so go downtown !

when you're alone and life is making you lonely you can always go downtown. when you've got worries, all the noise and the hurry seems to help, i know -- downtown.

[sureihsan]

i. dario argento // ii. "to elsie" - william carlos williams // iii. "maybe sprout wings" - the mountain goats

( uraz kaygılaroğlu, 37, cis man, he/him ) — Look who it is! If you take a look at our database, you’ll find that IHSAN KAPLAN is a “RESEARCH SUBJECT” (LAB RAT) that works in SECTOR 5. According to the file, they’re a mutant with the power of HORROR EMBODIMENT ( + MODERATE ELDRITCH PHYSIOLOGY). That must be why they’re CREATIVE and ERRATIC. If you ask me, they remind me of black holes in the sky, successfully mined fool’s gold, a bloody rendition of the starry night. They are affiliated with THE DAMNED.

QUICK FACTS:

full name: yaratık "ihsan" kaplan

date of birth: january 6th, 2138

zodiac big three: capricorn sun, gemini moon, gemini rising

gender & pronouns: cis man & he/him

sexual + romantic orientation: bisexual + bi/greyromantic

ethnicity: turkish

nationality: sol city-an...?

religion: atheist, raised a loosely practicing muslim

languages spoken: english (5), turkish (5)

enneagram: 4w5

mbti: infp

temperament: choleric-melancholic

alignment: chaotic evil / true neutral

ability: horror embodiment ( + moderate eldritch physiology )

affiliation: the damned

task: mutation break-down

BACKSTORY

triggers: neglect, drugs, murder

Born 'Yaratık,' the Turkish word for 'creature,' Ihsan was never destined for greatness. His birthright was nothing but pure horror...

See, Azra Kaplan's first pregnancy could be easily likened to Rosemary's Baby (a movie of centuries past). The life-form growing within her had little patience. But what could it do from within? Torment her days with hallucinations and delusions, torment her nights with nightmares and fits of sleep-walking that ended with her holding a knife. She had half a mind to take that knife and remove that source of grief.

-> But she couldn't bring herself to do it.

Thus, on a cold and ashen January night, a many-tentacled thing came into being. Two nurses suffered fatal heart attacks, the thing's father buckled under the weight of its stare, and the few remaining had to steel themselves. The only person entirely unaffected was Azra herself, watching in horror as her husband and those taking care of her dropped like flies around this... creature.

Her husband had suffered from the virus, that much was true, but neither of them ever could've imagined their child could be... this. That their child could be something so disgustingly powerful and evil in nature, it could take down a person by virtue of just being.

Nonetheless, Azra knew that releasing Yaratık onto the world would do more evil than good. (No one would know the price they could pay for looking at the infant, tentacles draping over its mouth like something out of the Lovecraftian pantheon.) Nonetheless, Azra did not have the heart to kill him. He had not killed her, after all.

The only solution she could think of was to raise him in a shed until he could take a non-lethal form... if the day ever came.

The shed had a crib and a stuffed doll. Yaratık would receive the comfort and cuddles every child needed from the doll. Yaratık would sleep in the same crib long after he no longer needed a crib. Yaratık would be fed with blind eyes and, when he became capable of feeding himself, food through a slot in the shed's door.

Azra was not actively trying to be cruel to her child, but she went through ebbs and flows with him. On the best days, she felt terrible for what she was doing and would try to cuddle him inside the shed. On the worst days, she felt as though she wasn't doing enough, terrified to even step near the shed -- his influence was strong and he hadn't a modicum of control over it.

But Yaratık began thriving in the darkness with his real mom -- the stuffed one who sat in the corner, always available to offer love. By the time he was two, he had learned everything he would have needed to enter kindergarten. By the time he was kindergarten age, he had learned everything he would have needed to enter middle-school. As such, Yaratık had learned very early on how to control his form and influence. He knew what he was. He didn't have to ask, he didn't have to read books, he didn't have to research -- overheard conversations or intuition or the universe simply told him what he was. And, more than mutant, he was fear. He was horror. And, somewhere along the way, he became a poet.

Petty from the beginning, he played dumb around his mother. It made those brief moments of revenge, inducing deep dread or a mental breakdown, excusable -- because he just didn't know better!

But he grew tired of those four walls. At 7, he pretended he had just discovered how to control his form. As such, he was released.

