Fawkes
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Former STUN Posterboy
Veteran Character
Posts: 115
Likes: 0
Gender: Male
Money: 2000
Rank: A
Status: Registered Super
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Post by Fawkes on Jun 12, 2019 19:48:00 GMT
Fawkes had aged. Significantly. The boyish charm and cocky expressions that once made him familiar as the 'teenage superhero' of New Otford were no more. Hell, even then he was no teenager, and he was no superhero. For one, he was twenty-five, and for two, he was a government worker with a gun and electric fingers. Now? Now he's a thirty-year old with a sizable bank account, a government pension, and a drinking problem. The electrical fingers only got more powerful, though. That much was for sure. His entire image had changed. The black curtains that ran alongside his face were shorter, but just as scruffy; and his face was more gaunt, pale and his undereyes were dark as twilight. The familiar 'Fawkesian' outfit he donned on a daily basis was too, gone. In its place, a combat jacket with a furlined hood, and some basic muted black jeans and boots. He was non-descript, and basically unrecognisable from the old billboards featuring him stood, hands upon hips.
"Another beer, Shock Jockey?"; came a gruff German accent from in front of him. He woke from a stupor, seemingly almost falling asleep. "Hm?". He responded, even his voice was deeper and nigh indistinguishable from that of his youth. "Another beer, idiot. I've already put it on your tab.". With that, a clunk could be heard as a glass stein full of golden liquid was placed before him. "I told you to stop calling me that.". Fawkes responded, on cue. "I'm not that person anymore.". The bartender laughed, wiping his hands off on his apron. "That's where you're wrong, Fawkes. You're still that person, and running away from STUN, or everything that you did, won't change that. All you can do, is change what you do now.". Fawkes sat in silence for a second, before sighing, and taking a sip of the beer in front of him. The bar itself was subtle, tucked away in a corner of Germantown that wasn't especially popular to outsiders, but then again, that was probably why Fawkes frequented it now. No chance of anyone recognising him, or so he thought. The bartender at least knew who he was. Perhaps celebrity status was impossible to escape. Oh well, no responsibilities here, or so he thought. WORDS: 377
TAGS: NONE
NOTES: What happened to me?...
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ISAAC
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Approved Character
Posts: 8
Likes: 0
Money: 250
Rank: D
Status: Registered Super
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Post by ISAAC on Jun 13, 2019 19:43:23 GMT
I S A A C
A muffled sound clip of police sirens came through the entrance door of the pub, mere seconds before the same door opened inwards. Two figures stood in the doorway, one of them stepping forward and hitting the old oak wood floor boarding with a heavy, mechanical *clunk*. Forth stepped ISAAC, the police sirens clearly emitting from a pair of speakers on the side of his head, which he promptly turned off. "Attention: Suspect Samson J. Fawkes, you are under arrest for tax fraud.", he spoke out in a very robotic and monotone fashion, all the while standing there, menacingly.
A couple of seconds of silence filled the room, before the automaton gave out tinny chuckle, waving them off. "Just kidding. Got you there.", he followed up with as he calmly moved towards the bar. "Cameras just picked you, a high-ranking Super, walking into here so we got dispatched. Me and..", he motioned over to the entrance with the other figure standing in it, "Jackson over here were in the area." ISAAC sat down next to Fawkes, "And, I mean, it's better when it's two good friends doing the job, hm?", he continued, as he looked at him with a simulated wink on his small, frontal display where one would usually expect a pair of eyes, simply consisting of a circular dot and a line.
ISAAC briefly turned towards the bartender, shrugging gently, "Sorry. I'd order something but.. You can probably guess. Plus I am like, what - seven or eight years old?", he spoke in jest, before redirecting his attention back to Fawkes, "Anyway, how are you doing, Sammy?".
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Jackson Broadsword
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Veteran Character
Posts: 162
Likes: 0
Gender: Male
Money: 350
Rank: B
Status: Registered Super
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Post by Jackson Broadsword on Jun 14, 2019 10:08:38 GMT
//written on phone
The days haven’t been easy for Jackson. Multiple infractions by supers in different districts, that pile of paperwork he has received last week only increased thanks to that and the fact that two STUN Operators acted out of their boundaries and got in conflict with the Police and arrest as well. Things weren’t so easy with greater responsibilities, but Jackson adapted.
