Perspectives: ReciprocApril 2008

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Perspectives: ReciprocApril 2008

Postby Visavis » Thu Mar 28, 2013 3:46 am

shaydeswhisper: Perspectives Writing Contest. Post here!
Mundane and I have come up with what we think is a great idea for ReciprocApril. I present to you...

Perspectives: RP Writing Competition

We all love writing about our own characters, but how would you like the chance to write about a fellow Reciprocator's character? How would you like to see a fellow 'Cip write about yours?

We're having an RP competition for ReciprocApril. The theme: You have to write about someone else's character. You can write about your character's perspective on them, you can write as them, you can mock up a newspaper report on them - so long as your story is All About Them, you're doing it right. Your character can be in the story if it helps you write about them, but the story should focus on your compatriot, not on your own actions or feelings or how awesome you are.

The catch is: You don't get to pick who you write about.

Anyone who wants to be a part of this competition has to submit their name to this thread before this Friday, PST/EST/whatever. Then, on Friday, we will randomly draw names and allocate them to other participants - kind of like a Secret Santa, only without the boxes of chocolates and the five dollar paperbacks noone ever reads. The draw will be secret - only you will know who you are writing about, and we ask you to keep it a secret until you post your story. The victim ... um, subject of your story won't know you are writing about them until they see the finished product.

You may get a 'Cip you know well and have worked with in the past. On the other hand, you may get a 'Cip who is new, or one you haven't had the opportunity to work with yet. In this case you may need to try to get yourself on a team with them, RP with them, be around them and get to know them in order to write about them. So much the better!

We ask anyone who participates in this competition to be around the place as much as they can during ReciprocApril, and to RP freely with anyone they can, so that the writers have as much opportunity as possible to see your character in action, socially and combatively.

Stories must be submitted by the last day of ReciprocApril, and the winners will be judged by myself and Beam and announced in early May. There will be up to three prizes of (whatever) million inf for the stories that best describe the other character, and best support the theme of being All About Them.

For those who are concerned about the representation of their character: These stories will be considered non-canon. They are profile pieces, attitudes, feelings, opinions of your fellow 'Cips and how they believe your character might feel and act based on your RP, not 'fact'. However if you are precious about your character and don't want to give the writer free reign to express their take on your character, don't participate - some of these stories will be intimate, expressing your character's feelings and emotions, their beliefs and their values, and the writers are free to let their imaginations take over, all in the name of fun. We don't want any "Oh, well, my character would never do that" follow-up posts - take the competition in good faith and good spirit.

So: Who wants to see their character in print, penned by the hand of a fellow 'Cip?

Big thanks to Mr Mundane for getting this written up for me. I was having trouble getting it together.

BTW this is going to have a prize attached, I just have to work out with Mundane exactly what. It's going to be millions of Inf though. Mundane and I, and hopefully Beam are going to participate, but our stories of course won't be up for judging.
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Re: Perspectives: ReciprocApril 2008

Postby Visavis » Thu Mar 28, 2013 3:49 am

Captain Pwn: RE: omg first!

Today it seems common knowledge that the so-called 'peacebringers' are upon us. They've established themselves in every facet of society from unlicensed vigilantes to infiltrating the upper echelons of the floundering Paragon Police Department. But really? What are the aims of these bizarre aliens beings that infect our own perfect human bodies as some parasitic host?

Maybe we should examine one of these so-called heroes, Aylin-Seralia. Now maybe you've heard that these 'noble' kheldians seek the best and brightest of humanity and willingly merge with them, but is that really the case?

FACT: Aylin-Seralia was the result of a failed FORCE MERGE

FACT: Aylin has been implicated in the murder of Sable Rider

FACT: Aylin was infected with what doctors described as a 'parasitic substance'


FACT: Even among 'friends', Aylin is known for being 'dumb as brick'

FACT: Upon arriving in Paragon city, Aylin assaulted several fine upstanding youths in a civil misunderstanding causing SEVERE injury.

Is this the sort of 'hero' you want roaming the streets, dispensing justice as they see fit? Stand up for your rights, talk to your local COUNCIL about these grave issues. YOU TOO CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE.

-Unity through purpose
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Re: Perspectives: ReciprocApril 2008

Postby Visavis » Thu Mar 28, 2013 3:54 am

Roguish1: No Easy Way Out
Walking home from the gas station, she felt a certain...pride. Sure, sure, the Skulls thought they'd picked an easy target. The joke, of course, was on them. The PPD were there within a few moments and she had nothing to say other than, "Did you want some donuts? On the house." The officers just gave her a sharp, warning glare and hauled the Skulls to their cruisers and back to the station.

