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 One With God

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PostSubject: One With God   One With God EmptySat Aug 18, 2018 3:16 am

Everyone can do their own thing.

Jane woke up to blinding lights, laid out on a flat metal table like a corpse in the morgue. She felt the familiar pinch of an IV in her arm, but why would she need an IV? Restraints pulled tight around her wrists, her ankles, her neck, but they felt more like a formality than a necessity. There was no energy in her limbs; she could barely flex and unflex her fingers, a lingering cloud of unplaced anxiety sending pins and needles up and down her back and freezing her in place. A woman stepped out from the light, unmasking herself from the shadows, faded strawberry blonde hair hanging in ragged ends around her shoulders.

"Miss Grey." Jane flinched as the hand fell over her face, pale fingers pinching over the white patch over her eye. The woman pulled it away, the thin strap snapping away to reveal an intact eyeball, still sightless, but completely regrown. "You are so blessed."

She forced a sharp breath through her nose, narrowing her eyes up at the inhuman figure leering over her. "It doesn't particularly feel that way, at the moment..." The woman had no answer for her sarcasm, pacing around the table, a thick metal cylinder-like instrument appearing in her hands, and the sarcasm stopped.

The woman turned the instrument thoughtfully around in her hands. "It's basic human nature to crave power over death. Even men and women with great and powerful gifts covet a power like yours. People like my master."

But even she's going to get old and die like everybody else. So she should suck it up and quit torturing me with these whiny lectures. She hadn't even voiced it, but there was a definite shift in the room's atmosphere, some subtle giveaway in her eyes the woman took for hostile, or maybe the woman just didn't like her face, Jane had no way of telling. Faster than she could process, she slammed the cylinder down on her chest. Time skipped a frame, with the connecting minutes lost to nothingness, and she found herself awake again gasping on the table, covered in a cold sweat and blinded by the lights, only tenuous feeling in her limbs.

Maybe it was to prove a point.

The woman was putting away what looked like a blue knob attached to a thin, long needle. "Your heart stopped for three minutes and twelve seconds, and restarted all on its own. You're alive when you shouldn't be. But you're weak. Sickly. This great power was wasted on a defective vessel and it just renders you more of a burden. In my master, it will make her something greater. She will have power over all things, even death."

She couldn't say she disagreed, but nevertheless, she felt her heart lurch out in rejection. Jane blinked away tears, forcing breaths through her teeth. "Your master is just like me, you freaking weirdo," she forced out between hard breaths and clenched teeth. "She's just some ordinary lady with a brain mutation. She didn't do anything to deserve any sort of gift, she didn't ask for it, she was just born with it, just like me. Shut up about being gods when you're just lucky."

"Becoming a god is not about what abilities you're born with. It's having having the will to use the abilities you possess, to seize what you desire. That is why my master is nothing like you, someone who only lives to self-destruct. You will experience god, and that'll be your last blessing, Jane Grey. Goodbye."

Jane craned her neck, fighting the restraint. "Her power is to literally make people hate her so much they kill themselves, how is she not the bad guy?!" But the woman was already walking away, melting into the light, and Jane was alone as the machine began to wheeze and whir to live. There was a pinch in her skin as red filled the tube, dizziness, and then the pain. Her jaw dropped open in a silent gasp, convulsing against the flat metal surface. She was no stranger to needles, or the sight of her own blood, but this was something else, something , like an inner unnameable piece of her out was being siphoned out through the IV.

No matter what, she'd never wanted to die in a place like this, white and clean and lifeless, sterile air and blinking machines. Not all alone. Jane clawed out against the ridge of the table, lacing her fingers through invisible hands. No one gets what they want... That was what she'd learned, if she'd learned anything. Eighteen had been just out of reach for her, back before she'd discovered this quirk of hers, and she'd made it this far, so shouldn't she be a good sport about it? Shrug her shoulders, call it good, lay back and close her eyes and relax. Wasn't this what she wanted? Black specks began to spread across her vision like dead pixels, as all the color began to drain.

I can't die. But she could feel it, and in a way she'd never felt death before. This was something more destructive. There wouldn't be anything to come back to. I can't stay dead. But she felt a cold weight settling in her chest, the feeling of a dead end fast approaching, running out of road and ending in brick wall. I don't want to stay dead.

Tabs and D'Angelo might still be in the dorm when she got back. They could skip class and go out, root Jules out of her hole, go and make some trouble. Maybe they'd see Maisie while they were out out. She could slip away when it got dark, have champagne over pizza with Logan and watch bad movies. And she still had to write to her sister back in Maine, and remind her that she hadn't meant those things she'd done, and that she'd never stopped loving her, and to tell her brother and cousins that she was sorry. And mom. Michael wasn't a bad guy, but he had to man up. She'd tell him that. She'd fly back there, stay a couple weeks, visit her dad. Home filled her head, the crunch of snow beneath her boots, sweet pine mingling with cigarette smoke, sledding down garbage can lids in their driveway. She could take Logan with her, they could buy an old junker Volkswagen and take across the country together and zig-zag from corner to corner, and in a couple years they could settle down in a house in her old neighborhood. They didn't need a fancy wedding, just shotgun it in the courthouse when they felt like it, but she wanted an absolutely massive diamond...