It was not until he was released that he learned of the family dynamic shifts. His mother had remarried, 'in love' with a man Yaratık had never even heard of. The two of them had had a daughter together... two years ago. Completely unbeknownst to him, Yaratık had been an older brother for two years.

It took great willpower to not shatter his mother's sanity on the spot. It took great willpower to not strengthen his presence and induce a heart attack on his mother's new husband at first sight. As for his sister? There was not an ounce of ire towards her. By most standards, a two-year-old would never know better -- by most standards, a two-year-old would barely be capable of so much as forming memories. She was blameless. And, for that, Yaratık would not send their mother off the deep end and kill their father.

But, as Yaratık aged, he watched the favoritism towards his sister grow. Because they were still afraid of him. They were still afraid of what he could do. His mother, his killer, hugged him less and less. And the older he grew, the less he enjoyed his power.

When he reached high-school, he allowed himself to become entirely friendless. Everyone was either too dull or too dumb -- usually both. Of all things, he never would have assumed that a highly increased IQ would be a byproduct... but he was feeling rather Lovecraftian, was he not? If he was 6 when he was 2, if he was 11 when he was 5...

He began retreating to the shed he grew up in more and more often. He wrote... and he wrote... and he wrote. He painted... and he painted... and he painted. He dreamed... and he dreamed... and he dreamed.

-> Until he finally tried it.

He didn't know what the substance was, but it would change him, even if only for a moment. He felt himself begin to equal his peers in maturity and intelligence. He felt himself shine a little bit brighter. And, as soon as it came on, it wore off.

On this substance, he made friends (or, in some cases, reignited old friendships). On this substance, he was euphoric. On this substance, he enjoyed his power -- a little too much, perhaps.

The shed became his home again, no longer letting himself be subjected to his mother and her husband. He concocted just as many grand plans as he did poems. And one of those plans?

After his mother's mental breakdown and her husband's untimely heart attack, he threw Yaratık away. Ihsan, "perfection," was born.

When the time came for him to 'get a job,' so to speak, he relented to being a research subject for Sector 5. There were many things worth studying! ...including his brain on any drug that needed testing.

Falling in with The Damned was all but a given. The side effects of the virus could have been great! They could have wiped out humankind -- and it'd be a much better world that way.

Ihsan was never destined for greatness, but greatness he made himself become.

TIMELINE

BORN -- Cthulhu-coded motherfucker killed almost everyone in the delivery room, including his mutant father, by virtue of existing. If it weren't for the fact that I kinda need someone to do the snip snip and all that, it would've been everyone but his mom! But I needed someone to do the snip snip, so... just most people.

EARLY CHILDHOOD -- Tossed into a shed with the bare necessities + a stuffed life-sized doll, a la Harlow's monkey. Mom (Azra) came and went, just like their relationship.

AGE 2 -- Learned how to manipulate his form. The little guy is borderline Eldritch, so the little guy knew how to do shit before he should have!

AGE 7 -- Opened up about knowing how to control his form and got released from the shed. Learned his mother had remarried and had a 2y/o daughter.

LATE CHILDHOOD / EARLY ADOLESCENCE -- Observed the blatant favoritism. Began withdrawing into himself. Started hating his mutation. Returned to the shed more often to write #poetry and paint some so-totally-not-horrifying paintings.

MID-TEENS -- Was a friendless loser who spent every day in the shed because that Cthulhu IQ, amirite? Tried some unknown drug... and kept going back to it because he felt damn-near euphoric on it -- and suddenly everyone was just as smart as he was!

LATE-TEENS / EARLY-TWENTIES -- Became a research subject for Sector 5 with plenty of brains to pick and drugs to try for size. Joined The Damned -- humankind did enough harm, the virus should've wiped it out on its first run-through.

AGE 21 -- Drove his mother permanently insane and killed her husband (with the official cause of death being a heart attack). His sister was 17 by then! That's fine! Officially rebranded from "Yaratık" ("creature") to "Ihsan" ("perfection") soon after.

HEADCANONS

Although his true form is very Lovecraftian in nature, he's almost always in his 'skin suit.' But, even then, his eyes are hypnotic swirls. Black sclera with white spirals.

This is mentioned in his mutation breakdown, but his true form: tentacles instead of a mouth (he communicates through mind links), tentacles instead of legs, dragon-like wings... you know, just full Eldrith. Think Char Gar Gothakon from Scooby-Doo Mystery Inc, just with tentacles for legs and dragon wings.

