An AU Marvel Cinematic Universe RPG
|Home||Help Search Members Calendar Affiliates Shoutbox|
|Welcome Guest ( Log In | Register )||Resend Validation Email|
BUY YOU A DRINK, [ Tag ;; open ]
Posted: Oct 7 2012, 06:18 PM
Member No.: 248
Joined: 30-July 12
[ INAUGURAL POST ]
Darkness fell upon him. He saw lights like gloating red eyes, and dark creeping shapes, and he heard noises as if sounded by an angry beast, enraged, motivated to wreak havoc upon those who crossed his path. The dreadful cries of tortured things, being sliced and slaughtered, limb by limb, resonated like a pondering echo in his ears. He’d scan the area, his surrounding, to find the world all dark, filled with an empty blackness, as if confined in a tight vacant space, or a dark Elysium, meant to enlightened hatred and madness rather than inspire happiness. Blood dibbled from his metal claws with each passing step that he took. His lust for destruction grew, leisurely at first, and then he began to want more—bystanders, innocent men, women and children alike, fell victims to his broadening appetite. He impaled his claws impassively through their chests as they attempted to flee and save themselves from the approaching beast. The setting around him was a living, breathing nightmare. The entire village was inflamed by an overwhelming and passionate conflagration, which progressively burned down everything within its radius: houses, vehicles, even humans as they scattered around, trying to avoid their predator. One woman cried begging for mercy, holding in her arms her infant daughter. The beast glared at her coldly, menacingly, without any faint of remorse in his fiber. He clenched his fist and pulled his arm back, readying to spear her with his claws. She shrieked. But the beast heard nothing and hurled his arm forward.
The dreadful night passed suddenly, one that he endured reluctantly. The daylight that followed was dim, faintly dark, but brightening the moderately packed bar. Inside, Logan found himself seated by the counter, ordering himself yet another shot of hard, cold whiskey, awoken from his nightmarish daydream. His lips held together a long cigar, right by its curve, inhaling and exhaling the burnt tobacco. People sat beside him, reluctant to make any contact with the man they had just witnessed demolish another in a cage fight. They felt indisposed; Logan could feel it in him as he sensed the gradual increase of their perspiration and that of their heartbeats, for it too, quaked quicker than its usual pace. It made him shrug his shoulders unemotionally. He had always meant to intimidate those who dare approach him, and so far, his attempt seemed to be working effortlessly. “Pour me another shot,” he drew out a twenty dollar bill and slammed it against the bar, pushing his glass closer to the bartender, urging him to be quick about it. His tone was stern, demanding, and sharp. He expected the barman to pour him another shot, despite it being his twelfth glass of the night. The server looked at the mutant apprehensively, unsure of whether he should obey the man or perform the mandatory task that required him to stop an individual whenever he or she has had one too many to drink. His hesitant gaze grew anxious the moment Logan furrowed his eyebrows, drastically scowling his countenance. Uneasily, the man instantly drew out a bottle of hard liquor, and filled his client’s glass, making a slight mess on top of the counter for he trembled whilst he poured. A subtle grin appeared on the mutant’s face as he curved his lips slightly to one side, playfully tilted his head, and nodded appreciatively whilst raising his glass to the air before planting it back down.
The next moment, would have taken a normal being by surprise, however, Logan’s acute senses had been trained to expect the unexpected at all times. Three men had approached him all at once, one of them being the man he had defeated earlier the day, when they had brawled inside a cage. The man was tall, and very muscular; he even, overly towered Logan’s relatively short stance, and was wide in shoulders and arms too. However, he had convincingly lost to the smaller Wolverine, which of course, had taken everyone by surprise. The match had been themed as David against Goliath, but quickly turned its table around, when the entire crowd arrived at the realization that Logan, playing the role of David due to his smaller frame, was supremely stronger than his opponent. He dominated him with a ferocious tenacity and efficient force unlike they had ever seen before. It was something to be ashamed of, at least for the taller man who had gotten his ass whooped by the shorter and supposedly frail one. “You… I know who you are…I know what you are,” the man intoned with his thick New York accent, with a hint of Italian. Logan remained silent, giving the man a chance to walk away before he lost his patience. He raised his eyebrow speculatively, and gazed up towards the television, showing no concerns towards whatever it was the man felt the need to tell him. “You’re one of those freaks aren’t ya? Yeah, that’s it, that’s what you are—a freak.” He taunted the seated drinker by whispering his last sentences into Logan’s ears. The mutant’s quick-temperedness felt tested. He gasped a deep breath, and casually dropped his half smoked cigar against the counter, leisurely losing his cool and uncaring posture, “What I am, is none of your concern, got it? So, I advise you get the hell out of my face, or else you’ll endure a bigger beating than the one I gave you earlier.” Logan fixed a scowled gaze into the man’s blue hues as he glanced over his shoulder, only giving him half of his attention. His jaws flexed sharply, and his eyes filled his gaze with a scorching hostility meant to instill fear and doubt into the man’s soul. His voice was rough and growled calmly. Those surrounding the bar stared nervously, some even moved away from the two men, five if you count the intruder's entourage.