The pain tightened, constricting, and twisting in her heart. Jane pictured herself broken across the pavement. It wasn't what she wanted. Her heartbeat came in faint flutters, and the room began to spin, and spin, and spin, and she clenched her eyes shut, dreaming about the bed in her dorm room as the breath finally dissipated from her lips.

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PostSubject: Re: One With God   One With God EmptyWed Aug 29, 2018 6:04 pm

His last moments were a haze. Alek was barely able to process a conscious thought as he was strapped to a table; wires and tubes coming from various parts of his body. He struggled weakly as his life essence was being taken from him. At first, he thought that he'd be fine; his gift would kick in. But as he kept getting weaker and weaker he knew that wasn't the case. But at least he was finally able to die, after an impossible lifespan.

Bobbi was in a similar situation but she wasn't quite as complacent. She struggled her hardest, which in her weakened state, barely made the table move. The scientists surrounding her, keeping her from teleporting away, pressed down harder and harder as she grew weaker and weaker. Finally, in her last breath, a single tear fell down her face. She didn't want to die.

Barry JacksonEdward JacksonChris AllenMikaela BrysonWill KennedyThomas Haynes

Erik MaximoffParis AndrewsFauntleroy Jones IIIBobbi CookKaito IshikawaSophie Elliot

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PostSubject: Re: One With God   One With God EmptySun Sep 02, 2018 9:32 pm

Farkas wasn't even allowed to protest to the torture they were about to conduct. His eyes were glossed and ears filled with ringing, but behind the fog were the faint sound of shuffling footsteps. Hushed voiced worked over him, his mind too groggy to comprehend anything they spoke of. Occasionally he felt a pressure on his skin, as if something was prodding and poking where it shouldn't be but before he could come to his sense, the air that filled his lungs brought on another bout of sleep.

When he finally regained a complete consciousness, his vision was consumed by a blinding light. Squinting, he began to pull his arm up to shield his eyes, but something held it in place. With a few more tugs of confusion, he finally realized it was useless. Blue eyes opened tentatively, thin to avoid the burn. From under his eyelashes, he could see a firm yet soft restraint holding down his left arm. There, sticking out of his now alarmingly pale arm was a red-stained IV, the tube already filled to the brim. There was no way they were feeding blood into his body. No, he was sure a flush would return to his skin if that were the case. No. This was being fed out. But where too?

There were no other restraints, so he moved to sit, nearly falling back down as a dizzy spell rushed to his head. Just how much blood had he lost already? With his free hand, he rubbed a few drops of sweat from his brow and glanced around the room. Surgical tools, medical equipment, and other various instruments filled the room he sat in. What kind of hospital was he in?

As if on cue to answer the questions that were clustered in his head, footsteps approached, and a light knock on the door turned the green-haired boy's attention away from the room. Without permission, the person in question entered the room.

There was a perplexing sense of familiarity as the man came into view. His dark eyes twinkled with excitement as he approached, his mouth turned into a smile to match the gaze he carried. To the boy's surprise, his inky hair carried a tone of green like his own, and certain features like his nose, eyes, and jaw seemed to mimic Farkas'.

But something was off. The closer he came, the more clearly he could see it. His smile wasn't tender or sunny as one would expect. The man's smile was filled with what the Spring could only assume was bloodlust.

"Good evening, Farkas," his voice called out, smooth like silk. The boy flinched, shifting towards the head of the bed just slightly. A chuckle escaped the man's lips. "You always were so smart. Yet I'm afraid running will do you no good now." The words stuck in the green-haired boy's ears. 'You always were so smart.' What did he mean by always? Swallowing hard, he kept silent. A mix of fear and nausea kept the boy from moving away even more, so he sat tensely against the wall.

"Still shy? I thought that school would have taught you to leave your shell. Well, I suppose near-death experiences are traumatizing. Not even your guitar-strumming friend could cure that kind of experience." Farkas' eyes widened and the stranger's seemed to thin, his smile growing even wider. Just how much did he know about his life? Who was his stranger? "W-W-Who ar-" The grin faded. "Oh, how rude of me. My name is Dr. Julius Palander, although you would know me as 'Kiss'," Julius mused, a hint of playfulness in his dark blue eyes.

Farkas, on the other hand, seemed to fall apart. His whole world came crashing down, putting a weight on his shoulders that was even stronger than the feeling of death and decay that already loomed in the room. His mouth sat open, shock keeping him frozen in place. T-This man was his father? The man took the opportunity to speak again. "I'm still astounded by your mother's reasoning. She had taken a few too many shots that night, imposed that strange name on me, and dragged me away from the bar we met at. But that's beside the point. I'm sure you're curious as to why you're here." Behind the suddenness of Julius' reveal, he couldn't deny he was extremely determined to understand why he was chained to this hospital bed.

