Futuristic Sparked

[Gus Gungus]

In one of those action cop movies from last millennium this would've been about when Detective Riggsy McClane booted open the front door with a pistol in each hand and roared for nobody to move, having traced the insane professor Bant's whereabouts via some cutting edge investigative work and rode down with no support from the department to administer justice. The department had rules. Regulations. Detective Riggsy didn't care about any of that shit. He didn't even understand it. He earned his badge on one conviction and one conviction only: the bad deserved to face justice.

In this harsh world of reality, there would be no door booting. The detective whose cutting edge investigative work had actually led her right to the most wanted man in the city with no support from the department was, and had for some time been, hiding under a table. Listening. Listening to everything. It sounded kind of like a total load of crap, even if it explained some things about the last several hours of her life and a few of the things she'd seen since entering this room, so she guessed it was about time she did her thing.

Dramatic entrances were cool in movies but she was pretty sure in real life they were super annoying, so she just stood up.

"Sup. Police. Um, so if you could all come to my precinct with me and say everything you just said but there I would really appreciate that."

Mayfield wasn't exactly a social butterfly, but she wasn't docile either, and she'd always been able to address crowds of civilians pretty calmly. This situation was weird, though, and now that she was thinking about it the way she just randomly stood up from behind a table also was pretty weird, so she shifted her weight a little bit just in case any of them tried something.

"Doctor Bant, I've been listening this whole time and I know you're probably not guilty but you're also super wanted right now so you're pretty much under arrest. Sorry."​

 

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

"It doesn't help there's remakes of remakes either. Did ya know The Brave Little Toaster had a live action remake? After its third run? The fad exploded starting in the late 2010s." Cue her striking 'the more you know' gesture.

"I know. Unwillingly. You made me watch them with you." They drolled with a dull glare that didn't quite keep the grin off their face.

They winced at the rest of Jacks' tirade, and cleared their throat. "Ok. Now I know that we just said this was gonna be very dangerous, and only get worse the longer we wait, but... We've all been through a lot the last day and a half. Some of us woke up in cells, some of us have been stuck on the ceiling, and some of us..." They stared at Gunnar for a few seconds. "...Yea. So those who can should go home if they want, let people know their not dead, and get some rest. The watches can sync with your cells to give you an encrypted signal to any of us. We're in district 15, so even though we have superpowers now and stuff you guys should leave with a buddy. The magline station's about twelve blocks north of here, but other than that... well, I guess there's not much else to explain. Any questions?"

I

"Sup. Police. Um, so if you could all come to my precinct with me and say everything you just said but there I would really appreciate that."

Mayfield wasn't exactly a social butterfly, but she wasn't docile either, and she'd always been able to address crowds of civilians pretty calmly. This situation was weird, though, and now that she was thinking about it the way she just randomly stood up from behind a table also was pretty weird, so she shifted her weight a little bit just in case any of them tried something.

"Doctor Bant, I've been listening this whole time and I know you're probably not guilty but you're also super wanted right now so you're pretty much under arrest. Sorry."​

"..."

Bant and Beckett both froze in place, before they turned to face each other.

"Don't." Beckett warned.

"But-" Bant started

"Don't"

"..." He gave a long, dramatic sigh. "Fine! Fine, fine fine fine, don't let your uncle- and employer need I remind you!- have any fun." He crossed his arms and turned his sullen glare towards Mayfield. "If you've been listening this whole time, you clearly know I can't do that. and won't. Also we're in a room full of superpowered people who just agreed to help each other, so your odds aren't awww shit." he faltered as he looked down at his own watched. "Nobody panic. But she's sparked."

Beckett's eyes widened, and they slowly sidled towards their uncle and put their arm in front of him. "...Its not safe for him to go with you." They started to say carefully. "We've got powerful enemies. For some reason."

 

[Prospero]

"....'Hidden fortress you insinuated. If I were to walk out this door, I wouldn't by any chance see the house you inherited from your mother in law, would I?!"

Change of plans and Rochefort called up more materials to circle around him.

 

[MyrtenRose]

"....'Hidden fortress you insinuated. If I were to walk out this door, I wouldn't by any chance see the house you inherited from your mother in law, would I?!"

Change of plans and Rochefort called up more materials to circle around him.

“Yeah, as far as secret lairs go, this one is no Batcave. The police find it just like that? What was even the point of gassing us before we got here??”

 

[Gus Gungus]

"..."

Bant and Beckett both froze in place, before they turned to face each other.

"Don't." Beckett warned.

"But-" Bant started

"Don't"

"..." He gave a long, dramatic sigh. "Fine! Fine, fine fine fine, don't let your uncle- and employer need I remind you!- have any fun." He crossed his arms and turned his sullen glare towards Mayfield. "If you've been listening this whole time, you clearly know I can't do that. and won't. Also we're in a room full of superpowered people who just agreed to help each other, so your odds aren't awww shit." he faltered as he looked down at his own watched. "Nobody panic. But she's sparked."

Beckett's eyes widened, and they slowly sidled towards their uncle and put their arm in front of him. "...Its not safe for him to go with you." They started to say carefully. "We've got powerful enemies. For some reason."

"....'Hidden fortress you insinuated. If I were to walk out this door, I wouldn't by any chance see the house you inherited from your mother in law, would I?!"

Change of plans and Rochefort called up more materials to circle around him.

“Yeah, as far as secret lairs go, this one is no Batcave. The police find it just like that? What was even the point of gassing us before we got here??”

"It's not that bad. I've been following you since you blew me up at the fair, you couldn't have known." She offered towards Bant with a consolatory note of pity. Her expression didn't budge a millimetre otherwise, hands steady by her waist and obscured beneath the body of the table. Mayfield levelled Beckett with an even stare at their interjection, this one laced with a bit more of the severity you'd expect from a cop. "Be that as it may, there are laws and you kind of can't just do your own thing. Or conscript people who probably need medical help to fight a shadow war. Also a bunch of them are like, kids. You may not be guilty of anything besides criminal negligence, but you guys are basically the worst."

She frowned at her own bluntness, bringing one hand up to rub at her eyes as though stressed. "I know you're scared of getting iced by Helcorp or whatever, but we have protocols for POIs who believe their lives are in danger. And I can be discrete. They'll probably even wanna work with you in some capacity to round up the... sick people... you created. All I know is the situation's a powder keg, and to me a bunch of... of juiced up citizens charging off to try put it right just sounds like a match. I... uh... sorry, I..."

The kneading of her eyes and brow had risen both in tempo and vigor, to the point where it looked almost uncomfortable, as if she had a splitting headache or wasn't feeling well somehow. Looking more closely at the detective lent some credence to that theory; Her skin was pale and clammy, dark patches circled the underside of her eyes like vultures, and the vein throbbing near her temple looked to have reached critical mass.

"...I am so sick of having to be nice to you fucking fucks just TELL ME WHAT YOU DID TO ME!"

The sudden outburst was probably as much rage as any of them had ever heard channeled into one sentence before, and it was punctuated by the policewoman turning to deliver a sharp kick to the table that would've been in danger of breaking her toe under normal circumstances.

Under this circumstance, it was launched across the room as if fired out of a cannon, a fact Terese didn't even seem to realise as she lurched unstably and raised both hands to nurse her forehead. One of which, as was abundantly clear without the table to conceal it, was holding a gun.

