maskormenace | Entries tagged with † laura kinney

March 2021

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WILL YOU HELP SAVE THE WORLD?

Mask or Menace is a panfandom urban 'superhero' genre DWRP game, where heroes, villains, and everyone in between seek to survive and thrive in a world loosely parallel to our own.

twatter

Been here. Done this. Didn't stick around long enough to really care about this place one way or the other.

[ Tech Boy is on his bed, the communicator set up on a tripod while he uses his hands to play the latest video game system -- eyes locked on the screen. ]

But technology's always changing. Always evolving. Same can be said about imPorts, right? Because two years is a long fucking time to be stuck with the same boring old models. So let's see what set of upgrades we got.

[ Taking a break during a loading screen, he reaches over for his douchey vape pen, bringing it up to his lips. ]

Who, would you say, is the most relevant imPort here these days? Gotta be one who sticks out more than most. And how would you update yourself to be like them?

[ He exhales a cloud of vapor from his nose and goes back to his game. ]

I am a god. So. Ask and ye may receive.

attractedtodarkness

[One teenage girl with long brown hair draped down the sides of her face is staring at her new phone incredulously. Her tone one of disbelief and sarcasm.]

"Don't worry, we're the [Insert air quotes here] 'good guys'"? Seriously? Talk about mega government conspiracies. I'm not buying any of that bullshit.

[There's a pause as she reaches for something off camera]

First thing's first, if anyone has a lighter I can borrow, I want to burn the shit out of this file. [she waves the back of her personnel file in front of the camera briefly] I don't know how they got my information but I'm not about to share it. And if someone can lend me enough cash for a flight to Los Angeles, it'll be great.

[she turns away from the phone, seemingly about to end her message before turning back]

Oh, right. If you're my roommate, I only have one rule: Don't touch my stuff.

nestingdevil

[The feed's a little erratic. Flipping and turning and it's very clear from the get-go that the owner of the device has it shoved pocket-deep with the switched turned on. From the compromised position, the recording doesn't illuminate much. Just a bit of the mid-afternoon sun creeping in, edging out a hand with thick-knuckles in a stream-line of gold. However, despite being slightly muffled, a voice does come through the line. Thick and sultry, proud with a hum that seems to hold out each syllable. Grazing against teeth as the man says one thing only:]

Thanks, pal.

[The smile is practicably audible and wet. Deadly-sharp and two dull clacks of a heel follow. The owner's a bit distracted - as if he doesn't know that he's turned the whole network into a one-man show - and he knocks solidly on the hood of a car. Once, twice. Sending it off as an engine growls and wheels kick tiny stones down the pavement. For a few seconds, it's only the rush of air as a thumb snatches the device. And then, finally, it sees the light of day.]

Ah, right. [The feed flips. Head over heel as it's tossed up and snatched in a solid grip. For a hot-second, there's a flash of fur, a catch of leather. Until it settles to the side, peering upwards to highlight the underside of a throat. Round panes of glass make up a pair of shades that seem to swallow the sun high up in the air and the man smiles. Really smiles. Pulling back his lips and it's like the jaws of a shark opening wide. Points that are razor-cut and they line up, tooth by tooth, in a terrible and wicked row.] That was a little rude, wasn't it?

[So maybe the initial tuning-in was intentional. Either way, present company doesn't seem too bothered. Instead, he shrugs. Tilting his head to the side and his eyebrows dip into small U(s). Following the silver-rims of his sunglasses as he raises his other hand to the feed. He gives two taps to the temple, knocking his skull to punctuate his point. Whatever that point is.] Well, I gotta say - this is new. But then again - [His lips close up, his grin smarmy. As if could have the whole world in the palm of his hand.]

- there's no such thing as no such thing.

[The stranger slides his heel back, letting his shoulders sag forward. Like every part of him is entirely boneless and he shoots his head over the collar of fur framing his neck. The mockery of a bow in every fashion and two fingers rise to touch the dip of his collarbone.]

The name's Greed - [He says, finally. A long-overdue introduction and the Sin rolls his tongue to the smooth side of his teeth. Lets his eyebrows knit together, making waves of his forehead.] - why don't we start being good friends, hmn?

viced

Well, everyone, it's been a long fucking while, hasn't it?

[ It seems so weird, to see Mitch without his usual, old backdrop of an office. He's not in a bedroom, either, but instead outside, probably a park, but he sure as hell doesn't look comfortable. He's just kind of holding the communicator, there's not the usual production-quality that his addresses normally came with. Starting over, starting from the ground up. He's smiling though, as much as a guy who's lost a career can smile. ]

We've got a lot of new faces on here too. I'd say welcome to the City, but it's not really the City anymore. [ A pause. ] Welcome to Cape Canaveral, imports.