All in all, it had been a good day.

She cranked the volume on her iPod as a particularly awesome song cued up. She thumbed the bass line on her ever present air guitar as she walked. Her eyes shut, enjoying the music, she never saw the sniper.

The first bullet grazed her arm. The second hit her in the shoulder and knocked her back. Everything was happening so fast. Still, adrenaline pumping, she had to do something. That's when the ensnaring grenade hit her. She growled and watched as the Malta tach ops began to circle up around her. They were sneering and laughing--as if they knew something she didn't. She did take note, however, that they weren't attacking.

A gunslinger stepped from behind the tach ops guys and smirked beneath his mask. He walked up to her and ran a finger along her cheek, then put the gun to her head. "You know why we're here, T."

She blinked. "No, I don't think I do," she quipped, her mind racing as to how Malta new her first initial. Unless...they were the ones to set up the program in the first fucking place!

"Try again," he cocked the gun.

She made no movement--gave no sign of fear. Her heart cranked itself about 100 beats a minute, but she made no indication that she was even remotely terrified. She swallowed and stared at him and simply responded with, "Go fuck yourself," and disappeared in a steamy mist.

The gunslinger cursed and the tach ops lept to their guard, night-vision goggles whirring. A thunderclap blinded and dazed the men just long enough for her to initiate a whirlwind.

Or, it would have, at least, had she seen the Sapper standing just outside of the range of thunderclap. As she lifted her hands to spin the wind, the Sapper hit her with his gun and sucked, as it were, the very life from her body. She collapsed to the floor, quite visible to the gunslinger.

She looked up and began to think quickly. "T, why do you have to do things the hard way..." She blinked and looked up. Why do you have to do things the hard way... What the...


The gunslinger lifted his gun, aiming it at Terra Aedean, code name: Ace Zephyr. She swallowed hard and stared, keenly at the man she'd called father for seventeen years. The man she tried to convince other people existed after his disappearance with his wife. "I don't..."

"Understand?" came the sneering answer. "Who do you think established Project ACE, Terra?"

Ace's head was reeling. How could this be? How could this be happening? He fired a shot, she dodged left. He fired again, she dodged right. Her strength was slowly coming back to her. She glanced quickly over his shoulder and saw the Sapper...laughing. "Papa, please... I'm your daughter!"

"I know. But, there's no easy way out of this, Terra. I'm sorry. I love you."

A gunshot.

A scream.


When Ace's eyes fluttered open, she was staring upwards into the eyes of Beam and Bolter. Beth looked more twitchy than normal and Beam...Beam was Beam. His eyes belied his concern. "Hey, kid, thought we almost lost ya there."

"Wh-what..." slowly the images came back to her. "Shit...where's pa?"

Beamer and Beth looked at each other. Beth finally broke the silence, "Ace, we have some bad news..."
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Re: Perspectives: ReciprocApril 2008

Postby Visavis » Thu Mar 28, 2013 3:57 am

Captain Pwn:
(I has a story! \o/)
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Re: Perspectives: ReciprocApril 2008

Postby Visavis » Thu Mar 28, 2013 4:03 am

Pariah Flux Takes Down Crey Defectors with help from fellow Heroes!

Pariah Flux led a task force against a group of Crey Defectors this day. She battled valiantly at head of her team of heroes against the group that would tarnish Crey’s name and reputation. The demonic hero whose power purportedly come from the Shadow Shard realm stood with the Hero Manticore against this threat. With Manticore’s extensive network and Pariah Flux’s street skills they located and shut down several illegal facilities that the defectors had setup. After much fighting, the Crey Defectors took extravagant action by kidnapping the Councilman Birch, leaving a note stating that Pariah Flux’s task force better show up or they’d kill him according to Ms. Liberty. With fast thinking and acting, Pariah Flux saved the Councilman and then went and put the hurt on the defectors in Venice often called Crey’s Folly now. There she found and defeated the one in charge of the Defectors, a man called Hopkins who was thought to have been a trusted and high ranking assistant in Crey to Countess Crey. Countess Crey held a news conference shortly after these events occurred to thank Pariah Flux and her comrades for their valiant service to the city.
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Re: Perspectives: ReciprocApril 2008

Postby Visavis » Thu Mar 28, 2013 4:04 am

42nd and 5th:
She didn't talk much, which was fine in 42nd's opinion, not being one for long conversations. She didn't seem to do much either, not that he'd paid much attention, tending to make up his mind in the usual cat way of whatever he felt like at the time. He'd seen her meditating, which he thought was just another word for falling asleep and he'd seen her floating around, which just looked like a comfortable way to doze off. Not that snoozing was on top of his list of things to to, not at all, eating took that special honour.

