Mercy
Restored
Deadpool's Intern
Posts: 99
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Post by Mercy on Jan 14, 2007 0:05:12 GMT -5
"I could become that banana. Though," he smiled. "I generally don't prefer to become objects without eyes. While we are all the same material, I am still in this illusory body. I will still need eyes to see."
Holy shit, ol' boy could be a fruit! No shit! Mercy tried not to look like she was amazed as he spouted some deep philosophical stuff about bananas. "Thats tight," she complimented him with a nod.
"So - you're Mercy, right? The mouthed merc's lovely intern? How's that one workin' out for ya?"
Mercy turned to behold another normal-looking person. Most of the Brotherhood gang could pass as normal. Which wasn't necessarily a comforting thing to think about, but Mercy had come to the conclusion that she wasn't personally in danger from them. After all, she was one of them. And she wasn't harboring any Cure, nor fighting against them like that civilian cop squad the X-Men that Mercy had seen on the news from time to time in the last six months.
"He's cool," she mused fairly, looking to Deadpool. "He don't, uh...He doesn't - he tells it like it is, too," she said, feeling very idiotic by the end of it. What had tried to come out was 'he don't front, neither,' but she didn't want to look uneducated in front of the international terrorists. What was good in the hood didn't necessarily roll everywhere else.
So instead she just came off like she had a speech impediment. Great.
"He keeps things interesting. Searching for his swords. I mean, never though I'd ever be comin' to...wherever the hell we are," she said, one hand gesturing around. Meaning where the island was on the map, of course; she knew they were in a kitchen.
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Post by Aurora on Jan 14, 2007 0:38:17 GMT -5
“That’s right, though you can call me Dominic or Dom if you’d prefer. Good to meetcha when you’re really you.”
"And if I never hear myself use a German accent again in my life, I'll die happy," she said with a plaintive smile as their hands parted. "Its nice to have new faces around," she said, glancing between the three.
Looking around, she spotted a familiar-looking corpse for the first time, standing along the wall. That was odd, she couldn't smell him. "Dead Man!" she greeted him, a smile lighting her face as she made her way toward him. A few feet from him, she took a hesitant sniff, though her face didn't betray the action. Nothing...in fact, something smelled kind of like spices.
Well, if he didn't smell, then there was nothing difficult at all about greeting him properly.
And possibly to the shock and amazement of some present, Aurora walked right up to the breathing corpse and put her arms around his shoulders in a hug.
When she stepped back, she paused, tilting her head to one side just so. "You smell good," she commented, her eyebrows raising in pleased surprise. "Is that cologne?" she asked, mostly teasing, but curious of the change in something that had seemed so very trademarked of the living dead man.
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Post by deadman on Jan 14, 2007 1:12:19 GMT -5
As Aurora pulled away, Dead Man had lowered his arm. He'd hugged her back, but only with one hand. The movement was mechanical... and very awkward. Not in a way to show that he was in some way nervous, merely unfamiliar with the action. His red eyes seemed to sparkle for a brief moment, replacing the ordinary dull wooden look they normally took on.
“Hello Aurora,” He whispered, giving her a stiff half-bow. “Yes. There have been a few changes in my... physiology. You may thank Nightingale and Dharma for my new aromatic features. My internal organs have all been replaced by a particular embalming sawdust, like the Egyptians did with mummies. My flesh has also been hardened, as have my bones. I am little more a man now, than a perfection on death.”
It felt odd to him, being on such a friendly level with anyone. But Aurora was quite unlike most... she shared a similar manic disrespect for life. To her, the “precious gift of life” was a vague illusion people had. He'd seen her at her most true, throwing policemen, civilians, anyone she could get her hands on to their inevitable doom. Her laughter had been music that night. He'd never forget it.
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Post by impact on Jan 15, 2007 3:12:04 GMT -5
Lucas rolled his shoulders. Yup, this party was starting to slow down. Given, the pretty girl had just gotten there; but he was halfway through his second six pack, and if he didn't split soon, he'd say something he'd regret. Or rather, he'd say something Gracie would make him regret.
Leaning over to the raven-haired mutant beside him, he whispered to her, setting a hand on her knee. Smirking a bit, he stood, tossing his bottle in the garbage and edging around someone, then another person, on his way towards the door.
"Well Ang, hope your birthday's been a decent one." He lazily saluted to her. "Have a good night."
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Juggers
Natural
Don't you know who I am?
Posts: 218
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Post by Juggers on Jan 15, 2007 9:57:25 GMT -5
The Juggernaut chuckled at the concept of advertising the Brotherhood.
"Well we 'ave been doin' a bit of recruitin' recently," that much was evident from all the new faces in the room, "but we ain't exactly number one on your average mutants locals list."
In more ways than one.
