OPEN | Disasters Mean Rethinking Decisions

[atypical_echo]

Who: Mark Bryant atypical_echo, Tommy Shepherd slowmotionbuscrash, Open
What: A Bank Robbery Gone Bad, Photography Outside of Guild Headquarters, Awkwardness of confused coffee orders
When: Robbery: 10/14, Photography: 10/15, Coffee: Mid October
Where: First Bank of Central City, Outside Alliance Headquarters, Moondoe Coffee Shop
Content Warnings: Bank robbery might involve violence toward civilians, and will involve explosions.

I. Robberies Make For Bad Days | First Bank of Central City | Closed to Tommy Shepherd

From now on he was going to live his life only through drive through and online banking. With those sorts of things you didn't end up like Mark did, sitting curled up on the floor of the bank with a cluster of other civilians, shaking. The others shook from fear, whimpered whenever the masked robbers looked at them and gestured with either guns or what looked like energy pistols, and didn't talk about their hope that some hero would come and save them.

Mark? Mark sat there quaking not because he cared that he was being menaced with a gun, or that there was a robbery going on, or even that a bad twitch would get him shot. No, he was shaking because these robbers were Metas, and Mark was accutely aware of that in a way no other civilian there was. Sure, they hadn't made use of their powers yet, but Mark could feel them, pressing in on his mind. One was clearly a telepath of some sort, and that Mark knew how to keep control of, how to keep his mind to himself, how to hide from other telepaths. But there was also someone who, best Mark could tell, cause metal to melt, and another one whose power Mark couldn't pin down but made his skin itch.

It was too much. It was a hard enough to keep control of his powers around some Metas, but it was worse when there were more than a few around. With no familiar powers to ground them in it was enough to leave him off balance, and with the fear... Mark was growing terrified that people were going to get hurt if this didn't end soon, and it wouldn't be by the thieves.

"Someone help," he whispered under his breath. That was their only hope, and for reasons no one else knew.

II. Is Heroics Really A Shelter? | Outside of Alliance Headquarters | Open

What do you do with an unsigned Meta? It was a question running through Mark's head, to the tune of some old shanty about drunken sailors. The song had been running circles around his head for days now, and the only way Mark knew to work through shit like this was distraction. So he did his best for distraction. Today his distractions were coming in the form of photography. So Mark stood across the street from the Alliance Headquarters and turned his camera upon the structure, his lens always focused up at large structure, never dipping down toward the doors without Mark first turning it away.

It was important not to piss off people with supernatural powers by making them think that you are taking pictures of them. Which Mark totally wasn't going to do. He doesn't need his ass kicked and himself accidentally stealing someone's powers in the process.

Still, he has to sigh before taking another picture of the building, trying to capture the way shadows fell across it at this late time of day, as if to make a picture to call into mind the idea that the Alliance was come upon dark times.

"This was never what comics prepared me to think superheroes would be like," he sighed as he snapped another shot. "Feel more like sports and movie stars than heroes."

Which was probably a rude thing to say because someone overhearing it could assume weird things. Like that Mark himself is a Meta. Which wasn't wrong at all.

III. Coffee Mix-Up Meeting | Moondoe Coffee Shop | Open

Coffee, the magical brew by which many an artist runs. Or so Mark always thought. He stood near the wall of his local Moondoe Coffee, waiting for his name to be called. Or, well, the poor approximation of his name that places like this seemed to manage.

"Brian!" a voice called, and Mark looked around. No one was making clear motion for the drink, so he walked toward it. Okay, one more way to check. He lifts the cup and, instead of sipping, checks the writing on the side indicating what the drink should be. And there was the familiar shorthand for a dark chocolate machiatto.

Alright, resolved that this was most definitely his drink, Mark lifted it to sip. And immediately cringed when it hit his tongue.

"The fuck?" he sputtered as he winced at the taste. "Is that... apple? Holy shit, what?"

"Maybe it's not your drink," the barista behind the counter said with that look that said 'you picked up someone else's order'.

"It's literally labeled with my name and marked as a dark chocolate machiatto. Soooooo, um, I'm sorry but I think the order might be wrong."

Though he was definitely wincing at the attention this was drawing him. Maybe he should just take this and go? Oh man, would that be more or less embarrassing? He wasn't sure.

[OOC: Mark Bryant's main Meta ability is copying the powers of those near him. This is entirely opt-in, and you can go to opt in over here if you'd like to play with Mark echoing powers.]

Comments

[slowmotionbuscrash]

It would seem like it happened all at once. The guns vanishing out of the robbers hands. Reappearing near simultaneously, embedded in the wall. The shoelaces of the robbers being tied together.