What she did or didn't, wasn't the thing that bothered him. She bothered him. He was a cat and she was, from what he'd heard, possibly dead. That was a big oversimplification but it was easier for him to think of her as that than anything else, abstract thought was very new to him and it made his head hurt.

It was the way that she felt that unsettled him, so many different feelings all wrapped up into one female, floaty bundle. And it wasn't just feelings, it was so many things all at one time that overwhelmed the senses. He wondered how the humans put up with it and then figured they didn't notice, they never did usually. He wondered how he'd describe it to someone who didn't usually deal in animal senses.

Cold, crisp air was part of it, a feeling of ozone against skin and fur, the smell of waterfalls and an image of an enormous green, snow tipped mountain. Of course they were the easier descriptions, how did you say that she reminded him of the way windchimes sound when she moved, or that looking at her was like looking up at a bright blue sky, cloudless and startlingly sunny. Her voice was the same, a fog covered common, dew dripping from the enormous fern leaves that peered out of the gloom. Each word sounded like sunlight on rippling water.

The orange cat sat under his tree and watched Fumiyo meditate. He knew she was linked to a goddess who felt like melting vanilla icecream tasted. He grumpily admitted to himself that she couldn't be that bad if a goddess had taken her into her confidence.

42nd curled up under the tree. Although he firmly believed that the dead should stay that way, she did have a good idea in the meditation thing.

His half closed eyes looked over to see the ghostess smiling at him as he . . . . zzzzzzzzzz
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More valuable than money

Postby Black Starbeam » Thu Mar 28, 2013 4:07 am

It was getting late. The street corner was unnaturally cold for this time of year, even given the time. Founders Falls tended to be a little colder than most areas of Paragon, the channels made certain of that. But no. This was an excessive amount of cold. A young girl stood at the street corner, her skin tight clothing shining under the sole streetlight. She was prepared for the cold, with her woolen boots and gloves. She set her back to the lightpost and settled in to wait.

She didn't have to wait long. A car rolled up past her, pulling to a stop inches from her feet. The passenger door opened in front of her.

“Get in.” Came a disembodied voice from the car.

She pushed the door open and stepped forward, her pigtails bouncing as she climbed into the car. Her hand grasped the handle as she pulled the door closed behind her. The car moved forward slowly, a slow menacing crawl around the block. She looked over at the man beside her. She recognised him. She'd reviewed almost a dozen files with his face on them. He held his hand out to her, clutching a folder. She took it from him, opening it. Information on more than fifty members of the Council of various rankings. At a first glance, there was some useful information here, though not all of it would prove worthwhile. To Yuki though, the paper these files were printed on was more valuable than cash.

Her ice-blue eyes almost smiled as she looked up at the man.

“Are you sure you don't want anything for this?” she asked.

He responded only with a shake of his head as he completely rounded the block, pulling to a halt at the corner where he'd first picked her up. He looked pointedly at the door. She took his meaning. She opened it and hopped out of the car energetically. This was her first decent breakthrough in a long while. She'd finally been contacted by a low level Council member with his eyes in the sky. She had no misconceptions. The information he'd given her was likely everyone in the chain of command above him, or likely to take the place of those she arrested.

Some payments were worth more than money, she mused as she propelled herself into the sky.
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Re: Perspectives: ReciprocApril 2008

Postby Visavis » Thu Mar 28, 2013 4:08 am

((Yay! Awesome Beam!

Edit: Btw, I really liked the idea behind your post Beam. I've decided to make it official Yuki canon. Maybe would could run with it and do something, hmm? *Pokes* ))
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Re: Perspectives: ReciprocApril 2008

Postby Visavis » Thu Mar 28, 2013 4:10 am

shaydeswhisper: Mundanely Extraordinary
Mundanely Extraordinary

The Reciprocator known as John Smith, or Mr. Mundane sat at his desk and took a sip of tea as the stream of data passed over the screen in front of him. He had just gotten settled in and looked forward to a long night of running numbers. He had alot of projects he had hoped he'd get closer to finishing. That was the plan at least, the flashing alert on his monitor was about to change that. He read the details of the police bulletin and frowned. Hostage situation in Talos, press members and an archaeologist being held by the Banished Pantheon. This was something best left to others. In all honesty zombies creeped him out.