Skinsuit!Ihsan? Horrible little guy. Very silly goofy, though. Eldritch!Ihsan? Morally grey. Not silly goofy, should just be a philosopher. Both? Hate the government. Ihsan is not Ihsan if he does not hate the government.

Still possesses above average intelligence when he's in his skinsuit, but it's the bearable type of above average. (Listen, when you read all of this, if you've seen the episode of House where the guy huffs glue or paint or whatever to dumb himself down so he can bear life... that's Ihsan when I say things like this!)

"What the FUCK!?" - anyone who stumbles upon Ihsan's paintings and/or poems (this man is basically "Shine On You Crazy Diamond (all parts)" personified, so...

CONNECTION IDEAS

sibling but hold up for a sec lale <3

childhood friends who were loved then lost then loved again and maybe lost again but maybe not!

buddies in the damned!

some fuck-buddies!

someone who likes to get deep with eldritch!ihsan (see: not high!ihsan)

[ofruinations]

"He is very... chatty." There is something beneath the surface that January dares not tread, but her curiosity always gets the better of her. Null felt like a pit but this almost felt like a whirlwind, and she wonders if she could be torn to shreds by it for simply making psychic contact. "It asks me, by using my full name, I might add, to remind you of who it is, which I assume is a bad idea," she continues. "Is it a bad idea, Mister—"

[sureihsan]

"Oi -- no one would be better off for it, my friend." Which, to his credit, was mostly true. "He's tired. We're tired." Just because he could largely control the more unruly aspects, the more dangerous parts... did not mean much. "Ihsan, no 'Mister.'" Far too formal for a man of his nature, he did believe! Then, hand rubbing his chin, one eyebrow cocked... " 'right, I suppose if he knows your full name, I know your full name." Guessing game time! No attempts to enter her mind, no attempts to use his mutation, just vibes alone... "Winter."

[ofruinations]

for @sureihsan—

"Aren't you a curious little man? Hello to you and—" Her eyes, her mind catches something. Like a whale in a kennel, like a cornered animal, barely conscious by design. "Yours?"

[sureihsan]

"Curious, eh? I like that one." "You hear me." Yaratik was kept away, held under lock and key, always for the better. Yaratik was the cause of infinite loneliness, of delirium, of a grey world. Ihsan preferred forgetting him, forgetting himself -- easy with drugs. But if the right person broke through... "You're rather curious yourself. You hear mine, do you?" "January St. James, it's been a long time. Remind him, remind me, of who I am."

[buriedwithit]

starter for @sureihsan !!

"you and i," he pokes ihsan right in the chest; "need to get into trouble. none of this "i'm busy" nonsense, you hear?"

[sureihsan]

"Oi -- you know, it's been a while since I've had any real fun." Staving off his reality could only do the trick for so long, and how boring it could become to just... go for the ones who 'deserved it.' "Another tag team? Old time's sake?"

[sureihsan]

i. dario argento // ii. "to elsie" - william carlos williams // iii. "maybe sprout wings" - the mountain goats

( uraz kaygılaroğlu, 37, cis man, he/him ) — Look who it is! If you take a look at our database, you’ll find that IHSAN KAPLAN is a “RESEARCH SUBJECT” (LAB RAT) that works in SECTOR 5. According to the file, they’re a mutant with the power of HORROR EMBODIMENT ( + MODERATE ELDRITCH PHYSIOLOGY). That must be why they’re CREATIVE and ERRATIC. If you ask me, they remind me of black holes in the sky, successfully mined fool’s gold, a bloody rendition of the starry night. They are affiliated with THE DAMNED.

QUICK FACTS:

full name: yaratık "ihsan" kaplan

date of birth: january 6th, 2138

zodiac big three: capricorn sun, gemini moon, gemini rising

gender & pronouns: cis man & he/him

sexual + romantic orientation: bisexual + bi/greyromantic

ethnicity: turkish

nationality: sol city-an...?

religion: atheist, raised a loosely practicing muslim

languages spoken: english (5), turkish (5)

enneagram: 4w5

mbti: infp

temperament: choleric-melancholic

alignment: chaotic evil / true neutral

ability: horror embodiment ( + moderate eldritch physiology )

affiliation: the damned

task: mutation break-down

BACKSTORY

triggers: neglect, drugs, murder

Born 'Yaratık,' the Turkish word for 'creature,' Ihsan was never destined for greatness. His birthright was nothing but pure horror...

