~~~LIES~~~

I couldn't be bothered to write another intro so pinched the one off mhc.

People from all over the country are mysteriously vanishing into a web of lies and deceit. A new military scheme is kidnapping people and experimenting on them to create some of the greatest weapons ever thought of - humans with superhuman abilities.

Ruthlessly trained to be cold hearted, these "freaks" are under the complete control or the military. People arrive at the compounds normals and become freaks. And sides? Well, everybody's their own side, and they will fight to the death for it.

This roleplay starts with a new intake of "normals" - confused, fightened, and destined for a completely different life from the one they used to have. Once at the compound, they'll recieve their powers and be trained to each of their strengths.

*drags Logan and Karl kicking and screaming (which is mainly on Karl's behalf) and plonks them down here*
Now, you two play nice with the other children and don't go causing any profanities, you hear me?
*Logan glowers at me whilst Karl fakes innocence*
Karl: Is our epic romance a profanity?
*sigh* Good luck other characters who have to deal with these nutjobs...

Miri blasts a hole through the wall and is about to kill everyone when she realises that this would be really bad for the plot, and so go boringly normal.

I think they're all suited for eachother.

I feel as though epicness is on the horizon.
Karl is just using this as an excuse to "cower" behind Logan by going all scooby-doo on this shit and engulfing him through an epic pounce. He does not mind this as a plot twist.
You know if this is going to get "serious", you're going to have to start this party? Because I'm too sleep-deprived and insane for such things.

Max and Cas enter room together, but immediately go to different ends of it. It is important to keep a sense of routine in a new and unfamiliar situation. Cas calmly sits down with a deadpan expression to wait for however long she has to. Max paces irritably with a confused expression and occasionally asks noone in particular wtf is going on.

A start. It is long. But introductions are interesting. The charries will awake in their locked dorms.

I'm never going to get used to this. They all look dead. Ian shook his head as he surveyed the rows of unconscious bodies on plain gurneys which were being wheeled into orderly rows, from the balcony overlooking the hall. Strings of people in white surgical coats were bustling from bed to bed, performing the Emmison procedure. Named after the obscure scientist who’d created it, it was what landed every person at this place with their supernatural abilities. Ian wouldn’t really go so far as to say that Emmison was the one to thank for the whole scheme, perhaps to say that he was the one everyone blamed after going through it would be better.
Ian and the rest of the assembled telepaths on the balcony weren’t really needed at that moment in time. The scientists knew what they were doing; he was just on hand in case somebody woke up and caused havoc. Unlikely, but it had happened before, and the unknown entity (or entities, he wouldn’t know) at the head of the freak show was being extra cautious of the new recruits. The Turning scientists were really too valuable to lose.
After a general health assessment of the occupants, the beds were wheeled out to various dormitories - if they were lucky and came along with a friend they would probably get put in the same dorm, it eased the settling process a little - where they would all wake up, get a little of settling-in time be released from their dorms (which would prior to this been locked), channelled back into this hall and be told that they were now really, really weird humans. In staggered groups of around twenty, of course, more than that would create a riot of storming freaks. Not that twenty freaks couldn’t create a riot, just it was less likely. Each group would be put under the “care” of someone with at least two bands on the cuff of their sleeve. Ian had three. That was the main reason he and forty-odd other people were gathered on the balcony, each one assigned to break the ludicrous news to the newbies: You’ve been changed into super-human killing machines. But it’s all okay, because I’ll be here to show you how to reduce your chances of dying. It was a harsh revelation, and often risky for anyone in the room at the time; shocked, panicked, untrained new recruits could mean anything ranging from a tidal wave of tears to a nuclear explosion. But the organisation did it that way, and you didn’t go round questioning their decisions if you wanted to gain or keep any bands at your wrists.

dghksdaa thank you for starting >w<!!!

Okay firstly the satire was delightful, but not as delightful as the disclaimer that begs for Logan and Karl to be locked in a dormitory room together... so yay for lies because I'm a mutants freak >w<

Indulging in long introductions is fun so lolololololol....

