CloudyBlueDay

consistently inconsistent
Original poster
LURKER MEMBER
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Posting Speed
  1. 1-3 posts per week
  2. One post per week
Online Availability
I check as often as I can.
Writing Levels
  1. Intermediate
  2. Adept
  3. Advanced
  4. Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Female
  3. No Preferences
Genres
Fantasy, Realistic/Modern, Magic, Scifi, Romance
Two old friends reconnect to fight the battle that could that could mean the fate of many innocent lives. Perhaps their reason for fighting is for more selfish means. Whatever the cause, it could never quite turn out as easy as either of them had hoped.

@Red Thunder
 
She was getting close, and she could taste it.

With each passing day, with each second that Sapphire spent tracking the son of a bitch down, she could feel his presence taunting her, mocking her. But not for long. Oh, not for much longer at all. Her swords tucked in their sheaths and her hair pulled into a tight bun, with not a single flyaway to distract her from her mission, Sapphire set out.

Inter had many men to do his dirty work while he sat on his throne. Rather then chase the little whispers of Inter's whereabouts, she decided to take a different approach. Search for his pawns. The people a part of his game that didn't matter as much as Inter himself, but surely had a connection. A little trail of breadcrumbs for her to follow.

She'd caught on to the vigilante by the name of Wall Walker. A tricky bastard, hard to catch from what she could tell. Sure, he was robbing banks, so what? Just another idiot who wanted to rule the world, using their powers to get the best of it. But incidents had been documented of Wall Walker meeting a shadowed figure in dark alleyways.. even if it turned out to be nothing, she certainly wouldn't mind getting in a good kick to the groin or two.

The best exit route from Mayweather Bank was Racket Avenue -- A dark, empty street where your best chance at contact was a drunken hobo. A great place to make an escape. And the perfect place to wait for Wall Walker himself. And with perfect timing, here he came, two heavy looking sacks in both hands and a hood pulled over his face so that his features were hard to describe. Adrenaline began to rush through her, because she knew she was about to get a damn good fight.

"Hey. Care to chat?" She called from the roof of an abandoned, one-story house. Not very high up at all, but a great height to watch from. Walker paused, startled, as he glanced up towards the voice, finding Sapphire with her swords out, ready and waiting.

"Not exactly." Came the gruff reply as the man rushed towards the wall of the home and phased through it, leaving nothing behind. Sapphire smiled to herself. Showtime.
 
The Wall Walker could have definitely picked a better place to enter. A better place to be, actually. Sitting directly across from where the thief entered, reclined in an aged, cloth covered recliner, was a man. He could very well have been ex-military: his brunette hair was close cut, his brow was perpetually knit in a vague scowl, and his exposed arms that rested on the chair were well defined. At the sight of the intruder, he looked up. The end of the lit cigarette in his mouth was crushed in a tight gritting of his teeth, and his arm tensed, ready to hurdle the half empty beer bottle he held in his hand.

"Get the shyte outta my place," he spat out, his Irish brogue cutting through the utilitarian apartment like a knife. It was very underfurnished, his place: an old television sat against the wall next to where the Walker had entered, there was a ratty card table and a wooden chair shoved into a corner, and a dim bulb hung from the ceiling, illuminating the lack of comfort. But also illuminating two very dangerous looking weapons: a long Bowie knife lay within ready distance on the small table that sat beside the recliner, and a sturdy black rifle, meticulously cared for, lay propped against the wall four feet from its owner. Underneath the gun barrel was another larger barrel: undoubtedly a grenade launcher. When Walker didn't move, the man raised an eyebrow.

"I said leave."
 
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Walker glanced around warily. It was clear he hadn't expected anyone to be inside the shithole of a house, much less living there. He took a step back, but did not yet exit the room as he gathered his surroundings. A rifle was propped up on the wall. Great. Walker gritted his teeth.

