who did the ring belong to?"
Elliott saw pain in her once more, a demon inside her that was preventing the truth from arising.
"A girl. A very special girl. But she left us a long time ago."
--- Unknown location, 6:15 am---
Cree, throughout the night that was illuminated by the stars and the moon, listened to the old lady named Chrysalis. She had many tales and many stories and she told them in hypnotising manners. Every time Cree wanted to check on Preston in the carriage below, her ear caught on to another of the old lady's stories. Cree's patience transformed, with time, into an eagerness to hear more... and trust. Now, the moon sunk low to the sky, the last of its light stretching over the desert and overwhelmed by the orange light of the sun peeking over the horizon.
"Are you special?" Cree asks. Cree sat crossed-legged and allowed the violent wind to consume her hair into tangles of braids behind her. Chrysalis faced Cree politely, on her knees in such a manner that could be mistaken for a prayer.
"Na, na," the lady grumbled, "but that doesn't mean to says I don't have me own human talents!" And this made Cree laugh. Cree could not force her smile away, even if she tried. Chrysalis was welcoming with words nad provided Cree a mothering figure which she so desperately desired.
"I wish I was normal," Cree sulks, fixating her vision on a crack in the roof of the train below her, between her crossed-legs. She took this moment of peace to listen to the air whiz past her ears and skin, and to feel its cold tingle. "I can sense things, Chrys, I can sense when something will be bad, or something will be good. Sometimes I feel nothing at all. And it scares me."
"Girl," Chrysalis hums, and Cree focused in on the sound of the racketing train as it steamed along the tracks, " beautiful girl, I 'ave seen me fair share of mu'ants," she continued, "and it is not special, it ain't a gift. It will be your curse." These words hit Cree like ice. Cree's blood ran cold. Every breath was a struggle. Every swallow was like swallowing her last glimpse of hope.
"Are you sure?" Cree asked, "it helps me sometimes! It led me to you!" Cree was pleading to hold on to hope. Hope for a family, hope for a future that wasn't cursed. Maybe Chrysalis was wrong.
"Anyone can wrap a knife up in nice paper and a damn bow," Chrysalis spoke truthfully, "but dearie, I know somewhere you can stay. Both of ya."
"Both of us?" Cree grinned, glancing up into Chrysalis' eyes. In the distance of the desert, bold lights of a city stunned her vision. Flashing colours of red, blue and white.
"That there, dearie, is good old Vegas city. I have me some friends there. Some of which like yourself. Some of which I'd love ya to meet. They're somewhat family."
'Family' Cree thought. Cree had found salvation, had found more hope to tug her and Preston along against the war which is their lives. Somewhere to go, to be accepted and loved sounded surreal. Chrysalis called Cree's power a curse, a knife dressed in bows. But Cree's powers guided her passionately to Chrysalis that very night- to hope itself. Cree knew who she was, and thought Chrysalis wrong.
Outro music:
QUESTIONS:
What is your favourite power so far?
Who do you believe is the strongest mutant?
Who is your favourite character?
Why are Martha/Georgia/Cameron acting so sketchy?
Who gave Javier the seed?
What has happened to Esmeralda?
Opinions on new characters (Georgia and Cameron)?
Anything else you want to add? :P :P
Sorry this episode took SO long. Next one should not take as long. Remember, the more you comment, the more likely your character is to survive and thrive.
Hey! Next episode should be out later today or tomorrow so rest your souls <3. Just wanted to let you know that.
Secondly, the user that owns the character "Vegas" is banned so if someone wants to take ownership, they can. I will prioritize mandorize for he doesn't have a character. If he doesn't want her, then someone else can take Vegas.
Thirdly, if you are reading, PLEASE COMMENT ON THIS BLOG so I know. If you don't comment on this blog, I'm presuming you are not reading and your character may either die, disappear or be given to another user. I plan to have a treat at the end of the season that the top 3 users who comment and stuff the most, I will draw/ paint their characters as a thank you.
Fourthly, how would people feel if I made a wiki page? I plan this blog to go on for many seasons.
---Unknown Location, Unknown Time---
Javier gasped and choked as if the air were sawdust. The room was white, incredibly white. So white, it could be mistaken for a mirror for he could see himself. He was the darkest thing in the large room, square room and he was only slightly tanned. He was dressed in white too: white t-shirt, white shorts. He had been stripped of any possessions, and his most valuable, his daughter. He noticed on his shoulder, in the white walls, was a black logo that read M.C.C. Underneath in small print was the following: 'Mutant Control Centre'.
