Exploring a strange and new world
Who: Mala and Deadpool
What: Exploring a strange and new world
Where: Gotham, business district
When: Three days after the riot
Interactions: Maybe
Warnings: Crude language, violence, bloody messes.
First rule, survive. It was always about the first rule, yet it was the one rule that Mala had to constantly remind herself to obey, often unsuccessfully. Anger and hate drove her to strike when she should flee; fear often did the same, and each time she failed to obey the first rule, placing it second to rash emotions, she paid the price for it dearly. Mala reminded herself of this yet again as she clawed a carpet floor with bloody fingers. The pain in her left shoulder was growing worse, and whatever food she had found in her present shelter quickly thinned to nothing.
It was quiet here, and Mala was thankful for it. It was a tall building, much taller than those she had seen in her home world, but then, so were most of the buildings she found in this city. She had not bothered counting the floors she had climbed and found herself overlooking the street from dizzying heights when she reached a window. The interior was so foreign and bizarre to her that she could scarcely comprehend the purpose of this place. Head-height walls separated this floor into many small and confined spaces, each with a desk and strange, flat-panels upon them. From the marvelously life-like drawings of people decorating these spaces, she finally surmised that people must live here, yet she saw found the entire building vacant of any life.
From her speculation that people lived here, Mala had high hopes of finding food, and lots of it. She was sorely disappointed by her find...which was close to nothing. Her one lucky catch was a large white container, seemingly enchanted with magical light and low temperatures on the inside. There she found food more delicious, more... delightful than she had ever encountered. Between two slices of bread more soft than she had ever eaten were slices of meat joyfully spicy; juicy vegetables complemented the bread and meat, adding a crunch to every bite; finally, there was some sort of sauce inside that gave the entirety of it a tingling flavor that seemed to dance upon her tongue. Food worthy of kings, she decided, and confirmed within herself the importance of this building. For the duration of her meal, she nearly forgot of the burning pain in her shoulder.
In one of the small, cubic spaces, she found an intricately woven sweater. It was much too large for her, slipping easily over her now loosely hanging robe, but it warmed her skin as it caressed her, fending her from the cold as night approached and fatigue drew her mind closer to sleep. Yet sleep she did not. It was not the strange hum of noise that the building made, as though the building itself was somehow alive, that kept her from sleeping. The pain in her shoulder grew worse with time. Each time she tried to move, her shoulder burned piercingly and began bleeding again, soaking her new sweater. It took time for her to realize that the source of the pain was physically present within her shoulder and lodged in bone.
She spent the entirety of the next morning with a pen she found in one hand and a rolled up towel she found between her teeth, digging the end of the pen into her wound until the bullet finally popped out onto the floor before her tear soaked eyes. It was a revolutionary knowledge, that the small hand-held weapon had fired a tiny piece of metal into her body, and the knowledge terrified her. This world was too... unpredictable. She was not prepared for what was out there. Even now, gunshots muddled the silence more frequently than she could find comfort in, and she even felt the tremor from a not so distant explosion. Each time, she shuddered and grew tense.
Yet even confronted with such terror, Mala felt deep inside that somehow she would make it. As she tied the towel around her wounded shoulder, one end of it tight between her teeth, she knew that the wound in her shoulder will continue to burn for weeks. It will most likely become infected and illness would try to claim her. But in the end, she will survive as she always did. There might not even be a scar to show that it ever happened. She just had to fight for it.
It was this drive that moved her small body to the back entrance of the building on the third morning. At the base of the stairwell connecting all of the floors, she found a door that led into a mostly empty alley. Mala much preferred these urban back roads to the large streets, which were much too open and exposed, and more importantly, strange horseless carriages trafficked them on occasion. Mala did not trust them, and decided it would be better to keep her distance.
Making her way down the alley, Mala had two goals in mind. One, food. She had no idea where to obtain food in this world. She had to learn quickly if she was to survive here. Secondly, money. A world as full of people as this one surely had money. If she can obtain currency, she might be able to kill two birds with one stone, and perhaps even get herself some new clothes. She was still wearing the mixture of dirty, tattered robes and large, bloody sweater, which was not the most comfortable of attires. Not to mention that she was missing shoes, and with consideration of how often she spotted broken glass on the streets, she decided that shoes would be goal number three.
Mala slowed her pace suddenly. Something was amiss. She felt...watched...and indeed she was. She spun to find three men, jeans and hoodies spotted with blood and with grins on their faces. They all stood with their hands in the large pocket of their hoody as they moved forward in a walk. Mala glared at them and readied a hex in her mind.