Sapphire, on the other hand, waited outside the building, surprised that Walker hadn't yet emerged. She had studied his attack patterns from any security cam footage she could get her hands on. This didn't feel like him at all, unless.. Something had held the criminal up.

Sapphire kicked open the door with little effort, the thing was about to fall off it's hinges anyway. Instead of finding one man, she found two. The stranger, albeit vaguely familiar, sitting in a recliner and looking unhappy about the sudden disruption. He wanted the intruder out, supposedly. Interesting.

Wall Walker saw his attacker enter, and immediately bolted out the way he'd come, not wasting a second once he knew her position. "Dammit," Sapphire hissed, glancing at the other man again before she stepped up, pointing a sword at his chest. Wall Walker couldn't get too far.. This character looked interesting anyway. She felt like she knew him from somewhere.

"So who are you?" She said, eyes narrowed.
 
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As Walker turned, a bright disc of golden light, perhaps six feet tall and three feet wide, appeared in front of him, and the thief's momentum carried him through it. At the same instant the disc appeared, another identical to it winked into existence. This one was however positioned so as to be parallel to the ground, and not perpendicular. It was also, rather notably, positioned just about the reclining fellow's outstretched open palm. And Walker stepped into the first golden disc and immediately fell out of the second, his neck contacting the Irishman's hand momentarily.

But Walker was successful among other reasons because he thought on his feet. He immediately phased through the offending hand and fell to the ground, impacting it with a surprised oomph. Wasting no time at all, he sprinted forward to and through the nearest wall, disappearing without a trace. The Irishman cursed and pushed off his chair to stand, barefooted and angry. The beer bottle he sat down on his end table, and after glancing askance in the direction Walker had fled, looked over to the newest intruder.

"You're in my house, ya broad. You don't get tah make demands of me."

Narrowing his eyes, he drew a puff on his cigarette. Something about this one...no...that was twelve years ago! But she'd always dyed her hair that same shade. He cocked his head slowly.

"You're...Sapphire, aren't ya?"
 
Before Walker escaped, he was pulled through a stunt Sapphire hardly expected. A portal appeared to swallow him whole and then present him in another part of the room. That didn't seem to stop him however, and Walker managed to escape all the same. Sapphire growled, but decided she'd rather focus on the newly revealed Super.

The blue-haired woman scoffed. "Well, if this is your house, you live in a really shitty one." She said with a shrug, the sword still raised. "Besides. Do I look like I give a shit? I asked the questions first, and you'd better fucking answer 'em, unless you want to lose a limb."

For a moment the Irish man looked confused, and then muttered her name. Sapphire rolled her eyes. "So I guess the news has been keeping up, huh? In the beginning they could hardly focus the camera." She said with a huff. "Listen. Could you start talking so I can try to catch the guy you so beautifully allowed to escape, with those great powers of yours?" Despite how calm Sapphire looked, her sword was still raised and her stance was still that of a fighting one -- she did not look like she could be taken off guard easily.
 
Whatever hesitation the man had shown dropped from his demeanor. The two discs from before disappeared, apparently relocating: one to his immediate right at elbow height, the other on the wall beside the rifle. His hands clenched and his chin lowered,

"And why the hell should I explain myself to you? If you wanna catch him so badly, go; I ain't bloody stopping ya. He didn't take nothing of mine."
 
Sapphire's teen visibly clenched as her blue-green eyes swallowed the stranger's words and appearance. She could see out of the corner of her eye those strange portals changing location, and she knew she had to make a choice now. Random stranger inside a house, or a man who had intel?

Sapphire lowered her sword and spun on her heels, turning direction in one foul swoop and calling behind her, "Go fuck yourself." She exited the house without a glance behind her and her footsteps so light they carried her out without a sound. Shw resumed her chase against Wall Waller, and he hadn't gotten too far ahead at all.

