life is hard and then you die
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Post by Comic on Jul 25, 2016 3:35:52 GMT
 it was for the money, she told herself, as she was getting prepped down for the procedure, cleaned up, wiped down, stripped to the bare necessities. tank top, boy shorts, just enough for them to finish wiping her down for what was to come before she was at least allowed to rip pants back on without cussing anyone out. she didn't appreciate the vulnerability they made her feel then, but still, she needed this to go well.
she needed to do something useful.
shoving down painful thoughts, repressing past memories, ignoring the sensation in her fist from when it happened, she moved out into the hallway. it wasn't unheard of for the alliance brainiacs to decipher a new super soldier serum that should work, but they wanted a different testing batch than normal; they wanted people who already had powers and mutations rather than the mundane sorties. with the money they offered and rent coming up, she couldn't say no.
she could say no. she always could say no. she said no to her, didn't she? isn't that what her actions represented?
she pushed it down and met with a singular scientist. "we're awaiting our... insurance, before we begin," he started, and she figured as much. they had a practice of hiring someone else within the alliance to protect the scientists after all, and comic could do nothing but wait, scratching at her arms as she did so.
something was making her nervous, and she couldn't tell what.
MUSCLE BEACH
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Post by MUSCLE BEACH on Jul 25, 2016 6:22:20 GMT
 leaving this world
isn't as scary as it sounds | He could remember his first impressions of Arkham very clearly.
'What, this dump?'
It was, to him, the ultimate shantytown. Corruption worked best when it wasn't obvious, when it hid in a plain sight that only added to its insidious creep. And it was obvious that this little island off the coast of Kingsport was a cesspit of the worst kind. Thankfully, it did not bother him. Trent rarely had trouble in his life, having learned early on that wearing clothes that revealed his physique was plenty enough to keep bad company at an arms reach. But he was that obvious threat, wasn't he? There were plenty of powerful people in the world, and even the most delicate of girls could blast away a city at their fingertips.
Depressing.
Being orthodox had it's advantages, though, such as when an alliance big shot stopped him on his way and made him an offer he couldn't refuse: stand around and basically look pretty. He could do that. Protection work was right up his alley, and if this serum-whatever they had cooked up went badly (and not badly in the liquefying, puddle-of-sop kind of way) then he'd have to step in and make sure the white coats stayed in one piece. Easy enough.
He wasn't even doing it for the money. Hell, he had so much of that shit already, damn. Sometimes a man was just bored.
Trent swerved into the waiting area by ducking under a door, hands in his pants pockets and whistling a merry tune from his childhood that sounded suspiciously like Spice Girls, maybe, maybe not. He wore what could only be described as a perfectly white wife beater, and glanced at the waiting white coats and the red-haired girl.
"'Sup. Let's do the thing." | | Comic |
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life is hard and then you die
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Post by Comic on Jul 27, 2016 2:08:06 GMT
 a familiar song played into her ears as she turned to the source, and was greeted by a mountain of a man. he certainly had the stature for the job; looks could be deceiving around her. she was a picture of that; even if he was that big, she could still flip someone like him over herself if she was given the chance and a bit of rage to fuel herself. that wasn't a focus in her mind right now, given that nerves were beginning to seep in.
"at least the alliance can afford to look tough..." marisa gives him a single nod, biting down on her lip and turning away. they are instructing her in places to sit, where to lay down, and in a moment she's down on the flat table and staring up at one of the ceiling lights. marisa is forcing her mind to stare right at the base of the fixture, keeping her breathing steady as she gets strapped in. for safety they say, but she isnt sure if its for her own or theirs.
they ask if she's ready for the shot. marisa pulls her gaze down and looks to the muscle thats supposed to be their protection. "well, are we ready?" theres a sly grin on her face; but it doesn't do much to hide the fact that she does, in fact, feel afraid.
MUSCLE BEACH
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