Theme tune:
---Tokyo, 12:09 am---
The following night, above Elliott, a neon-lit hellish red sign flickered 'Ku Kon'. The legendary bar of Tokyo; the one gossiped about by tourists. They mixed sensational cocktails that could supposedly change lives. Elliott had no interest in drinking tonight. With a newspaper article in his back pocket, the X-ring in his front, and with a single brave step, he enters the bar.
It was a crowded night. The bar was loosely lighted with a dull yellow. Elliott had difficulty isolating anybody's facial features; they all tended to blend in the drunk darkness. One particular lady caught his eye. She sat comfortably in a yellow armchair, cross-legged. She woreMost of the people in the bar were local, but Elliott was unsure of this unusual woman. She had hints of Japanese features; olive skin, slim eyes, soft cheeks, raven black hair that fell to her shoulders. They way she held herself indicated she had other originations. She drunk with others two who all seem much more intoxicated than her, tucked away in the corner of the room.
Eliott stuttered at the bar,
"who is the owner" but the bartender replied with the local tongue, and Elliott did not understand. Rowdy Japenese men bumped his shoulders violently. Elliott became socially nervous and couldn't find his words. He searched for them, but could not find them. Meanwhile, the bartender seemed vexed at Elliott's presence. Elliott's eyes fell to the bar that was wet with alcohol. What was he to say? He couldn't speak Japanese. He was beginning to doubt himself and his entire journey out here.
But actions speak louder than words, he thought. He gently pulled the newspaper article from out of his pocket, unravelled it, and displayed it to the owner. The article was titled "Woman in Tokyo Bar 'Ku Kon' Saves Life Without Touching Victim". The bar attendant seemed unimpressed by the English title, but once his eyes analysed the photo, his pupils dilated. He drastically threw his arms in the air, ripped the newspaper article in half during the process. The Japanese man leant over the bar, grabbed Elliott by the scruff of the shirt, and spat Japanese phrases at him. Elliott could tell they were insults simply by the tone. He backed off nervously, knocking arms and drinks to the floor while the bar tended still hurled abuse. He tripped, hurdled to the floor in reverse, and was caught by the strange lady's lap that he noticed earlier.
"Ahhh!" She yelped. She threw Elliott off her body, made a stand and looked down at him. Elliott could almost see up her tight red dress. Her mouth opened widely, ready to verbally abuse, and then her eyes became glued to something beside his waist. Something shiny and of pure silver. Her eyes were an endless blue, like the ocean. They could have easily been mistaken for purple. Elliott felt uncanny at her possessed ocean eyes. He followed her eyes down to beside him and saw the ring, engraved with an X. It had rolled out from his pocket, and he snatched it back as if it was the last ring on earth.
"Come with me," she spoke plainly. While she composed herself, which consisted of her rubbing her red dress down and saying farewell to the drunks at her table, Elliott jumped back to a standing position by her side.
"Come with me," she repeated. She walked elegantly through the mass of bodies to the exit. Elliott followed hesitantly, but also curiously. There was a strange bump on her left hip, highlighted by the tight red dress. Elliott thinks it was a pistol.
---Phoenix 8:03 am---
The next morning, the room was dim. A tender haze filled the apartment, tinted yellow by the early rising sun. Evan, almost unconscious, lay still on the couch. His muscular body was stretched from one end to the other like a plank of wood. His ears could sense some noise coming from the kitchen, then from the bedroom, then from the bathroom. Then he could see the haze, the yellow, and feel the dreadful pain coming from his forehead. He raised two fingers and gently brushed the surface of his fresh wound and then recalled the stitches he received overnight.
But the strange rattling noises still concerned him.
"Aria?" he called, wanting to put a reason to the noise. Following this, a loud thump hit the ground in the bedroom. Aria wheeled out a suitcase. She stood by the window, at a distance from him. The sunlight encompassed around her, like a holy figure.
"I'm going," she spoke stubbornly, "I'm going, and I'm not coming back!"
"But Aria!" And at this point, he realised all of her property in the living room was taken. Taken by her.
"But nothing! You promised Evan."
