Wrong place, wrong time. [OPEN]
Who: Rex Salazar (naniteknight) and OPEN
When: Saturday night, July the 9th
Where: Near the public market.
Format: Starting with prose, but I'll match whoever tags in, prose or action!
What: Rex falls victim to an angry mob, pulled down and captured like a common animal.
Warnings: TL;DR to start and mob violence! I'll edit this if it happens to get worse. (Also, kudos to you if you know where the quote in the text cut is from.) Aaaand I'm gonna say screw posting order on that big thread. It's kind of a mess, anyway. XD
Rex had seen this kind of mob mentality before in his home world. Most of the time, the human end of Earth's population was divided into various shades of gray as to where people stood on the issue of EVOs existing among and around them. Some people merely thought of them as a nuisance. Others actively defended them, such as the Green Fist, treating them like a new species that needed to be preserved. Many simply feared them, often opting to keep their distance, never sure which EVOs were friendly and which might suddenly rampage. And then there were those who possessed such a deep seated hatred of EVOs that they actively hunted them down, slaughtering them without mercy.
Hunter Cain was one of those who had learned to despise EVOs with such a passion. His militaristic group had moved from city to city, destroying any EVOs they'd come across. To them, EVOs were a terminal disease that threatened the survival of humankind and there was no such thing as a good EVO. There was no real cure. And nanites were a sickness that could be caught like the common cold. He and his followers refused to believe in Providence's research that everything on the planet was infected and that turning was merely a matter of whether or not something's nanites were active or not. Cain whipped the public into a frenzy using news interviews and propaganda, urging civilians to take up arms and join him in his righteous war on EVO kind. He had even gone so far as to lay a trap for Rex in an attempt to kill him with news cameras rolling. And in many countries around the world, the United States included, killing EVOs, even those who maintained their human intelligence, was not a crime. Had Cain succeeded, he never would have been put on trial for murder. At best, Providence could have attempted to press charges for the destruction of their property.
Rex knew the signs. The posters, the mutterings on the street, the eventual protest... They would all lead to something bigger. Something worse. Something violent. There was no point arguing with any of those Anatolians who were already convinced that the Scorched were monsters. He had tried to do that with Hunter Cain and his people...and failed miserably. Actions always spoke louder than words. The trouble was that Rex and so many other Scorched had already tried to prove themselves as allies to the natives by saving them during disasters such as the invasion of the Witch Queen, followed by the surge of Hellcats in the city streets. It was a lesson that didn't seem to be sticking and if it was, it was only with those who were too timid to speak out much against their fellow Anatolians. Rex had a few friends among the natives, those he'd found steady work with...but he didn't dare seek shelter with them during the protests. They would be accused of harboring a monster.
Regardless of all the negativity in Anatole, however, Rex still had basic human needs. He had to eat and in order to do that, he had to either hunt his food down or get it in the marketplace. Unwilling to deal with catching, skinning and cooking his own meat, Rex left the Outlander Community Block and attempted to make his way to the marketplace as discreetly as possible. He went on foot, skirting the larger groups of people gathered in the streets and avoiding eye contact. Keeping his hands in his pockets and his head down, he managed to make it almost all the way to his destination, the edge of the marketplace coming into view when suddenly, someone grabbed him by the shoulder from behind.
"You! You're one of them!"
Rex came to a halt, glancing back over his shoulder and into the angry face of the middle-aged man who'd seized him. "...I'm not hurting anything. Let me go, man. I just wanna get some food and go back to the Block."
"That's our food, you monster! Who do you think you are, using up our resources, drinking our water and living in our city? You're not wanted here!"
"Not like I was going to steal it. I have ivories, alright?" Rex jerked away from the man and kept walking.
Suddenly, a sharp pain exploded in upper part of his back. Rex stumbled as he turned to see the native who'd stopped him before wielding a wooden club.
"I said you're not wanted here!" the man shouted as he brandished his weapon. "Go crawl back into the hole you came out of!"
Rex's lips pulled into a deep frown, his eyes narrowing. It would take a lot more than a sneak attack by a human to put him down. EVOs were simply too durable to collapse under so little punishment. Still, this fellow was obviously intent on making a scene. Rex could easily best him with one strike, though the trouble was that a single punch from a Smackhand would likely shatter half the bones in the man's body.
"Back off, dude. You don't want me to have to defend myself," he warned as he straightened up again, voice low. "I'll get my food and go, okay?"
"If you won't leave right now, we'll make you leave."
It was then that Rex realized the crowd around them had closed in, forming a tight circle. His eyes darted from person to person, noting the clubs, pitch forks, knives and other makeshift weapons they'd taken up to assert their position in the matter.