See, Azra Kaplan's first pregnancy could be easily likened to Rosemary's Baby (a movie of centuries past). The life-form growing within her had little patience. But what could it do from within? Torment her days with hallucinations and delusions, torment her nights with nightmares and fits of sleep-walking that ended with her holding a knife. She had half a mind to take that knife and remove that source of grief.

-> But she couldn't bring herself to do it.

Thus, on a cold and ashen January night, a many-tentacled thing came into being. Two nurses suffered fatal heart attacks, the thing's father buckled under the weight of its stare, and the few remaining had to steel themselves. The only person entirely unaffected was Azra herself, watching in horror as her husband and those taking care of her dropped like flies around this... creature.

Her husband had suffered from the virus, that much was true, but neither of them ever could've imagined their child could be... this. That their child could be something so disgustingly powerful and evil in nature, it could take down a person by virtue of just being.

Nonetheless, Azra knew that releasing Yaratık onto the world would do more evil than good. (No one would know the price they could pay for looking at the infant, tentacles draping over its mouth like something out of the Lovecraftian pantheon.) Nonetheless, Azra did not have the heart to kill him. He had not killed her, after all.

The only solution she could think of was to raise him in a shed until he could take a non-lethal form... if the day ever came.

The shed had a crib and a stuffed doll. Yaratık would receive the comfort and cuddles every child needed from the doll. Yaratık would sleep in the same crib long after he no longer needed a crib. Yaratık would be fed with blind eyes and, when he became capable of feeding himself, food through a slot in the shed's door.

Azra was not actively trying to be cruel to her child, but she went through ebbs and flows with him. On the best days, she felt terrible for what she was doing and would try to cuddle him inside the shed. On the worst days, she felt as though she wasn't doing enough, terrified to even step near the shed -- his influence was strong and he hadn't a modicum of control over it.

But Yaratık began thriving in the darkness with his real mom -- the stuffed one who sat in the corner, always available to offer love. By the time he was two, he had learned everything he would have needed to enter kindergarten. By the time he was kindergarten age, he had learned everything he would have needed to enter middle-school. As such, Yaratık had learned very early on how to control his form and influence. He knew what he was. He didn't have to ask, he didn't have to read books, he didn't have to research -- overheard conversations or intuition or the universe simply told him what he was. And, more than mutant, he was fear. He was horror. And, somewhere along the way, he became a poet.

Petty from the beginning, he played dumb around his mother. It made those brief moments of revenge, inducing deep dread or a mental breakdown, excusable -- because he just didn't know better!

But he grew tired of those four walls. At 7, he pretended he had just discovered how to control his form. As such, he was released.

It was not until he was released that he learned of the family dynamic shifts. His mother had remarried, 'in love' with a man Yaratık had never even heard of. The two of them had had a daughter together... two years ago. Completely unbeknownst to him, Yaratık had been an older brother for two years.

It took great willpower to not shatter his mother's sanity on the spot. It took great willpower to not strengthen his presence and induce a heart attack on his mother's new husband at first sight. As for his sister? There was not an ounce of ire towards her. By most standards, a two-year-old would never know better -- by most standards, a two-year-old would barely be capable of so much as forming memories. She was blameless. And, for that, Yaratık would not send their mother off the deep end and kill their father.

But, as Yaratık aged, he watched the favoritism towards his sister grow. Because they were still afraid of him. They were still afraid of what he could do. His mother, his killer, hugged him less and less. And the older he grew, the less he enjoyed his power.

When he reached high-school, he allowed himself to become entirely friendless. Everyone was either too dull or too dumb -- usually both. Of all things, he never would have assumed that a highly increased IQ would be a byproduct... but he was feeling rather Lovecraftian, was he not? If he was 6 when he was 2, if he was 11 when he was 5...

He began retreating to the shed he grew up in more and more often. He wrote... and he wrote... and he wrote. He painted... and he painted... and he painted. He dreamed... and he dreamed... and he dreamed.

-> Until he finally tried it.

He didn't know what the substance was, but it would change him, even if only for a moment. He felt himself begin to equal his peers in maturity and intelligence. He felt himself shine a little bit brighter. And, as soon as it came on, it wore off.

On this substance, he made friends (or, in some cases, reignited old friendships). On this substance, he was euphoric. On this substance, he enjoyed his power -- a little too much, perhaps.

The shed became his home again, no longer letting himself be subjected to his mother and her husband. He concocted just as many grand plans as he did poems. And one of those plans?