"But," he began to whimper, "I need you Aria, I can change! Please!"
She no longer responded to him. She concentrated her eyes to the door of the apartment, ready to never see him again. She stormed past him, and he witnessed for the first time the cut on her cheek from the strange occurrence the night before. Her cheek was red with blood and crudely healed with more stitches than he had himself. It would probably scar.
"I'm so sorry, Aria!" He begged and pleaded. Despite his booming headache from the wound, he raised his head and tugged at her arm like a child, preventing her from leaving. His face and chest transformed white with sudden illness of her leaving, "I know I'm a bad man! I know, but please! I love you! Don't leave, just help me! I need help! I need you with me."
Aria reconsidered, still staring ahead. Once again, her cold appearance was shining through. Evan wasn't sure why he loved her, why he needed her. Aria was often not affectionate, but rather cold in character. He hardly knew who she was. She pulled herself from his grip, spun around, and held eye contact with him. Her eyes penetrated his own as if they were knives.
"My father beat me," she spoke plainly, "he punched me. Made me bleed. He jumped on my ribcage once, until I could hardly breathe."
She paused for a moment, to let the message sink in.
"Until one day I screamed 'No. No more daddy.' and I hurt him like he hurt me. I thought I was happy when he left until my mother abandoned me too. Only because I was different. I was only 16."
"I- I had no idea."
"I never let my father touch me again. I'll be damned if you do." She grabbed her suitcase by the handle and continued to leave the apartment.
"I've said too much already," and slammed the door behind her. Evan would cry out, but his words had left him, suffocated by the tension that now invaded the room.
---Unknown Location 11:00 pm---
Cree had been sat in silence for hours, enduring every bump and uncomfortable position the fast, rackety train put her in. They had left Salt Lake City hours ago, on a cargo train to an unknown destination. Cree had no particular emotions about the journey, nothing suggesting the direction they were heading was bad... or good. Preston, whom she looked too as a little brother, was curled in a soft ball, not disturbed at all by the train's motion. Occasionally she would check him; his scales down his neck were fading and the orange glow in his eyes and neck had gone. It was the cool down period. Soon she would have the normal Preston back.
Then Cree got a sensation. A familiar one, but one she couldn't explain. The closest thing she could relate it to was excitement, but it wasn't excitement. An urge was pushing her to the roof of the train and she could sense achievement already. She tiredly pulled herself off the floor of the rusty cargo carriage and steadied her balance. She gently pulled her black, beaded her behind her head and climbed the coal pile that she had been positioned against. At the ceiling, there was a hole into the dark night sky that her slender, young body was able to squeeze through.
Her hair reflected the moonlight across the desert. She gazed across the landscape, but it was all so calm. The stars had never been so bright. The desert never so orange. The air never so peaceful. She had never felt this much as one with the...
"AY!" A barmy, raspy old voice calls to her. Cree, startled, rapidly spins to see the owner of the voice, meanwhile, her beads and braids flying around in the wind like loose snakes.
"What are ye doin' here?" The old lady calls. But Cree was in shock. To see an old, witch-like lady sitting cross-legged on the top of a fast moving train was an unexpected sight. Cree was questioning, however, whether her instinct was guiding her to...
"Chrysalis! Ah! Ah Ah! That's me name," The old lady chuckled violently. Cree stood plainly, with wide eyes.
"Well just stand there then, ye daft betch!" the lady shouts. She stands, but not securely. Her legs were brittle and weak. "I know what you are, girl."
"What- what does that mean," Cree replies. The night carries her voice to Chrysalis who stands at the opposite end of the carriage roof.
"I saw the boy! I saw 'im with me own two eyes!"
Cree blinked rapidly as if her own body was trying to reject the possibility of somebody knowing their powers. But Cree could not think of an explanation. But Cree stood strong. Maybe she could scare Chrysalis away, scare her silent and prevent her from spreading rumours. Cree did not want to be captured by the M.C.C.
"What do you want? Why are you here?" Cree demands.
"What you should be askin'," the old lady replies, "is what do YOU want? Why are YOU here?"
This strange lady had captured her attention. Although lunacy possessed her thoughts, she still had the sense to her words. Cree took them into consideration. What did Cree want? She wanted acceptance. A family. Why is she up here? Because her instinct told her so. Her 'gift' told her so. Maybe fate wanted Cree to meet this lady. The old lady wobbled carelessly to Cree.