He ran through building after building and wall after wall, disappearing and then reappearing on the streets. He hardly strayed from fleeing in a straight line, why, she didn't know, except until he finally realized she had caught up to him again. He shifted the bags full of cash so that one hand held both, and from his coat pocket he pulled out a pocket knife. It didn't look like much, but in the hands of someone experienced it could very well be lethal. Whether or not Sapphire knew Walker to be a dangerous man in the art of knives and fists, she was prepared to find out.
 
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He snorted as she ran out. How original. What a bitch. The discs disappeared with a wink, and he reached for his beer.

But something bothered Patrick O'Malley, and it bothered him to no end. She'd answered to that name, and her hair certainly fit. He threw back a drink, trying to subdue the Feeling that suddenly took root in his gut. It was familiar, all too familiar; the Feeling, as he called it, had led to many successful arrests. But it had also brought about his leaving the MCPD. Because he was just too damn nosy.

"Shyte."

Chugging the rest of the drink, he tossed the bottle in a random direction and threw on his boots. Sliding a jacket on over the dirty wife-beater he wore, he shoved the knife into the sheath on his belt, grabbed his gun, and bolted out the door.

Sapphire had taken a left on 73rd; he'd seen that much. But where she'd gone after that...ah. She was currently sprinting on down the street, presumably chasing that phasing guy. Taking a drag on his cigarette, Paddy looked around, trying to find a good place to watch. Millennium City offered plenty: the streets were claustrophobic, hemmed in on nearly all sides by spires of metal skyscrapers and brick-built cliffs. A fair amount of the MC was of immaculate condition, its shining glass towers practically spit polished, shining brightly in the sun that illuminated the rich and well off.

But such lavishness had to be supported. Funded. Financed. Built. And such infrastructure treats the area around it poorly, and with little care. So the outer reaches of the city were covered in a perpetual film of desperation and rot, the smog that lingered regularly filtering out much of the sun during the day and causing a translucent haze on the streets at night.

Patrick O'Malley, disgraced ex-cop, sewage worker, and part time vigilante (when it suited him) did not live in the nice part of town. He spied a condemned apartment building a block ahead of where Sapphire was running, perhaps six stories high, with the rotting remains of a wooden water tower on its roof. A moment later and he was exiting a shining gold disc on its roof. It closed as soon as he'd stepped through, and bringing his rifle to bear, Paddy glanced down. There, passing by old Mason's pizza place: Sapphire was intent on her prey. Crouching down next to the short wall that guarded the edge of the rooftop, the Irishman set his gun barrel on lip. And waited to see what happened.
 
[BCOLOR=transparent]Sapphire pulled out her second sword, now preparing to dual wield. Walker seemed to be readying the heavy sacks of cash like a weapon alongside his small knife. Walker charged first, and she let him, skillfully side-stepping and then elbowing him in the back, causing Walker's form to crumble momentarily, but that didn't seem to phase him as much as Sapphire had expected. [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]So I've got a fair opponent here. [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]Sapphire thought to herself as he once more charged, but with a much better plan. She swung her sword at his head and he ducked and lunged again, tackling her to the ground. Sapphire took hold of the position and flipped him over with a grunt, holding her sword against his throat.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Tell me what you know about Inter."[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] She growled. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Except the bastard remembered he had powers and phased through her and her sword, landing on the other side of her and preparing to charge again. But when Sapphire looked up to reposition herself and continue the fight, she thought she saw something on top of a roof. Actually, not something, someone. Was it that.. was it that shithead in the house? Dammit, he'd followe--[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Out of the corner of her eye Sapphire could see Walker coming at her again but she reacted just a bit too late -- while Sapphire had managed to move a good bit out of the way, his damn pocket knife caught her right in the side and the pain was instant. Her hand went to her stomach immediately and she hissed as warm blood seeped around it. Her other hand rose in the air as she could see Walker trying to sneak away with his money, and she cast an illusion.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]To Patrick, it looked like Walker was suddenly a professional mime, as he'd dropped his money sacks and started feeling around and trying to phase through an invisible wall, looking distraught. Walker, however, very much felt as if he’d suddenly been trapped in a box that was not reacting to his powers. It served it’s purpose. [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]“Assholes.”[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] Sapphire hissed. [/BCOLOR]
 
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Well that was...different.