After his mother's mental breakdown and her husband's untimely heart attack, he threw Yaratık away. Ihsan, "perfection," was born.

When the time came for him to 'get a job,' so to speak, he relented to being a research subject for Sector 5. There were many things worth studying! ...including his brain on any drug that needed testing.

Falling in with The Damned was all but a given. The side effects of the virus could have been great! They could have wiped out humankind -- and it'd be a much better world that way.

Ihsan was never destined for greatness, but greatness he made himself become.

TIMELINE

BORN -- Cthulhu-coded motherfucker killed almost everyone in the delivery room, including his mutant father, by virtue of existing. If it weren't for the fact that I kinda need someone to do the snip snip and all that, it would've been everyone but his mom! But I needed someone to do the snip snip, so... just most people.

EARLY CHILDHOOD -- Tossed into a shed with the bare necessities + a stuffed life-sized doll, a la Harlow's monkey. Mom (Azra) came and went, just like their relationship.

AGE 2 -- Learned how to manipulate his form. The little guy is borderline Eldritch, so the little guy knew how to do shit before he should have!

AGE 7 -- Opened up about knowing how to control his form and got released from the shed. Learned his mother had remarried and had a 2y/o daughter.

LATE CHILDHOOD / EARLY ADOLESCENCE -- Observed the blatant favoritism. Began withdrawing into himself. Started hating his mutation. Returned to the shed more often to write #poetry and paint some so-totally-not-horrifying paintings.

MID-TEENS -- Was a friendless loser who spent every day in the shed because that Cthulhu IQ, amirite? Tried some unknown drug... and kept going back to it because he felt damn-near euphoric on it -- and suddenly everyone was just as smart as he was!

LATE-TEENS / EARLY-TWENTIES -- Became a research subject for Sector 5 with plenty of brains to pick and drugs to try for size. Joined The Damned -- humankind did enough harm, the virus should've wiped it out on its first run-through.

AGE 21 -- Drove his mother permanently insane and killed her husband (with the official cause of death being a heart attack). His sister was 17 by then! That's fine! Officially rebranded from "Yaratık" ("creature") to "Ihsan" ("perfection") soon after.

HEADCANONS

Although his true form is very Lovecraftian in nature, he's almost always in his 'skin suit.' But, even then, his eyes are hypnotic swirls. Black sclera with white spirals.

This is mentioned in his mutation breakdown, but his true form: tentacles instead of a mouth (he communicates through mind links), tentacles instead of legs, dragon-like wings... you know, just full Eldrith. Think Char Gar Gothakon from Scooby-Doo Mystery Inc, just with tentacles for legs and dragon wings.

Skinsuit!Ihsan? Horrible little guy. Very silly goofy, though. Eldritch!Ihsan? Morally grey. Not silly goofy, should just be a philosopher. Both? Hate the government. Ihsan is not Ihsan if he does not hate the government.

Still possesses above average intelligence when he's in his skinsuit, but it's the bearable type of above average. (Listen, when you read all of this, if you've seen the episode of House where the guy huffs glue or paint or whatever to dumb himself down so he can bear life... that's Ihsan when I say things like this!)

"What the FUCK!?" - anyone who stumbles upon Ihsan's paintings and/or poems (this man is basically "Shine On You Crazy Diamond (all parts)" personified, so...

CONNECTION IDEAS

sibling but hold up for a sec lale <3

childhood friends who were loved then lost then loved again and maybe lost again but maybe not!

buddies in the damned!

some fuck-buddies!

someone who likes to get deep with eldritch!ihsan (see: not high!ihsan)

[buriedwithit]

ihsan has always been a little more impatient than he is, but santiago makes exceptions for people that are useful. it's why he accepts his insufferable habit of shirking sobriety—because while his intellect does suffer, he's still smarter than everyone else in the room. "we," he slings an arm around ihsan's shoulders; "are going to take on the capitol building, the research sector, and every torture room in this city in one fell swoop. i've had others investigating the inner workings so that we can punch through their defenses. i'll need someone i can count on to make sure our footing holds."

[sureihsan]

These we the kinds of things that Ihsan had been waiting for. Ever since joining The Damned, he'd been content to twiddle his thumbs and trust that there was a plan... and the fucking plan was there! "Fuckin' incredible, Santiago!" They were actually going to make some fucking headway, and it sounded like it wasn't going to be something easily forgotten. It sounded like they were getting closer to destroying the city. "'Right, copy that. The footing's gonna fuckin' hold."

