Post by Rhythm on Nov 2, 2018 13:30:36 GMT -4
Her current residence was an upgrade from her previous digs, to be sure. But it was…difficult to adjust. While it certainly was less roach infested as her last place, it did have the drawback of making Ashley feel…uncomfortable. She didn’t feel like a civilized being, but necessity bred compromise, and this apartment was apart from searching eyes and was easy to access from usual entrances. Ashley never kept anything of valuable inside of her dwellings, preferring to keep her inventory light. But now her catsuit that she used to fight was strewn on the bed haphazardly, her helmet on the floor by the nightstand. She sat on a rather comfy chair that had already been there when she’d moved in, made of leather and extremely comfortable. The bottle she’d got from the store hung from her fingertips. Her head hung, her chin hitting her chest rhythmically.
The days seemed to go by like a hurricane. Swept in with a fury and violence, leaving nothing but destruction in its wake. Like a hurricane, she felt the panic as the days whipped by, images thrust into her vision, only to be sucked away in a massive undercurrent. She felt her mind being wiped clean, like chalk from a blackboard. Like a hurricane, she saw it coming. Like a hurricane, she was powerless to stop it. She had long given up on drawing her life into a semblance of order. She had forgotten the usual trivial things that one encountered from day to day. She had allowed herself to be sucked into the vortex, letting the storm take her and lead her along.
She once had a center, something that kept her firmly planted to the ground. Feet firm, head clear. So long it had been, that she had nearly forgotten her face. Much like the visions that went by in the storm, her visage was just one of a thousand, faces blending together in a blur. Ashley could remember key things, little things sometimes. She paid them no mind, not for lack of trying. Focus was something she used to have. She could concentrate and figure it all out. Focus brought her the answers. Focus brought her resolve. Now, such things could not be done so easily. The storm that had become her mind blew with a fury unmatched. Still, her image lingered. Ashley could see the other woman’s hair, blowing calmly about her porcelain features. She wore a smile, though Ashley could sense the pain behind it. The winds let up for a moment, letting Ashley see the blonde’s eyes. She stared back at Ashley, her gaze betraying the smile. Ashley withdrew from the vision, a twinge of pain stabbing her stomach. Clutching her body, she felt the pain grow, as the image was pulled from sight. The tendrils of golden hair were sucked into the endless vacuum. Her soft skin was quickly marred with pockets of darkness as the winds picked up again. Her moment of comfort ripped away with a violent gust, Ashley felt herself slipping, felt the winds began to carry her again. The storm was brewing, the storm wouldn't stop. Focus was an all-forgotten commodity these days.
The storm was law.
She sat quietly in the new living room, feeling out of place. The spartan contents of the room were arranged neatly, as if great care went into their placement, something she normally didn’t do. She shifted slightly, the sound of squeaking leather breaking the silence. Her hands gripped the arms of the chair, still shaking even with a firm hold. Silence encroached on the room once again, as she looked about the room. She felt like an alien in her surroundings. The furniture, she knew, was hers. She vaguely recalled buying every piece of it. Her eyes shifted towards a small coffee table, a white lamp, its base made of carved stone. Next, she looked over the couch, recognizing both as hers…or…no. She shook those thoughts. Though they were all familiar, she felt detached from them, as she'd felt for quite some time. As she continued to look through the room, she felt her head getting light. She couldn't stop herself. The nauseating feeling crept through her stomach, her bowels beginning to rumble.
Eyes shifting throughout the room wildly, moving from one thing to another, never stopping, never blinking. She felt her underarms begin to moisten, her skin rising in millions of tiny bumps. The room was spinning now. She tried to block it all out, tried to push the sickening feeling down inside. She felt her throat constrict, her muscles spasm slightly as the chair began to spin around the room. Eyes darting everywhere, pulling in hazed visions of the room. She felt another presence in the room, could almost feel it. Beads of sweat rolled down her face as her eyes took it all in. Her eyes began to sting, blinking rapidly as the salty liquid spilled into them. She brought her soaked hands up, wiping furiously. Nothing helped. Her hair now soaked, she trembled in the spinning chair, the movement bringing a thick stream of bile from her throat. Coughing it up onto her chest, she could only watch in horror as the milky phlegm mixed with blood as it was absorbed into the cotton fabric of her shirt. The room spun around her, the presence still there. She thought she could see something, someone, creeping around, just outside of her range of vision. As quickly as she picked up on the movement, the room spun around, leaving not a trace. Her nostrils flared, tiny droplets of sweat falling from the tip as the sweet scent of lavender stimulated her senses. She inhaled sharply, feeling a sort of calm coming from the aroma. Suddenly, she felt her stomach churn, more bile choked up as the sweet scent soured in her nostrils. Gone were the traces of petals and fresh flowers, replaced by a damp, acrid odor. She felt her chest constrict, forcing her to choke the air from her lungs out of her mouth and nostrils in a futile attempt to expel the horrid stench. Eyes teared, mingling with the sweat which now poured down her face. The room whipped by her in a frenzy, the shadowy figure still slipping in and out of sight.