He'd almost pulled the trigger as the phasing criminal knifed Sapphire in her side, determined to keep the fellow from sprinting off again. The spot of bleeding the broad was now doing? That was her own damn fault. But it seemed any action on his own was unnecessary: the thief looked trapped, or at least, trapped within an invisible box. But whether it was actually some physical but invisible field or just a trick on the mind on the poor fool didn't really matter. What did was that Sapphire, quite possibly the Sapphire he'd known years ago, was gifted. Just like he was.

A disc of light appeared beside the Irishman as he stood, its surface for the moment opaque: its brother had yet to appear. His weapon trained on the thief in the event he ran, Paddy focused, causing another disc to flash to life some fifteen yards from the Walker. Immediately the disc beside Paddy cleared, its golden surface replaced by an image ringed in a thin band of gold that was identical to what one might have seen standing in front of its brother on the ground. Swinging his rifle to bear on his target through the disc, he walked forward through it.

It was always something of a minor shock, suddenly finding one's self in a completely different place with just a step. Through long hours and many months of practice Patrick had managed to train his attention away from the discomfort, but it was certainly still there. Ahead of him stood he Walker, still trying to free himself from whatever prison he was in. To Patrick's left was Sapphire, red running through a hand held gingerly to her side. The street was one of little vehicular use, it's asphalt pathways having degraded to such a state as to be nigh unusable for it. As it was, pedestrians regularly twisted ankles or scrapped knees from the plethora of potholes that dotted the area. Mason's sat not far off, it's windows shielded by the sliding metal grate to prevent theft or destruction. The awning, a green field bearing faded red stripes, shifted gently in the polluted breeze; rats, mischievous kids, and age had left it full of holes.

Patrick glanced at Sapphire briefly as he lowered the barrel of his rifle, still keeping it ready enough to bring to bear if necessary. "Is it bad?" he spat through the butt of his cigarette, still clenched firmly in his teeth.
 
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The wound in her side hurt like hell, and keeping up an illusion for Walker certainly didn't help her. Her free hand still gripped one sword tightly while they other lay on the ground. The blood was running between her fingers, and Sapphire was certainly beginning to realize that it'd cut her flesh deeper than she'd hoped.

"Is it bad?" Sapphire flinched, her sword flying up to jab the man's chest but it fell just as quickly as it'd come. She was bleeding and holding up an illusion, and he could very well teleport anywhere he pleased -- if he'd been waiting around this long and hadn't taken her out as soon as she'd been injured, he'd better be worth something.

"Could be worse," Sapphire said with a sigh, pain filtrating her voice. Off to the side of them both, Walker seemed to be getting frustrated, kicking the invisible wall and letting out a shout. Sapphire smiled weakly at his anger before looking back to the super. He had quite an interesting power, one he seemed to know to control with ease. She had never known a man with a power like that, yet he still felt uncomfortably and vaguely familiar.

"I'll ask it again," She hissed. "Who the hell are you?"
 
"I'm a hero for fun." Well that was bloody stupid. Damn mouth; let the brain work first. "My name is Patrick. And no, don't expect some vigilante name, or whatever some of those other 'talented' people go by. They're stupid as shyte."

She was not looking good. The halfhearted swing she'd taken hadn't even lifted the point to his chest, let alone with any force, and maintaining whatever it was she was doing to this guy looked like it was taking effort on her part. Patrick needed to get her some help, quickly, but he doubted she'd leave without her prisoner.

"And speaking of stupid, yer gonna pass out soon if ya don't take care of yerself. You want this guy, yeah? Why?"
 