We've had a lot of people offering rundowns, so I'm not going to do that, we've had appeals for cooperation, something I would wholeheartedly encourage, but more than that, I wanted to pop in and let you know what I'm here for. Back home, where I really come from, I was the Mayor of New York City, [ A pause. There are other things, but he won't address those, ] and then in the City, I was also the mayor, your mayor, really. It's difficult to distinguish a classification like import, no matter what you do, you know? Anyway, when I showed up here, they apparently knew me well enough, they didn't give me one fucking job, they gave me two. I'm your representative here.

What that means, of course, is that I'm here for you. I know how cheesy, and ridiculous it sounds, but it's true. I'm here for each and every one of you, and I mean that wholeheartedly. I know it's a lot to take in, coming to another goddamn world, and suddenly there's a tattoo on your arm, a file in your hand, and you're being asked to register for these people. I know it's not easy. I know it's not the first thing that comes to mind when showing up in a new goddamn world, because I'm pretty sure most people are going to get caught up on the fact that it's a new goddamn world.

And that's where I want to come in. I want you to understand just as I do, I want to make sure that if there are any fears, or anything holding you back, let me bring them up with the people in the government, let me bring issues you have up. I'm good at this for a reason, and if you need a voice, I'm going to be it. So don't hesitate, and if you don't want to do it here, just tell me when and where, and I'll make sure we can talk -- or you can call me anytime, and I'll be here to listen.

[ And like magic, the number seems embedded in the message. ]

Anyway, like a lot of people have already said, we have to work together to make do here. If we don't, we're going to fall apart, just like before, and I cannot and will not let that happen if I can help it.

Thanks for listening folks, and have a good rest of your afternoon.

retropolis

[ Wherever he is, Nelson isn't at home; the scenery the camera captures as it turns on illuminates that easily. He isn't at home or even in Heropa, but rather Cape Canaveral's Air Force Space & Missile Museum, sitting outside the blockhouse on a bench. He's dressed not in a suit and tie for once but a blue-and-white polo t-shirt with an American flag pin affixed where the polo decal would be, and though he looks tired (circles under his eyes) he speaks with the steady confidence and enthusiasm he can always manage when he's in his element. As always, his posture is impeccable. ]

According to the calendar, today is President's Day. [ He smiles even more for saying it, turning his head briefly to admire the sunshine -- it's a beautiful day, and (in his opinion) he's in a beautiful place -- before he turns back toward the camera. ] Which I bring to everyone's general attention because it's not only a day of remembrance. At least it shouldn't be. We also ought to use today to reflect upon ourselves and what we've done that we can be truly proud of -- not just for ourselves but for our country as well. "Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country."

[ His brow furrows mildly then and he clears his throat, understanding he has to elaborate. Already his ears begin to go red, his body growing tense and flustered already even before his mind gets there. ]

... I know not all of us come from the same place, of course. B-but while not everyone here may be American, there's no reason we shouldn't all stand together as long as we're here. It's irresponsible to let ourselves grow divided when we have a real duty. Y-you know, what's happening here now is what was happening to the world I know... it's more important than you might think, unity. Having a united front can mean the difference between life or death, no matter what your contribution is.

[ And a breath. Good job, Nelson, very inspiring, for sure, totally. He rubs at his wrist where the tattoo would show were it not broad daylight, but it's not a long pause, because he doesn't want to lose his courage for the rest of it. After another breath he pushes onward: ]

It won't always be what you'd like it to be. Sometimes you will have to make compromises... or sacrifices to pursue what you really believe in. You might have to fight and you might have to hide. But at least you won't be alone.

[ Exhale. His fingers fidget nervously. ]

I-I hope you can all understand what I'm saying.

[ Straightening his shoulders he offers his audience a very somber salute, having very clearly depressed himself. ]

United we stand, divided we fall.

oftheplains

[For long moments, Ororo simply stood outside, on House #015's lawn. She took a look around the rooms, sure, and she'd spent some time looking through the file that she'd been given earlier. But ultimately there was something about the house that unsettled her. It didn't feel very lived in, and though it was spacious enough, it felt too small. A little like the walls were closing in on her. So she'd escaped to the front yard for some air, and to gather her thoughts and consider her options.