He scanned the list of Reciprocators that had set their comms to active, then sent out an announcement over the Reciprocator channel.

"Recips, the police have asked for help with a hostage situation. The Banished Pantheon seems to have taken over an office building in the New Sparta neighborhood of Talos. Anyone available to assist?"

His face dropped more and more as each reply came back negative, everyone was busy. He gave a sigh and repeated the request on the Shield channel. The results were about the same.

"Ah damn it to hell", he muttered to himself as he pulled on his costume. His stomach started to knot up in apprehension. He'd like to say that feeling wasn't fear, it was a common sense reaction to the idea of going after zombies carrying nothing but a shovel. He knew though he'd be kidding himself. He'd never been comfortable going solo. He much preferred the idea of making himself a target and distracting enemies long enough for the heavy hitters on the team to knock them down. He took a last drink of his tea and reached over to grab his trusty shovel which lie in a elephant foot umbrella stand by his desk.

He made a noise as his atoms were rearranged in the New Sparta section of Talos. He really hated the idea of teleporting and avoided it as much as possible. The urgency of the situation made him do it though, He'd surely take the long way home. He spotted several police cars flashing their lights in the distance, and headed that way.

The officer that seemed to be in charge, meaning the one that was holding the bullhorn, gave John a nod as he come up. The man looked like he recognized the uniform, just not the man in it.

"John Smith, Reciprocator, at your service."

The man looked at him blankly. John stiffled a sigh, he was loathe to use the other name he had been called. Originally it was just a tongue and cheek joke, but it stuck for a while, long enough for the media to get ahold of it.

"Mr. Mundane?", John offered helpfully.

Another blank stare came from the officer. That really did a lot to boost John's self confidence. The next words out of his mouth only drove that knife deeper.

"Bring anyone else with you? Black Starbeam, Static Bolter, Officer Zap. Oh Zap is great, I've seen him at work before!"

"No. Just me." John could understand the sentiment, all of those guys were awesomely powerful. He was still amazed at watching them work. John on the other hand, was a normal Joe, in a Reciprocator uniform, with a shovel. In his mind there really is no comparison to the two. When it comes to field work he is simply second string. He is perfectly fine with that, but it wouldn't hurt to have at least a little fake enthusiasm, he was a Reciprocator after all.

The cop gave a curt nod, and started briefing John on what was going on. There had been a lecture here, some archaeologist had been giving a lecture to show off some of the relics he discovered on a recent dig. Evidently the Pantheon were interested in them, which could mean nothing good. Trapped inside were the archaeologist and a few members of the media, as the earlier alert had specified. Luckily many of those attending had gotten out in the initial chaos, so only a few hostages were still believed to be inside.

Tightening his grip on his shovel John moved into the building scanning the hall. No hoardes of zombies in the lobby at least. Unfortunately he found a group of them mulling about all too soon. He gave a look down at his shovel, then the group of four or so zombies and muttered something along the lines of "This is fucking insane", then charged.

Fighting to John was different than most heroes. Most people saw movements, counter movements, attacks of opportunity, etc. Everything was statistics to John. He could literally see numbers and strings of probability in the movements of his opponents. He knew which way to move to statistically take the least damage. Sometimes he just moved on his own, as if a natural luck compelled him. Most of the time he didn't realize until he was analyzing things later on.

Given the circumstances the fight went really well, considering he was one normal, unsuperpowered man with a shovel against four zombies. The zombies were on the floor not moving, and he was standing, with only a bruise on his right cheek and some swelling on his arm to show for it. Now if everything else went as smooth. Maybe he would make it out of this saving the day, and in one piece.

He made his way to where the lecture was supposed to have taken place, encountering a couple of zombies shambling around here or there. Each fairly easy to take out. As easy as one might expect it would be be to fight zombies with a shovel, he thought.He knew not to get overconfident though, after all he was way out of his league here. He was jolted out of his thoughts by a woman's voice screaming.

"Get away from me you freaks!"

