Posthuman [M&M]

[LoP]

Prologue

Violetta Flores - Santa Monica Beach

For us, humanity was a distant goal toward which all men were moving, whose image no one knew, whose laws were nowhere written down.
- Emil Sinclair

The sun was shining brightly in the summer sky, like it did 90% of the year in Southern California. Usually, in a city where there were three times as many cars as people, the complex interrelated weather, geochemical, and antropogenic systems generated a caplike inversion layer over the Los Angeles Basin, a stifling barrier that trapped smog and air pollution and streaked across the sky like brown smudged eyeliner. On most days, the sun would shine through this foul filter, baking the city and making it hard to breathe.

Today, however, was different. Clear blue sky. 80 degrees. Mild breezes. Beautiful.

Violetta Flores had decided today was the perfect day to go see the ocean. She had packed a little picnic basket and had taken her little Peter - he preferred that name to Pedro, because his hero was Spiderman - to Santa Monica Beach. It wasn't the cleanest beach, but it was close to her apartment and she didn't want to deal with traffic, not today. It was just too beautiful today.

Violetta had laid out a beach towel and sprawled out to soak up the sun. Peter was building a secret hideout out of sand and seaweed nearby, demolishing it whenever his imagination decided upon something better. Violetta was content to just stare out at the Pacific. She loved the ocean. She loved listening to the crash of the waves and the ripple of the water's surface. Who cares if the water here was cold, not warm like the Atlantic, or not as deep blue as some Southeast Asian beach. This was her home, and right now everything was perfect.

She was just murmuring to herself what a beautiful day it was for the 30th time when her phone rang.

A blocked number. Frowning, she answered.

"Hello?"
"Its me." Gravel dry voice. Cold. It made her shiver in the sun. "Michael had another vision. It happens soon. Very soon."
Violetta mouth opened soundlessly, then closed. No.
"Did you hear me?"
"Y-yes. I heard you. But Michael said it wouldn't happen for -"

"I know what he said before," came the impatient response, sand on cement, abrasive. "I'm telling you what he said now. You know what he sees isn't set in stone. He says, now, it will happen before the end of the week."

No. It was coming too soon, she wasn't sure if she was ready. She was supposed to have at least the rest of the year to prepare. "I'm... I'm ready."

"No, you are not. This is happening far sooner than anticipated, and your training is... you are not ready. Return to DC."

"But I can't leave! This is my home -"
"No -"
"- I can stop it, I can, I -"

"No!" Instantly Violetta felt her vocal cords shut down, and she gaped wordlessly at her phone, an angry fish out of water. For a split second she couldn't breathe, and when she could again she wasn't ready - she choked on air and began coughing, unable to speak.

"You listen to me now. You are not ready, and we will not risk losing you in a premature attempt."
"-but I can save-" she gasped.

"But nothing. We are not heroes; you are not a hero. Remember that. Now, get your little butt on the first plane to DC, or I will send Thomas to collect you."

-click-

The phone dropped from Violetta's fingers, which had suddenly become weak and senseless. Trembling, she looked out across the Pacific. The waves, which had always seemed so beautiful to her, now promised only violence.

No.

She shook, suddenly, hard, as if convulsing from a fever.

No. This was her home. She was ready. And she would stop it.


OOC: The stage is set. Go ahead and begin your (unpowered) characters' stories. Where are they? What are they doing? Who are they doing things with/to?

[handofme]

Sun on my face and wind in my hair, riding into the open arms of an unsuspecting city. I must live some kind of charmed life.

John mused to himself as he rode into the city on an old Harley-Davidson that he’d bought for half of what is was worth and would with any luck be selling at double price later in the day, there were always people willing to pay too much for a Harley.

On a day like this and with accounts filled with other peoples hard earned money one had to live a life of luxury. Five star hotels where the order of the day, he remembered somebody telling him about a masseuse who could turn knotted backs to butter and was so easy on the eyes that she would cause any woman to be jealous just by being in the same building. The guy had, admittedly, been drunk enough to write a hefty check to invest in a melon juicing company John was pretending to set up, but still there might be some truth in his ramblings.

So after selling the bike to a manger of some super market or other, who was having a delightfully expensive mid life crisis, John headed to Langham Huntington Hotel. The place where he’d been told that the angles themselves massaged mankind.

[Daimbert]

Shannon O'Connor leaned slightly forward, chewing very lightly on the end of her glasses as she studied the book in front of her. It was a really bad habit to chew on her glasses, and she generally only did it when she was reading at work. She kept trying to stop, but nothing ever seemed to work out.

