Dowan's posts

@Lunakiri:

Eugene - or rather, the individual controlling his body at the moment - watched her intensely. It was likely his first time observing another power, and he showed it. The excitement on his face was evident as she revealed the black markings and seemed to distort the world around them. "Whoa," he let out a soft gasp after she had done her work. The men were clearly unconscious, but their true fates were unknown.

"That was amazin'!" He walked up to her with a smile.

She asked him if he needed a place to stay and he thought about it. He had no idea the state of Eugene's apartment, but there was another issue at hand. "Think that'd be good, ya. Besides, I kinda wanna y'know..." He shrugged the shoulder that still had the knife protruding from it, and couldn't help but grimace slightly. "I can take it, but your bro? Prob... probably can, but... I dun wanna hurt him anymore." His tone shrunk at the last few words, and she could barely make out what he was saying. He looked away then, and scratched his cheek in slight embarrassment.

"What should we do with the girl, though?"

@Lunakiri:

"Kinda didn't think I'd piss off an actual gang," Eugene shrugged with a hand on the back of his neck. "There's probably somethin' else goin' on, but y'know... I'm not the smart one." He tore his gaze away from Erica for a moment almost jarringly, and took a swift look to the right. "Man... what a pain in the ass. That kid from earlier just bolted. Josh, was it? Joey? Fuck if I remember..."

During their entire conversation, the group of ragtag students and would-be gang members stood very quietly. It looked as if they had some... idea as to what transpired, but none would dare speak up about it after seeing their brethren obliterated. Now it was as if they were awaiting their fate to be realized by two monsters who had them utterly cornered, waiting to devour them.

"Hey," he faced her with a more serious expression. "Think ya can do somethin' about their minds? Maybe make 'em go braindead or some shit? Killin' them now would be in poor taste for a punk, is all..." He took one of her hands abruptly and placed the gun in her grasp before going to the unconscious Kyla. He ruffled his hair for a moment in thought before carefully arranging her body over his back... making sure to avoid the knife.

He pushed himself upright, then, and made sure her head was resting against his with her arms on either side of his neck. Wrapping his arms under her legs, he glanced to Erica to see what she had decided.

Smells a lot like Wrath.

@drowsy: It's good to have you. I hope you like it here! I've never actually heard of Recolor.me. Maybe I should check it out? ^^

@another movie addict: I'm sure you'll be alright. ^^

I lived in Florida for quite some time and have been through my share of hurricanes. It's a terrible time, to say the least, but the darkness will ultimately shed light.

Ugh, this is going to sound so lame. LOL

I forget the details exactly, but somehow 'Dowan' translates into "prince of darkness." I've always been a fan of the dark or shadow element in gaming, and I'm always a rogue/assassin, so the name spawned from playing an assassin in Grand Fantasia many years ago.

Before that, I was primarily Lore... but Lore is an almost impossible name to get. I didn't know what lore meant then, either. It just sounded cool. XD

@Lunakiri:

As the scarred man was making his demands, he felt strange. The power radiating from Erica's arm began slowly seeping into his psyche, and his vision started to turn red. He gripped the gun so tightly that his fingernails cut into the skin of his palm, but he couldn't focus enough to fire. He clutched his head with his other hand, and that's when it happened. One of his goons fell over the side of the upper floor and crashed in front of him with a woman in tow.

Eugene moved quickly, then, circling the mess his sister had made to thrust his palm into the outstretched arm of the scarred man - the supposed ringleader of these 'Blood Brothers.' The man's forearm snapped up from the force, and he screamed in rage. Eugene snatched the gun from his loose fingers and pistol whipped him across the side of the head. He swung the pistol with the momentum to aim it at the thug currently pressed over Erica, and shot into his back.

Twice for good measure.

Even enraged by her power, the man slumped off of her and onto his side, whimpering like a wounded animal from the bleeding holes in his back where the bullets were still lodged. With a careful eye on the remaining forces, Eugene walked over to his sister. He held out one hand while keeping the gun trained on anyone who dared to move.