 

[MyrtenRose]

The kneading of her eyes and brow had risen both in tempo and vigor, to the point where it looked almost uncomfortable, as if she had a splitting headache or wasn't feeling well somehow. Looking more closely at the detective lent some credence to that theory; Her skin was pale and clammy, dark patches circled the underside of her eyes like vultures, and the vein throbbing near her temple looked to have reached critical mass.

"...I am so sick of having to be nice to you fucking fucks just TELL ME WHAT YOU DID TO ME!"

The sudden outburst was probably as much rage as any of them had ever heard channeled into one sentence before, and it was punctuated by the policewoman turning to deliver a sharp kick to the table that would've been in danger of breaking her toe under normal circumstances.

Under this circumstance, it was launched across the room as if fired out of a cannon, a fact Terese didn't even seem to realise as she lurched unstably and raised both hands to nurse her forehead. One of which, as was abundantly clear without the table to conceal it, was holding a gun.

“...Holy shit.”

Her newly gained power may not be one of the most flashy or wicked cool ones among this group but at this very moment she was crazy thankful that she scored this one. At least this way she would never need reminding to not piss this chick off.

Her eyes slowly shifted to awkwardly stare at Bant and Beckett. Let them explain again.

 

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

"....'Hidden fortress you insinuated. If I were to walk out this door, I wouldn't by any chance see the house you inherited from your mother in law, would I?!"

Change of plans and Rochefort called up more materials to circle around him.

“Yeah, as far as secret lairs go, this one is no Batcave. The police find it just like that? What was even the point of gassing us before we got here??”

"You wouldn't because I've never been married!" He snapped back. "... She was my stepmother. But we're across the street under an abandoned warehouse, and more importantly almost a hundred feet below sea level! Why am I bad at my job? Why is that the first assumption? Why can't she just be very good at her job-"

"...I am so sick of having to be nice to you fucking fucks just TELL ME WHAT YOU DID TO ME!"

The sudden outburst was probably as much rage as any of them had ever heard channeled into one sentence before, and it was punctuated by the policewoman turning to deliver a sharp kick to the table that would've been in danger of breaking her toe under normal circumstances.

Under this circumstance, it was launched across the room as if fired out of a cannon, a fact Terese didn't even seem to realise as she lurched unstably and raised both hands to nurse her forehead. One of which, as was abundantly clear without the table to conceal it, was holding a gun.

*PONG*

That was the sound of the table's leg ricocheting off Beckett's forehead. Their hands snapped out to grab the table before its trajectory caused any more havoc, apparently none the worse for wear apart being sprawled across the ground once the dust settled. that didn't keep Bant's expression from sobering up out of is flippant growling, and he slowly raised his arms in a nonthreatening matter, as he spoke much calmer than he had since they had found themselves introduced to the good doctor.

"... Scientifically speaking, you've been subjected to a hereto undiscovered form of radiation. It has drastic effects on human physiology, and seems to vary drastically from subject to subject. But that's not what you really want to know I assume." He took a few steps forward.

"I know I made a mistake, Ms. Officer. A very bad one. There is a very good chance people are going to get hurt. But there is a much greater chance that even more people will get hurt if I am not allowed to fix it. I can't fix it from a jail cell. And frankly, even in Adhentu there's few to zero scientists that will have any idea how to parse and study banticles, let alone in any timely manner."

At this point Beckett had pushed themselves back to their feet. "Uncle-"

"-Quiet Beckett, please." He cut off. "Now, officer. If it's really what you want, I will go with you. But I genuinely believe that it is the wrong choice. I don't trust the city not to consider this an opportunity, not a problem. If the wrong people get control of the sparked, things will go very bad very quickly. Are you absolutely sure you want that?"

nonetheless, once he was close enough he stuck his arms out, ready to be cuffed.

 

[MidwayLives]

"...I am so sick of having to be nice to you fucking fucks just TELL ME WHAT YOU DID TO ME!"

Johnny was downright terrified. He had never in his life had anything but positive interactions with the police. Maybe it was because he kept his nose clean or that he was such an average person that nobody paid him more attention than needed. Now, he had a ghostly creature hanging around him and an officer had gotten mixed up in all this? He had lashed out at the robots and the guards because they 'started it' by putting him and the other in cages like animals at the zoo or perhaps more fittingly, freaks at the carnival. He didn't want to strike an officer of the law. Taking a step forward, thoughts of what might occur ran through Johnny's head.

1: "[Melancholy Hill]!" The spectre appeared and lashed out with one of it's massive fists. Not to cripple or severely harm the officer but rather to simply knock her out. Maybe until they could figure this all out. Unfournately, given the distance between them? The only thing Johnny would be getting is a bullet to the head. His body crashed upon the ground, his eyes rolling up into the back of his head. He had failed and had likely only made things worse. [BAD END]

2: "[Melancholy Hill}!" As the miasma eked out from around Johnny's person, it coalesced until forming a somewhat translucent creature. Running forward to try and close the distance before the officer could fire, Johnny felt a searing pain tearing through his right knee. It felt as if the entire bone was on fire. Crashing to the ground, [Melancholy Hill] vanished and Johnny let out a distressed wail as blood pooled around his leg. He'd attempted to solve things and got himself kneecapped for his trouble. [BAD END]

3: "[Melancholy Hill-" Johnny didn't even get a chance to summon [Melancholy Hill] in this scenario. The bullets tore through his chest like rocks through wet tissue paper. He was already dying before he hit the ground. His vision went black and he'd never wake up from this eternal sleep. [BAD END]

Okay. None of those scenarios seemed good. At all. Summoning [Melancholy Hill] beside him, Johnny didn't send it out to attack. His power could go toe to toe with deadly robots but he was still just as allergic to bullets than anyone else. Well, except maybe the big guy.

 

[Corvette]

Gunnar's response to the goings-on was to thunder out a sigh like a large dog, a protracted "huhnnnnnnnn" that he accentuated by reclining fully to a back-leaning crouch, the end of his long tail flicking from side to side. He wasn't even aware that he was doing it--he barely knew he possessed a tail in the first place. He thought about how he might talk, feeling around his mouth with his tongue. The teeth weren't located in the oral cavity--rather, they were nearer his throat, like the result of a happy medium between a ventricular animal's throat structure--a gizzard--and a dentulous animal--one possessing teeth directly inside the mouth. Almost a pharyngeal jaw, but without an extending jaw structure. Simply for chewing the food that is ingested by the cutting and tearing beak.

He sniffed as Detective Mayfield stood up. Her breath smelled of bagels. He could detect it from across the room. And she was under a lot of stress or pain, it seemed; he could smell that because of the content of cortisol on her breath. Of course, Gunnar didn't yet know that what he was smelling was cortisol, but in time he would come to learn that the stress chemical made itself evident in the sweat and breath of humans and animals. All he knew now was that she'd eaten bagels and smelled agitated, the animalistic part of his brain ringing a little alarm bell that instinctively pointed her out as a more dangerous prey item.

He paused. Did I just think of a person as prey?

While he puzzled that sudden occurrence that had happened only in his head, he was unmoving, appearing to stare Mayfield down as he contemplated. In any event, he wasn't making a move. He could barely talk, and he certainly couldn't talk her down. That was for the professor to do. As far as Gunnar was concerned, he was not in any legal trouble... yet.