All three of them lay unconscious a few moments later. Mala's enchanted shout echoed in their minds, blasting their conscience into a forced slumber. The weak minded never stood a chance at resisting her magic, and the spell was a good choice considering what she did a few nights ago. Better to not draw attention to herself, she decided. Looking down at them perfectly still save for some twitching and drooling, Mala pitied them for how unfortunate and foolish they were, but only for a moment before she began going through their pockets with the hand that didn't make her body hurt like hell. There was an impressive number of pockets on their attire, but she immediately stumbled upon their weaponry.
Two of them had those hand held weapons that Mala grew to dislike... immensely... and she thanked her luck that she struck them down before they had a chance to use them. The other puzzled her for a moment. It fit in her hand comfortably but seemed almost entirely harmless... until she applied pressure on one end with her finger. A blade sprung up and Mala's eyes widened for a moment in surprise. Apparently, even the most simple of weapons have complex, mechanical designs in this world. It did not take her long to learn how to retract the blade. She then went on to search the thugs for goals one and two.
They had a shortage on food, which did not surprise in the slightest, but she was sorely disappointed when she failed to find much in the way of currency. She procured pocket containers that appeared to be made of hard leather that folded into a small, pocket sized squares, but within them she found nothing more than strange cards and intricately decorated paper. Paper!!
“These ass-holes are as broke as I am!” she said, terribly annoyed and wrenching the paper out of the leather container. She tossed them behind her and they fell like leaves onto the street. She paused a moment and realized that these thugs probably weren't after any material goods, but decided that that was a mute point now that they were made safe with her spell. Digging through the side pocket on the last of them, Mala finally found coins, and her eyes lit up when she saw that not all of them were copper pieces. If this world had any sanity at all, these large silver coins should be able to buy her some warm clothes and a meal to boot! Now, all she needed to do was find some place to use them.
Placing the coins in her sweater's pocket, she turned to the thugs. They've seen your face, thought Mala. Mala reminded herself of a rule that she had followed religiously in the past. Leave no witnesses. They've seen her face and witnessed her power. When they awake, they may try to hunt her, but this time they will be prepared. Mala took out the knife she found earlier and let the blade snap into position.
What: Exploring a strange and new world
Where: Gotham, business district
When: Three days after the riot
Interactions: Maybe
Warnings: Crude language, violence, bloody messes.
First rule, survive. It was always about the first rule, yet it was the one rule that Mala had to constantly remind herself to obey, often unsuccessfully. Anger and hate drove her to strike when she should flee; fear often did the same, and each time she failed to obey the first rule, placing it second to rash emotions, she paid the price for it dearly. Mala reminded herself of this yet again as she clawed a carpet floor with bloody fingers. The pain in her left shoulder was growing worse, and whatever food she had found in her present shelter quickly thinned to nothing.
It was quiet here, and Mala was thankful for it. It was a tall building, much taller than those she had seen in her home world, but then, so were most of the buildings she found in this city. She had not bothered counting the floors she had climbed and found herself overlooking the street from dizzying heights when she reached a window. The interior was so foreign and bizarre to her that she could scarcely comprehend the purpose of this place. Head-height walls separated this floor into many small and confined spaces, each with a desk and strange, flat-panels upon them. From the marvelously life-like drawings of people decorating these spaces, she finally surmised that people must live here, yet she saw found the entire building vacant of any life.
From her speculation that people lived here, Mala had high hopes of finding food, and lots of it. She was sorely disappointed by her find...which was close to nothing. Her one lucky catch was a large white container, seemingly enchanted with magical light and low temperatures on the inside. There she found food more delicious, more... delightful than she had ever encountered. Between two slices of bread more soft than she had ever eaten were slices of meat joyfully spicy; juicy vegetables complemented the bread and meat, adding a crunch to every bite; finally, there was some sort of sauce inside that gave the entirety of it a tingling flavor that seemed to dance upon her tongue. Food worthy of kings, she decided, and confirmed within herself the importance of this building. For the duration of her meal, she nearly forgot of the burning pain in her shoulder.
In one of the small, cubic spaces, she found an intricately woven sweater. It was much too large for her, slipping easily over her now loosely hanging robe, but it warmed her skin as it caressed her, fending her from the cold as night approached and fatigue drew her mind closer to sleep. Yet sleep she did not. It was not the strange hum of noise that the building made, as though the building itself was somehow alive, that kept her from sleeping. The pain in her shoulder grew worse with time. Each time she tried to move, her shoulder burned piercingly and began bleeding again, soaking her new sweater. It took time for her to realize that the source of the pain was physically present within her shoulder and lodged in bone.