The voice came from an attractive woman who was now running toward John, three zombies closing in on her. John looked at the group his mind already running the numbers. In the time it took most people to have a stray thought he already ran a few scenarios in mind and started acting on the one that would statistically give the best result. He quickly acted on it and positioned himself between the zombies and the girl and swung his shovel at them. He really wished he could've thrown in a witty quip at that moment, but he was trying to keep his resolve. That was quite a feat considering the zombies were quite upset he was blocking their path.

A few well placed shovel swings, a lot of quick math in his head, and a little luck and the three zombies were laying at his feet. He breathed in deep trying to convince his heart to beat at a normal level, so he could at least speak to the girl with some composure. The girl looked at him a bit wide-eyed but without skipping a beat, started with questions. Obviously she must be a reporter.

"Jennifer Watkins, Paragon times. You're a Reciprocator, right?" she beamed at him.

"Yes, name's John Smith, Im here to get you out of here." She looked at him for a moment and was obviously trying to place the name "Mister Mundane?", he added helpfully. The woman gave him a helpless look.

"Where's the rest of your team?", she asked.

"There's just me", he answered trying not to let the exasperation show on his face.

She seemed a bit disappointed. "No Black Starbeam? No Alexus Apollo... not even the girl with the pigtails... um... Fushionette?"

"Her name is Yuki, and they are all busy, you want to be rescued, or not?". This was said quite blandly as it was obvious the woman had decided that him alone wasn't enough of a story. This wouldn't have bothered him, usually he didnt seek the presses attention, but to have this discussion in the middle of him rescuing her, the nerve of it all.

"Sorry. Please, lets get out of here." The woman looked a bit sheepish now, starting to realize what a bitch she was sounding like.

"Which way are the others?" John just wanted to get this over with. He was quite looking foward to going back to monitoring communications and running numbers.

"This way", she started to lead him through the halls, jumping behind him at every sound. Finally after making their way down a few halls they came to where the archaeologist was being held. John's stomach turned violently as he started counting zombies. Jennifer said something to him, but he didn't quite catch it, his mind was rapidly putting together possibilities, and then discarding them. The one that seemed to have the highest probabilty was in his mind the one that would hurt the worse. He waved Jennifer back, and reached up to adjust his hat on his head and yelled out to the crowd.

"Hey uglies!" He admitted to himself, not his most clever taunt. Lucky for him though these weren't quite his cleverest adversaries. The results were favorable. Well at least, they were what he meant to happen. He hardly thought having a whole hoard of zombies charging you is never a "favorable" thing.

His plan was originally to use the door as a choke point so he wouldn't have to fight so many of them at once. It worked well for a bit. He underestimated the zombies' willingness to shove each other through the door. Before he could adjust his strategy he was awash in a wave of the undead, all trying to claw, bite, and generally mangle him as much as possible. John's swings and parries became desperate now as he started to lose all sense of direction now, seeing only zombie after zombie, all that wanted him dead.

John started to lose all sense of time as he stood in the middle of the torrent of bodies, swinging his shovel over and over. His whole body was aching now. His arms hurt from the repetitive motions of the swings of his shovel. His legs screamed in agony as they fought to keep him upright against the onslaught. Everything else ached from the pounding he was taken. He had stopped trying to block the shots, and instead was trying to just take them on non vital organs. The feeling that he was about to die started gripping his heart.

It was that very moment that Jennifer had crept out of her hiding place and picked up a chair that had been kicked into the hall and hit one of the zombies with it. The zombie answered with a backhand which sent her stumbling back into a wall. Words uttered to him by Black Starbeam entered his mind. "Heroes are just people who did what needed to be done." He had told John that once. This woman, who was arguably more normal than he was had taken a stand. The time for self doubt has passed, he had "things that needed to be done".

"Oi", he yelled to the zombie who started advancing on the woman, "Im not through with you yet." Blood was pouring out of his mouth as he yelled. It served it's purpose though and caught his attention back. Jennifer was still watching the fight from her position curled up in fetal position by the wall. She was still alive, for now.

John screamed out in pain not seeing the shaman come up to the edge of the group. He felt the jolt of electricity that had just flowed throughout his body though. He started to feel dizzy from the effects of the blast. He's not super powered like most of the rest of his crew, and had no way to deal with such things. The last thing he remembered before going down was a small group of people in blue and black running toward him. The calvary had come, brilliant. That was his last thoughts before fading to black.