Shuffling his lab coat so he could sit at the foot of the bed, the doctor cleared his throat. "You have an incredible power in your hands, yet you waste it on simple flowers and garden plants. The potential is beyond what you understand. It's wasted on someone of your like." His hand crept forward, resting on the boy's thin ankle. "My master craves your power, but not for herself to control. She has plenty of servants, those who do her bidding, those who would lay their lives down for her. We have watched and waited, hoping for a moment we could sweep in, and turn you into one of our own," Julius' gaze turned dark and hateful. "Yet you, a stubborn child, never showed any moment of weakness in your moral compass. You seem to question everything except you allegiance. It's... frustrating."

"My master wanted your gift, but could not have it. Not with you as it's wielder. Yet your DNA, our DNA carries the code to unlocking its full potential. Untamed power, within the hands of my master. A burden she would never have to carry, yet fully control." His fingers curled around his son's ankle, gripping tight. Farkas tried to kick away, his weak limbs struggling to even move as his eyes blinked wildly, trying to stay conscious. He was easily overpowered, and within seconds of the Spring relaxing, a strange feeling began to fill his foot. An extreme pain filled his left foot, causing him to lurch forward, grasping at it while Julius pulled away. He stood once more and paced back and forth, watching the scene with an abhorrent expression. "Why would we waste such a talent on someone like you? A coward, a worthless wretch, a mistake I tried so hard to fix." A sigh escaped his lips as Farkas' face became pale and covered in sweat. He gripped the foot, watching it turn black and hard. His fist clenched tight and his jaw tightened as he held back the rising screams. "My master understands it's much easier for us to steal the information kept hidden in your bloodstream and use it to our advantage than waste our time trying to convince you of her vision. She, with her compassion and mercy, even let me be the one to give you your final goodbyes."

The student wasn't an idiot. He knew what was happening. The symptoms that cradled his body were clearly some form of rot. His toes were black, numb, and would surely fall off if he even grazed them. Every inch the rot crawled up came with a rollercoaster of sensations. The pain that initially shocked him was still inching upwards, followed closely by a numbness that eventually faded until he could no longer feel anything in that spot. Yet it was so painfully slow. The situation was unbearable. He was sure at this rate, it would take days to consume his body. Days to reach a point that would kill him. If his suspicions were correct, Julius was in complete control of this. He would make it as painful as possible. There was no doubt as his father became irate and shoved his hair out of his face.

"I'm so blessed to finally be here to watch you die. You were so hard to kill. The fire in your childhood home, the kidnapping during your young teens, the highway accident that paralyzed Barta... None of it worked." It was hard to comprehend behind the intense pain, but his mind filled with visions of this man standing behind all the traumatic events in his short life, watching with expectations. "Now, here you are, on your deathbed. Suffering from severe blood loss, a jungle rot that will slowly devour your body, and what must be devastating news of your own father's intentions. It must be quite harrowing." A plethora of emotions had filled the man before it finally settled back on contentment.

"Your DNA will be put to good use. I believe that whatever is produced will be worth the wait. I suppose they will be my grandchild. I look forward to meeting them." He brought out a key from his pocket, holding it up to watch it shine under the fluorescent lights. With a quick movement, he unlocked the restraint that chained Farkas to the bed. "Thank you for cooperating. Feel free to enjoy the end of your life. Though please know, cutting off your limbs won't do much. What's left of your bloodstream is infected. The only release is death."

"It was such a pleasure to finally meet you, son." With those final words, he gracefully swept himself out of the room, closing the door gently behind him.

Farkas let out a bloodcurdling scream. The pain, physically and mentally, was immeasurable. There were no words to explain what the boy felt. He just fell over, hands clutching at the robes that covered his chest. He curled, rolled, and fell off the bed. The impact felt like fingertips brushing his skin compared to the agony that filled his body. It was useless. There was nothing he could do. He was useless. He had known it all along, but faced with it in a life or death situation had the boy shaken to his core. He had always doubted himself, but never to this extent. What could he do? With the amount of information Julius had given earlier, it was hard to believe he had lied even once. There wasn't any reason to not believe his powers were incurable.

The idolized version of his father died the moment Julius introduced himself. His dreams of a happy reunion were shattered when he spoke of Farkas' 'wasted power'.

Waste. The word ran through his head as his leg became more and more numb, seeming to fade out of existence.

Waste. His arms dragged his body towards the door. The was no explanation for his actions anymore.

Waste. Why was he opening the door? Was he trying to live? What was the point?

W a s t e. There was no point. He could only lay there with his head and arms poking out from the room. What a waste.

He couldn't even regret anything in his life. He couldn't regret not being more open. He couldn't regret not having his first kiss. He couldn't regret not gathering the strength to play his songs in front of anyone. There was nothing he could regret. His mind was blank. There was nothing but pain and suffering. The only thing he could ask for now was a merciful death.

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