[ofruinations]

He laughs it off, but doesn't expound anymore. His contingencies are his and his alone, buried deep under cryptic ciphers and firewalls too deep for most to pierce. That and having an analog one that needs a cipher—the elegance of the non-digital is something to behold. Being ratted out to his coworkers, however pragmatic they might be, is a bad look, and worse if he can't maintain the situation. He's powerful, of course, but it only gets him so far. "And I give you my word—as long as I'm able? I'll fill you up with as many mind-numbing concoctions I can get my wicked little hands on." Brandishing a scalpel, seeing as his baseline readings are back to normal, Adonis starts to map out his next plan of attack. "Before we get back to business: how do you feel about a future procedure where I open your skull, Ihsan? Too much?"

[sureihsan]

What more could he ask from Adonis? As long as he kept making good on the mind-numbing shit Ihsan had grown so fond of, he had no reason to say a thing. And he was far more worried about losing that than any contingencies Adonis may have in place -- nothing to worry about there! A future procedure where his skull was cracked open? Well, as long as he was still getting his little concoctions... "Open away, Moreau."

[sureihsan]

@k-618

Standing outside the door that he had told Kei to meet him at, Ihsan wasted no time in small talk when he saw her. There was important things to be done! "'Right, so I've got the perfect person to start you on. Already had a real fucking weak constitution, got even weaker a few minutes ago." Ihsan may or may not have beaten him up and tied him to a chair a few minutes ago.

[animusvenenatus]

closed starter // @sureihsan

"I'm not letting go until you say I'm stronger and better than you!" Getting the drop on Ihsan wasn't easy, and she's proud of herself for getting him in a chokehold. He hasn't done anything to annoy her lately, but she's a big fan of payback. This is for all the times he's looked in her general direction or breathed too loudly. "Say it, you know you want to."

[sureihsan]

Ihsan knew to expect many things, but he did not know to expect Tenzin literally jumping down on him. "Oi!" He began shaking back and forth, an attempt to get her off without having to use any mutation (which he had to assume she would also do) or say that she was stronger and better than him. Psh! That was silly talk! "Ey, why would I say that? I am way fucking stronger and way fucking better!" He did not necessarily believe that (at least the latter part!), but who would he be to let Tenzin get one over on him? And to not play?

[ofruinations]

The thought of being betrayed, or at leasst ratted out by a patient—it fills him both with wonder and dread. It's never out of the realm of possibility, and yet he's been careful enough to pick mutants who come to him, who are both desperate and discreet, knowing that one of that will help cover for the other. He will present himself as a kind man, if only for the delight of cutting through flesh and discovering the prize beneath. Adonis looks, and for a second, considers the question as it's laid before him. "I have contingencies, of course. There are reasons I don't just pick any old mutant off the street," he says, looking into the dead eyes of Ihsan. "And I'm not sharing them with you." A teasing smile glances off his lips as he scans him, humming as he does so. Work really is fulfilling—a betrayal would so stop this. "What if you, in your words, rat me out?"

[sureihsan]

Ihsan raised an eyebrow, interest certainly piquing at whatever failsafes Adonis may have in place. He was not dumb enough to think there were no contingency plans, Adonis was far too smart to just... rely on someone's word and desperation, but what exactly they could be had never entered his mind. Apparently his mind needed to be marred for that to happen. "Oi, well, even fucking excluding whatever your contingencies are, I'd lose my fucking supplier." That was what Adonis was best for now! And that was the main reason Ihsan would never rat him out ( not that he wouldn't consider starting shit among the Council just to start shit, but never would he name names! ). "Can't have that happening, my friend. I'd have to fucking rely on the Sector Five shit and the Sector Five shit alone again."

[buriedwithit]

"that's exactly how i see it." it's different for them, of course. they know their work is for the greater good—or whatever—but the people in power would keep them suppressed. revolution has never come without a toppling of the stage. "very big. in fact, if you'll take a walk with me," back to the caverns, where they can't be tracked; "i'd like to talk to you about your greater role in that. this is just the beginning."

[sureihsan]

Although Ihsan was, to put it as simply as possible, not a fan of people in positions of power, he'd never been able to help but admire Santiago (as much as he could admire someone in a position of power, that is). He had an actual vision, a vision that would work towards the greater good. And he... to be a bit sappy (oh, how he hated it!), Santiago understood him better than most! -- So he trusted that Santiago's plan, and whatever Ihsan's place in it would be, would be superb. "'Right." He began strolling alongside Santiago, attempting to stay perfectly in line with him. "So what's the plan, ey?"