She felt her chest burn as the vomit began to erupt from the depths of her stomach in earnest. Doubling over, she nearly fell out of the chair. Squeaking leather became the screeches of angry banshees. Hands covered her ears, her body writhing in pain. Her own movements unable to stop the screams she so desperately tried to block out. The silhouette began to spread, becoming a billowing cloud of darkness. She tightened her lips, hoping to swallow the hot liquid she felt washing over her throat. A lump in her throat prevented it, however, unable to swallow past the stone that blocked. Unable to breath, her face began to turn a shade of crimson. Her eyes bulging, the stinging sensations dulled by the pounding of her temples and heart as her body demanded air. She felt it coming, her mind reeling. She could no longer contain it. With a loud scream, she allowed the air to blast into her lungs. Tears sprang from her clamped eyes as the air burned her lungs and chest. Above her, the room continued to spin, the darkness washing over her like a blanket. Opening her eyes, she wiped at her face, horrified to see thick blood dripping from her fingertips. Off in the distance a ringing sound could be heard, getting louder and louder. She covered her ears again, the ringing now joining with the screeches of the banshees. She felt herself fall, the slick leather chair releasing her from its clutches. She felt herself lighten as her body lost contact with the Earth. Shouting against the ringing, like peals of church bells, she plummeted into the endless darkness, blood-sweat pouring from her pores.
It only took a second to fall from the chair to the floor. She hit hard, face first. Shook from her pain, she opened her eyes, quickly looking to her hands. Clean. She got up on her knees, looking over her person. No blood. She wiped her brow. No sweat. She clutched her stomach. The sickened feeling was mostly gone, though its memory remained. Hair dry, body almost without pain. She was fine, except for the ringing. Quickly gaining her bearings, she looked out of the brightly lit living room. Quickly acclimating to her surroundings, she fixed her ears on the chiming of the bells. Slowly, as she settled into herself, the crashing bells began to die down, slowly shifting to the dull, monotonous ring of a nearby phone. With a deep breath, she stood up to go answer it. Her foot connected with something, sending the object flying across the wooden floor with a clanging sound. She looked, though didn't take it in, as the glass bottle rolled and jumped along the floor, slamming into the wall off on the other side of the room. She stopped for a second, only to be spurred on to motion by the continued ringing of the phone.
Picking it up, she was thankful for the silence. Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself for whatever was coming. She barely received phone calls these days outside of like two people, so she knew exactly who was on the other end. It was all just a matter of preparation, so her stomach could take the call. Closing her eyes she lifted the receiver to her ear. Few words were exchanged, the man on the other end getting right to the point. She was thankful for that. Hanging it up, she took another deep breath. The situation was amicable for her, but she certainly wasn't fond of the calls. With a heavy sigh she pulled her coat on and she stepped outside, heading for her face to face meeting with the Caution Assessment Team.
“You worried us,” the plan looking man said a half an hour later in a small café with few customers. He sipped his double latte whatever-the-fuck and peered down his glasses at Ashley. “We were afraid we’d lost you.”
“Ta’what?” Ashley rubbed her temples, annoyed. “Shit was my fault. Ah paid’fer it. Can ah fight’er what?”
The man didn’t stop looking down his nose at Ashley but simply seemed to take in her countenance and posture in what the martial artist could only describe as ‘unapprovingly’. Still he nodded, taking the old fashioned brick of a phone that was in front of him and pushing it towards Ashley.
“You could, yes,” he began, holding his look before clasping his hands in front of him in what he clearly believed to be a professional manner. Ashley thought he looked like a tremendous douchebag. “But…The Board wants to offer you a new job. Better pay, better hours…dangerous work. From what we’ve seen since we blacklisted you from the fights, you’ve been…‘getting by’, so to speak.”
Ashley tried her best now to show her irritation, so she instead looked away and huffed. Her headache was going away and she felt much better than she had earlier, but dealing with the ‘uppity folk’ like this guy was always an endeavor in patience. The man continued to speak as if he’d not seen her sound and look or irritation.