"Like I says," she whispers to Cree, "I know what you are, girl. But don't be afraid."
---Unknown location, Unknown time---
In a rage, Javier began violently punching the walls, kicking them even. He ran in hysteric circles, pleading, raging, crying for his daughter back. Back into his arms one more time. He used to work for the police station in Los Angeles; he knew where he was. Well- not where, exactly. But what this place was, and what they did to people like him and his daughter.
He screamed and slammed to the floor as a burning sensation strangled his skin.
"Relax, Mr. King" a gender-neutral voice spoke through some device he could not locate in the room.
"Give me my daughter!" He screamed. Although cooperating, Javier was shouting with all his power- demanding even. But the voice did not reply and Javier sunk back into a deep rage around the room. He wanted to use his mutant powers, but he needed a source. A flower, a sapling, anything organic. But the room had been sterilised of any life.
"Relax, Mr. King" the voice called again, in the exact same tone. The burning sensation repeated its self, flowing through his veins rapidly until he collapsed in agony and defeat.
---Philadelphia 6:01 am---
Sam's eyes took in the light of the morning. But not with ease; the sun was painful to see. He sat up and hugged his knees tight, contemplating the nightmares he had endured throughout the night. He could feel the sunlight on his skin- it was so sensitive. The wind on his skin. But this puzzled him; he was indoors, he had thought.
Open not just looking, but observing his surroundings; he sat on dirt. Ash swirled around him like a tornado and pockets of fire were scattered around where his apartment used to be. Black scorches marked where his home once existed. His comic books, his photos of family, all burnt in the flaming inferno he slept through without a scratch. Sam stood, naked, cold, but not alone. Hundreds of locals pointed, gasped and studied him. A man reborn from the flames. Some took steps closer, yet hesitant to touch as if he was beyond them. In their eyes, he had just survived the impossible.
Confused, embarrassed, ashamed and made a monkey for others to observe, Sam had no other instinct other than to flee the scene and anyone who knew he had survived the pyre.
---Tokyo, 12:21 am---
The strange lady, who Elliott came to know as Martha Walls, sat beside him. She composed herself elegantly at the back of the limo, her legs crossed as they were at the bar. She dived into her handbag and plucked out a single wipe that removed all her makeup in a single swipe. Her face had many beauty marks, and her lips lost their redness. She aggressively reached deep up her dress and removed a pistol which she slammed on the centre table.
"Don't worry," Martha spoke plainly. Elliot wasn't comforted at all. "I'm not going to shoot you."
"What a-a-are you going to do?" Elliott stuttered. She did not reply but continued to meaningless organise the contents of her handbag. In this period of silence, noticed a mysterious black figure driving the limo. The outlines of the body suggested she was a female.
"Where are you taking me?" Elliott attempts at another query.
"Where did you find this?" Martha questions. She magically conducts the ring into her hand. For the firs time since they left the bar, her blue eyes stare into his. This intimidated him- she never looked into his eyes.
"But-" Elliot panics, frantically searching his pockets.
"I took it. You don't need it anymore."
"Yes, I do! Please, it's the only lead I have," Elliott pleads.
"To what?" She asks. But Martha spoke with a grin. She was expecting a specific answer. Elliott paused for a moment, debating whether his reply would be silly in her eyes.
"Mutants?" He questions, waiting for her to reject his preposterous answer. But her smile only deepened. Her glance caught the eyes of the driver through the rearview mirror. Both women smiled ghastly at each other.
"Elliott," she smiled, "your world is about to get much bigger."
Outro music:
I really hope everyone enjoyed the 2nd episode! A bunch more characters are introduced next episode. I would love it if you discussed amongst yourselves some questions I have for you?
1) Who is Martha? What are her intentions surrounding Elliott? Where is she taking him?
2) Is Evan a bad person?
3) Who is your favourite character so far?
4) What is your favourite mutant power so far?
---Los Angeles, 11:58 pm---
"Fucking cow," Javier muttered under his breathe. Although the heavy rain pallets against the window soothed her ears, Esmeralda was still hurt by these insults. She couldn't gather as quickly as he could. She had been left in deep sorrow by the actions of her mother. 'How could she do this to us?' Esmeralda thought.