[ofruinations]

Oh! Psychoanalysis. How interesting to hear from a man high out of his mind and whose brain is essentially maimed as they talk. Adonis lets him speak, eyes trained on him long and hard as he goes on a ramble about his hunch. His mind pings something—no telepathy at the moment, and files it away as he listens. The man talking about how he cares of his subjects, how there's a little good in that corroded wall of muscle he calls a heart and with anything, he simply shrugs it off. His motivation is knowledge, to him, it was king, but it was true—he would rather keep them alive to test them until the sun burns the earth than to maim and maul for curiosity's sake. "Should I act according to your previous conception of me, and open your skull to test on? Wouldn't that be something?" It's a macabre joke, but he rolls his eyes. He feels untethered here, unbound by the laws of the city, pursuing innovation and mutation hand in hand as he cuts and concocts. "But my job is to simply innovate, know, try to advance the study of mutant physiology, genetics and subsequent treatment. And that perhaps comes across as, what did you say? Help." He's not a deranged killer, or a butcher—he's a man of science, willing to hack away at the meat of the problem and figure out the core of mutation. "Perhaps a by-product of my curiosity, and who's to say? But I enjoy what I do, and I assume many mutants I perform my experiments on do as well—if not, I'd have been ousted already, and sent to the penitentiaries."

[sureihsan]

"Go for it, my friend. Fucking crack it open right now." It was part challenge -- prove Ihsan wrong, prove Adonis only cared about knowledge and would gladly cause long-term damage in the name of fast results -- and part... well, Ihsan didn't really give a shit! Whether it was the sedative or the maimed brain or the general lack of caring about whether he lived or died ( or some unholy combination... which was probably what it was ), if Adonis had some fun in his skull before his mind had time to properly heal, so fucking be it! Ihsan let his head fall to the side, rather tired of holding it up, and raised an eyebrow. "Ever thought about what'd happen if one of the experiments did fucking rat on you?" He wouldn't ( not that he wouldn't tease another Council member into suspicion just for the hell of it ) -- that would mean losing his supplier! -- but who was to say one of the... however-many-others wouldn't grow tired and reveal him? "What would you do, ey?"

[buriedwithit]

"good." naturally, santiago wouldn't have asked if he didn't already think that to be true. if he thinks someone can't perform, they're put on the outskirts where they can't fuck anything up. the others, the competent ones, would be the movers and shakers. it's not that it's a crime not to be useful, of course—he's not snubbing them entirely. but their kingdom isn't here yet. they'll have to wait for that ever-coveted feeling of importance. "not only that, they're cowardly enough to hide it. funny, isn't it? if they really thought they had some good to do, they'd wear it proudly." they certainly did. "i want this to be your priority from now on, kaplan. understand that. everything else is secondary."

[sureihsan]

"No point in keeping secrets if you think it's for the greater good, ey?" Ihsan agreed with a slightly amused smile. Oh, how nice it would be to be able to brainwash yourself the way humans seemed to do to themselves so easily! "Got it." It was a good thing Ihsan already didn't do much outside of complain about the government and manifest The Horrors™ when he got bored. "We got something big coming, I take it?"

[sable-hart]

"Yes, me caring about the optics of the Council is certainly comparable to conducting unethical experiments on vulnerable mutants." Sable says archly. She does resent the implication that her behaviour is predatory, but it's difficult to take it too personally. Clearly Ihsan is determined to be combative in any way he can, purely on the basis of her being a Councillor. It's not about her, it's about her position of authority. In that way, he really is like a petulant teenager.

"Are you counting yourself among the vulnerable, then, out of interest? Since you say all these alleged experimentation victims are vulnerable." It's not the first word that Sable would use to describe Ihsan, nor the second or the third... truthfully, the only reason she's not the least bit frightened is because they're in so public a place. In a dark alley? She'd not be so bold.