"So you're his sis, huh? Thinks about you a lot," he smirked. "Up you go, then." He beckoned her to take his hand. The remaining few members of the gang were confused on how to act. They were hesitating with some stealing a glance at Kyla, thinking to use her as a hostage. After all, they had no idea what they were getting themselves into with the sibling duo.

@Lunakiri:

What Erica witnessed first was her brother thrusting his elbow into the chest of what could only be described as a punk. The majority of his assailants seemed to be young men, but there was one individual that stood out to her - an older man with a bald head and scars across his features. He was also the only one wearing fine clothes, and he seemed to only be observing the fight, arms crossed with a stoic expression.

The punk lost his footing and Eugene pressed his advantage, ducking low into a sweeping kick that floored his opponent in a blind instant. Eugene turned in time to catch a man's wrist before he could stab him. He bent the arm at a sickening angle, pulled the man close, and slammed his knee into the man's groin to down him. Two down. Including the incapacitated Dave, seven were left.

"Urgh!" Eugene let out a cry of pain as the young one who threw the knife earlier leapt to it and grabbed the handle to drive it deeper. He flailed wildly for a few moments before lashing out with his left hand, punching the kid in the throat and launching him into a crumpled unconscious heap. Six.

He stomped a foot down onto the floor and braced himself for a larger man running at him, head bent down as if the man fancied himself a bull. The man's head crashed into his chest, but his feet only budged backwards by an inch or two. The man blinked in surprise and found his throat with an arm wrapped around it. "Sorry 'bout this, but y'know... life doesn't always go your way." A few merciless moments and cracks later, and the man's head was facing the ceiling with his front collapsing onto the floor.

Five.

A gunshot rang out as a bullet bit into the floor at Eugene's feet. He straightened himself and narrowed his eyes at the scarred man who was then holding a pistol. "That's quite enough, you fuckin' freak. I've seen all I need to know. You're gonna come along quietly, or..." He pointed the gun at Kyla, then, but made no motion to smile. The situation clearly wasn't amusing to him. "You get it, right?"

Eugene kicked away the corpse of the large man and chuckled. "That's fuckin' expected of ya. Whatever." He rose his hands slowly in a display of surrender as the survivors staggered to their feet. He was surrounded, but he didn't look worried. He rolled his neck in a stretch of sorts and for a brief instant, Erica could have sworn his eyes were on her. That he knew she was there.... despite not exactly being 'her brother.'

"That's right. Now, my men are gonna beat the shit out of you and make sure you can't pull anything again. Just go along with it or I put a bullet in that whore's head. Understood?"

"Crystal."

@Lunakiri:

Eugene let out an almost feral cry as he leapt free from his broken restraints. Dave, throat still clutched in the man's hand, blinked in shock as a palm smashed into his nose. He was swept off his feet, then, and the back of his head met the concrete with a loud crack. Eugene was upon him, then, body pressing his own against the floor, and he could only see darkness as a fist launched into his face. His blood splattered as another pounded what used to be identifiably human features. One could now no longer recognize a nose.

"Hey, what's wrong buddy?" Eugene lifted his head up by his hair and spat in his face, but he was long unconscious by then. The man's jovial expression darkened, "Hey. You aren't allowed to rest yet." He reared back a fist, but felt strong arms suddenly pull him away from Dave and toss him to the ground.

"The fuck is this kid?!" A brown-haired man yelled to another.

"Dunno man, but he's a fuckin' monster!" An individual with a lip piercing whipped out a knife.

The two holding Joey threw him aside and rushed to the front. "Hmph," one of them grunted. "What are you punks scared for? He's just a kid, and you're armed! Don't give the Blood Brothers a bad fuckin' name, you hear me? Now take him out." He was an older man and looked to be one of the head honchos of the operation, if it could be called that. His head was perfectly shaven and he had a scar that sliced down one cheek and into the neck.