“All that we ask is that you continue to do the work you’ve originally set out to do yourself. Vigilante work,” he clarified as Ashley raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Keep making contacts with heroes, villains, as well as others along your…rank. Test them. Report back on your findings and…that’s it.”
“Thas’it?” Ashley now raised both eyebrows in surprise. “And you’ll pay’meh? Let’meh keep mah new digs an’ everythin’?”
The man nodded, and the deal was sealed as they shook hands. Ashley very well knew an ‘arrangement’ like this wouldn’t deal in contacts or paperwork but she felt…odd as she left the café. She had a new job, and all she had to do was keep doing what she was doing. Oh, and refine her technique, a jab the man she’d been meeting with felt like sardonically throwing at her as she’d left. She’d given him the best ‘death look’ she could manage, but something told her it hardly mattered to this guy. She stepped outside the café and stopped as her new phone rang. She opened it up and saw a name on the screen, followed by simple instructions.
That message was quickly followed by an address, along with a picture of her target. Ashley narrowed her eyes and huffed out of her nose. She supposed, given the line of work she was in, they wanted her to find and test the combat abilities of this Crimson Skull, and this person was at the given address. Seemed simple enough. And if that wasn’t what they wanted, then maybe they should’ve sent her clearer instructions. Or gotten someone better to do the job.
She was at the open patio bar an hour later, as she had to stop by her new place to get her catsuit and equipment before bolting out of the door and running to the allotted address. She really didn’t have much of a choice, and while it sucked to walk an hour it was better than looking suspicious on a train or bus. Still, as she put her catsuit and equipment in the shadows of a nearby garage, she should probably look into finding some kind of transport option to help her reach her objectives faster. This running shit was for the birds.
Her target was by the bar, in exactly the same spot and everything. Ashley tilted her head as she walked up into the open patio and stopped a few feet from Crimson Skull. Apparently Crimson Skull was a she, something Ashley thought was odd. ‘Crimson Skull’ sounded like such a masculine name. She forced herself to push all other thoughts from her mind, as more than a few people had noticed her presence. Looking like she did, it was probably out of place.
“Crimson Skull!!” she called out, deciding to drop the bullshit and get on with the show. “Tha’name’s Rhythm, and ah’m callin’ya out. So don’t try ta’run, savvy? Ya’ll only make’it worse on’ya.”
It was after that, in the moments of ringing silence, that Ashley remembered that she didn’t even really know if this Crimson Skull was a hero or a villain, or…anything. Well…too late now. All she could do was wait for Crimson Skull to respond, then she was a Quirk activation from what she hoped was a relatively easy payday.
The days seemed to go by like a hurricane. Swept in with a fury and violence, leaving nothing but destruction in its wake. Like a hurricane, she felt the panic as the days whipped by, images thrust into her vision, only to be sucked away in a massive undercurrent. She felt her mind being wiped clean, like chalk from a blackboard. Like a hurricane, she saw it coming. Like a hurricane, she was powerless to stop it. She had long given up on drawing her life into a semblance of order. She had forgotten the usual trivial things that one encountered from day to day. She had allowed herself to be sucked into the vortex, letting the storm take her and lead her along.
She once had a center, something that kept her firmly planted to the ground. Feet firm, head clear. So long it had been, that she had nearly forgotten her face. Much like the visions that went by in the storm, her visage was just one of a thousand, faces blending together in a blur. Ashley could remember key things, little things sometimes. She paid them no mind, not for lack of trying. Focus was something she used to have. She could concentrate and figure it all out. Focus brought her the answers. Focus brought her resolve. Now, such things could not be done so easily. The storm that had become her mind blew with a fury unmatched. Still, her image lingered. Ashley could see the other woman’s hair, blowing calmly about her porcelain features. She wore a smile, though Ashley could sense the pain behind it. The winds let up for a moment, letting Ashley see the blonde’s eyes. She stared back at Ashley, her gaze betraying the smile. Ashley withdrew from the vision, a twinge of pain stabbing her stomach. Clutching her body, she felt the pain grow, as the image was pulled from sight. The tendrils of golden hair were sucked into the endless vacuum. Her soft skin was quickly marred with pockets of darkness as the winds picked up again. Her moment of comfort ripped away with a violent gust, Ashley felt herself slipping, felt the winds began to carry her again. The storm was brewing, the storm wouldn't stop. Focus was an all-forgotten commodity these days.
The storm was law.