"How could she," He muttered again, but much louder, "Esme I told you to pack some fucking clothes!" Javier spat across the kitchen while he yanked every food item within his reach and threw it into a cardboard box. She was trying to be brave and desperately holding herself together, as she always does. Tears still found their way down her pale skin. All she had to soothe her was the sound of the rain falling from the heavens and the isolating sound of her whimpers. She listened to her father and shuffled upstairs with a cardboard box while pulling back the tears into her eyes.
Once Esmeralda had left the kitchen, Javier broke. He wouldn't allow her to see him like this; it would have been too painful for her to watch. His arms fell limp, and he cowered in the corner of two counters while water dripped from his nose in sadness. His glistening eyes followed the room around until they landed on a note. A note he only read moments ago but felt like hours ago:
I saw you with her last night. Was I not enough? I've called the M.C.C. You disgust me with your mutant genes. Take our mutt daughter with you. She always preferred you. -Karen.
Introduction Song:
---Tokyo, 10:30 pm---
Elliott sat crossed-legged, uncomfortable, impatient for the welcoming Japanese lady to finish her job. He fidgeted on a cushion while his legs were suffocated under the short, hand-carved table. Silently, she placed his meal before him on the same table and bowed. She quickly, but quietly, exited his room. Elliott grinned anxiously, not knowing much Japanese and would much rather avoid conversation. As soon as she had closed the bamboo doors behind her to his ryokan inn room, he moved the ramen she had so gently placed before him and replaced it with his laptop. He would prefer to insult her culture when she was not in the room.
The laptop was the only light source in the room, and it illuminated his face into a glowing ball while he stared at the meaningful words on the screen. He read through all his history:
"Teenage Boy in Texas Strange Mathematical Abilities"
"MUTANTS: Are They Among Us?"
"Woman in Tokyo Bar 'Ku Kon' Saves Life Without Touching Victim."
The final tab intrigued him. That's why he is here. Maybe he could find her, understand her. He has heard too much about mutants to pretend they didn't exist.
He rested his eyes from the screen by taking a wander to the patio door and sliding the glass open. It was a wild night, with wind and rain swirling around the buildings and illuminated street signs down below. Although late, the night was busy with people. Since arriving in Japan, Elliott inhaled a deep breath and exhaled all his worries. From his pocket, he pulled out some form of a ring. He spun the ring in, and it danced on his palm. Engraved on the ring was a large X. He has his own reasons to believe it belonged to a mutant that unfortunately passed away. A beautiful ring, but it raises so many questions that Elliott desires answers too.
---Philadelphia, 12:39 am---
It was an ordinary apartment. It had ordinary windows, ordinary doors, carpets, wallpapers. Even an ordinary owner. Taking after his mother, Sam is studying sociology at university. His overbearing and overprotecting parents have supported him his entire life, even now, buying him an apartment close to his campus.
The night was clear but had a mysterious air. It was so silent is his bedroom; you'd think the whole world was gone but him. He slept under his covers peacefully. Maybe slightly afraid of living life independently and saying farewell to his high school friends.
But fate had unordinary plans for him. His skin, at 12:39 am, began to sweat. It was a warm bedroom after all. It dripped down his chest, down his arms and his fingertips and accumulated on his forehead into little dots. Meanwhile, his dreams became violent and unordinary, and his limbs twitched erratically. As his skin sweat overbearingly, the covers above his body sizzled and crisped into a bistre brown while laying upon him. The sweat that fell from his fingers that hung off the bed kissed the carpet and eroded crop circles into the fur. The spontaneous and aggressive dreams became too much for Sam, and a single tear rolled down his eye while in a deep sleep. The very second this tear touched his pillow, it lit into a beautiful orange flame beside him.
---Los Angeles 12:15 am---
Esmeralda created a parting between the curtains of the living room. A light beam from the street lights illuminated a single eye as she peeked onto the street and saw two long, shiny white cars pull into their drive way. On the hood of the cars was written "M.C.C."
"Dad, they're here!" She called nervously to her father in the kitchen.
"Follow me," he replied viciously as he held the back door open. She ran towards him and saw her escape into the dark, wet night. Behind their house was a long forest that ran for miles over countless hills.
The door rang, and harsh, deep voices could be heard communicating by the front entrance.
"What about the food? And clothes?" Esmeralda asked. They had spent so much time hurrying them into boxes.
"We can't take the car! They'll see us!" Her father whispers.