 

[Gus Gungus]

"I know I made a mistake, Ms. Officer. A very bad one. There is a very good chance people are going to get hurt. But there is a much greater chance that even more people will get hurt if I am not allowed to fix it. I can't fix it from a jail cell. And frankly, even in Adhentu there's few to zero scientists that will have any idea how to parse and study banticles, let alone in any timely manner."

At this point Beckett had pushed themselves back to their feet. "Uncle-"

"-Quiet Beckett, please." He cut off. "Now, officer. If it's really what you want, I will go with you. But I genuinely believe that it is the wrong choice. I don't trust the city not to consider this an opportunity, not a problem. If the wrong people get control of the sparked, things will go very bad very quickly. Are you absolutely sure you want that?"

nonetheless, once he was close enough he stuck his arms out, ready to be cuffed.

"...Fix..." She repeated in a hushed, breathless mumble, gaze trailing helplessly after the table she'd just propelled across the span of the room and hands half-poised as if to do something (the particulars of which she was uncertain of right now). There was very little indication as to whether or not any of the doctor's appeal even registered with her, and she jolted in sudden surprise when he stuck his arms out, as though it were her first time noticing how close he'd gotten. Hollow-eyed, she brought the hand holding the pistol up to pinch the bridge of her nose, where it stayed even as she began to mutter despondently. Every now and then her shoulders quivered and her breath hitched; it didn't take a PhD to figure out she was crying.

"...But it already hurts, that's what, ever since I wake up it's just pain and my head's not right and like, I know I messed up but I don't deserve to have cancer do I, you gave me cancer you stupid old man go ahead and fix it, I SAID FIX IT! LOOK AT ME! CAN YOU FEEL THAT?!"

She tore her hand away with sudden fury, eyes flared wide and bloodshot, and she snatched Bant's wrist to aggressively shove his hand up against her forehead. It was red-hot.

It was also a little hard to notice, because from the moment their skin touched the professor felt a searing pain like his blood was on fire, as if he were being melted down and remoulded from the inside out. The detective blinked, a strange tranquility falling over her as her breathing started to stabilise. "...Wow, you actually did fix it."

 

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

"...Fix..." She repeated in a hushed, breathless mumble, gaze trailing helplessly after the table she'd just propelled across the span of the room and hands half-poised as if to do something (the particulars of which she was uncertain of right now). There was very little indication as to whether or not any of the doctor's appeal even registered with her, and she jolted in sudden surprise when he stuck his arms out, as though it were her first time noticing how close he'd gotten. Hollow-eyed, she brought the hand holding the pistol up to pinch the bridge of her nose, where it stayed even as she began to mutter despondently. Every now and then her shoulders quivered and her breath hitched; it didn't take a PhD to figure out she was crying.

"...But it already hurts, that's what, ever since I wake up it's just pain and my head's not right and like, I know I messed up but I don't deserve to have cancer do I, you gave me cancer you stupid old man go ahead and fix it, I SAID FIX IT! LOOK AT ME! CAN YOU FEEL THAT?!"

She tore her hand away with sudden fury, eyes flared wide and bloodshot, and she snatched Bant's wrist to aggressively shove his hand up against her forehead. It was red-hot.

It was also a little hard to notice, because from the moment their skin touched the professor felt a searing pain like his blood was on fire, as if he were being melted down and remoulded from the inside out. The detective blinked, a strange tranquility falling over her as her breathing started to stabilise. "...Wow, you actually did fix it."

The older man was surprisingly calm as his wrist was snatched, his voice soothing as he began to answer. "I promise it didn't give you cancer young woman, it wasn't that kind of radiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee..."

Bant wasn't a particularly violent man, but through a few dozen serious lab accidents and about as many literal fights over his ideas, he had built up a sizable pain tolerance over his years. But not for anything like this, which was why, genius that he was, he allowed his body to take the natural reaction it wanted to. Which is a very fancy way to say he passed the hell out.

Beckett stood there in mild shock for a few moments, before their fists slowly started to clench at their sides, and they found themself taking a step forward.

"What did you DO!?"

 

[Indolent]

"Sup. Police. Um, so if you could all come to my precinct with me and say everything you just said but there I would really appreciate that."

Jacks could but only blink, twice at that, as if there were a uncertainty as to what she was seeing. Ah-yup, it was a real thing and it jarred her. Dissimilar as the circumstances were, it was enough to burgeon a memory forward, of a time before Adhentu City. The time when she'd lived with her parents within the borough of Bronx in New York City, home to the familiar swathes of housing projects that persisted in spite of time's progress.

The copper's ambush, insomuch as it were, summoned a specific scene in vivid detail; that of her father's arrest. The beginnings were a blur, simply materializing into the familiar interior of a gutted bronze Monte Carlo from the 2030s, with the pleather upholstery torn more than it was intact with a cadre of cigarette burns littering the ceiling. She recalled, the car was in dire need of a realignment. Short drive aside in what would have been silence were it not for the nu-wave jazz on the radio, the doe-eyed girl remained within the passenger's seat as her father assured her he wouldn't be long. He slipped the seat belts and made his way out, ambling onto the concrete sidewalk and disappearing into a dilapidated alley. It wasn't five minutes before he returned, in a frenzied sprint for the vehicle that culminated a fruitless endeavor with his being bodyslammed into the rear passenger side door much to her exclamatory shock. A cacophony of voices came alive, her father's familiar, if frantic, hollering intermixing with them all and she dared to peek out the window.

Officers of NYPD were apprehending him and it was before long she learned the whys. Not only was he an addict but he was a peddler of the stuff he dabbled in, smack. And it was not a recent foray on his part, having become embedded with the who's who of the underworld's cesspool of the city's drug trade.

She never figured out how a fucking idiot like him managed that either.

"... Not again." The woman shuffled uncomfortably, her features equally so as she looked on. As much as she disliked it, the fact spelled clearly that she was involved regardless of intentions and in a way, it would be because of these bant particles. Floating through her system and incriminating her (in her mind's eye) of some ongoing conspiracy. Much like her smack-addled dad. Yay.

awww shit." he faltered as he looked down at his own watched. "Nobody panic. But she's sparked."

Hopefully she's nothing like Inferno Cop

"Shitfuck, last thing I expected to hear-- hold on. Wait, why not just help us. I get the bit with following through with duty and the call of justice and all but--"

"...Fix..." She repeated in a hushed, breathless mumble, gaze trailing helplessly after the table she'd just propelled across the span of the room and hands half-poised as if to do something (the particulars of which she was uncertain of right now). There was very little indication as to whether or not any of the doctor's appeal even registered with her, and she jolted in sudden surprise when he stuck his arms out, as though it were her first time noticing how close he'd gotten. Hollow-eyed, she brought the hand holding the pistol up to pinch the bridge of her nose, where it stayed even as she began to mutter despondently. Every now and then her shoulders quivered and her breath hitched; it didn't take a PhD to figure out she was crying.

"...But it already hurts, that's what, ever since I wake up it's just pain and my head's not right and like, I know I messed up but I don't deserve to have cancer do I, you gave me cancer you stupid old man go ahead and fix it, I SAID FIX IT! LOOK AT ME! CAN YOU FEEL THAT?!"

She tore her hand away with sudden fury, eyes flared wide and bloodshot, and she snatched Bant's wrist to aggressively shove his hand up against her forehead. It was red-hot.

