Ashes Divide [closed]

Love had always been a difficult concept for Hyperion to understand, he wasn't Silus in that regard. Couldn't so freely show the thing like the little guy, and part of him couldn't help feeling jealous about that, granted envy was one of his many marvelous traits. Despite his impairment in the department of love, Hyperion was learning, how to do the whole showing love thing and he could happily say he was not failing miserably. This was the partial explanation of his whole being in Los Angeles, aside from walking around and taking in the warm night air. Well, there was that and checking on his favorite dragon anyway, drop off a gift as he always did when doing so, some kind of shiny trinket and a few nice words. Much like nether, Hyperion fed off of that emotional stimulation, the small smile he couldn't help but have, it was almost good.

Fingers traced up his chest, reaching for the locket hanging around Hyperion's throat and softly tugging it. A soft sigh would escape his lips, strange glowing silver eyes turning to the moon hanging over LA, a sentinel almost in its melancholy orbit. Dressing slightly warm for the night, Hyperion was dressed in black slacks, a simple button up shirt and a somewhat fashionable leather jacket over that, but then again he just really enjoyed those darker colors. Afterall, death dressed in flamboyant colors would be trying to hard to break convention; which was mainstream in a respect. Honestly, Jordan had not been his only reason for coming to LA, but he was one of the main reasons, along with that son of his, always getting into trouble even when he did not mean to.

A true free spirit, and a spirit that he wanted to stay free for as long as Hyperion could make it so. The grey coloration still remained within his hair, streaks flowing through the now salt and pepper hair, something Hyperion had come to love. It added a certain mature charm within his own mind, but then again what he thought was not what other people thought, so maybe he may have been really wrong. ”I wonder if there is anything new.” He muttered, digging through his left pocket and finding the cigarette pack he had been digging for. Removing a single stick, as well as a lighter, he would let the flame lick the end of the cancer stick, bringing it to a dull cherry red life. Drawing in breath, Hyperion would exhale semi-transparent smoke through his nostrils, fading away into the night.

Much like any bored person, Hyperion needed to be entertained, and so he would find something to do that. This involved his former stalking grounds, slipping through the alleyways, much like a pickpocket and eventually coming upon something. Some sort of meeting involving drugs, or so he had assumed. They looked rather serious anyway, and so Hyperion felt like screwing them over, which was what he could do. ”So boys, am I interrupting anything?” He would make himself known, letting the aura of death that all living things felt flow. It would likely cause the hairs upon their necks to raise and an almost primal fear to flow through them, all humans feared death in some fashion, save for those of course that truly thirsted for it. All at once they would turn towards him, and yet he could see within the low light the fear they felt, the desire to kill him or perhaps to run. Did they think they could even do that?

”What is with all those stares? You act like you've never seen a teenager before.” He couldn't help but chuckle, shaking as his head, cigarette a light within the darkness. There was not thought in their next motion, pulling a gun out and firing, the bullet colliding with his forehead. Hyperion's head snapped back, the force enough to stagger the great being, yet all he felt was minor annoyance. ”Ow, now that was a mistake on your part.”

Idiot! Idiot-idiot-idiot!

Jilaiya would be happy to watch the stupid teens get destroyed by the man who could take bullets to the face, but part of his contract included bringing the idiots back alive. It was supposed to be simple, track down some trouble makers, beat them up, and drop them off a designated spot. The only hard bit was that they were actually pretty skilled at crap like parkour, good enough to make them really hard to catch without equivalent skills or a mobility power, which none of his employers had under his command. He did however have a line to Jilaiya, and after waving some dough under his nose, got him into this mess.

It had taken him hours to track these guys down, and in that time, had amassed a fairly decent amount of blood, enough to make a basic suit of armour, with enough left over to make tendrils long enough to swing around on, spider man style. That last thought brought a grin to his face, but it quickly faded, as he assessed the situation. By shooting to kill, the kid has just caused this to escalate. He was going to have to step in right away, and possibly fight off the new guy, if he wanted his bounty.