She sat quietly in the new living room, feeling out of place. The spartan contents of the room were arranged neatly, as if great care went into their placement, something she normally didn’t do. She shifted slightly, the sound of squeaking leather breaking the silence. Her hands gripped the arms of the chair, still shaking even with a firm hold. Silence encroached on the room once again, as she looked about the room. She felt like an alien in her surroundings. The furniture, she knew, was hers. She vaguely recalled buying every piece of it. Her eyes shifted towards a small coffee table, a white lamp, its base made of carved stone. Next, she looked over the couch, recognizing both as hers…or…no. She shook those thoughts. Though they were all familiar, she felt detached from them, as she'd felt for quite some time. As she continued to look through the room, she felt her head getting light. She couldn't stop herself. The nauseating feeling crept through her stomach, her bowels beginning to rumble.
Eyes shifting throughout the room wildly, moving from one thing to another, never stopping, never blinking. She felt her underarms begin to moisten, her skin rising in millions of tiny bumps. The room was spinning now. She tried to block it all out, tried to push the sickening feeling down inside. She felt her throat constrict, her muscles spasm slightly as the chair began to spin around the room. Eyes darting everywhere, pulling in hazed visions of the room. She felt another presence in the room, could almost feel it. Beads of sweat rolled down her face as her eyes took it all in. Her eyes began to sting, blinking rapidly as the salty liquid spilled into them. She brought her soaked hands up, wiping furiously. Nothing helped. Her hair now soaked, she trembled in the spinning chair, the movement bringing a thick stream of bile from her throat. Coughing it up onto her chest, she could only watch in horror as the milky phlegm mixed with blood as it was absorbed into the cotton fabric of her shirt. The room spun around her, the presence still there. She thought she could see something, someone, creeping around, just outside of her range of vision. As quickly as she picked up on the movement, the room spun around, leaving not a trace. Her nostrils flared, tiny droplets of sweat falling from the tip as the sweet scent of lavender stimulated her senses. She inhaled sharply, feeling a sort of calm coming from the aroma. Suddenly, she felt her stomach churn, more bile choked up as the sweet scent soured in her nostrils. Gone were the traces of petals and fresh flowers, replaced by a damp, acrid odor. She felt her chest constrict, forcing her to choke the air from her lungs out of her mouth and nostrils in a futile attempt to expel the horrid stench. Eyes teared, mingling with the sweat which now poured down her face. The room whipped by her in a frenzy, the shadowy figure still slipping in and out of sight.
She felt her chest burn as the vomit began to erupt from the depths of her stomach in earnest. Doubling over, she nearly fell out of the chair. Squeaking leather became the screeches of angry banshees. Hands covered her ears, her body writhing in pain. Her own movements unable to stop the screams she so desperately tried to block out. The silhouette began to spread, becoming a billowing cloud of darkness. She tightened her lips, hoping to swallow the hot liquid she felt washing over her throat. A lump in her throat prevented it, however, unable to swallow past the stone that blocked. Unable to breath, her face began to turn a shade of crimson. Her eyes bulging, the stinging sensations dulled by the pounding of her temples and heart as her body demanded air. She felt it coming, her mind reeling. She could no longer contain it. With a loud scream, she allowed the air to blast into her lungs. Tears sprang from her clamped eyes as the air burned her lungs and chest. Above her, the room continued to spin, the darkness washing over her like a blanket. Opening her eyes, she wiped at her face, horrified to see thick blood dripping from her fingertips. Off in the distance a ringing sound could be heard, getting louder and louder. She covered her ears again, the ringing now joining with the screeches of the banshees. She felt herself fall, the slick leather chair releasing her from its clutches. She felt herself lighten as her body lost contact with the Earth. Shouting against the ringing, like peals of church bells, she plummeted into the endless darkness, blood-sweat pouring from her pores.
It only took a second to fall from the chair to the floor. She hit hard, face first. Shook from her pain, she opened her eyes, quickly looking to her hands. Clean. She got up on her knees, looking over her person. No blood. She wiped her brow. No sweat. She clutched her stomach. The sickened feeling was mostly gone, though its memory remained. Hair dry, body almost without pain. She was fine, except for the ringing. Quickly gaining her bearings, she looked out of the brightly lit living room. Quickly acclimating to her surroundings, she fixed her ears on the chiming of the bells. Slowly, as she settled into herself, the crashing bells began to die down, slowly shifting to the dull, monotonous ring of a nearby phone. With a deep breath, she stood up to go answer it. Her foot connected with something, sending the object flying across the wooden floor with a clanging sound. She looked, though didn't take it in, as the glass bottle rolled and jumped along the floor, slamming into the wall off on the other side of the room. She stopped for a second, only to be spurred on to motion by the continued ringing of the phone.