She wasn't a stranger to being pulled into new worlds. It wasn't something that happened often, but it had happened before, so she wasn't too troubled about that. No, what did trouble her was everything that she'd left behind: the school, the students, her team, her family... For her to be pulled away from all of them, at a time like this, left her frustrated and more than a little annoyed. Outwardly she remained calm, but it was harder to keep the sky from reacting to her building temper. Lightning flashed in an otherwise clear sky, and Ororo couldn't be bothered to do more than frown idly up at the clouds. How fortunate, she thought, that she didn't have to worry about upsetting weathermen in this world.

Eventually, she finally takes action. If this were like any other time she'd visited other dimensions, it stood to reason that perhaps one or two of her teammates were around here. It was just a matter of finding them. She switches on the communicator and, after a beat of hesitation, decides on something short and to the point and, hopefully, wouldn't give too much away about her.]

Good afternoon, all. If you have heard of, or know of the X-Men, I would greatly appreciate it if you would please contact me. Thank you.

[ There. Formal, polite, and straight to the point. But... well, not very friendly. Ororo decides to tack something else on, in a much warmer tone of voice: ]

That being said... My name is Storm, and I am newly arrived. Our handlers have been kind enough to fill me in on the situation, but I must admit that it is still a bit much to take in. Would it be too much to ask for some clarification on the information that we have been spoonfed?

youbastard

[ For the sake of the video feed Ellie is trying very hard to not let her nervousness show. She brushes the wisps of her brown hair that had fallen into her face away from her eyes, revealing two different colored eyes: one blue and one green. Before she starts speaking she does a quick look around and then turns back to face the camera directly. She has an almost British sounding accent when she speaks.]

Everyone here seems so friendly and ready to help. They’ve given us jobs, a place to live, and even powers. [That’s one of the most suspicious thing to her in all of this, right there with the tattoo.] Me with powers. [She makes a small scoffing sound.] Would’ve been useful back home. [She sighs]

Look, I…I really haven’t had much luck with people who tell me they want to help out. [In fact, she’s had the opposite of luck. Save for two people almost everyone that’s said they were trying to help her has betrayed her in some way.] I can’t help but think that this is all a little too generous. [There has to be a catch somewhere. There's no way that the rug isn't going to be pulled out from under them soon.]

Has anyone found any cracks in all of this yet? [She pauses for a few seconds.] I feel like I should also mention that I’ve been housed in residence 08. I was dropped off there not too long ago, but I wanted to look around before going inside. I haven't seen the Earth like this in a long time.

beastofasister

[When the video begins, Manaka is seated, hands folded neatly in her lap. Her appearance is pristine and tidy, without even a drop of blood on the cloth covering her chest, because why would there be? Her smile seems vaguely tense, though, and where they rest in her lap, her fingers fidget here and there. All in all, she looks...like a young girl who has been thrust into an unfamiliar situation, alone, and is nervous about it.]

Um... Pardon me! My name is Manaka Sajou. I was told I can talk to other people like this, and I have some questions for...the populace at large.

[She hesitates briefly, seeming unsure, then starts to speak again.]

We're supposed to be heroes, right? They even branded us to say so. [She lifts one arm, her fingers curled into a loose fist, at the elbow. It's bright enough that the tattoo can't actually be seen, of course, but she taps the place where the words had glowed with the tip of her index finger.] But I've always thought a hero was a special person who had done special things! I can't really claim to have done anything like that, so I don't know if they should be calling me that at all.

I guess what I want to know is, are there others here who feel the same way I do? Or... How many people think they are heroes? [Abruptly, she giggles, sounding a bit sheepish.] And if you do think you've earned the title, would you tell me your secret? If they're going to call me that, I want to deserve it, too!

And... Oh, one other thing! [Again, she lifts her hands, fingertip indicating the inside of her pale wrist.] I was wondering about these, too. They don't really seem like regular tattoos, do they? So I was wondering if anyone has a good idea of how they work. [She follows that question up with another light, uncertain laugh.] I guess I was just curious about what would happen if our skin was damaged there, if anything!

[She really, really does not like having her body marked like this, after all—not that her expression gives as much away.]

Mm! That's all, though, I think. Thank you for your time, and have a good afternoon!

[Alternately, if anyone would rather interact with Manaka in person, she can be found exploring Heropa during the afternoon. Notable activities include: standing uncertainly outside buildings and wandering in circles, looking lost; scoping out the church she has been assigned to work at; and staring sullenly at Valentine's displays in stores.]

MASK OR MENACE

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Entries tagged with † laura kinney | x-23

March 2021

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WILL YOU HELP SAVE THE WORLD?

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