Jilaiya formed a suit of armour out of blood, and swung down into the alley on a crimson tendril, landing behind the kids. The tendril lashed out, snaring one of them and slamming him into a wall hard enough to knock him out, then snagged the shooter round the waist, and brought him into contact range. Forming a small hole in his ruby armour, Jilaiya touched the mans neck, before pulling his hand away, a small ribbon of blood now connecting them. The man slowly turned around, moving in jerky, swaying steps.

“Tell the man you're sorry for shooting him.” He ordered.

“Er-ehm... Sore-ee.” The man slurred, his words twisted and forced. Jilaiya frowned, making a mental note to practice that particular trick. He shoved the man back towards his friends, and relinquished control over him.

“I do believe he apologised. Now, I have a bounty to claim, so if you'd kindly bugger off, I'll rough up these guys, then go claim it. Sound fair?”

It was a late night in Los Angeles and Robert was drunk wandering the streets. Getting drunk was a chore thanks to his high metabolism, but it was definitely worth it. He had to convince the bartender to give him the bottle of Jack's, who seemed a little too attached to the bottle. He looked at the now empty bottle in his hand and threw it into a dumpster. In his other hand, he had his two katanas, sheathed and wrapped in cloth together. He was clad in his usual attire: a black suit with a white shirt. Surprisingly, he had no other weapons on him.

A gun goes off and it sounds fairly close, but Robert doesn't really care. The only reason he was on this side of the country was because he was hired for a job. A mob boss wanted him to take out one of his colleagues. The colleague continually stole from him, so... he had to be dealt with. Robert's job was simple, go to warehouse where the operations were being held and kill everyone in it. The boss didn't trust anyone in that branch and wanted to start from scratch. For the right price, Robert would do almost anything. They weren't expecting him, which made it easier. The cops would hopefully just assume it was mob war. Even if they figured it wasn't, they didn't pose any real threat to him.

Still wandering, trying to find his hotel, Robert feels the sudden urge to vomit. He turned into an alleyway and the floodgates were open. "Fuck" said Robert as he collected himself and witnessed the odd scene in front of him. Is that... Spider-Man? He rubbed his eyes with his free hand to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. Robert shrugged and walked towards the group, pulling a cigarette from his jacket pocket. "Excuse me, anyone one of you fellas got a light?" asked Robert through his smoky, mid-western accent. He was bored, why not share a smoke with some strangers?

A night in Los Angeles was bad for her since she was not suppose to be drinking, partying or having any fun for the matter that it was for business. She contribute her money for charitable events like cancer rallys, and more other diseases and hunger related problems. She could not tell the care taker of the island that she was out at night. She would get pissed at her so she had to find something to keep her out of trouble, but in trouble at the same time. She wondered around and people's eyes turned as they would drop jaws and gaze at her, which also turned into uncomfortable stare as she knew what they were really looking at.                                             She felt uncomfortable and crossed her arm over her chest and darted into an alley ways. It was silent and void less.

As she walked for a long while going alley to alley it seemed like she could not find anything and decided to come out of hiding. She turned the corner and was on an unfamiliar street, but she was not lost she could tell her hired work to come get her and thanks to GPS it would not care where she is. She looked at herself in the mirror. She had a very nice selection of clothes on but now it seemed like there were small marks on them. She had on a cyan shirt that hugged her figure, and a type of cargo pants that she thought was too tight around the thighs and legs. So much for keeping this clean she sighed as she thought her out fit was ruined.

She had walked a little longer this time patrolling roof tops and in luck she found a small gang meeting and danced in excitement. She looked down again to see a boy or teen whom she could not see from her angle of view. In no time he was shot in the head and her reaction made her gasp and hold her hands in front of her mouth. He was alright as she pieced the puzzle of him being meta. But now he looked a little annoyed by these people. But with haste reaction another guy came crashing in saying something about his bounty.