The punches happen in sequence, however. Tommy has to assume that they’re human and wouldn’t survive a high velocity punch. At this point, the threat is handled so a fatal hit would be doubly frowned upon. So he blurs into place besides the first two and socks them hard enough to drop them in one shot. Concussions are fair game.

Which just leaves the third, who Speed would like to leave conscious. He doesn’t want to get a reputation for being unnecessarily violent, and, with two down, there’s no one left to sneak up behind him and take him out.

“I’m gonna assume you know the drill. Hands up, on your knees. Your plea bargain will be better if you surrender.”

[atypical_echo]

Yeah, it did happen all at once, except... Except Mark could follow it, in flickers and starts. It overwhelms his mind, how easily he can watch something one second, and not understand it the next. And there was a whole new set of itchy shaking to his body in the moment as he watched.

There was too much power, too much potential, and Mark's body, his control, was failing. Failing enough that even as the last guard lifted his hands in surrender Mark moaned. It was pained, and it was loud, and the table near him starting to quake and vibrate, a precursor to an explosion he didn't know was coming.

[slowmotionbuscrash]

Something's wrong. Tommy's head snaps towards the moan that sounded too fast for human, and the table.

Something'swrong something'swrong isitme isitthem knockoutthelastone.

Tommy punches the third one with an abrupt apology. "Sorry."

The table's shaking harder now. It's not him. He'd feel it. It's not him. Notagain notagain notagain it'snotstopping getthemout getthemoutnow. Tommy runs for the customers and employees first, top speed. He has to take them out one at time - it's too much weight, and there's so many.

[atypical_echo]

Motion. So much around him is motion. He can't even handle it, and when he finally looks up, he sees it. Sees it and gets it. Some of it at least. Everyone is moving around him like they are going through molasses, looking scared. Their attention turns slowly to the table. Like Glacial speed.

And yet there was Mark, staggering to his feet as he saw someone else moving. Someone actually moving. Mark himself felt like he was moving too fast, too slow, too wrong. And oh but how his body seemed to be vibrating.

"Whatareyou?" he demands, too fast, words slurred, he doesn't have practice at this kind of speed. It's not like any other speedster he's experienced before.

[slowmotionbuscrash]

Tommy’s cleared most of the room by the time the man gets his attention. Cuts through the rush and blur and looooooooooong stretched out syllables by talking fast enough to not Doppler. Another speedster. Another speedster?!

Oh, shit. It’s really not Tommy vibrating the table.

The only speed rules he knows how to play by are his own, and he wouldn’t be able to affect a table that he couldn’t see. Molecules are molecules when it comes to vibrating them until they explode.

“Aspeedsterlikeyou.” Tommy grabs the man’s arm. “Run.”

And he doesn’t give him an option. They’ll run, or Tommy will fucking drag or carry him until they find some decent space where this idiot can’t blow people up. The alarm’s kicked on, the bank will be fine.

II.

[defenderoftomorrow]

Not angering people that might come at you with the intention to tear you a new one was something Jayce already learned back in his world, which is why he mostly kept to himself as he practiced his shape-shifting new powers. Anima's lessons had helped a lot - Jayce didn't keep transforming when he was startled, or it happened less often, at least- but he was still very new to the animal species from Earth. 

That meant that he had no idea what sort of creatures were considered "normal" to spot in a busy city. Sure, bird, dogs, and cats were a given, they had them in Piltover as well. But he rest...Jayce was mostly playing a game of guessing and then running into alleys to change back to normal if he noticed people giving him odd or worried looks.

The man taking pictures caught his eye, and a furry ear twitched and turned to the sound of his voice when Mark spoke to himself. Jayce was no detective like Caitlyn, but by the sound of it, this person was probably also a meta. If he was mistaken, well, he was probably fast enough to scurry away without being caught if they became hostile.

"Comics are illustrated stories, right? Fairy tale books? We don't exactly have them in my world but we have plenty of legends about heroes and evildoers. They are very different from how things work here."

If Mark looked down, he would realize that the source of that voice was a fennec fox, with golden eyes and a small scar where the right eyebrow would be on a human face.

[atypical_echo]

Mark had never really heard an animal talk before, beyond Sleeper. And that had been a cat that decidedly did not look like a cat. This was a fox that decidedly looked like a fox. Which meant Mark yelped in shock to be addressed, his camera slipping from his hands.

This, folks, is why you always have your camera on a strap. As it was it fell safely to his side and Mark didn't have to worry about any breaks while dealing with his heart racing from the stress of a TALKING ANIMAL.