It was also a little hard to notice, because from the moment their skin touched the professor felt a searing pain like his blood was on fire, as if he were being melted down and remoulded from the inside out.

Spoiler: tfw

The officer lost her shit and a table was flung, hitting a friend. And yeah, had a gun which was to be expected but still, unsettling. It was enough a compelling reason for her to do something though, Jacks moving to their side or attempt to anyway. Even if Beckett didn't need attention, the inquiry still came. "Becks, you alright?" She called out, eyes still on the haggard officer as Bant approached.

Had it been being sparked that set her off or was this a side effect of her powers that manifested uncontrollably? Fuck if Jacks knew but what she knew was the situation was growing more serious by the second and something needed be done. Like Bant amid his attempt to convince her. "We can help you. Er, they can help you! Fuck."

Not like she could do much, having only managed to control a single aspect of her power and someone in a delirious state was not someone to approach suddenly, especially one equipped with a firearm. She was useful as a lead balloon and she fucking knew it.

 

[Gus Gungus]

Beckett stood there in mild shock for a few moments, before their fists slowly started to clench at their sides, and they found themself taking a step forward.

"What did you DO!?"

"Maybe I killed him. I dunno."

The cop's reply was one of shockingly flat-toned indifference, eyes half-lidded but blank as she lowered the doctor's crumpled figure down until it was safe to drop him. On some level it occurred to her that she shouldn't really have reacted that way, that almost nothing happening right now made any goddamn sense, but that awareness didn't really stir much feeling in her one way or another so it didn't really do much. It was kinda just there, a thought floating in her head along with a bunch of other thoughts floating in her head and when she sifted through them it felt like none of them were of any importance to her. She wasn't even glad her pain was gone. It just was.

She stepped over him. "Was someone saying something?"

 

[MyrtenRose]

"Maybe I killed him. I dunno."

The cop's reply was one of shockingly flat-toned indifference, eyes half-lidded but blank as she lowered the doctor's crumpled figure down until it was safe to drop him. On some level it occurred to her that she shouldn't really have reacted that way, that almost nothing happening right now made any goddamn sense, but that awareness didn't really stir much feeling in her one way or another so it didn't really do much. It was kinda just there, a thought floating in her head along with a bunch of other thoughts floating in her head and when she sifted through them it felt like none of them were of any importance to her. She wasn't even glad her pain was gone. It just was.

She stepped over him. "Was someone saying something?"

“...What the fuck just...” She was so shocked, caught off guard that she couldn’t even force out the rest of her question. Cop lady had gone from standard under arrest talk to screaming her lungs out about the pain and then to an unconcerned attitude about quite possibly murdering Bant, in like no time at all. If he really did die, then...this whole damn thing would be even more hard to handle. Mad scientist or not, he knew more about the stuff now inside them than the rest of them put together. Except maybe Beckett.

But more than that, one of the scientists she’d grown up reading about and had just gotten to actually meet, could be DEAD. It didn’t matter that much to her if he was considered by many to be a madman. Galileo, the father of modern science himself, was derided by many other astronomers of his time for his belief in the heliocentric model that proved to be more accurate than the geocentric model that most others supported. Even worse, the Church branded it heresy and kept Galileo confined to house arrest for the rest of his life. Even if many treated him like a crackpot, Bant was a man of science just like Galileo. The thought that he might have died right there, just like that...

“What the absolute FUCK is wrong with you?!”

The fear from the cop kicking the table like that, it was no longer present in her eyes. Nor was the apprehension about the gun in her hand. No, the only emotion that could be seen in those bluish-green eyes was blazing rage. Everything in her body language screamed anger, from how she was standing to the way her fists were clenched tight by her sides. “You maybe kill somebody and all you can say is that?! What fucking kind of cop are you???”

 

[Gus Gungus]

“...What the fuck just...” She was so shocked, caught off guard that she couldn’t even force out the rest of her question. Cop lady had gone from standard under arrest talk to screaming her lungs out about the pain and then to an unconcerned attitude about quite possibly murdering Bant, in like no time at all. If he really did die, then...this whole damn thing would be even more hard to handle. Mad scientist or not, he knew more about the stuff now inside them than the rest of them put together. Except maybe Beckett.

But more than that, one of the scientists she’d grown up reading about and had just gotten to actually meet, could be DEAD. It didn’t matter that much to her if he was considered by many to be a madman. Galileo, the father of modern science himself, was derided by many other astronomers of his time for his belief in the heliocentric model that proved to be more accurate than the geocentric model that most others supported. Even worse, the Church branded it heresy and kept Galileo confined to house arrest for the rest of his life. Even if many treated him like a crackpot, Bant was a man of science just like Galileo. The thought that he might have died right there, just like that...

“What the absolute FUCK is wrong with you?!”

The fear from the cop kicking the table like that, it was no longer present in her eyes. Nor was the apprehension about the gun in her hand. No, the only emotion that could be seen in those bluish-green eyes was blazing rage. Everything in her body language screamed anger, from how she was standing to the way her fists were clenched tight by her sides. “You maybe kill somebody and all you can say is that?! What fucking kind of cop are you???”

The most impact the furious reprimand seemed to have on her was a note of strained confusion as two dots connected in her head, her brow faintly creasing. That acknowledgment that something wasn't right didn't lead to any variance in her pitch and tone though, nor did it hasten her pace as she glanced down at her handiwork on the doctor and gave a lethargic shrug of the shoulders.

"Ask someone who cares."

 

[MyrtenRose]

The most impact the furious reprimand seemed to have on her was a note of strained confusion as two dots connected in her head, her brow faintly creasing. That acknowledgment that something wasn't right didn't lead to any variance in her pitch and tone though, nor did it hasten her pace as she glanced down at her handiwork on the doctor and gave a lethargic shrug of the shoulders.

"Ask someone who cares."

“...”

That uncaring response just made her even more angry, if the look in her eyes was anything to go by. So much so that she considered walking up and punching the cop in the throat. Only the thoughts of what Mayfield had just done to that table stayed her hand. If she was that strong, well, strength and durability often went hand in hand so she was probably just as tough. A punch would likely only earn her a broken hand or worse, getting shot.

She huffed, glaring with resent towards the cop as MJ stepped past her and knelt down to go check on Bant for a pulse.

“If you don’t fucking care, why don’t you just fucking leave?” She spat over her shoulder.

So much for not needing reminding to stay on this chick’s good side.

 

[MidwayLives]

"...But it already hurts, that's what, ever since I wake up it's just pain and my head's not right and like, I know I messed up but I don't deserve to have cancer do I, you gave me cancer you stupid old man go ahead and fix it, I SAID FIX IT! LOOK AT ME! CAN YOU FEEL THAT?!"

Johnny was getting steadily more and more unnerved as things continued to seem to go further south with this cop. She was upset as she had right to be. But being pissed and having some kind of super strength was not a good combination. What if she lashed out at the rest of them? Even if it was by accident and even if [Melancholy Hill] could likely smash apart a table or anything like that if it'd been thrown his way, what about some of the others? Touching other people's memories(which was still an uncomfortable power from Johnny's perspective. It creeped him out on a personal level.) didn't stop violently punted furniture.

"We have to-"

"Do something? No...We'd just get in the way. Or you would to be more exact. Didn't you think about what would happen?"