This was a lot worse than having stones and garbage thrown at him by civilians at home. Though at least no one had yet to hit him with an armored bus.
"I know that one!" someone in the crowd called out, pointing an accusing finger at the EVO. "He can fly! Don't let him take off!"
Rex's hands clenched into fists, his stomach starting to churn. He had to get out of there and fast. But the circle was already starting to shrink, the native with the club approaching again with an intent to attack.
The Boogie Pack built out in a mere second, the turbines firing up the next. Rex lifted off, skyward bound, but the mob was ready for that move. A length of rope snagged him around one ankle, two people on the ground using their weight to try and keep him from escaping. Rex gritted his teeth and tugged back, dragging the pair across the cobblestone street. They were soon joined by another, however, followed by a second lasso that snagged him by one wrist.
"Get off me!" Rex flew backward, dragging five people after him on two lines of rope. The crowd below parted as they struggled to pull him to the ground, angry cries echoing up as more and more people began to call for his capture. "What's wrong with all of you!? I helped save you during the last invasion!"
"It's your fault there was an invasion in the first place!" came an enraged shout in response from somewhere below.
"Bring him down!"
"Tie him up!"
More people were taking the ropes in hand, the load becoming too heavy for Rex to effectively move on his own. If he was lucky, maybe the added weight would be too much for the ropes to bear and they would twist and snap...
But no. More ropes were being thrown at him now. His other leg was caught around the knee, one turbine shredded a fourth rope, but a fifth one became entangled around one wing with the help of a grappling hook. Two more followed, catching the other wing. Rex strained, the propellers in the turbines starting to smoke, but no matter how hard he pulled, the mob below pulled harder. Slowly, they hauled him earthward until just ten feet up, one turbine gave out completely and Rex fell the rest of the way, wings shattering as he slammed into the ground. His nanites were faltering under the emotional stress, unable to hold his machines together for very long.
He attempted to rebuild the Boogie Pack, but as soon as the wings snapped out, chains fell across them. The crowd yanked the chains this way and that, breaking the turbines off and taking advantage of what was threatening to become a full-on a biometric crash. Desperate to get some breathing room as the mob closed in, Rex built out the Smackhands. Clenching them into fists, he lashed out at anyone who got to close, hoping no one would be foolish enough to assault him with his big metal hands flailing about. These were the people he'd worked so hard to save in recent months. To hurt them would be contrary to what he'd been taught at home, to go against his own efforts to protect Anatole. The people were misguided, their rage and resentment stirred up by a few natives with an agenda.
The area became a cacophony of shouts, curses and threats, chains catching the Smackhands and pulling them in two different directions. Rex grunted in pain as the man with the club appeared again and began to beat him savagely while he was held fast. They pulled Rex back, yanking and pummeling him until he came up against the wall of a building, arms spread wide like a sacrifice waiting to be made.
"Do you know how many of us have died because of you?!" the man with the club snarled down at him before smashing the weapon into the side of Rex's head, finally drawing blood as the ragged wood cut the teenager's cheek. "You're monsters! All of you! It's time you paid for the blood you've caused to be spilled!"
Rex lifted his head as he sagged back against the wall, taking a moment to spit some blood out of his mouth. He'd bit his tongue with that last assault against him. One of his eyelids was swollen, a previous lucky hit already causing a black eye to come about. Through the crowd, he could see a ten year old boy he recognized as the son of one of his employers. He was there with his mother, one hand stretched out in the EVO's direction. It was not a gesture of anger or accusation, however. Rather, the look of fear was plain on the kid's face. He wanted to help. He was one of the few in this crowd who hadn't been fooled by all the propaganda. Rex made brief eye contact with him, shaking his head, warning him to stay with his mother. If the boy rushed in, at best he would simply be removed so the beating could continue. At worst, he might be struck, as well. Who out of this crowd would listen to someone so young? He would be accused of being a bleeding heart or even a traitor against his own.
"I'm not very good at staying dead," Rex finally replied, managing a tired smirk as he looked back to the man in front of him. "Got a real problem with authority. That includes Death, himself."
"Oh, we'll see about that!" The man waved in a handful of his friends, all of them carrying either clubs or hammers.
Rex pressed back against the wall, adrenaline coursing through his veins. With his arms restrained, he couldn't reach the Forge inside his inner jacket pocket. They'd forced him to a difficult decision...
Either let them have their way and die at their hands...or prove them right and be a monster, using what remained of his powers to retaliate and escape. Given the metal in his Smackhands was starting to come apart, however, the chains biting into the cracks, his second option was not looking so good.