Sapphire squinted as he spoke. What'd he say his name was Patrick? Patrick... that sounded.. she was straining herself, she could feel it. Walker's imaginary cage was fading and he was beginning to realize it. Shit. And she'd only just caught him. "Well, Patrick.." Sapphire said slowly. "He's got some info that could really help me out with someone I'm looking for." She murmured, swaying slightly. Sapphire bent down to pick up her sword, holding two in one hand as her other still covered the wound tightly, or as much as she could.

"Do me a favor, would you? Knock him out. Or shoot him in the foot. Either works. If you really are a hero for fun, he's a big ass criminal, so knocking him out might give you some pleasure." She glanced back up at Patrick, her blue-green eyes staring through him intently. "Don't I know you?" She said quizzically.
 
His yellow eyes stared back a moment before shrugging.

"Could be. Used to be a cop; might have had a run in with ya before." Hefting his rifle, Paddy stalked up behind the Walker. The rifle butt impacted the back of the man's head with an audible crack, and the thief was down without so much as a struggle. Letting his rifle hang by the strap that was slung over his shoulder, the Irishman glanced back again at Sapphire as he snagged the Walker's arm. "Pretty sure I'd have remembered you. Lads don't run across a jewel such as yerself everyday, ya know?"

Throwing the thief across one shoulder, he reached down for the bags of cash.

"Ya ain't gonna faint on my on me on the walk back, are ya?" He weighed them in his hand. "Cause this cash is awful nice. Hate to have to lose it to carry yer sorry arse."
 
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She looked out of it, to say the least, vacant for moments as she struggled to hold onto consciousness and the illusion. Lucky for her, now she only had to focus on one as Patrick's rifle struck the back of Walker's head. The relief was instant as there was no longer a mind to project an illusion onto, and Sapphire let go of the breath she realized she had been holding. Unfortunately, now all that was left to think about was the pain and how much blood she as losing.

"Tch. I'm not gonna faint. Who the fuck do you take me for, huh? Some lost princess? A jewel stuck in the top of a tower?" She hissed, stumbling again. Wait. A jewel? "Pretty sure I'd have remembered you. Lads don't run across a jewel such as yerself everyday, ya know?" He'd said. Didn't.. someone used to call her that.

"..Patrick?" She said his name again, but this time with a surprised and knowing glance, suddenly aware of who he was before her legs buckled and her world went dark.
 
Patrick looked on uselessly, completely unable to act for all the weight he now bore. He grimaced; for all her confidence, it looked like she was just deadweight in the end.

"Aye, a right helpless princess," Patrick chided sarcastically, despite the currently rather uncaring state of the subject of his criticism. "A major pain in the arse. Probably worthless, too."

The bags clinked as he assessed their value once more. It wasn't a terribly easy decision, as he could only manage two of the three; whatever, or whomever, he left behind was as good as gone by the time he got back from his place. If he hid a body, they'd either wake up, bleed out, or get kidnapped before he could return. If he hid the money, well...it was always safe to assume some thug or crook was watching from some rancid pit that lined these streets. The bags wouldn't stay hidden for long.

Then what was the point in keeping them? Dropping Walker to the ground unceremoniously, he stuffed as much cash into his pockets as he could. Satisfied, he dumped both bags onto the ground, spilling out their contents and leaving the empty cloth skin in his hands. Next he bent down beside Sapphire's unconscious form and began a field treatment to staunch the wound, stuffing one bag into the cut and using the other (once it had been cut longways to stretch its length) to hold the first in place. Satisfied, Patrick stood back up.

The rustle and scuff of shoes on concrete grabbed his attention, and he turned. Several forms stood hidden in the shadow of the nearby alleyway, wide eyes filled equally with fear of the large gun he carried and greed for the cash on the ground. He raised his voice commandingly.

"Soon as I'm outta here, it's all yers, ya vultures."