Karl woke up with the worst headache he had ever experienced; then again, he said that most mornings and on several evenings, so it wasn't really saying anything. Screwing his eyes shut in a moment of painful regret he brought his palm to his forehead and groaned, vowing as he always did never to drink again, sure it could never be worth the headache, and then as always he would laugh when he broke that vow and avoid thinking about the time when he'd make it again. Muttering to himself under his breath about his own stupidity and such, he propped himself up on whatever he was lying on and squinted around with bleary eyes and a blurred vision. Head-spinning, distorted vision, a monstrous headache; exactly how much had he drunk?
Closing his eyes again, deciding the rest of the world was a bitch for being so god damn bright he tried to feel around for a glass water cup and instead found a body dumped next to him. Upon further investigation (the poking, prodding and squishing of this said person's face) he discovered it was Logan and sighed, putting his head in his other hand. Again? Stretching over, he reached and knotted his fingers in Logan's hair, counted to three and then yanked him up.
Sitting up, somewhat startled by suddenly having his hair pulled quite so violently, Logan took a minute to adjust before translating early-morning hair pulling to equate to an early-morning realising you slept with Karl the previous night moment. Equipped with a dull headache that oddly enough didn't seem to hurt, he presumed alcohol had been involved and thus shied away from the hand, since that meant it was just as much Karl's fault as it was his. Brushing the purple-head off, he yawned, stretched himself out and forced himself to open his eyes. "Karl," he then began, slowly, "where the hell are we?"
Reluctantly the other male opened his eyes and, after the initial dramatisation of pretending to be a vampire burning in the sun, he realised along with Logan that they were sealed in a rather uninviting room which all in all resembled a high-security prison cell; they would know.
"We became Mexican outlaws, picked up two prostitutes, drove to Vegas, gambled our savings and won a fortune, started a multi-million drug industry with our winnings, got in too deep with the other companies and ended up having to settle our scores with the other drug lords by shooting them in the head. Then, due to the two prostitutes turning on us for a fat pay off, the cops tracks us down, charged us for our crimes and we got sent here. Mystery solved."
"Very helpful Karl," Logan muttered darkly, too tired to deal with waking up in a prison cell at the moment.
"Early morning creativity disgusts me too," Karl seconded in a matching tone before he flopped back down into the pillow of the bed. "Wake me up when it's over."

Sorry cannot stop giffing it's addicting

Max woke up alone in a small little room. Without getting up, he glanced from side to side. Max felt distant from it all, presumabing quite reasonably that this was a dream. Still, he felt a strange sensation within him, like there was something coursing through his body. Other than that, this dream was oddly realistic. He looked around again, and realised that on the bed next to him, still asleep, was someone far too familiar for his liking. His tennis partner, Cas. She was an excellent player, and he conceded that if not for her, there would have been no way they would have even got into national leagues, let alone international leagues. She was exceptionally skilled- they had no tacticist, as she was more than capable of coming up with their own tactics, she was fast, had flawless technique, and a grim determination that rarely failed to beat their opposition. On the other hand, he hated her. She lived for the sport, and was annoyingly apathetic towards him. Why was someone he disliked so much in his dream?

Cas was not asleep, but from the moment she had awoken she had known something was wrong, and was trying to assess what she could by sound alone before she opened her eyes. Weirdly enough, she was able to hear a lot more than usual, although the sound appeared delayed. Hearing a familiar rustle and grunt beside her, she realised that Max was there. While he had long since stopped trying to get her into bed, she suspected that the insecurity of this unfamiliar situation would make him start again. How troublesome.

Miri blinked blearily as her eyes opened, taking in surroundings that were definitely not expected. Brain still not quite functioning correctly, she shut her eyes and moved one hand to pinch the other. She'd never recalled doing this when she was dreaming before, and wasn't entirely sure that pinching would help her detect whether this was a dream or not, but if felt like a semi-sensible thing to do. Pinching her hand turned out to hurt; her nails had been left to grow to lengths that her mother would have tutted at. She wasn't sure what to make of this fact, and decided that the whole pinching thing was pointless, and that perhaps looking would be a more reliable source of information. She opened her eyes again, forcing them to stay open against the offending glare of stark overhead lights. She was alone in a small undecorated room, with no other sounds aside from her own breathing. She sat up, frowning as a headrush struck, and put out a hand onto the suspiciously hospital-like bed to steady herself.