"John... John... wake up." He came to, to a vaguely familiar voice. He tried his best to ignore the pain in his head as he tried to focus on who was shaking him. He realized finally, that it was the reporter, the one that he rescued. She had survived. "John, you were... amazing... so courageous!"

He tried to protest to her, wanting to point out he was able to keep them occupied until the real supers arrived, but all he could get out was a simple, "Nah, just playing my part"

"Nonsense", she retorted "you were wonderful!" With that she leaned down and placed a kiss on his aching cheek. "You saved me after all" Any clever reply was lost along with his fading conciousness. Jennifer started to yell something and Bolter and Yuki came running over. Then, everything went dark again.


"Oh come on John, at least read it!", the voice belonged to Yuki Daniels, better known as Yuki Frost.

It had been a few days after the incident, and John was sitting at his computer desk. He took the paper and scanned the page, to look at the story that Yuki had been pestering him about. The headline read "Mundanely Extraordinary. By Jennifer Watkins." The report was a glowing account of his final stand against the zombies, with only a short mention of how the others had come in and saved the day. Most of the focus was on John, though.

"This is nothing but rubbish. She barely even mentions the rest of you, the real heroes. Honestly." He tossed the paper in his waste bin and turned his attention to his screen, watching the numbers scroll past.

"John, sometimes you are just impossible", Yuki said to him crossing her arms.

"Not impossible, but improbable", he pointed this out to her blandly.

"Hmmph!", was her reply as she stomped out of the computer center.

He watched her leave and waited a moment to make sure she was completely gone before leaning over toward the waste bin. His body protested in agony, but he retrieved the paper. He gave the story another look over and then let himself smile. Then he quickly hid it away in the deepest corner of his desk.
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Re: Perspectives: ReciprocApril 2008

Postby Visavis » Thu Mar 28, 2013 5:00 am

Static Bolter:
((GAH. Never again! I apologise in advance for any horrible deviations from character.))

The Vidcomm sprang to life with a little trill and the taste of green. Sitting up at his desk, Kipp made another mental note to ask if he could have that noise taken off. Green wasn’t the tastiest thing on the planet after all.

Spinning his chair around he finally attended to the voice and the scrolling text running across his vision.

Hostage situation in progress, Mera Heights. Suspects involved appear to be dressed as Carnival folk. Registered Hero assistance requested.

Kipp twirled the little moustache that made up a part of his current ensemble and flung his beret across the room at the fern which was always giving him evil looks. It even smelled untrustworthy. He faded from view for a moment before reappearing in his Reciprocator uniform, ready for anything.


Masking himself from sensory perception, he’d made his way through a few apartments, dealing with the Circus freaks inside and sending them down to the PPD, waiting in the foyer. In a few instances he’d stopped to check on the inhabitants and in one he’d even taken a few minutes to catch the end of the television program they were watching. Things didn’t seem too serious here.

Taking one last look around the fourth floor there was one final apartment to check. The door was slightly ajar and peeking in Kipp found himself almost mesmerised. A wave of emotions and sensations came over him as he gazed around at what appeared to be a budding artist’s studio. The tranquillity was not even broken by the Carnival folk who had wandered in. Most of them were transfixed on the canvases resting on stands and hanging from the walls.

Shaking his head, he slipped into the room and focused his attention at each one of the brightly garbed women, overstimulating their senses. A few of them ran out of the room clutching their heads, another flopped to the floor, grinning inanely at a spot on the wall, the last rolled her eyes back into her head and fainted.

Tagging each of them for transport to the PPD, Kipp chased one of the runners behind a folding screen and almost ran into the back of a powdered wig. A powerful Illusionist hovered in the air over a young woman wearing paint spattered denims.

“We’ll give you so many pretties. Pretty clothes, pretty paint…so many. Come with us little girl. Come dance and paint for us. The lady loves pretty things.”

The woman shook her head vigorously. “No, please…I don’t want to go anywhere.” Her voice tasted cold, more evidence of the fear that coiled outward from her.

“You will co—” The Illusionist stopped, her face a mask of horror as Kipp reached out to her and scrambled her senses. Sensory stimuli found itself rerouted to unfamiliar receptors. Kipp watched on amusedly. It was rather educational to see someone attempt to shriek out of their ears. One more PPD tag and the studio was Carnie clean. He held a hand out to the young woman on the floor. “Hello there! Mind giving me an exhibition?”

Original post's text color will have to be added later. Tried it, but it took ages and the original colors didn't contrast well with the new site.
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