When: Saturday night, July the 9th
Where: Near the public market.
Format: Starting with prose, but I'll match whoever tags in, prose or action!
What: Rex falls victim to an angry mob, pulled down and captured like a common animal.
Warnings: TL;DR to start and mob violence! I'll edit this if it happens to get worse. (Also, kudos to you if you know where the quote in the text cut is from.) Aaaand I'm gonna say screw posting order on that big thread. It's kind of a mess, anyway. XD
Rex had seen this kind of mob mentality before in his home world. Most of the time, the human end of Earth's population was divided into various shades of gray as to where people stood on the issue of EVOs existing among and around them. Some people merely thought of them as a nuisance. Others actively defended them, such as the Green Fist, treating them like a new species that needed to be preserved. Many simply feared them, often opting to keep their distance, never sure which EVOs were friendly and which might suddenly rampage. And then there were those who possessed such a deep seated hatred of EVOs that they actively hunted them down, slaughtering them without mercy.
Hunter Cain was one of those who had learned to despise EVOs with such a passion. His militaristic group had moved from city to city, destroying any EVOs they'd come across. To them, EVOs were a terminal disease that threatened the survival of humankind and there was no such thing as a good EVO. There was no real cure. And nanites were a sickness that could be caught like the common cold. He and his followers refused to believe in Providence's research that everything on the planet was infected and that turning was merely a matter of whether or not something's nanites were active or not. Cain whipped the public into a frenzy using news interviews and propaganda, urging civilians to take up arms and join him in his righteous war on EVO kind. He had even gone so far as to lay a trap for Rex in an attempt to kill him with news cameras rolling. And in many countries around the world, the United States included, killing EVOs, even those who maintained their human intelligence, was not a crime. Had Cain succeeded, he never would have been put on trial for murder. At best, Providence could have attempted to press charges for the destruction of their property.
Rex knew the signs. The posters, the mutterings on the street, the eventual protest... They would all lead to something bigger. Something worse. Something violent. There was no point arguing with any of those Anatolians who were already convinced that the Scorched were monsters. He had tried to do that with Hunter Cain and his people...and failed miserably. Actions always spoke louder than words. The trouble was that Rex and so many other Scorched had already tried to prove themselves as allies to the natives by saving them during disasters such as the invasion of the Witch Queen, followed by the surge of Hellcats in the city streets. It was a lesson that didn't seem to be sticking and if it was, it was only with those who were too timid to speak out much against their fellow Anatolians. Rex had a few friends among the natives, those he'd found steady work with...but he didn't dare seek shelter with them during the protests. They would be accused of harboring a monster.
Regardless of all the negativity in Anatole, however, Rex still had basic human needs. He had to eat and in order to do that, he had to either hunt his food down or get it in the marketplace. Unwilling to deal with catching, skinning and cooking his own meat, Rex left the Outlander Community Block and attempted to make his way to the marketplace as discreetly as possible. He went on foot, skirting the larger groups of people gathered in the streets and avoiding eye contact. Keeping his hands in his pockets and his head down, he managed to make it almost all the way to his destination, the edge of the marketplace coming into view when suddenly, someone grabbed him by the shoulder from behind.
"You! You're one of them!"
Rex came to a halt, glancing back over his shoulder and into the angry face of the middle-aged man who'd seized him. "...I'm not hurting anything. Let me go, man. I just wanna get some food and go back to the Block."
"That's our food, you monster! Who do you think you are, using up our resources, drinking our water and living in our city? You're not wanted here!"
"Not like I was going to steal it. I have ivories, alright?" Rex jerked away from the man and kept walking.
Suddenly, a sharp pain exploded in upper part of his back. Rex stumbled as he turned to see the native who'd stopped him before wielding a wooden club.
"I said you're not wanted here!" the man shouted as he brandished his weapon. "Go crawl back into the hole you came out of!"
Rex's lips pulled into a deep frown, his eyes narrowing. It would take a lot more than a sneak attack by a human to put him down. EVOs were simply too durable to collapse under so little punishment. Still, this fellow was obviously intent on making a scene. Rex could easily best him with one strike, though the trouble was that a single punch from a Smackhand would likely shatter half the bones in the man's body.
"Back off, dude. You don't want me to have to defend myself," he warned as he straightened up again, voice low. "I'll get my food and go, okay?"
"If you won't leave right now, we'll make you leave."
It was then that Rex realized the crowd around them had closed in, forming a tight circle. His eyes darted from person to person, noting the clubs, pitch forks, knives and other makeshift weapons they'd taken up to assert their position in the matter.
