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Post by Everyone Else on Oct 27, 2009 13:16:26 GMT -5
::Frank had received a call from his old service buddy about a young mutant with anger issues, who had once been a bigot. He had been asked to "find somewhere for him" which was a tall order. He'd told his friend to send the young mutant to meet him at a diner on Broadway, and he sat in the back waiting for him to arrive.::
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Post by Michael Kenyon on Oct 27, 2009 13:42:33 GMT -5
Pulling up on his motorcycle, Micheal took his sunglasses off to look at the diner. Here we are He was suppose to meet a man named Frank here. Turning off his bike he swept his leg over his bike getting off. Dressed in a pair of worn jeans, a dark shirt and his black leather jacket, he walked into the diner and looked around for the man. He left his backpack locked to his bike.
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Post by Everyone Else on Oct 27, 2009 13:45:00 GMT -5
::The diner was nearly empty at this time of day, and Frank had been watching the door. When a young man walked in, looking around as though for another person, he assumed this was the person he was meeting. He raised his hand, waved from the booth near the back to get his attention.::
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Post by Michael Kenyon on Oct 27, 2009 14:17:46 GMT -5
Michael saw a man in the back waving him down and he headed over to him. Why did he keep getting involved with mutants? Cause you are one He silently told himself to shut up as he arrived at the table. "You Frank?" Michael asked getting straight to the point.
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Post by Everyone Else on Oct 27, 2009 14:21:47 GMT -5
"Yes," ::Frank said, and he pointed at the other side of the booth, a silent instruction for him to sit.:: "You're Michael?"
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Post by Michael Kenyon on Oct 27, 2009 14:46:21 GMT -5
"Yeah," He said as he took a seat. Michael crossed his arms placing them on the table looking at the man. "So you can help me?"
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Post by Everyone Else on Oct 27, 2009 16:44:12 GMT -5
::Frank shrugged slightly and leaned back in the booth.:: "That depends on what you want out of life."
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Post by Michael Kenyon on Oct 27, 2009 19:57:35 GMT -5
That was a tough answer. For one he wanted to be human again, another he wanted control and thirdly he loved the power. The feeling of being God in a way. What did he want? "I am at odds end with that question,"
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Post by Everyone Else on Oct 27, 2009 21:49:14 GMT -5
"I bet," ::Frank said, running his fingers along the pack of cigarettes on the table.:: "Power can be addictive."
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Post by Michael Kenyon on Oct 27, 2009 22:44:09 GMT -5
Didn't he know it. He gave a sort of huff. "Yeah, I'll agree with ya there" It was one of the reasons his power scared him. The more he used, the more his mind liked it. It was as if he was an addict.
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Post by Everyone Else on Oct 28, 2009 8:54:19 GMT -5
::Frank found he was usually right in such statements and was unsurprised by Michael's agreement. He asked,:: "How long have you had your powers?"
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Post by Michael Kenyon on Oct 30, 2009 15:04:43 GMT -5
"I don't know, but not long" He didn't remember how long it had been. A month? Two months? Michael didn't think it mattered though. He had powers, end of story.
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Post by Everyone Else on Nov 2, 2009 19:22:36 GMT -5
"And you control electricity?" ::That was what Frank had been told, but he wanted to be sure by speaking to Michael himself.::
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Post by Michael Kenyon on Nov 10, 2009 0:26:40 GMT -5
Michael raised his arm so the man could see his hand. Sparks started to spray off his fingertips as he opened his hand. Electricity started to jump around his hand crackling. "Looks like" He closed his hand focusing on getting the electricity to stop. Sparks were still coming off but they were smaller as he put his arm back down.
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Post by Everyone Else on Nov 19, 2009 20:59:31 GMT -5
::Frank met the display with a low chuckle.:: "Not bad for a newbie."
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