Now standing in the doorway, his eyes squinted together on the glance of Isaac approaching Fawkes. It was weird seeing his superior like that, he didn’t see him for long and had no idea whether he was still active in STUN or not. Isaac’s humour seemed a bit off for the scenario presented in front of them and he hoped that this didn’t shine bad on their reputation.
Due to Isaac being with him, he decided for the STUN protection vest, it was impossible to be undercover with his robot colleague. He still got fond of it...or him, inhuman or not, Jackson didn’t have issues with the “man’s” gregarious and humorous nature, many Operators lacked this.
A sigh escaped his mouth as he approached the two, greeting Fawkes with: “Morning Boss, all good here”? He was disappointed that they were told to take a look at him, as if their boss would pose any threat to anyone here. If he thought about it, it was true that ‘Shock Jockey’, or however they called him, could kill all the people in the room here. That was a big ‘if’ though.
Germantown wasn’t exactly a place for Jackson, he preferred to stay in the central districts, these Germans here didn’t really seem reliable for him and personally he despised their beer.
This is why he eyed the bartender rather suspiciously, not ordering anything as he put his attention on the two men talking.
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Fawkes
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Former STUN Posterboy
Veteran Character
Posts: 115
Likes: 0
Gender: Male
Money: 2000
Rank: A
Status: Registered Super
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Post by Fawkes on Jun 14, 2019 15:10:15 GMT
"Tax won't fuck me nearly as hard as the cancellation of my tenure did, ISAAC.". He knew the voice immediately, sighing deeply and pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn't even bother to look up to the robot, or well, look over to him - his voice and presence alone, with the big, clunky footsteps was more than enough to indicate to Fawkes that the individual talking to him, was indeed, Toastertron. Lifting the stein of beer to his mouth again, he took a sizable swig, exhaling almost in the form of another sigh once more. "I get tagged by the drones nearly every day, ISAAC. I told them to stop sending people to check on me. It's not fun for them, it's not fun for me. Besides, there's still withering billboards with my face on in Mercuria. Even if I wanted to be a super-terrorist, I wouldn't exactly get away with it for long. That being said, I'd be surprised if there's anyone in STUN that could actually take me down, now.". He smirked wryly. While he hated the attention and remaining celebrity status that came with being STUN's posterboy, he kind of loved the notoriety of being one of the city's most powerful. "Either way, sending a microwave to go spy on a walking EMP wasn't the smartest idea. Might want to relay that to whoever it is leading your ops now.". Then he heard the other voice. "Oh, and Captain Granules is here too. Look at that, we really are having a cute little reunion, aren't we?". He looked the two up and down, sizing them up and seeming slightly dejected. "Not only am I offended that they're now sending you in uniform to come check on supers, I'm offended that they sent you two. What if I had kicked off? It's not like either-...". He stopped himself. Perhaps painting himself as the edgy anti-hero wasn't the best way to get himself off the watchlist. Sighing deeply, he took another sip of his beer. "Well? Are you two just going to stand there and stare at me, or are you at least going to get a drink the way we did it when I was in charge? I suppose you'll have some nuts and bolts, ISAAC? And what about you, Jackson? Coffee? Granulated sugar? I suppose you don't have to worry.". Chuckling at his own joke, he eyed Jackson once more. "And I'm not your boss anymore.". Anyone with a brain would know that, but perhaps Jackson was merely being nostalgic, or respectful. Sipping his beer again, he spoke his final words for the time being. "Haven't been for over a year now, and personally... I'm loving being a thirty-year old retiree.". WORDS: 455
TAGS: N/A
NOTES: fawkes got even edgier, wow
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Anthony Jones
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Veteran Character
Posts: 119
Likes: 0
Gender: Male
Money: 2200
Rank: B
Status: Registered Super
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Post by Anthony Jones on Jun 14, 2019 20:04:43 GMT
 STAR-MAKER SAYS IT AIN'T SO BAD The door swung open once more, the smell of powerful, cheap, and over-applied cologne quickly filling up the bar as the black-haired, jacket and jeans-wearing barely adult figure walked on in, brown eyes glaring through the room, pausing on the three figures of note. Lips curled into a faint smirk, and denim moved as hands slipped out from pockets.