The truth was that there were two other scenarios Johnny hadn't wanted to think too much about. The possibility of both scared him to his very core:

1: Johnny rushes forward and [Melancholy Hill] rears back one of it's massive arms to try and smash the cop upside the head. Enough to knock them out and maybe let them sleep all that stress off. As he drew closer however, the cop's movements were quick like a fish through water. The gun was leveled and fired. Normally knocking aside one bullet would have been child's play for Johnny's ability. But as it had already taken an action, stopping it's momentum to knock aside the bullet was asking for a bit much. The bullet hit Johnny square in the chest and the fist stopped inches away from the officer's head. Johnny clutched at the fresh hole in his sternum as blood started to change his outfit into a crimson red. [Melancholy Hill] began to crack and fall apart before finally disappearing altogether as Johnny collapsed to the ground. Dead. [BAD END]

...But...There was a light at the end of the tunnel. One scenario that Johnny considered the best outcome. The only problem was forcing himself to go through with it.

2: Johnny rushed forward and pushed Beckett to the side. They didn't seem to be too perturbed by the damage they'd taken in the breakout but Johnny hated seeing others suffer. He'd put an end to this and they could try to figure things out. [Melancholy Hill] appeared with a grin and lashed out, embedding it's knuckles into the side of the officer's head but not before she leveled the gun and fired. Catching Johnny right in the left shoulder and sending him flying back. Crashing to the ground and in immense pain, a burning sensation he'd never once felt before coursing through his entire body, but had he done it? Had he saved the day...? (END)

Bant wasn't a particularly violent man, but through a few dozen serious lab accidents and about as many literal fights over his ideas, he had built up a sizable pain tolerance over his years. But not for anything like this, which was why, genius that he was, he allowed his body to take the natural reaction it wanted to. Which is a very fancy way to say he passed the hell out.

Johnny's eyes widened and he staggered, wobbling as his knees felt like jello. He had spent too much time thinking and not enough time acting!! Someone had gotten hurt and he had been too afraid to act! His chest heaved up and down with heavy breaths as his bottom lip began to quiver. He had been willing to find other 'infected' as the doctor had put it. He had never felt accepted at his current home with his uncle and aunt. They were never gonna replace his parents and they had no expectations to do so but they still expected more out of Johnny than he'd ever be able to live up to. Seemed that even with a ghostly creature attached to his hip, that hadn't changed in the slightest. What had she done to him?! What had she...

"[Melancholy Hill]..." Johnny uttered out and the creature knelt down to press one side of it's head against the ground. "He's still breathing....For the moment." The creature reported back and Johnny took a step back. It wasn't sure if the creature was simply saying Bant was breathing to appease Johnny's currently chaotic state of mind but he had his doubts."If she could do that in one touch, imagine what else she could do. " "I don't need to imagine, I'm afraid. I saw what she can do..." Gesturing to Bant's fallen form with one of it's claws, it sneered. Johnny couldn't handle this. He'd been a cashier at a grocery store before this had happened! Fake smile after smile in an attempt to appease both the customers who would come, often with complaints of expired coupons and derision of how quickly he scanned their stuff and then dealing with similar abuse when returning home for the night. Now, here he was faced with a decision to make a change for the better and he had choked.

Because of his inaction, someone had gotten hurt. At least that's how he saw it.

"Ask someone who cares."

"..."

With a response like that, would fighting have solved anything? You couldn't punch empathy into somone. It would have been nice but that's not the power Johnny was cursed with. This was getting to be too much too quickly. His breathing grew heavier and before he could fully realize what was going on, he had already turned and began running. His mind hadn't caught up but his body was screaming 'get out while you can' 'this is too dangerous for us' 'we won't survive' and he couldn't find it in himself to disagree. Let the government capture him and treat him like a freak. If the cop had actually killed their only chance of doing something about all this then who's to say they weren't already screwed? Johnny would just be getting a head start on meeting a terrible fate.

Although it often talked seemingly independently of Johnny, [Melancholy Hill] was silent as Johnny ran. Because when it spoke, it often put Johnny's true thoughts out there and he couldn't be confronted with those right now. He had to go get out of this madhouse before things somehow got even worse! He was scared, he was upset, and he didn't know what to do but : run.

 

[Prospero]

Rochefort had quietly assembled his machines in the corner, like the nerd he was while all this was going on. He didn't seem to react in any way to the screams or any of the ongoing or even entered the shouting contest. For all intents and purposes, forgotten he had worked in the corner and had practically all the time in the world to do so. So what did he make? A weapon? Something to grab the trespasser or anything of the like?

Of course not. He was a pacifist after all and a doctor.

He made something else entirely and as everyone screamed and yelled, he very calmly stepped forward and irrespective of whatever irritant reaction that might come, stepped forward and attempted to snap a collar around the good officers neck.

It was an odd bit of work, looking more like something Doc Brown would have crafted other than someone like him. It had obviously been cannibalized from the collar he was originally making for Gunnar, albeit thicker now. Electronics glinted openly, followed by a long extension cord he had plugged into the wall.

He had also, cannibalized the watch that Bant had given him for the needed parts and if it went as he had hoped...

"Chronic pain symptoms are easy enough to regard, and normally the body shuts down if it gets too much. Either you're stubborn as a mule or your particular transformation exceeds your former limits or both-regardless, this should help temporarily." He brushed himself off as he continued brusquely, in the tone he used when removing bullets from bodies as he kept talking-using all his experience as a doctor to keep her busy enough if successful as he kept talking.

"How it works is it takes the stress from your body, shunting it aside to something much more approachable via electrodes and-well honestly, I can't quite explain it myself because frankly it should be impossible. But I built it anyway. Tell me, on a scale of one to five, how much does it hurt and where does it hurt now?"

It was a crude working of what he had in his mind....For one, it was too thick. It required a constant power source and it looked simply awful. Like Conan the Barbarian meets Tron. But the relief felt as the device did its job would hopefully work as Rochefort acted as though the good detective had walked in for an appointment and not hid under a table like a Gremlin. As he did, to Johnny and Mj he pointed and asked politely.

"Could you two please move him to the bed of pillows? Get him comfy, I'll look him over after I see about my patient here. And then, detective..."

He looked at her and then gave a small shrug. "If there is anyone you require to give a statement, I suppose me without any kind of criminal record might be a fitting compromise. Would that be alright?"

 

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

Where Mayfield was under-reacting, Beckett seemed to have caught a case of the shivers as they froze in place. Anyone behind them probably could have mistaken it for fear, but anyone who could see the gruesome snarl and skull cracking furrow of their brow knew it was anything but. Watching their uncle get knocked out by a touch and the perpetrator being indifferent certainly wasnt something they had to be happy about, but he was still alive. Even as their hand started to reach for the watch on their wrist, some part of their mind knew they were overreacting. No permanent harm no permanent foul, right?

Wrong. Wrong. WRONG. WRONG!

They didn't even realize they were hyperventilating as they touched the dial-

The watch gave a quick, screeching series of beeps

"Safety engaged"

Beckett's eyes rolled upwards right before they closed and they collapsed to the ground, unconscious.


Johnny, Meanwhile, had found a multitude of hallways spiralling through the door he'd exited. For a down on his luck scientist with presumably similar funds to his name, this lab(?) was surprisingly big.