She was sitting at the circulation/questions desk of the main archives at Huntington library, where she was working today. She also worked at Caltech, who technically was her main employer. But she enjoyed Huntington better; it just felt more like a library.

In both places, she generally worked in sections where older and more important works were stored, and thus where the more serious researchers came. She liked that best, as in general they didn't need a lot of help or watching, which left her free to read on her own. When she'd first come to Los Angeles and gotten a job a Caltech, she hadn't expected to get on to Huntington or to work in these areas; she subbed in occasionally, but in general only the really experienced librarians were allowed to work in those areas. But it turned out that the fact that she was highly educated and very knowledgeable worked in her favour, since she'd quite by accident managed to demonstrate that sometimes she could suggest works to help some of the others with their actual research, as opposed to just showing them where the books were and locking and unlocking display cases. Many of them had expressed surprise at her knowledge, and some had even tried to convince her to go into more formal academics.

But she had declined. She preferred to be a simple librarian; the pay was good enough for her, and it left her plenty of time and plenty of access to books that she'd like to read. And the two libraries basically gave her access to anything she wanted to look at, and so she had pretty much what she considered to be the perfect job. And she looked the part, too, dressing pretty much the way you'd expect a librarian to dress, in a nice and conservative navy blue blouse/pants combination, her hair straight and plain, and her glasses a simple styled black.

Yeah, perfect ... except that she had to live in LA.

Her plans for the day were to finish out her shift, go home, and relax with a good book. Which were pretty much her plans every day. Simple, efficient.

Only a few more hours, and she could ... go and read somewhere else. Yes, it didn't seem like much of a life, but it was pretty much what she wanted to do.

[MysteryMan]

Nerves.

It was something that everyone had, no matter how calm or collected they acted to be, you couldn't shake that underlying feeling, although some certainly had it worse than others. Alex was nervous, much more nervous than he'd been in awhile, more because of how things were unfolding for him. He knew that starting a music career, or trying to get your voice heard was no easy task, especially in the entertainment capitol of the world, Los Angeles. There was no other place that so many people were trying to make it big, breaking in as actors, singers, dancers, models, almost anything you could imagine.

Moving from a relatively small city, San Luis Obispo, down south to try and be discovered was more of a challenge than he'd anticipated. Partly because he didn't want to become 'The Next Big Thing' and just be a washed up nobody shortly thereafter. It was about the music, it always had been about the music, and he knew it always would be. The teen had a suitable store of confidence, but it was hard to feel that you were worth as much as you felt you were when you were turned away. Granted, he'd yet to meet anyone who would listen to him, musically anyway, it was all about who you knew and sadly Alex didn't know many people down here and he certainly didn't know anyone that could help him.

It wasn't a completely lost cause, he certainly caught the eye of several scouts, although they certainly weren't in the music industry. It seemed companies were always looking for good faces, he had one of those he'd been told, but modeling, acting, he was sure he'd be terrible at them. His heart wasn't in being one of those poster boys for American Eagle or Abercrombie & Fitch, sure it seemed like good money, but he couldn't help being wary about the sort of deals down here. That was something he knew, it was easy to get taken advantage of and he certainly wasn't interested in that.

He looked up at Capitol Records Incorporated and headed inside, he'd been trying to get in touch with anyone in the series of recording companies that thankfully were mostly in a close distance of one another, just blocks away from the Kodak Theater and Hollywood Blvd. His parents had warned him, his money was running out too, but he was sure he'd find a job somewhere. When he wasn't out trying to find someone in the business he could talk to he was looking at local clubs that might want to have him sing there at night, but it was hard to break in, even to that. Most people didn't care how good your voice was, if you were a nobody it implied that they were a nobody, and that was certainly not the vibe that anyone wanted to portray in the city full of cities.

Alex went inside and the receptionist smiled at him as he approached, taking in the rather lavish interior, it certainly was one of the more prestigious companies. "Welcome to Capitol Records." She said, clearly looking expectant, the lobby was vacant except for himself and he approached her desk quickly, his footsteps echoing lightly off the marble floors.

"Hello." He said, returning her smile and glancing around for another moment before he looked back at her. "I was just wondering, I'm sure you get this sort of question a lot, but I'm trying to talk to someone about starting a music career, I don't suppose that's something you could help me with?" She listened and looked genuinely sorry, Alex's stomach twisting a bit, another rejection to be sure.