"Besides," he added, taking another long gulp of beer, "most of the time it ain't 'alf way as cheerful around 'ere as this, Angie must 'ave got Pyro tanked up on something before she asked 'im about 'avin a party."
He was pretty sure the young man would be regretting his choices of drink in the morning.
"Still, makes for a change I s'pose."
He watched the big, broody guy excuse himself from the room and contemplated an introduction to the remaining newcomers.
But then most of the time, people already knew who he was.
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Post by Nightingale on Jan 16, 2007 0:52:00 GMT -5
Angie had just come back in (wearing new undies under her jeans, they were really pretty but kinda felt like they were riding up her arse) when Lucas bid her goodnight and wandered away, followed quickly by Recluse.
"See you later, guys!" Of course, when she turned back to the room and saw Aurora hugging Dead Man, Angie couldn't help but think that she'd definitely had too much to drink already.
Well, there was only one way to fix that. More drinking.
Grabbing her glass, her bourbon, and a bottle of coke, Angie took her seat again and poured herself yet another glass. She was reasonably sure that she'd made herself a birthday cake, too - but she figured that could wait. Cake would be good in the morning. Because chocolate right now would probably just make her throw up.
Somehow, that train of thought didn't seem to put her on the right track. In actual fact, it made her crave the cake, and she got back up again to pull it out of the fridge and cut herself a thick slice.
You were only eighteen once, after all. If you couldn't drink yourself to a stupor and throw up everywhere on your eighteenth, when could you? Even if none of your good friends were there because they were all in Australia or wandering around the base or hugging corpses.
So she went about getting back onto that; downing another glass far more quickly than she should have.
[Exit Recluse/End for Angie unless someone still wants to talk to her]
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Post by Aurora on Jan 16, 2007 10:01:41 GMT -5
As Dead Man explained what Angie and Dharma had done to embalm him and get rid of the rotting flesh stench that had wafted around with him, Aurora listened in delighted fascination. "That is incredible," she marvelled, her eyes examining what she could see of his skin on his face.
His hand had certainly felt like a dead, stiff hand on her back, and she was glad that he'd been fixed up. Happy for him more than anything, really - he didn't show emotions very much, but she could tell he liked the fact that he was, as he had said, 'a perfection on death'. Still, it wasn't enough to make her want to see or touch any more of him - he was still a corpse, and therefore he'd always be creepy. But it was a wickedly awesome kind of creepy, like the horror films people watch over and over again for the sick thrills.
"I am little more a man now, than a perfection on death.”
"Death never smelled so good," she said in her naturally husky tone, a wide smile on her lips. Her eyes glanced over as Lucas left, unfortunately with Recluse not far behind him. Some girls had all the luck.
Having heard something to the effect of the Juggernaut smashing someone, Aurora's mind wandered over to their conversation. He was one person on the island she'd like to talk with a bit more - he tended to keep to his room, watching sports, from what she could hear. But he was a hardcore, kickass guy, and she liked his wit.
And he was talking to...a guy in leather. Red and black leather, head to toe. Aurora's eyebrows lifted a bit, looking back and forth between the Juggernaut in his half-metal, half-shirtless getup, and Deadpool in his leather man-dominatrix ensemble. She was struck then by how much this party looked like a Bondage Lovers meeting.
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Post by avalanche on Jan 20, 2007 0:25:32 GMT -5
(exit Deadman and Avalanche)
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Post by Iceman on Jan 20, 2007 9:50:13 GMT -5
[exit Aurora, but Mercy's staying]
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Jane
Natural
It Ain't Easy
Posts: 174
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Post by Jane on Jan 21, 2007 16:54:57 GMT -5
Jane utterly missed the grammatical slip, though she couldn't help but notice the stutter. While she might be well-trained in the ways of the world and therefore patterns of speech, it was hard for her to be perfectly structured when she'd never had any formal schooling past about the first grade. Her speech patterns were sheer parroting.
"He seems kind of, ummm..." Jane cast a glance over at the leather-clad man, who was laughing uproariously with Gill. "Yeah."
"He keeps things interesting. Searching for his swords. I mean, never though I'd ever be comin' to...wherever the hell we are."
"Genosha," Jane said. "I think we're somewhere in the southern hemisphere - it's tropical winter, anyway, so we must be. And wherever shore is, everyone's black, and they all talk kind of... the clicky language, like all in Africa? And some of them speak French, or something that sounds like it. I don't know, I can't tell most of it apart. It all sounds the same after a while."
Political correctness was another thing that had never been really instilled in Jane's mind except via experience. 'They all look the same to me' was pretty much true. You only got so much diversity in Kansas - or, really, anywhere she'd been until well past her formative years.
"Why's he looking for his swords?" she asked. "Can't he just get new ones?"
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