Summary:The Morlocks are attacking! Ford holds out hope that surely, some of New York's plentiful heroes will come to help. But none showed up… Log Info:Storyteller: Ford Benett |
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Ford stood leaning against his car outside the District 22 middle school. Any minute now, the bell would ring and he'd have to go in to help Ira get out and in the car. For once, things seemed peaceful. No angry mutants. No world ending threats. No magical entities to contend with. Those seemed to be so few and far between now, and frankly, it was worrying him a little bit. He was left to contemplate a lot of things. But the biggest take away from everything recently, was that he couldn't use his powers anymore. It had always been logical to him, but his recent forays into "playing hero" had all, but proved it. Whenever he used his powers, people got hurt. Whenever he morphed into his Oni Form, it scared or destroyed things. He despised that notion. It was what he had railed against about "superheroes" for years now. It simply proved him right, at least in his mind.
When people used their powers, things went terribly.
It was about when he heard the bell ring that he caught wind of something. A rank smell that assaulted his exceptionally keen senses. Like rancid fish, sewer sludge, and burnt metal, all at once. That was about when he heard the shouting and screaming. He heard the heavy thuds as something was rushing towards him. He turned around just in time to see a huge, scaly green fist barreling towards his face. He didn't have the time to react. All he could do was take the attack. The might green fist slammed into his face and sent him tumbling and skidding, before slamming with a heavy *THUD* into a nearby school wall.
Heavily disoriented and rather sorely injured, Ford staggered to his feet a bit, before heavy metallic plodding caught his ears. Anticipating another attack, Ford raised his arms in time to catch, but not stop a massive metal fist crashing into him, pounding him further into the wall and continuing to daze him. Although slightly shielded, he felt another punch follow up, then another and several more. But through the pounding, Ford could see his assailants. Clearly mutants, one was an enormous, fish-reptilian faced mutants, nearly 8 feet tall, standing near his car, while the other was clad in rusted black metal plating, with only portions of his face visible through the armor covering him. In the back behind the big fish man, Ford saw what looked like a skeleton blazing brightly with orange-red flames. "Keep hammering him, Litterbug! Don't kill him, though, we need him to tell us where Analee's kids are!" the skeletal being called out over the ruckus.
Ford felt the fury boiling within him. He wanted to transform. To pound these guys. Who were they!? Mutants, Ford guessed, but surely, SURELY, some of New York's finest heroes would be on hand soon. They always were! Even if they were always about mutant rights, surely they couldn't condone this! They had to be on hand to help! They would come… they always did…!
The mutant named Litterbug grabbed Ford around his neck and tossed him to the ground besides the fish-reptile-man, who lifted a foot and stomped his head into the ground. "Dammit, Brute, I said don't kill him!" Brute looked back at the skeleton, huffing. "He's still breathing, Pitch, he ain't dead!" The skeleton growled angrily back. "We need him to talk, you dumbass!" he spit back, before kneeling down next to Ford. "Alright, you freak. You took Analee's kids along with those other mutants. Now talk! Where are they!?"
Ford gasped for air under Brute's foot, clenching his teeth. Surely, heroes would come… they had to… he just needed to buy time. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about, you idiots!" Ford rasped out from under Brute's foot. That was about when Ford heard his sister scream. His eyes darted up to see an older woman and another mutant with gray moth wings and fuzzy antenna grabbing several children from the front door. The other children being ushered away were very obvious mutants, but his sister… his sister wasn't one! What did they want with her!? What were they doing here!? Ford struggled under the boot on his head, but it proved fruitless. All he could do was shout. "Ira! Ira, get out of here! Dammit, leave her alone!!!"
"No! We know your game! We're making sure you can't kidnap anybody else! Now talk! Where are the others!?" The burning skeleton yelled. Ford just lay there, his mind having finally come to a realization. Nobody was going to help him. Why would they? Nobody ever had before. Every good thing in his life had been wrecked or taken from him by mutants. And now, they were taking the one good thing he had left. His sister. No heroes were coming to help him. They didn't dare oppose mutants, for whatever reason, whenever they made his life hard. Ford had been holding out hope that some of New York's so-called "heroes" would come to help him.
But nobody came…
Ford's mind broke slightly as he felt those black impulses he had grappled with all his life finally win over. If nobody would oppose these clearly dangerous beings, he would. He wasn't afraid of holding them accountable. And more importantly, he had the power to do so. That was all that mattered, wasn't it? It wasn't about what was right or wrong, about public safety or justice. It was about having enough power to impose yourself on the world. That was all that really counted, wasn't it?
Ford's senses left him slightly, and his mind was a bit of a blur. He was vaguely aware of what he was doing, but he no longer held back his darker thoughts. He let them run free, and they powered him to heights he had not yet experienced before. He was aware he had shoved Brute off somehow. Easily, too. He knew he was attacking both of the powerhouses of this trio, Brute's face bloodied and battered. The one called Litterbug, he knew his face was caving in and it was his fist that was doing it. He felt the heat from the skeleton called Pitch, but it wasn't really hurting him. He just knew that he powered through it, sent him tumbling to the ground, before taking his foot and utterly smashing his skull to pieces against the concrete beneath him, as the fires engulfing him finally burnt out.
It was a while before Ford could properly regain his composure and his human form. Just as quickly as his rage had left him, his guilt set in. He knew he had lost control. He had let his darker, demonic side take over, and he was absolutely not in control of it when it happened. Ford looked back to see the immense damage he had caused. Brute's faced was practically caved in, but from the movement of his chest, he was still alive. Barely, probably. Portions of Litterbug's armor plating was smashed and thrown here and there. As for Pitch? His skull lay smashed in many tiny fragments, and the fire that had been fueling him had gone out.
"Ira!"
Ford turned to find no sign of his sister. Nor any of the other kids the mutants had been targeting. Ford rushed to the front to find any trace of her. The only thing left was her wheelchair, and a few bystanders staring at a now open manhole in the street. Ford raced to the opening, peering into the pitch blackness below. He could catch a feint whiff of his sister's scent, but it was drowned out in a deluge of rancid, terrible smells.
"Ira! IRA! IIIIIRRAAAAAAAAAAA!!!"