Paddy stole a look at the chick. The impromptu bandage was already turning red. Time to go. Hoisting Sapphire onto his shoulder as he'd done before with Walker, the Irishman bent down to grab the theif around his middle, carrying him under his arm. A gate flashed into existence before him, its brother appearing farther down the road toward his apartment. With a final glance at the stalkers and a shake of his head, he stepped through the gate. And as soon as it disappeared, the horde descended, clawing and lashing out for even a bit of free money.

For his part, Patrick kicked open his door. He let Walker go, not minding the crack of his skull against the peeling yellowed linoleum. Sapphire he placed on the table, allowing her legs to hang from it so as to keep her head on the plastic surface. Two steps out and two steps back secured him a sewing kit and a mostly empty bottle of scotch whiskey: his last. He didn't think twice. Twisting the cap off and pushing free the bandage, he doused the wound, the needle, and the thread in the alcohol. Carefully as he could manage, Patrick got to work, trying his best to recall the very, very brief medical class he'd received while in the service.
 
A good while later, long enough for for Patrick to sew up her wound and knock out Walker at least a few more times, Sapphire woke. First was the splitting migraine, a moment of where the fuck am I? And then a flood of memories that hit her like a truck. Patrick. She sat up, startled before realizing what a horrible mistake that was. The pain rushed back to her in an instant as she cringed and her face scrunched up. Her hand traveled delicately to her wound, only to find it had been sewed up.

Patrick had always been kind to her, despite his brutishness. She remembered it fondly, her high school years spent with him. Sapphire never thought she'd see him again, certainly not like this. He... felt so different. She wondered if Patrick felt the same way towards her.

"Guess I really am some lost princess." Sapphire croaked, propping herself up. The surface beneath her was soft..she was on a blanket. He'd set out a blanket for her. Guilt tugged at Sapphire's stomach as she glanced around the room, catching sight of a shriveled Walker in the corner, still unconscious.

"So you patched me up, huh?" She mumbled, slowly laying back down with a hiss of pain and and positioning herself as comfortably as she could. Sapphire wasn't stupid enough to start hopping around, pulling out her stitches and what not. Mainly because she'd done it before and she knew how much it fucking hurt. "God.. I would have really appreciated it if you had jumped in sooner rather then hang out on the rooftops.." She growled, but it didn't sound menacing. More like a passive bitterness.
 
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The television turned off with a click as soon as she began stirring. Patrick looked on from his recliner, elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. Three or four cigarette butts lay crushed into cat litter, the ceramic bowl in which the litter sat yellowed with age and bearing more than a few cracks. A fifth cigarette was pinched between the index and middle fingers of his right hand, the cinders that slowly consumed it furiously red, angry that for all their rage they could only produce a thin line of pale smoke. His jacket, a military style light coat bearing a few patches, lay draped on the dining chair back.

At Sapphire's comment, he shrugged.

"Sorry," he replied dryly before taking a drag on the cigarette. "I was too busy fucking myself, as per your request."

He shifted his gaze to the unconscious man on the floor. The Wall Walker's face was awful; with no actual way to keep the man detained had he awakened, Patrick had taken to merely punching the guy out every time he'd stirred but before he could truly come to. As a result, Walker's eyes were now fair closed from the swelling, and more than a few streaks of blood ran down his face. Patrick gestured to him.

"So what do ya want with this guy? Yeah, 'questions'; but about what? And how do you intend to keep him contained long enough to ask them? I can't punch the guy out forever." His hand flexed as he examined it; the knuckles were bloody themselves. "Much fun as it might be."
 
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From her place on the floor Sapphire laughed at his remark. It was more of a hoarse chuckle then anything, but it was good enough. "Fair point," She said with a sliver of a smirk.

She still hadn't moved, but she listened to Patrick's griping. "Questions about a man named Inter, who I'm pretty damn sure he's working for." Sapphire paused before her next answer. "Well I was planning to pull some more illusions but that's out of the question. I don't know how well his powers work when his face has been mutilated, so maybe I'll bet on that."
 
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