"I'm going fucking crazy."

[defenderoftomorrow]

In all fairness to Mark, Jayce should have anticipated that reaction. His bad. That was careless. The fennec fox was also startled when Mark yelped, and his ears shot up and then faced backward in a matter of seconds.

However, Jayce was also suddenly concerned that the camera was about to break. Machinery like that was expensive and delicate, something he knew well because he had built them in the past for Caitlyn. Rather than fleeing, his first instinct was to reach out and grab the camera before it crashed to the ground. But foxes didn't have hands to properly grab things and, upon realizing he needed opposable thumbs for this, his body switched to a different species.

And that's why, where the fennec fox had been a second ago, there was now a red panda standing on his hind legs, with the front paws around the camera hanging by Mark's hip.

"Oh...it's strapped. Smart." Jayce himself looked rather confused, first at the camera, then up at Mark. He let go of the machine and sat back on his haunches, ears dropping rather adorably. "My apologies, I didn't mean to startle you. You're not going crazy, but I can leave if you want."

[atypical_echo]

Okay, now it wasn't a fox. It was... Something else. Mark didn't know what the something else was, other than cute as fucking hell, and holding onto his camera. Which was less cute. What if it damaged the thing?

Shit, this was all overwhelming, and his heart was racing, and if Mark didn't calm down, for all he knew he could accidentally copy the power. He didn't really know, it was hard to tell with how the confluence had warped his own native Atypical ability. But he sure hoped not.

"Uh, literally there's a red talking something there that was just holding my camera. Sanity feels like something worth questioning."

2!

[eatsnutsandkicksbutts]

"Kid must be new here. Whaddaya think, Frankie, does he look like he has anything good on him?"

"I'm not sure, but maybe we can bring Froyo over here to mug for the camera? You never know, sometimes humans will bust out the snack food if they think it'll make us sit still or do a cool pose."

"Hah! I know, right? Gosh, when are they going to start carrying around the good stuff, like granola bars or jars of peanut butter? I'd do a kickflip for some peanut butter!"

A couple of squirrels are sitting at the base of a tree not far from Mark, and they appear to be sizing him up for a shakedown. Nobody else seems to hear them, although a red-headed girl seated on a bench a few feet away gives them a look before going back to feeding the pack of squirrels at her feet.

[atypical_echo]

Were it not for the fact that Mark had already had a conversation with a fox shape-shifter here earlier in the day, he might have been more upset by hearing the literal chattering of squirrels and understanding them. But as it was, it wasn't that hard for him to assume they were just Metas of their own.

Or maybe a single Meta? Wouldn't that be weird?

If he just focused on his current form he should be fine. Yep. He'd be fine.

"I'm not giving you any treats," Mark advised the squirrels rather directly, turning his gaze on them. "And I'm not taking pictures of whoever Froyo is. Animal photography isn't my thing most of the time, especially not when you look like you're begging."

[eatsnutsandkicksbutts]

"Oh, dang!!" one of the squirrels exclaimed, tail sticking straight up in alarm. "We've got another one! Cupcakes, you field this guy, I'ma go get the boss!"

Cupcakes, for his part, turned to Mark and gave him the single most judgmental look he'd probably ever received from a squirrel. The other squirrel skittered up the tree, and Cupcake crossed his furry little arms and raised an eyebrow.

"Dude, just between you and me... if you have any peanut butter on ya, you can tell me, I won't blab to the others! Also, you should really think about broadening your horizons, photography-wise. We're hecka cute, you'd get a ton of business."

"Oh, cute! It's, uh, it's almost like they're talking to you and having a totally legit conversation!" This interruption was courtesy of the red-haired girl who'd been sitting on the bench earlier; she approached Mark with a grin, and seemed to be practically vibrating with excitement.

[atypical_echo]

'Another one'? 'The Boss'? What in the world? And now there's this one sassing him like a little person. Okay, maybe he's hallucinating. He might have been outside too long.

Though now he's embarrassed because the young woman is paying attention to him, and he is NOT having a conversation with a hallucination then. Which means... He looks around. There aren't other people around that he can see. So was his power now reaching through walls, or was it her?

Well, better to make a guess and then apologize if it goes wrong.

"So you're the boss then?"

3

[sixthdeadliest]

"I'm guessing that's mine. And for the tenth time, my name isn't 'Brian'. I don't know why you keep thinking it is."

The barista jumped at the sudden appearance of Six. Despite the dress shoes and the linoleum, he hardly made a sound as he walked, moving quietly second-nature to him.

Six wasn't one for flavored coffee and had nearly just ordered his usual black until he'd seen a particular item on the limited time fall menu. It wasn't coffee, but it had sounded right up his alley.