 

[Prospero]

"....Well, I'm glad I kept up my medical license." Rochefort sighed, moved over to his assistant and reached over to scoop them up himself as he moved to the pillow nest to deposit them gently.

He then went to do the same to anyone else who needed it.

 

[Indolent]

A cascade of events which passed within mere seconds began with Jacks unnerved and ended with her enraged, within good reason. Though she had been perturbed by the officer's sudden appearance and strange state, complete with her service pistol's appearance, the following eliminated it whole. Doc Bant had tried to ameliorate the situation and for his trouble, was rendered unconscious in intense pain. Beckett, bless their heart, understandably reacted in anger and moved to make her discontentment well known to the officer regarding her uncle, being ko'd by her watch in the process for apparently attempting to exceed her limits.

It was a precarious ordeal she found herself in and perhaps any other person would be distraught or terrified or any other adjective as was apropos for the circumstances. Not her, not anymore. It wasn't so much what had happened to these two, though it did play a part, that brought her to the now. It was the indifference the officer exuded in response to her actions, the others' reactions. That wafting apathy was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back, nay, absolutely snapped it in two. Rationality found itself defenestrated and replaced with a compulsive furor such that Jacks moved before she'd realized, an arm stretching for the gun-wielding hand of Mayfield's to grip by the wrist and lift upwards and away.

"You're going down, bitch." Jacks snarled, teeth audibly gritting and nostrils flaring in heavy breaths.

Her statement would become reality before she realized, an oppressive force bearing down on Mayfield with intensity enough to force her prone within seconds. An unintended application of her power that saw the cop's personal g-force multiplied several fold. It was a fortunate she was superhuman... right?

 

[MidwayLives]

Johnny, Meanwhile, had found a multitude of hallways spiralling through the door he'd exited. For a down on his luck scientist with presumably similar funds to his name, this lab(?) was surprisingly big.

Johnny didn't stop running. He ran down the closest hallway to his right and didn't look back. He heard everything that was going on behind him. But it may as well have been fuel for the figurative fire. He had messed up and didn't want to even think of looking back. Once he was sure, he'd gotten far enough, his breathing relaxed somewhat. It was then [Melancholy Hill] finally spoke up again after remaining silent due to Johnny's willing it so. "You're running away..." Johnny rolled his eyes and kept on running. "I know I am! I'm going to run until I can't see anymore of this place!" "But you're abandoning your friends..." Johnny skidded to a stop upon hearing that and narrowed his eyes. "Those people in there...they...they're not...they're not my friends. They don't mean anything to me. I barely know them."

...

"That's not what you really think, Johnny."

Punching the wall and wincing immediately after as he pulled his hand back, Johnny shook his head. "How the hell would you know?"

"Because I say what you're too afraid to admit. I speak your thoughts, Johnny." Clutching his hand, Johnny looked away from the creature that'd manifested as a result of him being Sparked. If others were out there, who's to say they didn't have creatures even worse than this? Johnny didn't want to deal with that. "I could never lie to you, Johnny. Not unless you wanted me to." It'd been hammered in over and over that [Melancholy Hill] was simply an extension of Johnny. A grotesque nightmare inducing extension but one Johnny could manipulate as he wished. Yet all the times it had spoken it was what Johnny had been thinking at that point in time. He was just too much of a coward to say it himself. This thing had no self preservation instincts or even any identity of it's own. It did what Johnny told it to do and that was it. Yet the idea of it being able to speak his thoughts as fluidly as running your hands through warm water unnerved him even more.

"You can stop me from speaking, Johnny. All you have to do is think it and-" The creature's maw closed and Johnny stared it down for a moment or two. His bright blue eyes meeting it's eyes. As well as he could anyway. They looked lifeless and Johnny was sure the pupils were looking in different directions. "-but quieting me won't change the reason why you're really running." Johnny's bottom lip trembled precariously at that statement. It was the truth. It wasn't just that he had 'failed' in his eyes or that this was all getting to be too much. It was the lack of control. He'd mentioned it somewhat casually before but he hadn't come to the fair to look around. He'd come to end his own life. Through whatever methods were available. Maybe an experiment would go wrong and he'd be caught in the aftermath. Maybe somebody would attack the event and he'd end up as another casualty among the dead. Either way he hadn't planned on going home that day. What cruel fate it was then that he'd be spared death only to suffer becoming an impromptu guinea pig. Locked up in a cage like an animal with a power that terrified him. Then after having to attack and fight others for reasons he didn't even quite understand, he was knocked out once again and brought here. Where yet another shitshow occurred.

He felt so powerless. For all the strength and security that something as imposing as [Melancholy Hill] brought, it was little more than a conscience personified. A little voice that Johnny could choose to silence or ignore at his discretion. What did he have to gain from being forced to face the truth by himself...? Slumping against the wall, Johnny had [Melancholy Hill] raise it's left hand and extend it's claws. While the creature itself looked like something you'd have plucked straight out of a Frankenstein-esque laboratory with decaying tissue and dead lifeless eyes, it's claws were as black as night and had a razor edge to them. The claw raised itself above Johnny's head and he closed his eyes. "I'm not being pulled around anymore. I'll take control of my own life again. I'll do it...I'll do it right now!"

The claw swung downwards with enough strength behind it to splatter Johnny's brains all over the floor.

...

But the impact never happened. The claw stopped inches away from Johnny's head and the claws retracted. Opening his eyes, Johnny was visibly confused before [Melancholy Hill] made it clear for him. "You in so many words told me to kill you. I'd obey you without question, Johnny. Even if it meant my end as well. But what you told me was different from what you thought..." It was true. Johnny could have yelled and screamed until his lungs were sore but it wouldn't change how he truly felt. That he had run off from perhaps the only group of people who might understand him and didn't mind him being around. Killing himself had been off the table since they had liberated themselves. This had been the desperate lashing out of a man who believed he had lost control of his actions. Wiping away the tears that had begun to flow from his eyes, Johnny only had one question left to ask himself.

"Will you go back?"

"....No."

He silenced [Melancholy Hill] and simply sat down to cry. He had been confronted by the truth and refused to accept it. No one knew him better than himself and [Melancholy Hill] was him. For better or for worse. But he had heard enough of his own thoughts. He couldn't go back after running away, there was no chance for him as a hero. Not when he could barely face himself, let alone others.

 

[MyrtenRose]

Once it had been confirmed that Bant was still alive, just unconscious, she breathed a sigh of relief and stood back up. Though that feeling did not last long. MJ looked around the room, from the scientist placing the two out cold dudes in a more comfortable spot, to gargoyle man over there doing...whatever he was doing, to Jacks starting to get into it with the emotionally bankrupt cop(no disagreements with that decision)...and to the guy who just plain ran off. She couldn't exactly blame him. In fact, she was thinking he had the right idea. "Man. Fuck this." MJ muttered to herself and turned on her heel. She had agreed to help, looked at it thinking it would be a thrilling adventure and it could very well be just that.

But this group was just a mess. Even with the two scientists and the few other people that seemed cool here...as an overall group? Dysfunctional was the right word to use, as far as she could tell. Besides, she had one of the watches already. She could do this on her own. Find more of these new superhumans and just direct Bant to them or vice versa.