"I'm sorry, but Capitol Records only accepts demo tapes and other sorts of media through agents, producers, and managers, anything unsolicited will not be heard." He nodded and ran a hand through his hair, still smiling, it certainly didn't crush his spirits, but it was hard to break in to the music industry when you couldn't even talk to anyone. "Thank you." He said softly and turned to go, well he wasn't that surprised, was he? No, he had a list of all the places here and if they didn't work he'd try others, determined not to give up, music was his passion, his dream, but it certainly would've been easier dreaming to be a teacher like his parents wanted.

[Ishikar]

Pulling his Porche off of the freeway and down into the crowded downtown streets of LA Alex cursed at the traffic that constantly bogged down the city's road systems. He could never really cut loose like he wanted and he couldn't even fully enjoy the nice weather since he'd elected to stay the the hard=top model for the extra stiffness in cornering than the convertible for enjoying days like today.

As he pulled up in front of a high rise business building he parked and stepped out to wait for the first step of his package delivery. It was a simple one, just a quick jaunt across town but the pay was good and it cleared an old favor he owed to a particularly nasty enforcer from the Cabarelli family. As he waited he mused once more over the old wisdom that ill-gotten gains often come to naught but grinned as he remembered not only the car he now stood beside, but the items hidden within and the large house that he kept in one of the nicer suburban neighborhoods.

Shady gains to shady ends but at least Alex could enjoy a life on his terms.

As he noted a nervous looking paralegal emerge and glance around he stood up and approached.

"Peter, I hope those are my papers all in order. I have to be at the airport in an hour and I don't have any more time for delays."

Noting the green tab sticking out of the envelope Alex looks exasperated with the other man's stumbling speech and cuts him off.

"Look I already said I don't have time for delays, just get me that folder and go on, I'm sure Erin wants you working on the paperwork for the Perin's estate and I don't want her getting on to me for your stuttering. I'm sure she double checked it and made sure it's fine, just remind her the payment is in the usual account."

That was the final word on the contract, Alex had accepted and the package was his responsibility now, the retainer set and escrow agreed to. Now anything unusual that occurred was his problem to deal with. That just left one thought as he shifted his car into second and launched into the busy traffic.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

[ChronicLunacy]

Scott Shaw

"My sister is not a whore! Do you hear me, you lousy piece of crap?!"

Scott could feel more than hear the dull thump as he swung and connected with the other guy's cheekbone. It wasn't like in a movie when you could hear a punch connect like someone slapping a beanbag against the wall. He threw all of his weight behind his fist, shaping as much force as he could into the two top knuckles of his right hand, and drove it into his opponent's face. He swung wildly half the time, no real skill, but then he'd connect and there would be a half second when the other fighter was stunned. That's when Scott poured it on, delivering a wild series of haymaker punches to drive home his advantage. His final shot splattered the poor kid's nose, sending a spray of blood to the street, across the victim's shirt, and over Scott's knuckles, and the fight was over.

"Don't you ever talk about her again or I'll break more than your nose next time!" Scott yelled between pants as he shouldered his bookbag again. Fights didn't always end like that, with Scott walking away victorious. In fact, this was the conclusion less than half of the time. Today had just been the perfect combination of luck and anger, keeping him from feeling the beginning of the black eye he'd have when he woke up tomorrow. He ran his tongue over split lips and spat pink onto the sidewalk as he walked. He hated this neighborhood.

Scott wasn't more than average height, and in fact looked pretty lanky for a nineteen-year-old, like he was still growing into his adult frame. He had light blue eyes, though one was sore and bloodshot at the moment, and close-cropped black hair. He'd cut it after he'd figured out post-graduation that the emo-swoosh made anyone look like a douchebag, and more importantly that long-hair was a weakness in a fight. It had only taken one guy pulling him around by his lovely, raven locks to convince Scott to shave his head completely. Perhaps a small overreaction, he'd conceded, but it had been growing back in steadily since then and he liked it short.

His house was nicer than the others in that he mowed the lawn regularly and there weren't three cars up on cinderblocks outside of it. There were still bulletholes in the paint from when someone had decided to take potshots at it a few months back, but otherwise the house had a familiar and warm look to it. It looked out of place in such a bad neighborhood. As Scott ascended the steps he could see his mother puttering around inside, making dinner even though she'd just gotten off of work herself. He tried to make a beeline straight for his bedroom, but she caught him as soon as he stepped past the kitchen.

"You're grounded."

"What?"

"You were fighting again, weren't you? I can see the blood and grass stains from here, Scotty."