"Jackie." The New Jersey voice hummed out, Anthony's form blurring into vision as he stopped by the counter, right beside Fawkes. His head was turned, staring at the Operative in a coy and cocky fashion, knuckles knocking against the counter. His eyes moved, now locking onto ISAAC for a brief moment. "ISAAC." He nodded. Then, his head swivelled slightly, turning to Fawkes.
"Dad." His smirk grew into a grin, shaking his head as he laughed himself off. Then, he sighed, and stared down at the wooden counter, sniffing through his nose. "Nah, but... For real. How've the years been treating you, man?" He asked, voice oddly softer. "I've been good myself..." He muttered an answer.
Anthony looked no older than the 19 year old he was. Clean shaven, energetic, and fool-hardy as ever, even at 24. If anything, the years had treated him better than almost everyone else. Lucky bastard. WORDS: 209 || TAGGED: @fawkes Speedy's Back. template by Margie @ Adoxography v2 |
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ISAAC
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Approved Character
Posts: 8
Likes: 0
Money: 250
Rank: D
Status: Registered Super
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Post by ISAAC on Jun 14, 2019 22:08:15 GMT
I S A A C| S T A T U S | | ACTIVE | | W O R D S | | 298 | | T A G G E D | | N/A | | N O T E S | | :-( |
ISAAC remained motionless for a bit, intently staring down at Fawkes. What had turned into him? He used to joke around a lot, but this feels almost.. Hostile. Should ISAAC be genuinely worried? "No offense, but you don't look much like an EMP anymore. More like a deep-fried circuit..", he exclaimed with a certain concern in his tone. "I never really got to know what exactly happened, care to elaborate?", he then followed up while scanning the surrounding bar.
It felt rather empty and silent for one. The wood creaking gently every now and then as the remaining patrons either finished up their business and left, or went to get a new one - with a notable circle around the stools at the bar where the trio remained. He can't really tell if it is because of him, the unusually strong STUN presence, or even just Fawkes himself. But honestly, who cared? As long as they did not act up, there was nothing to worry about.
It was strange, locations like this one always seemed to catch ISAAC's attention once he was actually there. Like something was missing for him. It felt familiar, yet so.. alien. Perhaps it was the smell of old wood with that infused scent of spilled beer, that he ever so desperately tried to recall. Or just the texture of the counter, along with the nooks, crannies and hidden carvings on its surface that he tried to subtly focus on, as to not seem too weird about it. But.. Nothing. Like a sensory deprivation chamber. Unsettling, to a point.
Snapping back to reality, ISAAC didn't flinch much as the shrill bells of the front door rang. It was Anthony. ISAAC's attempt at being up-beat already annoyed Fawkes, this wasn't going to help. Not at all.
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Morgan MacGovern
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Approved Character
Posts: 53
Likes: 0
Gender: Male
Money: 750
Rank: C
Status: Registered Super
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Post by Morgan MacGovern on Jun 14, 2019 23:19:50 GMT
A quiet night ain't so bad
Outside the small bar in the back-alley way to nowhere, Germantown, New Otford seemed alive. Perhaps not well, but alive.
Perhaps it was because of the drunken bar-goers performing the slow wander home, staggering and muttering all the way whilst smelling like alcohol and depression. Maybe it was the distant blaring of Sirens audible from the other regions of the city - especially Mercuria Park, sure to keep anyone up all night from the blaring reminder of just how much had happened in five years. Or, most likely, it was the not-so distant sight and sound of a hulking metal figure thudding down the road, sirens echoing across the rooftops as it pushed into a hole-in-the-wall pub, chasing someone who didn't want to be chased. It wasn't a terribly unique story after five years after all: most folks in one way or another knew the almost propaganda-like image of ISAAC - those who didn't learnt quick anyway upon seeing STUN written over him enough times to get the message across.