He raised an eyebrow at the other man. "I'm guessing it's Caramel Apple Spice in the cup?"

Literally apple cider with whipped cream and a light drizzle of caramel sauce.

[atypical_echo]

Huh. Another 'Brian' who actually had Mark's order written on his cup? This is such a headache in the making, but he isn't going to comment on that.

"If that's what this is supposed to be. Super sorry, man. Like, I watched her write Brian on my cup, which wasn't a shock, because I said Bryant."

He didn't like what happened when he used 'Mark' on it. That got weirder.

[sixthdeadliest]

Six shook his head. "Not your fault. The barista kept insisting on calling me 'Brian' for some reason and must've written it on the cup, too. I didn't think to get the drink since he wasn't calling my name."

The barista grumbled something, jumping again when Six turned his head to look at him. Good thing Six was wearing sunglasses though it was still obvious he was glaring.

[atypical_echo]

"Okay, but you don't even LOOK like a Brian," Mark said, still standing by the pickup counter. Because he was going to be there, trying to look intimidating, until his proper drink was actually made.

Art runs on coffee.

2

[nogodsnoheroes]

"You're joking, right? This is exactly how comics work."

The grumbling voice came from a tall, bony figure leaning against a nearby wall, her face half-hidden by the fall of unwashed blonde hair, her black leather jacket patched and stained. She wrinkled her nose, finishing off her coffee and crunching the paper cup in one hand, and straightened up to approach him.

Her appearance didn't exactly inspire confidence. Nor - to be honest - did her smell, which made it very clear that whatever she was into, it wasn't bathing. Still, by her standards, her tone was friendly enough.

"This is just how you do comics in real life. Dress everyone in costumes, take pictures for the front page, ooh and ahh at the ubermensch. It's the same propaganda, just... 3D. If the comics didn't prepare you for it, maybe you were reading the comics wrong."

Sorry, Mark. The human personification of Reddit has arrived.

[atypical_echo]

Wait, did he just get 'um, actually' from a stranger he wasn't even talking to? He wants to roll his eyes at that. Superman would never be like this.

"That's a rather pessimistic view of the world," he grumbled at her.

[nogodsnoheroes]

He sure did. It's something of a speciality of hers, and totally unrelated to why she has no friends.

She shrugged, tucking her free hand in her jacket pocket. "Yeah, and? You're the one out here talking to yourself about how comic books lied to you. And taking weird photos of their home base, which, by the way? They're definitely putting you on a watchlist for that."

[atypical_echo]

Yep. TOTALLY unrelated. He absolutely believes it. Still, he rolls his eyes at her comment about the watchlist.

He's an unaffiliated and they know he exists. He's already on watch lists.

"I'm taking pictures of the upper levels of the facade, which in this late-post-gothic style is absolutely beautiful. The interplay of the late day sun and the shadows it casts serves as a commentary upon the inherent war of nature that comes when you give men and women great power. Great power corrupts and all that. It's art, and once I have a show of my own, these shots will be a centerpiece."

So there, he can absolutely bubble out tons of artistic language at someone who is clearly clueless.

ii

[doctopoda]

"It really isn't," Otto agrees, despite not being a part of this conversation at all!

In his defense, people usually notice him coming - the actuators and he make for a very large presence, and there's usually some kind of faint whirring happening somewhere about his person. He assumes the comment was meant to him, or at least generally to whoever was nearby. "But I suppose that's what happens when reality gets involved," he continues. Reality and numbers. Back home, Peter was probably just sneaking in under the wire; if there were more of them, Otto imagines the government would crack down.

Sorry not sorry

[atypical_echo]

The noises aren't expected, and so Mark misses that someone's approached at first. And then there he is, talking, and Mark's turning and...

"Doctor Octopus!" he says in shock.

Why yes, he does read Rue Moore. Could you tell?

wheezes

[doctopoda]

Otto sours on this entire encounter immediately. "It's Doctor Octavius," he corrects. Yes, he knows that's not a lot better - but one of them is his name, and the other one's an octopus! "Are you from that Rue Moore website?"

[atypical_echo]

Listen it's not his fault that he doesn't know that is the dude's name.

"Oh," he says, because yeah, corrected, then he looks horrified.

"What? No! Oh god I might be scraping by as a freelancer, but I'd never stoop to tabloid work. Ew, I need a shower."

The very suggestion has him cringing a little. How could the guy believe that of him? Beyond the name. And the camera out across from a guild HQ. And the reaction to him. Okay, yeah, he gets it now. But still ew.