"So?"

"So you're grounded."

"I'm nineteen."

"I don't care if you're fifty-seven. I can ground you whenever I want. I'm your mother."

"He deserved it."

Diana heaved a sigh. "They always deserve it, Scott. Why can't you just walk away for once? What happens when they decide to bring a knife? Or a gun? This isn't the freaking UFC, it's south-central Los Angeles! You can't just sock every jerk that mouths off at you. You'd be at it all day, for one, but more importantly one of them is going to kill you one of these days. You have to stop, Scott. I know you want to protect your sister and I know you want to do the right thing, but I can't lose you, too. Your father would still be proud of you if you turned the other cheek once in awhile."

"They raped my sister a block from our house, mom. Someone just like them shot dad over a traffic stop. Now they laugh about it, and you're telling me I should just ignore it?"

She closed her eyes for a moment and pressed her teeth together. "Scott...I know what they did. I think about it every day, but instead of getting myself killed I'm saving up to get us out of this neighborhood for good and I want you to do the same by going to school and getting great grades, graduating, and getting a great job far away from here."

"I'm not going to give up joining the LAPD, mom."

"Damn it, Scott!" she shouted suddenly, breaking a plate she was holding on the countertop by accident. "I...just...go to your room, young man. This conversation is over."

"Suits me." Scott said quietly and continued down the hall. He knew that his mother didn't want him to end up like her husband, but coming back to this godforsaken place with a badge and the ability to really help was something Scott just had to do. It was in his blood. He couldn't deny that it was personal for him, but there was something about really changing the neighborhood for the better that called to him. Maybe he had an overdeveloped sense of morality, or maybe he just wanted revenge, but there were evil, horrible people right outside their door that needed to be put away for good. Scott had to be the one to do it. He just wasn't suited for any other profession.

If he needed a reason, all Scott had to do was take one look into his sister's room as he did then. Julia had been popular, pretty, funny...bubbly even. Annoyingly so. Now, however, she just sat on her bed and stared out of the window when she thought no one was looking. Her grades and her social life had taken nosedives. She hardly even went outside anymore, and never without Scott or their mom present. Something inside of her had been broken, and Scott didn't know if it would ever heal. It wasn't fair, and Scott was compelled to do everything he could to stop such a crime from ever happening again. He didn't care that, logically, stopping all crime in LA was impossible. He had to do something or he'd go crazy.

Scott continued down to his room and flopped onto the bed. He had homework from the most boring business law class he'd ever taken, but couldn't bring himself to start it. Instead, he grabbed the first-aid kit he kept under his bed and dabbed his face and skinned elbows with disinfectant. He was trying to get a butterfly band-aid on his eyebrow when the brick smashed through his window. He ignored the twinkling of broken glass and the concerned shouts of his mother from the kitchen, and looked at himself in the mirror.

"Turn the other cheek, huh?" he asked his reflection.

[handofme]

H. Blowsteem walked out of the hotel, thinking about how he really didn’t like the name. He’d fully intended to pay for the room and register under his real name but the trusting smile of the receptionist had been too much of a temptation. So now he was H. Blowsteem who had a complimentary suite courtesy of the fictional Limitless Limitations Company, which would lead to problems in the future and he would no doubt have to seek other lodgings. In the mean time the room was luxurious, the masseuse where close to the best he’d experienced and some of the receptionists where quite pretty and would be sure to offer some quite interesting recreation later on. Now however he wanted a bit more refinement and he’d been told that there was a museum/library/botanical garden nearby. Being a man who enjoyed beauty in all its forms he decided to drink in a bit of refinement.

Actually a drink wouldn’t be a bad idea, so John (or Blowsteem he hadn’t decided who he was going to be about town) stopped by a deli and picked up a packed lunch which he took with him to the botanical gardens at the Huntington library. Where he found a nice tree to sit down under and enjoy a quiet lunch.

[Daimbert]

Shannon O'Connor

Her shift ended about mid to late afternoon, and so Shannon left the library. On the steps, she paused, wondering if she needed anything or if she could just go straight home.

"Groceries, " she commented to herself. "Groceries."

Tomorrow was a day off for her, and she'd wanted to cook a few things, including a macaroni casserole for the rest of the week. She briefly considered leaving it until tomorrow, but the store nearest her place wouldn't be that busy now, and was on the way. If she waited until tomorrow, she'd have to go out of her way to get it, and might get there when it was busy. She didn't like going into stores that were busy.

She sighed, and started off down the walkway towards the bus stop.