"We can carry them!" She answers back, but he ignores her.
"Where do we go?"
"Just run."
They exit through the backdoor hastily into the thick brush and woods. As Javier gently closes the back door, he could hear the M.C.C. hammering at the front door, clawing their way into his home. After hearing the signalling click that the back door had locked, he takes his daughter's small, pale hand and runs alongside her into the night of the forest.
---Phoenix 7:01 pm---
It was a late night in the offices, and a beautiful, tall, blonde woman paced her way down a long, wide office corridor lined with glass walls. Black clothes covered her legs and torso, but her arms were free and naked. She held tightly to her office work, folders and papers tucked into her arms. Although outstanding in figure, her appearance was somewhat cold. But there was much hidden under the cold surface of her skin.
"Aria!" her boyfriend sung down the corridor. He was large, tall and muscular and appeared older than the age of 23.
"Yes?" She asked. She turned around to face him. He looked at her legs.
"I told you to stand with your legs together," Evan complained, "your legs are too far apart, you look like a man. I don't want to date a man!"
"Sorry, I must have forgotten." She stood crossed-legged while her green eyes scanned the floor around his shoes.
"We're going out for Chinese food later, for your birthday," he stated while shuffling through his folders in his arms. Aria felt sorry for the folders for Evan had very cruel arms that almost burst through his shirt sleeves. If they had feelings, they would feel pain, she thought. She could empathise with the folders.
"I can't," Aria responded hesitantly, "I have to work until 10." But this angered Evan.
"I planned a special evening! Why didn't you tell me?" He questioned her maliciously. He took a few steps forward and looked down at her, waiting for an answer.
"I forgot! I forgot!"
"You forgot..." he chanted back. His eyes scanned the area to check if it was clear, "you won't forget this!"
He raised his large, muscular arm, ready to strike her in anger. Aria cowardly fell to the floor under his aggressive approach. Aria was not the only thing to respond to his aggression. Once Evan's hand was ready to strike down on her, the lights at the end of the hallway shattered under pressure. In a tidal formation, they continued to smash into glass splinters until it reached above Evan. The chandelier above him burst into intense light. Glass bullets shot around the room as if fired from a gun. One sliced Aria's cheek but another sliced Evan's forehead. Before either of them understood what had happened or realised they had been injured, they were plunged into the darkness with only each other as company.
---Los Angeles, 12:31 am---
Javier and his daughter, Esmeralda, still ran in the woods. The trees offered nothing more than the cold and the rain and low visibility. Esmeralda's dyed purple hair began to curl and tangle in the dampness of the forest. She was distraught that her mother had abandoned her and betrayed her, but this had fused into a wild rage against her internally. Esmeralda's large, hopeful eyes were now filled with fear of the future. What would happen to her? And her father?
"Esmeralda, you have to control it!" Javier demanded. With every single emotional step, her boot poisoned the ground and the grass and ferns surrounding it shrivelled and died within seconds.
"I'm trying!" She called back, angry. But she wasn't mad at her father; she was mad at her mother. Dogs barked in the distance behind them, and they both paused in fear, but they could not see anything through the thick, dense trees behind them.
"They're coming!" Javier states.
"We have to fight," Esmeralda decides. She was a brave girl, especially for only 15.
A few long moments later, torches, held by the hands of the M.C.C., searched their way through the distant branches behind them. Javier knew they'd catch up with him and his daughter soon. He took his daughter's shoulder and hugged her tightly.
"No matter what happens," he whimpers, "I love you."
Esmeralda treasured this. Her parents were never home often, and she became independent as a result. It satisfied her to know at least one parent is always with her. Ironically, feeling loved gave her the strength to accept her fate, whatever it may be. She also never felt particularly close to her father before this moment. He had Mexican descent, and that clearly showed through his olive skin and thick eyebrows. But she was stone white and little, like her mother. They had nothing in common until this moment. They were both being hunted for being mutants. Javier ended the hug on quick notice.
"Okay Esme," he spoke, "sing."
---Salt Lake City, 6:40 pm---
The orange glow of the sun was setting on the horizon. Humps and bounds of coal filled the large yard that was boarded with a chained fence. Multiple machines yank and dig at the mountains of coal, processing them. Sitting in the open transport carriage of a long, stationary train was a small, young girl of around 19. She seemed anxious. She had jet black hair that stretched far down behind her shoulders and her spine. Entangled in this hair was multiple beads and braids. Her hair was rather wild, but only to compliment her native American features: her dark brown eyes and tanned skin.