She stepped out the door Johnny had shoved open in his running, looked left and right at the numerous hallways before turning back around again. Her eyes rested on the unconscious Bant as she focused on digging out the way he had brought their gassed, unconscious selves here in the first place. Once she had that route memorized, she just turned yet again and began treading it in reverse, going for the exit.

 

[Gus Gungus]

Rochefort had quietly assembled his machines in the corner, like the nerd he was while all this was going on. He didn't seem to react in any way to the screams or any of the ongoing or even entered the shouting contest. For all intents and purposes, forgotten he had worked in the corner and had practically all the time in the world to do so. So what did he make? A weapon? Something to grab the trespasser or anything of the like?

Of course not. He was a pacifist after all and a doctor.

He made something else entirely and as everyone screamed and yelled, he very calmly stepped forward and irrespective of whatever irritant reaction that might come, stepped forward and attempted to snap a collar around the good officers neck.

It was an odd bit of work, looking more like something Doc Brown would have crafted other than someone like him. It had obviously been cannibalized from the collar he was originally making for Gunnar, albeit thicker now. Electronics glinted openly, followed by a long extension cord he had plugged into the wall.

He had also, cannibalized the watch that Bant had given him for the needed parts and if it went as he had hoped...

"Chronic pain symptoms are easy enough to regard, and normally the body shuts down if it gets too much. Either you're stubborn as a mule or your particular transformation exceeds your former limits or both-regardless, this should help temporarily." He brushed himself off as he continued brusquely, in the tone he used when removing bullets from bodies as he kept talking-using all his experience as a doctor to keep her busy enough if successful as he kept talking.

"How it works is it takes the stress from your body, shunting it aside to something much more approachable via electrodes and-well honestly, I can't quite explain it myself because frankly it should be impossible. But I built it anyway. Tell me, on a scale of one to five, how much does it hurt and where does it hurt now?"

It was a crude working of what he had in his mind....For one, it was too thick. It required a constant power source and it looked simply awful. Like Conan the Barbarian meets Tron. But the relief felt as the device did its job would hopefully work as Rochefort acted as though the good detective had walked in for an appointment and not hid under a table like a Gremlin. As he did, to Johnny and Mj he pointed and asked politely.

"Could you two please move him to the bed of pillows? Get him comfy, I'll look him over after I see about my patient here. And then, detective..."

He looked at her and then gave a small shrug. "If there is anyone you require to give a statement, I suppose me without any kind of criminal record might be a fitting compromise. Would that be alright?"

Where Mayfield was under-reacting, Beckett seemed to have caught a case of the shivers as they froze in place. Anyone behind them probably could have mistaken it for fear, but anyone who could see the gruesome snarl and skull cracking furrow of their brow knew it was anything but. Watching their uncle get knocked out by a touch and the perpetrator being indifferent certainly wasnt something they had to be happy about, but he was still alive. Even as their hand started to reach for the watch on their wrist, some part of their mind knew they were overreacting. No permanent harm no permanent foul, right?

Wrong. Wrong. WRONG. WRONG!

They didn't even realize they were hyperventilating as they touched the dial-

The watch gave a quick, screeching series of beeps

"Safety engaged"

Beckett's eyes rolled upwards right before they closed and they collapsed to the ground, unconscious.


Johnny, Meanwhile, had found a multitude of hallways spiralling through the door he'd exited. For a down on his luck scientist with presumably similar funds to his name, this lab(?) was surprisingly big.

A cascade of events which passed within mere seconds began with Jacks unnerved and ended with her enraged, within good reason. Though she had been perturbed by the officer's sudden appearance and strange state, complete with her service pistol's appearance, the following eliminated it whole. Doc Bant had tried to ameliorate the situation and for his trouble, was rendered unconscious in intense pain. Beckett, bless their heart, understandably reacted in anger and moved to make her discontentment well known to the officer regarding her uncle, being ko'd by her watch in the process for apparently attempting to exceed her limits.

It was a precarious ordeal she found herself in and perhaps any other person would be distraught or terrified or any other adjective as was apropos for the circumstances. Not her, not anymore. It wasn't so much what had happened to these two, though it did play a part, that brought her to the now. It was the indifference the officer exuded in response to her actions, the others' reactions. That wafting apathy was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back, nay, absolutely snapped it in two. Rationality found itself defenestrated and replaced with a compulsive furor such that Jacks moved before she'd realized, an arm stretching for the gun-wielding hand of Mayfield's to grip by the wrist and lift upwards and away.

"You're going down, bitch." Jacks snarled, teeth audibly gritting and nostrils flaring in heavy breaths.

Her statement would become reality before she realized, an oppressive force bearing down on Mayfield with intensity enough to force her prone within seconds. An unintended application of her power that saw the cop's personal g-force multiplied several fold. It was a fortunate she was superhuman... right?

MJ's words seemed to pass straight through the detective, whose sudden shift from hysterical to completely placid had come as a surprise to no one more than herself. Not that she could say she felt surprised right now. Felt anything at all.

She watched MJ storm past and Johnny bug out in much the same fashion a sloth would, sluggish and preoccupied as though she were a million miles away and not here having to deal with the consequences of her actions. She didn't even seem to notice Rochefort until he was right next to her, and her protest comprised of a blink and half-hearted "Hey" as the collar slipped over her neck. She took a step back and pushed him, but the amount of force applied was so gentle and lamblike it was somewhat pathetic.

Another blink followed as its effect kicked in, her fingertips merely tracing the rim where they'd been prepared to pry it off. Her muscles felt really relaxed all of a sudden. And her brain was kinda... floaty. "Whoa. Is there weed in this? Oh."

Then her knees buckled and she faceplanted so hard the floor started to warp, the effort she put into resisting the sudden downward pull so phoned in and meager a determined eight year old probably could've held her down. It wasn't like her freaky freak strength had gone anywhere, she just felt too demotivated to bother with all this right now.

Still, this sucked. "Mrmh." She tried to say without getting any floor in her mouth. She failed at both objectives.

 

[Prospero]

A cascade of events which passed within mere seconds began with Jacks unnerved and ended with her enraged, within good reason. Though she had been perturbed by the officer's sudden appearance and strange state, complete with her service pistol's appearance, the following eliminated it whole. Doc Bant had tried to ameliorate the situation and for his trouble, was rendered unconscious in intense pain. Beckett, bless their heart, understandably reacted in anger and moved to make her discontentment well known to the officer regarding her uncle, being ko'd by her watch in the process for apparently attempting to exceed her limits.

It was a precarious ordeal she found herself in and perhaps any other person would be distraught or terrified or any other adjective as was apropos for the circumstances. Not her, not anymore. It wasn't so much what had happened to these two, though it did play a part, that brought her to the now. It was the indifference the officer exuded in response to her actions, the others' reactions. That wafting apathy was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back, nay, absolutely snapped it in two. Rationality found itself defenestrated and replaced with a compulsive furor such that Jacks moved before she'd realized, an arm stretching for the gun-wielding hand of Mayfield's to grip by the wrist and lift upwards and away.

"You're going down, bitch." Jacks snarled, teeth audibly gritting and nostrils flaring in heavy breaths.

Her statement would become reality before she realized, an oppressive force bearing down on Mayfield with intensity enough to force her prone within seconds. An unintended application of her power that saw the cop's personal g-force multiplied several fold. It was a fortunate she was superhuman... right?

