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.]