A boy comes around the corner, slightly younger than herself. His face is hidden by a black hooded jumper. He hops across the rusty tracks, across the sunset, and approaches the girl.
"Preston," he calls him, "what happened? I know something happened!"
But he said nothing, he hoisted himself in the loading carriage beside her and positioned himself against a large wooden crate. Not once did he reveal his face.
"Say something," she asked again. She waited once again, but he ignored her presence. She grew impatient. She stormed over and ripped down his hood. His eyes were glowing a fierce orange, and grey scales formulated down his neck. A ball of glowing fire illuminated through his throat and sat just above his Adam's apple. She could feel the heat radiating of him.
"I knew something bad had happened, I could sense it," she whispered to herself. He was breathing heavily, but she patted his chest, trying to calm him down.
"Cree," his lips mumbled meaninglessly.
"Don't talk," she sighed, "just rest."
This had happened to him a few times before. She recognised the symptoms. They both called it 'the Vulcan'. When Preston gets angered, sad, or sometimes just randomly, the Vulcan will emerge. Cree had seen it first hand, and it even scared her. No one could control the Vulcan inside of him. Preston already had amazingly great abilities. He could melt the toughest metals or create the hottest flames. But the Vulcan was no force the be messed with. She felt sorry for whoever happened to get in his way that night.
"I told you not to go," Cree whispered. But Preston's eyes were forced ahead as if fixed. He was cooling down from the Vulcan.
---Los Angeles, 12:32 am---
"There was a time when men were kind," Esmeralda sung. She sang gracefully, almost unnaturally. She stood, with her mouth open, in the dark, damp forest, allowing her voice to possess. Her father meanwhile, rose his hands and around both of them, a cage of branches encompassed them.
"That's it, Esme! Keep singing!" Like her father, she could control the growth of plants, but her power lied deeper than his. He could control his abilities by pure will, but hers were more spiritually. If she were sad, the flowers would die. If she were happy, the flower buds would open into spectacular colours. It wasn't as much will. But no matter the cause, her soothing voice always encouraged plants to flourish.
"And the world was a song,
And the song was exciting," she continued to sing. She had forgotten about her mother, about the danger, about the world. All she thought of was her song, and the branches grew faster. Javier harvested and controlled their growth and direction around them. The natural cage forming around them was filling, and only small gaps were left to complete. But Javier was still nervous as he could hear the M.C.C. approaching and their torches shinning through the natural cage.
Esmeralda did not notice the danger beside her: she was oblivious with bliss. Singing made her happy, and flowers began to grow all around the branches and the grass beneath her. Javier even began to smile as the job was also done. The cage of branches, leaves and flowers was thick. Nobody would be taking them anywhere. Javier, for the first time that night, smiled in relief.
"I think we did it," he sighed looking at her. Esmeralda's big, soft eyes slowly closed and she dropped the floor with a dart lodged in the side of her neck. Her purple hair spread across the floor and her limbs loosely attached to her body. As she fell, Javier noticed a gap in the cage behind her, the only gap they had missed. Javier thought they were safe, but they were not.
Her singing ended and her song unfinished. The cage shrivelled and collapsed around them without her aid. He felt a sharp pain in his neck too, and the drugs began to set in. In the fuzz of his vision, he watched the M.C.C. members gently carry Esmeralda's seemingly lifeless body away from him. He reached out his hand, but his eyes shut too, and his hand collapsed into the mud of the forest floor.
Ending Song:
MESSAGE: Thank you for reading! I hope you all enjoy! If you have not been introduced yet, don't worry, you will be! If you are wondering why one of your characters isn't in the list that may be because I wasn't able to fit them into the story, so I'm sorry. If any small details are changed like appearance, age or last name, that is just for the purpose of the story.
First Name:
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Short Bio:
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Any extra details?
Hi! You can submit up to two characters if you like, know that one only may be selected though. You cannot decide if your character(s) have a mutation, although if you have any creative ideas for a power just let me know (in mail so it is a secret). There will roughly be an even amount of characters that do have powers and those that don’t. Average human characters will still play vital roles in the series. Expect around 9 episodes per season.