All things considered, it was a nice sight to see from the rooftop across from the bar for Morgan. A small fire from the discarded pallets that littered the Industrial zone cast a low ember glow onto the pock-marked concrete of the building's roof and the edge of a rusty fire escape, giving his little perch some warmth, both literally and metaphorically. Although perhaps not as significantly as others, the young man sitting cross-legged had certainly changed. His messy hair had only gotten longer but seemingly maintained well, auburn brown hair sheltering most of his left eye behind it; he seemed older too, boyish features plainly still evident but just.. odd. Sharp cheeks and a perpetual smirk conflicted with by grey eyes that seemed warm, yet still cold. Less naive. The suits and shirts were gone as it seemed, in their stead a jet black turtleneck covered by a thick white winter coat, accompanied by similarly muted trousers and a pair of weathered combat boots. Whilst not a particularly cold day, Morgan still remained wrapped in his layers contently, keep to keep sat down as his interest was piqued below.
A curious sigh escaped his lips as he idly tapped through his phone camera, picture after picture silently being snapped as ISAAC and Jackson entered the bar. He'd only come for one old friend, but suddenly two more swept in? It could only mean a few things when it involved Fawkes, but that wasn't Morgan's concern. It wasn't lost on him, as much as a silent smirk could confirm, that he seemed content to be a bird in its nest. Hardly a nest really - metal grating for the fire, a battered old tarp pulled between two ancient air vents to cover the fire and himself from the rain; all that seemed unusual from your everyday hobo retreat was the carefully packed Camera tripod tucked away underneath the motley shelter. Left here from the last time he'd 'just so happened' to see Fawkes frequent the bar, but he didn't need anything that night.
No, the young man seemed happy to stay where he was, cycling between looking down to the street and writing notes to himself on his phone. He liked his quiet nights, and he was hoping tonight would remain so. It didn't bother him if the fire was too visible or that if anyone was to see him up on the roof he'd hardly be seen as benevolent, but few people in Germantown looked up these days.
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Jackson Broadsword
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Veteran Character
Posts: 162
Likes: 0
Gender: Male
Money: 350
Rank: B
Status: Registered Super
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Post by Jackson Broadsword on Jun 15, 2019 13:59:30 GMT
// written on phone again
Apparently today was comedy night in Germantown. Fawkes was even more ironical than usual, though actually told them the truth in some way. Jackson offended nevertheless to the remarks on how their former Boss could beat them easily, but could only answer with an angry grunt, remaining silent as he listens to their conversation. This vest looked ridiculous on him on broad daylight. His suit got pressed together underneath, he left out the jacket completely due to the somewhat hot temperatures.
“We know what you’re able to do, perhaps we just wanted to take this task to actually say hello to our former boss, eh?” His words were clearly agitated with anger, it really made him upset how bitter Fawkes got and how his mood projected on their dialogue. Jackson never got to know why Fawkes wasn’t their boss anymore but he still held the man in high regards, no matter how he has just greeted them.
He shook his head to the offer of a drink, his head turned around to face the bartender and he was about to order a drink when Anthony entered the pub.
A big, frustrated sigh escaped his lips, Jackson did not face Anthony but very well acknowledged his presence. “Do me a favour and don’t talk too much crap this time, man”. They knew each other already for somewhat longer, leading them to most likely respect each other. Though they would never be buddies or friends
If it was for Jackson, they’d have left already, actually returning their attention to much more effective work. Yet he remained on his place and shrugged off the unfriendly environment.
At least he got Isaac, right?
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Fawkes
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Former STUN Posterboy
Veteran Character
Posts: 115
Likes: 0
Gender: Male
Money: 2000
Rank: A
Status: Registered Super
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Post by Fawkes on Jun 15, 2019 22:10:52 GMT
”Oh look, and now Speedy Gonzalez is here too. What a cute little family reunion we have going on.”. He didn’t seem to be being genuine. Scratch that, he definitely wasn’t being genuine. His face was deadpan and serious, and he barely even looked at any of them as he spoke. He’d had no idea of Morgan’s little voyeuristic tendencies to take photos of him, lucky for Morgan, or his camera (along with him) would have been shocked and awed a while ago. “Jackson, you really don’t have to act so tough. We both know what your power is, and just because STUN’s toting bigger guns now, doesn’t mean you are. In fact, have you stopped going to the gym altogether?”. Fawkes was clearly trying to be at least somewhat of a dick. He was good at it too, that came from experience.