She was ready to leap down when said another man comes on scene. He looked normal and sick. Or it was just him puking that made him seem sick. Okay, no more She jumped down using her ability to catch her and set her down. The gold faded at soon their were specs everywhere. Again with her smart remark attitude she would greet instead of telling them to stop fighting. Hello, my name is Rika She stood up right and smiled to show her friendly presence.

The projectile had collided with his forehead, ricocheting off and pinking to the ground with an almost hollow sound. Hyperion raised a single hand to his forehead, rubbing the flesh softly with index and middle finger, feeling no damage done and turning to the poor youth that had fired upon him. ”Now, how about I have a little fun with you guys.” The hand feeling his forehead would drift to his necklace, softly tugging on the locket before something kept him from producing the weapon, which was a strange metahuman with blood based powers appearing on the scene. Even within the low light he could see what was happening, blood extending outwards from the palm almost as a string controlling a marionette. They had taken them down without even having to throw a punch, yet forcing the males to apologize his statement had only agitated Hyperion.

”Either you must be really stupid, or you really want to die. I can't tell, but I have a feeling it must be the second one.” His tone came out scathing, dripping almost with venom upon hearing the male tell him to bugger off as if he were some street urchin rather than what he was. If they had just gone on with their business, perhaps he would have reacted differently, however they wanted to act as if they could command a king. Those that tried were executed, so this man would get no different of a treatment from him than any other commoner. An aura of black would rise around him, energy spilling out to crawl along both the street and walls. Red energy crackled along the fringes of this blackness, and the aura of death grew sharper, enough that if they were not bound by the blood the humans would have ran in fear. Sadly, he had a feeling this one would be too dumb to truly comprehend what he was facing.

”A light? Sure, I got one right here.” One of the shadowy tendrils of the darkness created would reach into his pocket, producing the lighter and bringing it to light said cigarette before returning it to Hyperion, who then re-pocketed it. ”However, before I can give you what you so obviously want, first these two.” Three tendrils moves like blades from the mass of dark ethereal that had spilled outwards from him, aimed to slice the heads from the youths that had shot at him. He was more than aware of the female that had appeared, but he would only keep her in mind rather than actually call attention to her.

Jilaiiya could feel the aura of death, felt it try to suffocate him and make him run in fear. He took a deep breath and pushed those feelings away; he'd fought people with empathic abilities, and crazy black energy or no, this one wouldn't be any different. The power set was an odd one though, and the wheels in his head started to spin. Black and red energy, invincibility, a death aura... Black and red were quite negative colours, so that tied in with the death aura quite nicely. Could he absorb negative emotions, and then use them to fuel a number of powers? It would explain his whole attitude, and the way he'd been playing with the youths before. The only problem with that theory was that power that drew from other sources tended to be quite weak without a large amount of their fuel. And considering he hadn't heard of anything that could have given him this level of power as of late... Maybe his power improved permanently? That was a terrifying thought. Wait, no, don't have those!

He watched as one, no two more people arrived on the scene, irritating Jilaiya. Now he had to babysit some thugs, a drunk, and a little girl.

“Anyone else want to join? We're having a great-” His sarcasm laden announcement was interrupted by three bladed tendrils and their quest to inflict bodily harm upon the youths. Jilaiyas reflexes were quick, but he wasn't fast enough to shove all of the youths out of the way with a tendril of his own, and one suffered a large gash on his neck, dripping with blood. Slugger.

Jilaiya gritted his teeth and swiped his fingers across the thugs, and lines of blood extended from him to them. It was a small task to keep the blood flowing through the air as if there was still arteries and veins, and a dash of his own healing blood sped up the necks healing. It would be fully healed within minutes. Now, to go on the offensive.

“You, gold chick, help me deal with this psycho here, he has invincibility, energy projection, and a death aura. Ignore the last one, or it'll mess with your head. I think he feeds off negative emotions of some sort, and uses them to fuel his power, so be careful, and watch out for new powers.” He yelled at the girl, while dashing towards the death man, a blood sword in one hand, and long thin tendrils extending from the finger tips of the other.

Show time.