"Blood brothers?" Eugene scoffed as he staggered to his feet. He reared his head up and raised an eyebrow, fingers twitching as if imitating claws. There was a hunch to his form that gave off even more of an animalistic air. "How fuckin' lame. Oh, I get it! Is it cuz you all bleed so easily? Thass it, right? In that case, pretty fuckin' clever!" He let out a roar that sounded like laughter, and it echoed throughout the large chamber. "Well, whatcha waitin' for? COME ON!"

One young, trembling looking man looked to his sides, gripped the knife that was in his hands, and charged forward with a wild cry. Eugene ducked under his swing and sent a fist into his stomach. He doubled over in pain but was grabbed before he could fall, and felt his feet leave the floor. He was suddenly airborne as Eugene spun him once by the arm, and let go to launch him into the far wall. The knife he once held spun up into the air and then fell neatly into Eugene's waiting hand.

"Just give me a sec, ya?" He turned his back to the remaining men who looked at each other, sweat dripping from their brow. Walking swiftly to the captured girl, he leapt up and sliced the ropes that held her aloft. Her lithe form fell into his open arm, and he smiled softly. "Rest easy," he gently brushed her cheek with the back of the hand holding the knife, and held... a gentle expression. An expression cut short by a sudden searing pain in his shoulder.

A small knife was impaled there, thrown by an antsy punk.

Eugene ignored it, though, and laid Kyla gently on the floor. He cracked his neck a few times and rose slowly. He didn't bother with the knife. Impaled as it was, it would stop the bleeding. Turning on his heel, he beckoned them simply. "That hurt, yo, but I promise to repay you for it."

@Lunakiri:

His eyes fluttered open, but it was as if he was in a haze. The area around him was so dark that he could only make out the faintest of silhouettes moving about. He blinked hard in an attempt to focus, but it was difficult. Was it another lapse? Did they take control again? Wait, could he move?

Eugene tried his body at that point and found his arms were bound behind him. His wrists were strapped securely together, and his ankles were tied to the legs of what he could only assume to be a chair. He was sitting, after all, and apparently still shirtless. Wait, that was a clue! He had just taken a shower and was watching television when... a rock went through the sliding glass door that connected to the balcony.

However much time had passed, he was clearly in a situation that didn't bode well, and against his wishes. He had to be cautious and - wait, was that another person? He very slightly turned his head to the left and his eyes widened at the sight of feet dangling. His dark red gaze traveled up a pair of long legs, past a torn nightgown, and finally settled on an attractive female face of someone he knew well. The girl's arms were above her head, and she was essentially hanging from them, attached to a beam. She seemed to be gleefully unconscious at the moment.

Kyla, he thought. I see now. They used you to get to me, didn't they? I apologize.

"Hey, look who finally woke up! You like what you see, eh?"

He had to shut his eyes briefly as a piercing light flashed into existence ahead. He heard footsteps approach, and felt a swift connection to the side of his head. The familiar warmth of blood running down his temple, and the ringing in his ears was enough to let him know that hurt.

"Hey hey, don't go to sleep on me again! We're just getting started after all!"

The voice was familiar and obnoxious, and he started to tune it out as he took in the surroundings. He looked past the redhead and to the supporters lurking in the large building. It was probably the gymnasium. He saw another familiar face being held by two men in the back - their eyes locked for a moment, and he saw an apologetic Joey. That explains how they knew where he lived. Two... four...

"Aren'tcha gonna say somethin', jackass?!" Dave reared back an angry fist and slammed it into Eugene's stomach with a wicked grin on his face.

Outwardly, the black-haired young man coughed in pain, but inwardly he was still calculating. Eight? No, there are two above. That makes ten total.

A voice interjected, What a pain in the ass.

...Enough out of you. Eugene shot the voice the mental equivalent of 'shut the fuck up' and closed his eyes. I know you hate this, Erica, but there's no time. I can apologize all you need afterwards.

Wherever his sibling was, she suddenly received a series of thoughts and images. She saw in her mind the abandoned gymnasium that the school rarely used anymore, a bound and half-naked Kyla, and the locations of what could only be perceived as 'hostiles' inside the building.

With that, Eugene's head fell limp, and Dave rose an eyebrow. "W-Wait, the fuck? You already dead?"