[sureihsan]

"Glad we're in agreement, then!" Obviously it was not the same thing, but was Ihsan mature enough to admit that? Of course not! At least, not to one of the people he was talking about. Nonetheless, he didn't not find these optic plays predatory; nonetheless, he didn't not find the fake smiles and fake support nearly as reprehensible as the unethical experimentation... "Actually, yes." He was talking one big game ( and a game he could follow through on, consequences be damned ), but he couldn't pretend that he wasn't growing reliant on Adonis for the specialized drug he supplied. To support that, he shook the bottle of pills again. If it weren't for those, if it weren't for all he was offered in return for being a his lab rat, there was a possibility Ihsan would have ratted the man out the moment he learned of the experimentation. Although it was far more likely he would have just... taken it into his own hands. "Haven't ever met a single person who'd get fucking poked and prodded just to get fucking poked and prodded." Save, perhaps, for Ezra, but she didn't need to know that.

[k-618]

Her mouth parts to retort in some way, only to close again when they had seemingly entered her mind with just a snap of his fingers. Suffice to say she wasn’t expecting any of this – not the entering her mind, not the pinpointing the exact point of her life where it had all gone to shit, and especially not when he starts his spiel going into detail about what he can do – what she can be capable of.

“Holy shit,” they muttered weakly. It had been a long time since she had actually felt fear herself. All of this was out of her control and she was, quite frankly, out of her element and in her element at the same time. The rush of adrenaline quickly blooms into something else and she breaks into a fit of laughter, streaks of black and white pigment appearing on her face in response to her own fear.

And it felt… so fucking good. She felt alive. What a rush!

Kei refocuses on him now, catching her breath in the process. Whoever this was, intentions be damned. She wanted to feel alive again. “You fucking bet. Where do I start?”

[sureihsan]

"Imagine all the shit you could do with this, yeah? Way more than just stall a few opponents, ey?" She could damn well traumatize them if she wanted to! And he would find a way -- he would find a way -- to help her take it a step further and change their subjective reality, no mindscape needed! But that was for the future. Right now, he had to figure out how to get Kei inside a mind... what a fun challenge!

He unnecessarily snapped his fingers again, returning the two of them to the ring. "I'm thinking we'll find someone with a weak constitution first -- should make it easier to enter their mind and make them break. I've got a few contacts - " - see: people he had a vendetta against for petty reasons and had originally planned on driving insane then killing himself but now there was someone interested and and and - " - that we can look into."

With her agreement officially in place, he extended a hand. "Ihsan."

[animusvenenatus]

open starter // caspar blix

"Damn it," he mumbles, checking for a pulse. Caspar experiences a flicker of guilt each time he takes a life, but it's unavoidable; he craves violence and turmoil as intensely as pregnant women crave pickles with peanut butter. He hears footsteps behind him and stands up straight. The alley now feels colder and more threatening than it did a few seconds ago. "Must've been a mugging or some shit," he lies, glancing at the corpse. "I just found him like this."

[sureihsan]

"Oi! Is that what you tell people?" Ihsan asked with an amused grin, reaching down to slap pat Caspar on the back. He was safe to be honest with! He understood! "That's how you get yourself sent to the penitentiary, my friend."

[k-618]

“And how do you plan on doing that?” That was her biggest question. Truthfully, she had already made up her mind – she was going to hear him out. She had been doing so good so far, not putting anybody else in danger and not causing any trouble (at least not on purpose!) Surely, she deserves to let loose sometimes? What about all the other mutants who could do as they pleased without being condemned because of it? Kei could do very little about impulse control now. “Show me.” Kei taunted. If this was a hoax, then so be it. Worst case scenario she’ll get a good rush out of fighting him.

[sureihsan]

"Oi! That'll be the fun part." Ihsan knew he could teach them how to unlock their full potential... he just didn't know how -- however, for better or for worse, he had enough unearned confidence to speak as though there was no way he wouldn't be able to figure it out! If only he had not innately learned his own full potential... "Show you, ey? 'Right then." With a completely unnecessary snap of his fingers, the arena -- or whatever they wanted to call it -- disappeared, replaced by a black abyss. "Welcome to your mind, Kei." A door appeared, labeled '[WHATEVER YEAR THE SOLDIERS INVADED KEI'S HOME]'. If Ihsan were in his true form, he wouldn't have to touch the door... but outside of it, he rested a hand on top. "If I wanted to -- and it's pretty fucking tempting -- I could turn your mindscape from this void into what's behind this door. Soldiers and militia and all that good shit!" It really was taking all of his restraint to not do it... but he had a feeling they would trust him more if he did not make them relive one of their lesser memories ( though he was certain there were some even worse ones in one of those doors... ). "You can fucking enter people's minds and turn their reality into the worst thing they've ever fucking experienced, my friend! Doesn't that sound a little more fun than just continuously turning into whatever their deepest fear is?"