She spent the entirety of the next morning with a pen she found in one hand and a rolled up towel she found between her teeth, digging the end of the pen into her wound until the bullet finally popped out onto the floor before her tear soaked eyes. It was a revolutionary knowledge, that the small hand-held weapon had fired a tiny piece of metal into her body, and the knowledge terrified her. This world was too... unpredictable. She was not prepared for what was out there. Even now, gunshots muddled the silence more frequently than she could find comfort in, and she even felt the tremor from a not so distant explosion. Each time, she shuddered and grew tense.
Yet even confronted with such terror, Mala felt deep inside that somehow she would make it. As she tied the towel around her wounded shoulder, one end of it tight between her teeth, she knew that the wound in her shoulder will continue to burn for weeks. It will most likely become infected and illness would try to claim her. But in the end, she will survive as she always did. There might not even be a scar to show that it ever happened. She just had to fight for it.
It was this drive that moved her small body to the back entrance of the building on the third morning. At the base of the stairwell connecting all of the floors, she found a door that led into a mostly empty alley. Mala much preferred these urban back roads to the large streets, which were much too open and exposed, and more importantly, strange horseless carriages trafficked them on occasion. Mala did not trust them, and decided it would be better to keep her distance.
Making her way down the alley, Mala had two goals in mind. One, food. She had no idea where to obtain food in this world. She had to learn quickly if she was to survive here. Secondly, money. A world as full of people as this one surely had money. If she can obtain currency, she might be able to kill two birds with one stone, and perhaps even get herself some new clothes. She was still wearing the mixture of dirty, tattered robes and large, bloody sweater, which was not the most comfortable of attires. Not to mention that she was missing shoes, and with consideration of how often she spotted broken glass on the streets, she decided that shoes would be goal number three.
Mala slowed her pace suddenly. Something was amiss. She felt...watched...and indeed she was. She spun to find three men, jeans and hoodies spotted with blood and with grins on their faces. They all stood with their hands in the large pocket of their hoody as they moved forward in a walk. Mala glared at them and readied a hex in her mind.
All three of them lay unconscious a few moments later. Mala's enchanted shout echoed in their minds, blasting their conscience into a forced slumber. The weak minded never stood a chance at resisting her magic, and the spell was a good choice considering what she did a few nights ago. Better to not draw attention to herself, she decided. Looking down at them perfectly still save for some twitching and drooling, Mala pitied them for how unfortunate and foolish they were, but only for a moment before she began going through their pockets with the hand that didn't make her body hurt like hell. There was an impressive number of pockets on their attire, but she immediately stumbled upon their weaponry.
Two of them had those hand held weapons that Mala grew to dislike... immensely... and she thanked her luck that she struck them down before they had a chance to use them. The other puzzled her for a moment. It fit in her hand comfortably but seemed almost entirely harmless... until she applied pressure on one end with her finger. A blade sprung up and Mala's eyes widened for a moment in surprise. Apparently, even the most simple of weapons have complex, mechanical designs in this world. It did not take her long to learn how to retract the blade. She then went on to search the thugs for goals one and two.
They had a shortage on food, which did not surprise in the slightest, but she was sorely disappointed when she failed to find much in the way of currency. She procured pocket containers that appeared to be made of hard leather that folded into a small, pocket sized squares, but within them she found nothing more than strange cards and intricately decorated paper. Paper!!
“These ass-holes are as broke as I am!” she said, terribly annoyed and wrenching the paper out of the leather container. She tossed them behind her and they fell like leaves onto the street. She paused a moment and realized that these thugs probably weren't after any material goods, but decided that that was a mute point now that they were made safe with her spell. Digging through the side pocket on the last of them, Mala finally found coins, and her eyes lit up when she saw that not all of them were copper pieces. If this world had any sanity at all, these large silver coins should be able to buy her some warm clothes and a meal to boot! Now, all she needed to do was find some place to use them.
Placing the coins in her sweater's pocket, she turned to the thugs. They've seen your face, thought Mala. Mala reminded herself of a rule that she had followed religiously in the past. Leave no witnesses. They've seen her face and witnessed her power. When they awake, they may try to hunt her, but this time they will be prepared. Mala took out the knife she found earlier and let the blade snap into position.