Looking over the motley crew of idiots for a second, all three of them STUN, he wondered if any of them might actually have been able to stop him if he had tried to fight them. ISAAC certainly wouldn’t have, and Jackson alone would have got smoked. With Anthony though, they might have posed a problem for him. Too much to deal with in far too little time. “The story is exactly what you heard. I retired. Mayor Swift isn’t here anymore, and so all of the bootlicking I did ended up being for nothing, and I’m not exactly Mayor Stone’s biggest fan, which is probably why you three gumshoes are stood here, assessing my danger quotient.”. He chuckled to himself briefly, taking another swig of beer, finishing the last of it. “So now, here I am, a millionaire with too much time on his hands, drinking his sorrows away. Any more questions? I normally charge for interviews.”, he said scathingly.
WORDS: IDFK MOBILE POST
TAGS: NONE
NOTES: MOBILE POST EXCUSE ERRORS
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Anthony Jones
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Veteran Character
Posts: 119
Likes: 0
Gender: Male
Money: 2200
Rank: B
Status: Registered Super
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Post by Anthony Jones on Jun 16, 2019 1:03:06 GMT
![](https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0747/3829/products/mz1626_1024x1024.jpeg?v=1485015104") FATHER OH FATHER Anthony's smile only grew wider as his age-old nickname was sounded, but upon hearing the insults headed to Jackson, he sighed out, shuffling closer on his stool, harsh scraping noises as the wooden legs ground against the wooden floor.
"Don't go insulting Sarge, now." He hummed melodically, looking Fawkes over. "You were in his shoes once, you should know how hard his job is, don't bust his damn balls." He defended, hand gesturing out in Jackson's direction to accentuate the effect.
"And we all know the story. I'm off-duty right now, I just wanted to check up on you." He explained. "You look like you haven't slept in ages. Or, at the very least, slept well." He spoke out as if it wasn't obvious, or perhaps in a manner that made him seem as though he thought he was more keen than he actually was.
"Hell- Bartender! Beer me, I'm gonna be staying here a while." He ordered, knocking his knuckles against the counter audibly. The bartender muttered to himself as he poured Anthony a glass, and slid it over. The young man grabbed the glass, and took hearty swigs of the drink, before planting the glass back down against the counter with a thud, looking over to Fawkes once more, swaying back and forth faintly.
"I'm here for you, buddy. 'Cause... I sorta owe myself to you, I think. Y'know?" WORDS: 231 || TAGGED: @fawkes Dramatic Boy. template by Margie @ Adoxography v2 |
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Jackson Broadsword
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Veteran Character
Posts: 162
Likes: 0
Gender: Male
Money: 350
Rank: B
Status: Registered Super
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Post by Jackson Broadsword on Jun 17, 2019 21:05:57 GMT
His teeth started working eachother, this man was his boss but Jackson was a proud and stubborn man. "Whether I go to the gym or not ain't your drunk ass' problem man, maybe you can stop being a dick first of all. At least I do my best out of my power instead of getting drunk with disgusting beer in pissy Germantown". Jackson barely managed to keep his voice down, his eyes though did not, almost throwing flames towards Fawkes now. Surely he was no match against that living power generator but he knew how to keep care of himself and kept his head up against powered individuals with supposedly stronger power by using various self defense methods and his head combined with the experienced he has gained over various years.
"I am not here to take shit from y-..", his head turned to 'Speedy Gonzalez', how Fawkes refered to him, and a big frown formed up on his head as he noticed that speedster actually started defending him. It was a surprise to see that Anthony could project true appreciation towards him and his job and stay serious at the same time.