The mutant was utterly uninterested to engage in another bar fight, a bad habit he had put to an end ever since he joined the X-Men. The physical sensation, the mental desire and the willingness to fight were momentarily nonexistent. He had used it all during their cage match, and saw no reason to partake in one outside of the ring. And so, he turned his head back forward, and took another fast sip from his strong whiskey, letting it burn his chest and sooth his irritated nerves. But the man kept pushing his buttons, like a buzzing bee and its ear aching sound. He spoke, and further sneered at the tranquil mutant, unsheathing a pocket knife, one long and thick, surely illegal, as he hurled his arm forward with intents to impel its sharp end through his adversary's skin. Wolverine responsively grasped the man’s forearm, the one holding the knife, and swiftly halted his attempt. He then simultaneously, and bodily, jostled the man right into the wall, pinioning his back against it, emphatically, taking him by complete surprise. The noisy bar suddenly silenced itself as everyone turned their gaze towards the confrontation, curious and alert. The former soldier then leisurely unsheathed his three claws, one after the other. He glided them slowly towards the man’s neck, barely grazing his skin. “I warned you, didn’t I?” Logan asked his voice calm and unbothered. Unexpectedly, about ten men rose to their feet, readied for battle, some with their guns pulled out, others, with their knives drawn out, pointing in the direction of the mutant. “See, they know what you are, and who you are too. What a dozen against one? Doesn’t sound too fair, don’t it?” the man mocked, despite being at a disadvantaged position. Hostile eyes rapidly scanned the area, as Logan tried to decipher a way out of this predicament without harming anyone, or his image, unwilling to look like a punk by simply walking out. The old him, would have likely faced them all at once, but with his new identity as a member of the X-Men, doing so proved to be a bit more difficult and contradictory to the strong code of honor and respect that the school stood for. It wouldn’t be right of him to act on his instincts and pride considering the new responsibilities that were bestowed upon him the moment he joined the team of gifted mutants. And so, Logan slowly tugged his claws back into his knuckles, it stung, but he had gotten used to the pain by now, and took a step away from the man he had just pinned against the wall--choosing instead, to remain silent and observant as all the twelve men approached him, seemingly preparing to beat him up.
This post has been edited by Wolverine: Oct 8 2012, 07:20 PM
Posted: Oct 8 2012, 04:30 PM
Member No.: 254
Joined: 3-August 12
[ Inaugural Post ]
Revealing mutants to the world has garnered two possible responses out of a million possibilities. First, the public had a small outcry towards average citizens manifesting superhuman abilities. Already there were the Avengers, flaunting their abilities and promising to protect the world from deadlier things than minor political terrorism and corporate takeovers. The public already detested the Avengers because of their lack of attention to the bigger picture. Aliens had invaded from another place halfway across the galaxy; a giant lizard mutated from a man had threatened New York City and they were nowhere in sight. Charles had given much thought to this information, flooding his mind into several S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives to get the information he wanted and to ignore the rest. He was searching for something, no doubt. But mutants had also pulled a second response from the rest of humanity: they were reluctant to accept and more apt to confrontation than those who feared them. Charles was by no means a man who wanted to fight a war, that was something he had seen far too often in Erik's eyes to really appreciate. War was not the favorable outcome, not if Xavier could help it, and he had taken it upon himself to reach out a knowing, understanding hand to those who wanted help. But he was not going to allow humanity to push them around, not as far as he was concerned. He was on a peaceful crusade; not to start a bloody genocide as heinous as the persecution and slaughter of the Jews. Erik had been there firsthand, knew what things humanity was capable of, and he would do everything in his power to stop prejudice before it escalated in a downward spiral.
And that meant intervening when he knew one of his own was in danger.
He'd watched steadily from a psychic distance, skirting over the thoughts of those gathered how the "Wolverine" had bested them in cage matches. Logan was still giving his all to fighting out whatever frustrations he may have had, and despite Xavier's attempts to calm the man's mind he was just as much a beast as ever. Quietly Xavier made his approach, one hand in the pocket of his dark pea-coat while the other raised a single digit to press against his left temple, focusing on those around him even as he opened his mind to relay words to his compatriot. .oO Logan. I must request you refrain from harming that man. He is not worth your time nor your energy. Oo. His eyes roved temporarily over the dozen or so men who were threatening the Wolverine. Xavier knew they were outmatched but he was their very own secret weapon, no intention to cause harm present but knowing he would do what was necessary for them to escape. If it meant wiping the minds of those present he would do such a thing. Best to diffuse the situation while he had the opportunity.
He knew he had to do something to prevent an outburst from Logan, though a general feeling had come to Xavier briefly allowing him insight into the feral mutant's current frame of mind. Perhaps he wasn't going to be a danger to everyone after all. "Gentlemen," he greeted them with, gaze flickering over to Logan as he continued. "My apologies for my friend's attitude. Life hasn't been all-around good for him." But Xavier wasn't going to give the men the benefit of the doubt. Not everyone was good and there was no good to see in these men. Instead Xavier took up more of a defensive stance, keeping himself steady and calm. He wanted them to back down, didn't want to use his persuasive abilities or any other psionic talents on them. Logan could handle himself there was no doubt there, but Xavier wasn't sure the publicity would be well-received and there was no doubt either S.H.I.E.L.D. or O*N*E would step in. Charles believed with every fiber of his being they would swing down their wrath upon Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters at the first sign of any mutant threat. S.H.I.E.L.D. seemed on edge the more Charles checked in on them, and it was better to be safe than sorry.
Ironically it also meant he was capable of finding out pertinent information that would lead him to the overall defense of the young mutants under his care. Xavier was the kind of man to really protect what he believed in, and while ulterior motives consisted of building a better image getting into a bar fight was not part of that display. This was about power and aggression. One thing was his department, the other was Logan's. Charles had every mind to tell Logan to back down further, but as it seemed he'd found no reason to fear. At least not yet. Turning away the slightly inebriated men who were accusing the feral mutant of cheating were not docile. No, he'd wait to see how they reacted first before unleashing any psionic abilities into the bar.
This post has been edited by Charles Xavier: Feb 19 2013, 02:19 PM
1 User(s) are reading this topic (1 Guests and 0 Anonymous Users)