A different tone emerged from Eugene's lips with a chuckle, "Sorry to disappoint, asshole, but you ain't got nothin' on mom back in the day." Dave heard a ripping of cloth, and saw a hand close lightning fast around his throat. "Thass really in poor taste, y'know," 'Eugene' nodded towards the girl hanging beside him.

"Time to teach you that a real punk doesn't go after innocent girls."

(@Lunakiri: That's fine with me. ^^)

The television showed a young woman in front of a weather forecast. ". . . and it continues to gain speed on its path towards Florida. . ."

"Hurricane Irma... huh?" Eugene looked out the sliding glass door to his right, head propped on a hand. The darkened sky was beautiful and full of stars with not a cloud in sight, but it was not the case elsewhere. At that very moment, people were suffering in other places of the world, and the rapid discussion taking place inside his mind reflected their inner-most thoughts.

"I hope they're all safe," he whispered, running a hand up through wet black locks of hair. A smile curved its way onto his lips, but it wasn't one born from positivity. It was akin to self-loathing. "What can I really do...?"

Nothing, you idiot.
You can save them.
..save them?
Give it up already...
Just accept your fate.

"Hahaha..." He pinched the bridge of his nose as the laughter echoed from his mouth. Water dripped off his hair and slid down the side of his face to mix with... something else. An act he perhaps forgot he was capable of years ago.

Suddenly, a spot of glass on the door shattered as a large rock plowed through it and rolled to a stop at his feet. Glass shards littered the floor. He blinked once. Twice. He heard a voice shouting upwards from outside, but he didn't care enough to make out the threats as he bent down to pick up the rock.

"Something is not right about you," he smiled at the clump of nature. "But you can't tell me, can you? You don't have a voice right now... do you?" He grunted to his feet and nodded, "You're as empty as I am, aren't you."

He could hear it despite the music blaring through the earbuds. It was small in comparison, of course, but it slowly grew in strength and pull as he approached the source. It was at first a single, barely audible blip felt on the outer reaches of his consciousness, but it escalated quickly as it always did. It became a repetitious cry of pain mixed in with cruel laughter.

It culminated into a plea for help.

-

"You really shoulda just gave us your money, zero," spat a red-haired delinquent. He grinned while crouching down to lift the boy's head up a few inches. They were close in years, but the boy had few friends, and what friends he did have lacked the power to do anything in such a situation. The boy looked up into the cold blue eyes of the redhead and swallowed audibly.

"L-Like I told you, Dave, I..." He shook his head and tried to focus his vision. It was whirling from the beatings he had endured. He saw no way out of this as the two older men on Dave's side watched him closely. He had trouble breathing, and was sure they had broken a rib or two when he attempted to negotiate earlier. "I gave you... e-everything! I don't h-have anymore..." He muttered weakly, and allowed his head to hang limp at the mercy of Dave's fingers in his hair.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence, and then the soft sound of sobbing as the boy let tears fall onto the pavement. He knew it was weak and pathetic, and that they would just laugh... but what could he do? "You know, Joey..." Dave finally spoke while cupping the boy's chin and forcing his gaze back upwards. "I actually like you. You're not a bad guy," he paused and let a smile slowly spread across his lips. One of malice. Of a wide, maniacal nature. "But that's where you fucked up! Kids like you get the shit beaten out of them for being so weak! You're naive, gutless, and easy to manipulate. Me and you... friends?" Joey felt his stomach drag on the pavement as he was pulled closer to Dave, and the redhead whispered in his ear the words he never wanted to hear: "I hate people like you-"

He couldn't finish the dreaded sentence because a foot connected with his side. The blow wasn't hard by any means, but it did take him by surprise and shove him away from Joey, whose head unceremoniously fell in surprise. He caught himself, glanced at Dave who was still in shock on his back, and then took in a somewhat familiar figure pass him by, continuing on as if nothing happened.

"You stop right there, you fucking piece of shit," one of the older men shouted while grabbing the figure by the shoulder. Joey made out the figure to be male and... a student? Someone he saw on campus a few times but never interacted with.