Meanwhile Jackson huffed out air, still cooling down from getting insults thrown at him, though he tried to keep himself together due to the fact that the rest seemed quite unmoved by the constant artillery fire of insults and offensive jokes. He shrugged it off and remained silent for a brief moment only to try for another approach: "You know it's just...somewhat different without you man, I am not sure why but it appears like half the department got a stick up their arse and the other one, with a few exceptions", his eyes went over to Isaac and Anthony for a brief moment, "shoved it even further up their cavity." After having spoken that out, his gaze lost contact and moved to the flasks behind the counter, trying to read what's written there on German.
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Morgan MacGovern
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Approved Character
Posts: 53
Likes: 0
Gender: Male
Money: 750
Rank: C
Status: Registered Super
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Post by Morgan MacGovern on Jun 18, 2019 12:42:57 GMT
Although still sat patiently on the roof, it didn't take a telescope for Morgan to be able to see what was going on below him, much less hear it. The little bar was basically a hole in a wall. An out of the way, quiet, somewhat run down hole in a wall, but one nonetheless - which didn't make it hard to see or hear when raised voices erupted from it as two angry men and a being like ISAAC got to exchanging heated words. No, there was three now. Fantastic. Even Anthony had decided to join in on the party in the blink of an eye, the ever-energetic, ever-cheeky sod. "Oh, lovely. Even more people stepping on my toes tonight, fuckin' hell..." The young man muttered to himself, irritated at how suddenly everyone in the bar seemed to be escalating close to a fight - "Middle of the bloody week too, Christ..."
Morgan slipped his phone back into his pocket and began nervously tapping his knuckles against the battered old brick rooftop as a small sliver of annoyance slipped into his previously intrigued smile, twisting it into a frown. He was fond of Jackson and ISAAC, true, but since he'd found his way out of doing most of his office work at the STUN offices, he enjoyed keeping Germantown quiet and peaceful even more. Despite its tacky exterior and tourist-y appeal during the day with all the painfully stereotypical beer gardens and breweries and restaurants lining nigh on every street and path, Germantown was the melting pot of most European foreigners who had moved to New Otford to stay. By choice or by force, before the events 5 years ago or only just last week: if they weren't in Cardinal, most non-Americans trying to make lives for themselves could be found in Germantown. It'd taken Morgan a few years to finally appreciate that, but by that point he'd grown to love the small slice of what was home to him or really, just the closest thing he could find.
It's what caused him to become so annoyed when trouble found itself into Germantown. Ironically, maybe, that very worry was what had caused him to begin trailing Fawkes from time to time on his visits to the bar, and why shouldn't he? One of the strongest supers around with a penchant for violence and anger, plus plenty of cheap alcohol? All it'd take are a few drunkards and more anti-super hostility before stories about the STUN poster-child killing people show up on every television in New Otford. Morgan knew well enough Fawkes wasn't his greatest fan, but he wasn't all that comfortable with letting him ruin his life further - even if it was just for the sake of looking after the surrounding area.
"Oh get out of here you miserable drunks! Verdammte Betrunkene!"
"Fuck your terrible beer, and fuck you! You let supers in!"
"Unlike you most of them pay their bills!"
"Yeah, whatever man. Your bar's a piece of shit anyway! Come on, let's go."
"Seems like everyone seems to just LOVE the damn supers now..."
Morgan's thoughts quickly shifted back to what was happening below him as the crash of bottles shattering against walls and yelling was heard off slightly in the distance, but close enough to be heard by the little group in the bar. Standing upright, Morgan took a step towards the ledge of the building and peered over, spotting the cause of the commotion: A small group of four men were stumbling down the alleyway from another bar and evidently one of its bartenders who was standing in the doorway staring daggers at the group, muttering and laughing between themselves as drunks tend to do. Staggering around barely conscious, throwing bottles at the walls as they passed and altogether looking as undesirable as possible, they didn't seem the type to be particularly fond of Supers either evidently. Although rowdy, Morgan was hoping more to avoid fights instead of starting them, so instead he just watched them from the edge of the roof curiously, hoping they didn't cause any more issues.
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