Starter Pile

[jukironin]

Fractured Fibers

@quiinnsanity​

Instead of being greeted by Blackgate Penitentiary guards, Clark was greeted by guards better prepared to deal with the off-kilter.  Clark was dragged into the decrepit building where he was stuffed into a straightjacket and thrown into a cell, still desperately trying to activate his gift.  Clark was in full fight-or-flight mode as he still wasn’t over his haze.  Even if he was desperate for escape, this wasn’t typical behavior for him.  He started realizing this as he began to tire out, laying on the ground to clear his head.  As he did so, catching his breath, he tried to focus on two things: why he felt so out of it and why he was even arrested in the first place.

Thinking back, all Clark could remember as he came to was the blaring of sirens and men shouting at him.  He could barely register what it was that they were saying, but it was something along the lines of, “we finally got you Kubrick”.  After being thrown into the police car, he groggily grunted, focusing on using his gift to escape the car before it was too late...but nothing happened.  Desperate for escape, Clark began yelling about The Spool, other Realities, and Voltaire, very desperately asking out loud what was going on as he erratically shifted around in the back seat.  The officers reported Clark’s condition into the car’s radio (mentioning how it sounded as if he was arguing with someone), they were told to change their route and destination, leading Clark to his cell all by himself.  That is, until the doctor was ready to see him...

[jukironin]

Chip off the Apple

@bubblemom

It always seemed to tie back to Italy.  Thankfully, like the previous times it was a lovely sunny day.  The wind gave a refreshing warm breeze in spite of the humidity, and town square was buzzing with activity and a pleasant atmosphere…wait…no, something was definitely causing a ruckus.  What looked like a brown haired thug was punching a blonde youth that he tackled to the ground.

However, right before the brown haired thug landed his final punch, he was swept off his feet, and had his abdomen stomped on by the blonde youth, knocking the wind out of him.  The blonde youth then took a purse from the brown haired thug, and tossed it across the crowd that had formed around them to a lady.  The thug quickly got up and scrambled away, tightly clutching his gut, the blonde youth calling out to the lady in Italian, “sorry if I scuffed your bag,” before running after the thug, hoping he could catch him before losing him.

Needless to say, it was a good thing that Caesar’s husband Clark was out for the day before he could catch Anthony’s attempt at heroic escapades.

[jukironin]

Beyond Aether

@dinamodama

To say the city was in shambles was an understatement.  The streetlights were sparking and going on the fritz, the streets were flooding from broken hydrants causing cars to hydroplane and crash, and fires were quickly spreading from car to car and building to building.  Made even worse, the higher the vantage point, the more people could see the harsh cracks on the ground from all corners of the city forming, ruining roads and harming innocents...all leading to a central point: a prison.  As the prison itself was overtaken by cracks, it began to split in two, revealing what looked like...a stream of lava ready to flow through the cracks, burning the city to cinders...Then he woke up.

Clark, still woozy from his Vision, found himself in an alleyway (because of course it was an alleyway with his track record).  With a vague idea of what his goal was in mind, he needed to locate where he was.  As he began to exit the alley, he heard the blaring of sirens growing louder and multiplying.  Rushing out, he saw something from his vision: a skyscraper set ablaze.  It was still standing, but even with the firetrucks responding, more flames started to shatter and flare through the glass windows.  Clark had a feeling he had to act quick according to his vision, as this was no ordinary fire.

Grabbing some water bullets from his pouch, Clark readied himself to throw them in the air to load them into his revolver and-suddenly, a whip of water had extinguished the flames in one of the windows on the lower floor.  Then, the flames in the window next to it were extinguished.  This kept going at a rapid rate as Clark discovered the source of the sudden response: what looked like a firefighter in an interesting looking hooded helmet and...spigots for hands?  Whoever this man was, he was controlling the water that flowed from his pipes in an unbelievably fluid motion that killed the flames.  Shortly after this man’s appearance came another man, someone with a fiery beard that charged in to, what Clark assumed at least, will the fire to die down with his own hands.

A few more seconds of observing this, and Clark realized where he was: a Superhuman Reality.  Having dashed to find a clothing store of some sort, he saw someone roughly his size in a blue hoodie.  Clark offered to pay him generously for the hoodie, and the man gladly accepted despite the slight chill in the air.  Rushing behind a building, he folded his denim jacket and hid it under a mailbox (reversed so his jacket patch wouldn’t get ruined) and put on the hoodie, his tinted goggles, and dark beanie, in an attempt to conceal his identity without suspicion.

Darting back to the scene of the fire, Voltaire was ready to assist in any way he could.