-

The night was dark and cold. The side street would be completely black if not for the one flickering light pole in the distance. A strong gust of wind caressed his form before howling past, scattering garbage as it went. He absentmindedly zipped the hoodie all the way up and pocketed his hands, marching not to the melody blasting from his earbuds... but to the voice that overpowered the song.

Ah fuck yeah! We're getting closer! Just a bit more...

No, it would be more accurate to say what he heard was not just a crescendo of sound or a single voice, but a horrible cacophony of personalities all vying for individuality. He ignored them as he stepped forward, towards what looked to be a brawl between four young men. In actuality, the scene of apparent violence was unimportant. The alley just happened to be the shortest route home. He adjusted his glasses with a momentary pause in his step, and made sure to keep his dark red gaze focused forward. Not on the men. Not on the cruelty. Just on the empty space ahead, and the apartment that would lie beyond.

Ignore it, he thought. The hand in his pocket trembled.

Why should we?
No mercy!
Stupid fucks...

His fingers clenched into a fist, and his arm started shaking. His eyes glimmered and for a moment, shone a brighter red. Just a little further and he would be free. He brushed past one of the older men who gave him a look but said nothing, and his eyes narrowed.

The music cut off.

-

"I hate people like you-"

Dave was sent reeling by the sudden kick to his side, and the two men pulled knives on the strange bystander standing over him. Joey shook his head and finally got the courage to shout out, "What are you, stupid?! Just run!"

The hooded figure said nothing when one of the men grabbed him. He just calmly took out his earbuds and pocketed them. Ignoring Joey, he grabbed the man's wrist and, in a surprising display of strength, lifted the man off his feet. The knife clattered to the ground from his loosened grip, and he let out a scream that was quickly muffled when he was thrown head-first into the pavement.

"W-What the fuck are you trying to pull?!" The other man dashed forward and swiped with the knife in his hand, but his opponent merely side-stepped to avoid it. "W-whaUGH!" The figure carried the momentum it used to dodge, and lashed out with a swift boot to the shin that nearly toppled the man, but he pressed on. Clenching his teeth, the man let loose a wild punch that... connected.

The figure's glasses flew off and one lens shattered upon impact with some debris on the ground. "Heh... take that, you little bitch!" The man was pleased with himself, but soon he heard chuckling, and he could see the figure's face at that moment. Dark red eyes drilling into his own. A wolfish smirk despite some blood leaking down his chin.

"He's really gonna hate you for that one," he grabbed the man by his shirt, pulled him forward, and slammed his forehead into the man's nose. . .

-

Eugene awoke on the floor of his apartment, but it wasn't the first time and almost certainly not the last. He had gotten used to it by now. He reached for the door automatically to make sure it was locked, and let out a small sigh. Without even reaching for the glasses he knew weren't on his face any longer, he opened a drawer situated along the entrance hall. There, he pulled out a simple brown case containing an identical pair of full-rimmed glasses.

"It would be nice if you did some work to pay for all these," he said softly, but received no response from the empty hall. "Didn't think so."

The voices were strangely quiet. Then again, they almost always went silent after a period of usage. One of them must have belonged to a man who was fierce in morals, or maybe he just liked to fight. Eugene thought absently as he made coffee. It was a simple routine that he performed mechanically at this point. With the coffee on, he went to the bathroom and peeled off his clothes. To no surprise of his, there were fresh cuts and bruises adorning his flesh.

"I liked that hoodie..." He glared at the mirror and went to treating his wounds. None were serious and he had gotten quite skilled at patching himself up. "It would be nice if you tended to the monotonous activities sometimes."

No response.

He put on some pajama pants, picked up his phone, and went to the kitchen. The coffee percolating was the only sound in the apartment, and maybe that was a bad thing. He leaned on the counter and glanced down at his phone, eyeing the name of the person he relied upon.

"I shouldn't," he said while sliding a cigarette in his mouth. He didn't light it. Just chewed on it slightly. "Still... I hope they're alright." Rubbing the back of his neck, he let out a heavy sigh.

Sarah

Quatre