Picking it up, she was thankful for the silence. Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself for whatever was coming. She barely received phone calls these days outside of like two people, so she knew exactly who was on the other end. It was all just a matter of preparation, so her stomach could take the call. Closing her eyes she lifted the receiver to her ear. Few words were exchanged, the man on the other end getting right to the point. She was thankful for that. Hanging it up, she took another deep breath. The situation was amicable for her, but she certainly wasn't fond of the calls. With a heavy sigh she pulled her coat on and she stepped outside, heading for her face to face meeting with the Caution Assessment Team.
“You worried us,” the plan looking man said a half an hour later in a small café with few customers. He sipped his double latte whatever-the-fuck and peered down his glasses at Ashley. “We were afraid we’d lost you.”
“Ta’what?” Ashley rubbed her temples, annoyed. “Shit was my fault. Ah paid’fer it. Can ah fight’er what?”
The man didn’t stop looking down his nose at Ashley but simply seemed to take in her countenance and posture in what the martial artist could only describe as ‘unapprovingly’. Still he nodded, taking the old fashioned brick of a phone that was in front of him and pushing it towards Ashley.
“You could, yes,” he began, holding his look before clasping his hands in front of him in what he clearly believed to be a professional manner. Ashley thought he looked like a tremendous douchebag. “But…The Board wants to offer you a new job. Better pay, better hours…dangerous work. From what we’ve seen since we blacklisted you from the fights, you’ve been…‘getting by’, so to speak.”
Ashley tried her best now to show her irritation, so she instead looked away and huffed. Her headache was going away and she felt much better than she had earlier, but dealing with the ‘uppity folk’ like this guy was always an endeavor in patience. The man continued to speak as if he’d not seen her sound and look or irritation.
“All that we ask is that you continue to do the work you’ve originally set out to do yourself. Vigilante work,” he clarified as Ashley raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Keep making contacts with heroes, villains, as well as others along your…rank. Test them. Report back on your findings and…that’s it.”
“Thas’it?” Ashley now raised both eyebrows in surprise. “And you’ll pay’meh? Let’meh keep mah new digs an’ everythin’?”
The man nodded, and the deal was sealed as they shook hands. Ashley very well knew an ‘arrangement’ like this wouldn’t deal in contacts or paperwork but she felt…odd as she left the café. She had a new job, and all she had to do was keep doing what she was doing. Oh, and refine her technique, a jab the man she’d been meeting with felt like sardonically throwing at her as she’d left. She’d given him the best ‘death look’ she could manage, but something told her it hardly mattered to this guy. She stepped outside the café and stopped as her new phone rang. She opened it up and saw a name on the screen, followed by simple instructions.
‘Crimson Skull’
That message was quickly followed by an address, along with a picture of her target. Ashley narrowed her eyes and huffed out of her nose. She supposed, given the line of work she was in, they wanted her to find and test the combat abilities of this Crimson Skull, and this person was at the given address. Seemed simple enough. And if that wasn’t what they wanted, then maybe they should’ve sent her clearer instructions. Or gotten someone better to do the job.
She was at the open patio bar an hour later, as she had to stop by her new place to get her catsuit and equipment before bolting out of the door and running to the allotted address. She really didn’t have much of a choice, and while it sucked to walk an hour it was better than looking suspicious on a train or bus. Still, as she put her catsuit and equipment in the shadows of a nearby garage, she should probably look into finding some kind of transport option to help her reach her objectives faster. This running shit was for the birds.
Her target was by the bar, in exactly the same spot and everything. Ashley tilted her head as she walked up into the open patio and stopped a few feet from Crimson Skull. Apparently Crimson Skull was a she, something Ashley thought was odd. ‘Crimson Skull’ sounded like such a masculine name. She forced herself to push all other thoughts from her mind, as more than a few people had noticed her presence. Looking like she did, it was probably out of place.
“Crimson Skull!!” she called out, deciding to drop the bullshit and get on with the show. “Tha’name’s Rhythm, and ah’m callin’ya out. So don’t try ta’run, savvy? Ya’ll only make’it worse on’ya.”
It was after that, in the moments of ringing silence, that Ashley remembered that she didn’t even really know if this Crimson Skull was a hero or a villain, or…anything. Well…too late now. All she could do was wait for Crimson Skull to respond, then she was a Quirk activation from what she hoped was a relatively easy payday.
