EMP: EVENT START - reaction and mingling log

[fixesclocks]

Who: You! Everyone! Open!
When: Night of the 7th.
Where: All over the Port.
Summary: The EMP event has begun. There are no sirens. What will your character do?
Warnings: Violence, please note in comment headers to be added

Comments

2am -> 5am - Open

[fixesclocks]

[Some time after midnight, the shadows near you may change and warp. A man draped in the wings of Darkness themselves - Batman's cape - steps out of them. His hands are wet with blood, and it paints his hair down onto his temple. His eyes are black with murder, hunger; the thrill of delicious victory.

And he's enjoying this new power.]

Re: 2am -> 5am - Open

[madannoshashu]

[ Shadows morphing and changing is nothing new to this one so when Sylar appears out of the darkness, the man in a black coat and hood merely tilts his head from his perch on the side of the building.

Such a mess. They'll let anyone have access to darkness corridors these days, won't they? ]

Having fun down there, Sparky?

[fixesclocks]

[His head swivels back, flicking up toward the man in the hood, tilted over to one side in grim curiosity.]

Are you talking to me?

[madannoshashu]

[ He gestures in Sylar's direction. ]

You don't see any other Sparkies around here, do ya?

[ Or anybody else, period. Just the blood-covered killer and the sniper on the wall.

He peers down at the cape and finds it...vaguely familiar. ]

Getting ready for Halloween?

[fixesclocks]

[Yes, he's not impressed. But just for the record he raises his hand and produces a golden globe of radiation that sparks, ignites and then collapses in on itself with an audible yawn.]

I thought I'd go as a giant bat. Better than 'death.'

You should ask for a refund.

[madannoshashu]

[ Oh, Sylar. He's seen power enough to move mountains and rip apart the very fabric of a world. A glowy ball of whatsit isn't going to do much more than solidify the nickname forever. ]

I dunno, dude. I hear Death is quite the looker.

[ The goth girl version, anyway. With a dramatic flourish, he places a hand over his chest. ]

So harsh, Sparky! [ He sounds so wounded. ] And here, we've only just met.

[fixesclocks]

I don't play well with strangers.

[ But most of them try to kill him or are killed by him so there you go. He steps forward, the cape swaying in his wake. Clearly he has no intention of hanging around to swap anecdotes about the weather. ]

And the name's 'Sylar.'

2am -> 5am - Open

[he_is_wild]

[Joker feels, more than sees, the nearby shadows flicker.]

Darling I-

[And he looks over.]

The heck?

Or in other words around 10ish

[fixesclocks]

[Well, that was unexpected. Slipping in and out of the building the Batman's in, experimenting with how far he could go. Intuition had brought him to one place in particular, but it wasn't his; it was something he'd picked out of the brain.

Maybe if he'd been just a little more interested in comic books as a child, rather than toy cars.]

Ooh, a clown.

[he_is_wild]

[In a Curly voice]

Oh, a wise guy, eh?

[He looks the cloak over. He knows that cloak.]

Where'd you get that!?

[fixesclocks]

[Sylar only smiles. Yes, he is. He's just killed Batman, he's buzzing with excitement and stolen power. He could take on the world.]

Oh, this?

[Sweeping his arm up, the scalloped edge of the cape quite visible.]

He didn't need it any more.

[he_is_wild]

[Joker pulls a knife from under his coat. The meaning in Sylar's words escapes him. Nobody could have killed the Bat, it isn't in Joker's world of possibilities.]

Well you don't deserve it, you little hooligan! Take it off!

[fixesclocks]

[He considers it for a moment, thoughtfully, then shakes his head. There's all kinds of ways that he can do this. Melt the knife, shatter it, simply rip off the man's head, but Sylar is a creature of habit, and his favourite power is telekinesis. Simple.

He raises his hand, pulling the cape from his shoulders.]

If you wanted it so badly, you should have just said so.

[The cape took to the air like a living thing, wings spread and flapping, twisting, writhing, as though made of shadow, fabric snapping like thunder as it reached out to envelope the clown.

He was only playing. For now.]

[he_is_wild]

[Joker slashes at the cloak. The feeling of his knife tearing through this particular fabric is not alien to him. As it envelopes him he crashes to the ground, cackling.]

[fixesclocks]

[Well that was a shame. Look, it's got all these damn knife slashes in it now. Stupid clown. And what was he laughing about, anyway?

Sylar just hated not knowing.

But for now he lowers his hand, taking away the force giving the cloak life, tilting his head back onto one side, eyebrows quirked. And watches.]