Johnny didn't stop running. He ran down the closest hallway to his right and didn't look back. He heard everything that was going on behind him. But it may as well have been fuel for the figurative fire. He had messed up and didn't want to even think of looking back. Once he was sure, he'd gotten far enough, his breathing relaxed somewhat. It was then [Melancholy Hill] finally spoke up again after remaining silent due to Johnny's willing it so. "You're running away..." Johnny rolled his eyes and kept on running. "I know I am! I'm going to run until I can't see anymore of this place!" "But you're abandoning your friends..." Johnny skidded to a stop upon hearing that and narrowed his eyes. "Those people in there...they...they're not...they're not my friends. They don't mean anything to me. I barely know them."

...

"That's not what you really think, Johnny."

Punching the wall and wincing immediately after as he pulled his hand back, Johnny shook his head. "How the hell would you know?"

"Because I say what you're too afraid to admit. I speak your thoughts, Johnny." Clutching his hand, Johnny looked away from the creature that'd manifested as a result of him being Sparked. If others were out there, who's to say they didn't have creatures even worse than this? Johnny didn't want to deal with that. "I could never lie to you, Johnny. Not unless you wanted me to." It'd been hammered in over and over that [Melancholy Hill] was simply an extension of Johnny. A grotesque nightmare inducing extension but one Johnny could manipulate as he wished. Yet all the times it had spoken it was what Johnny had been thinking at that point in time. He was just too much of a coward to say it himself. This thing had no self preservation instincts or even any identity of it's own. It did what Johnny told it to do and that was it. Yet the idea of it being able to speak his thoughts as fluidly as running your hands through warm water unnerved him even more.

"You can stop me from speaking, Johnny. All you have to do is think it and-" The creature's maw closed and Johnny stared it down for a moment or two. His bright blue eyes meeting it's eyes. As well as he could anyway. They looked lifeless and Johnny was sure the pupils were looking in different directions. "-but quieting me won't change the reason why you're really running." Johnny's bottom lip trembled precariously at that statement. It was the truth. It wasn't just that he had 'failed' in his eyes or that this was all getting to be too much. It was the lack of control. He'd mentioned it somewhat casually before but he hadn't come to the fair to look around. He'd come to end his own life. Through whatever methods were available. Maybe an experiment would go wrong and he'd be caught in the aftermath. Maybe somebody would attack the event and he'd end up as another casualty among the dead. Either way he hadn't planned on going home that day. What cruel fate it was then that he'd be spared death only to suffer becoming an impromptu guinea pig. Locked up in a cage like an animal with a power that terrified him. Then after having to attack and fight others for reasons he didn't even quite understand, he was knocked out once again and brought here. Where yet another shitshow occurred.

He felt so powerless. For all the strength and security that something as imposing as [Melancholy Hill] brought, it was little more than a conscience personified. A little voice that Johnny could choose to silence or ignore at his discretion. What did he have to gain from being forced to face the truth by himself...? Slumping against the wall, Johnny had [Melancholy Hill] raise it's left hand and extend it's claws. While the creature itself looked like something you'd have plucked straight out of a Frankenstein-esque laboratory with decaying tissue and dead lifeless eyes, it's claws were as black as night and had a razor edge to them. The claw raised itself above Johnny's head and he closed his eyes. "I'm not being pulled around anymore. I'll take control of my own life again. I'll do it...I'll do it right now!"

The claw swung downwards with enough strength behind it to splatter Johnny's brains all over the floor.

...

But the impact never happened. The claw stopped inches away from Johnny's head and the claws retracted. Opening his eyes, Johnny was visibly confused before [Melancholy Hill] made it clear for him. "You in so many words told me to kill you. I'd obey you without question, Johnny. Even if it meant my end as well. But what you told me was different from what you thought..." It was true. Johnny could have yelled and screamed until his lungs were sore but it wouldn't change how he truly felt. That he had run off from perhaps the only group of people who might understand him and didn't mind him being around. Killing himself had been off the table since they had liberated themselves. This had been the desperate lashing out of a man who believed he had lost control of his actions. Wiping away the tears that had begun to flow from his eyes, Johnny only had one question left to ask himself.

"Will you go back?"

"....No."

He silenced [Melancholy Hill] and simply sat down to cry. He had been confronted by the truth and refused to accept it. No one knew him better than himself and [Melancholy Hill] was him. For better or for worse. But he had heard enough of his own thoughts. He couldn't go back after running away, there was no chance for him as a hero. Not when he could barely face himself, let alone others.

Once it had been confirmed that Bant was still alive, just unconscious, she breathed a sigh of relief and stood back up. Though that feeling did not last long. MJ looked around the room, from the scientist placing the two out cold dudes in a more comfortable spot, to gargoyle man over there doing...whatever he was doing, to Jacks starting to get into it with the emotionally bankrupt cop(no disagreements with that decision)...and to the guy who just plain ran off. She couldn't exactly blame him. In fact, she was thinking he had the right idea. "Man. Fuck this." MJ muttered to herself and turned on her heel. She had agreed to help, looked at it thinking it would be a thrilling adventure and it could very well be just that.

But this group was just a mess. Even with the two scientists and the few other people that seemed cool here...as an overall group? Dysfunctional was the right word to use, as far as she could tell. Besides, she had one of the watches already. She could do this on her own. Find more of these new superhumans and just direct Bant to them or vice versa.

She stepped out the door Johnny had shoved open in his running, looked left and right at the numerous hallways before turning back around again. Her eyes rested on the unconscious Bant as she focused on digging out the way he had brought their gassed, unconscious selves here in the first place. Once she had that route memorized, she just turned yet again and began treading it in reverse, going for the exit.

MJ's words seemed to pass straight through the detective, whose sudden shift from hysterical to completely placid had come as a surprise to no one more than herself. Not that she could say she felt surprised right now. Felt anything at all.

She watched MJ storm past and Johnny bug out in much the same fashion a sloth would, sluggish and preoccupied as though she were a million miles away and not here having to deal with the consequences of her actions. She didn't even seem to notice Rochefort until he was right next to her, and her protest comprised of a blink and half-hearted "Hey" as the collar slipped over her neck. She took a step back and pushed him, but the amount of force applied was so gentle and lamblike it was somewhat pathetic.

Another blink followed as its effect kicked in, her fingertips merely tracing the rim where they'd been prepared to pry it off. Her muscles felt really relaxed all of a sudden. And her brain was kinda... floaty. "Whoa. Is there weed in this? Oh."

Then her knees buckled and she faceplanted so hard the floor started to warp, the effort she put into resisting the sudden downward pull so phoned in and meager a determined eight year old probably could've held her down. It wasn't like her freaky freak strength had gone anywhere, she just felt too demotivated to bother with all this right now.

Still, this sucked. "Mrmh." She tried to say without getting any floor in her mouth. She failed at both objectives.

Rochefort, seeing his would-be-assistants flee sighed, but it was a given. None of them had dealt with the idea of life and death before. All of them, more or less had woken up with nothing more important than what to wear for that day. Relationships. Work. Normal, every day commonplace things and now they were flung head first into things.

Rochefort had been a doctor first and then a combat medic himself. The experiences had given him perspective and focus and as he took away the detectives gun, he focused slightly and disassembled it to component parts. Those would be stashed away as he moved his new patients himself. One by one, hobbling on his prosthetic as he worked to make them comfortable.