This was a lot worse than having stones and garbage thrown at him by civilians at home. Though at least no one had yet to hit him with an armored bus.
"I know that one!" someone in the crowd called out, pointing an accusing finger at the EVO. "He can fly! Don't let him take off!"
Rex's hands clenched into fists, his stomach starting to churn. He had to get out of there and fast. But the circle was already starting to shrink, the native with the club approaching again with an intent to attack.
The Boogie Pack built out in a mere second, the turbines firing up the next. Rex lifted off, skyward bound, but the mob was ready for that move. A length of rope snagged him around one ankle, two people on the ground using their weight to try and keep him from escaping. Rex gritted his teeth and tugged back, dragging the pair across the cobblestone street. They were soon joined by another, however, followed by a second lasso that snagged him by one wrist.
"Get off me!" Rex flew backward, dragging five people after him on two lines of rope. The crowd below parted as they struggled to pull him to the ground, angry cries echoing up as more and more people began to call for his capture. "What's wrong with all of you!? I helped save you during the last invasion!"
"It's your fault there was an invasion in the first place!" came an enraged shout in response from somewhere below.
"Bring him down!"
"Tie him up!"
More people were taking the ropes in hand, the load becoming too heavy for Rex to effectively move on his own. If he was lucky, maybe the added weight would be too much for the ropes to bear and they would twist and snap...
But no. More ropes were being thrown at him now. His other leg was caught around the knee, one turbine shredded a fourth rope, but a fifth one became entangled around one wing with the help of a grappling hook. Two more followed, catching the other wing. Rex strained, the propellers in the turbines starting to smoke, but no matter how hard he pulled, the mob below pulled harder. Slowly, they hauled him earthward until just ten feet up, one turbine gave out completely and Rex fell the rest of the way, wings shattering as he slammed into the ground. His nanites were faltering under the emotional stress, unable to hold his machines together for very long.
He attempted to rebuild the Boogie Pack, but as soon as the wings snapped out, chains fell across them. The crowd yanked the chains this way and that, breaking the turbines off and taking advantage of what was threatening to become a full-on a biometric crash. Desperate to get some breathing room as the mob closed in, Rex built out the Smackhands. Clenching them into fists, he lashed out at anyone who got to close, hoping no one would be foolish enough to assault him with his big metal hands flailing about. These were the people he'd worked so hard to save in recent months. To hurt them would be contrary to what he'd been taught at home, to go against his own efforts to protect Anatole. The people were misguided, their rage and resentment stirred up by a few natives with an agenda.
The area became a cacophony of shouts, curses and threats, chains catching the Smackhands and pulling them in two different directions. Rex grunted in pain as the man with the club appeared again and began to beat him savagely while he was held fast. They pulled Rex back, yanking and pummeling him until he came up against the wall of a building, arms spread wide like a sacrifice waiting to be made.
"Do you know how many of us have died because of you?!" the man with the club snarled down at him before smashing the weapon into the side of Rex's head, finally drawing blood as the ragged wood cut the teenager's cheek. "You're monsters! All of you! It's time you paid for the blood you've caused to be spilled!"
Rex lifted his head as he sagged back against the wall, taking a moment to spit some blood out of his mouth. He'd bit his tongue with that last assault against him. One of his eyelids was swollen, a previous lucky hit already causing a black eye to come about. Through the crowd, he could see a ten year old boy he recognized as the son of one of his employers. He was there with his mother, one hand stretched out in the EVO's direction. It was not a gesture of anger or accusation, however. Rather, the look of fear was plain on the kid's face. He wanted to help. He was one of the few in this crowd who hadn't been fooled by all the propaganda. Rex made brief eye contact with him, shaking his head, warning him to stay with his mother. If the boy rushed in, at best he would simply be removed so the beating could continue. At worst, he might be struck, as well. Who out of this crowd would listen to someone so young? He would be accused of being a bleeding heart or even a traitor against his own.
"I'm not very good at staying dead," Rex finally replied, managing a tired smirk as he looked back to the man in front of him. "Got a real problem with authority. That includes Death, himself."
"Oh, we'll see about that!" The man waved in a handful of his friends, all of them carrying either clubs or hammers.
Rex pressed back against the wall, adrenaline coursing through his veins. With his arms restrained, he couldn't reach the Forge inside his inner jacket pocket. They'd forced him to a difficult decision...
Either let them have their way and die at their hands...or prove them right and be a monster, using what remained of his powers to retaliate and escape. Given the metal in his Smackhands was starting to come apart, however, the chains biting into the cracks, his second option was not looking so good.