Ian knew he shouldn't feel nervous about meeting his group of newbies. He was perfectly capable of telepathically anaethatising any of them that got out of hand, and ther would always be another person on hand (unknown to the newbies) to help out if things went disastrously wrong. There was always a risk, and of cause he was a little worried about getting burnt to cinders, tidal waved, exploded or any other freakish mothod of death, but it was more the guilt that would accompany breaking the news to the as of yet unenlightened. He didn't expect them to like him, or even respect him, so he was effeiciently going out and making enemies. It wasn'te exactly a happy feeling.

Harriet is being in America so she won't reply for a while.

I have a question: when you are writing from Ian's perspective, you it sounds like they are all in one room. When writing from Miri's it sounds like they are all separated. I'm probably being stupid, but could you clarify for me?

Yeah, I realised this when you posted, thought of a witty solution, then forgot to include it in the next post -.- . I kind of envisioned them as alone, or if they came with friends in groups of up to four. These rooms would them become their permanant dormitories and they could intermingle if they wanted to.
But, if we wanted to get rid off the faff of changing previous posts, we could just have it that the freaky head freaks would want to see how shared or secluded rooms affected power and such like. Je ne sais pas.

don't worry, i'll just edit my post so cas and max are alone. however, if ian etc can see them, can they see ian etc?

Ian is thinking about them currently. He's in the main hall and just watched them being rolled off to their dorms. After we get bored about writing about their insecurities, we can shepherd them off back into the hall, where they will meet Ian.

Karl has no insecurities. He is totally secure. Yeah man. Believe it. How dare you accuse him of having such things. Bah. Okay anyway I'm done... I WILL NEVER BE DONE MOCKING COMIC SANS HOWEVER. Since this is my one opportunity, it is done so far too much below =w= apologies

Karl did a remarkable job of not getting up, such a good one in fact that he recokoned he deserved a reward of some sort. He overcame all obstacles, which included (but were not limited to): Logan nagging, shouting and whining like the little bitch he was, Logan throwing various objects, some weird siren noise thing screaming at him from outside the warm cocoon of the covers he'd pulled over his head and Logan trying to bribe him to get up with the opportunity to mock Comic Sans (not that Karl had any idea wtf Comic Sans was doing wherever the hell he was). Eventually however his own will power was removed from the equation when Logan grabbed him by the ankles and yanked him out so he collapsed in a mess of blankets on the ground. "It smells like cucumbers in here," Karl muttered sulkily as he crawled about the floor, not really sure why he was doing it, but confident that doing so would mean that eventually he'd encounter something useful. His goal came to him however when Logan dropped what were presumably his clothes on his head.

Pulling them on, tutting at how uncomfortable they were, Karl dressed him self with the provided attire and then eventually forced himself to stand up, mooching over to Logan who was now stood with a thing in his hands. Again, Karl had no idea what the thing was, but it was a thing, thus consumerism had conditioned him to want the thing. snatching the thing (he really needed a name for it so he could stop calling it the thing, thus he decided it would be called THE PAD, simply because it looked like a futuristic version of an iPad) Karl swiftly went about pressing all the buttons. The pad felt odd in his hands, not exactly warm or cold or anything he could put his finger on, but it felt... weird. Like he could feel it, as though it were a living breathing thing. He could even hear it, but then it appeared to be emitting a really, really annoying noise: a high-pitched humming that was beginning to drive him insane. "Shut uuuuup," he grumbled at it whilst casually scrolling through the various menus the pad chose to display for him. Logan was watching over his shoulder, actually reading what he was hastily skimming over. As if he was going to read it. It was in *gulp* COMIC SANS.

KarL: Logan I have a bad feeling.
Logan: I do too.
Karl: Logan, I think our paragraph(s) might be written in... COMIC SANS.

*cackles maliciously*

I've decided I miss Ian and Miri.  Plus I'm procrastinating over things. want to flog this back to some semblance of life?

omg I remember lies. TWAS BEAUTIFUL.

There was a lot of comic sans hate and abuse I remember too...

ALSO HAI

I kind of doubt that this will go anywhere, but during my procrastination times I've been thinking about the structure of this lies universe, and the general rules/physics/biology of the whole "use powers" things
So, to put some ideas here:

• For reasons outlined later, all people with powers are given devices which resemble bracelets, which inhibit the use of powers.
  
• The majority of bracelets have switches which can allow powers to be used. Bracelets without switches are used for permanent "switching off " of powers , which kind of sucks
  
• Most bracelets have switches that can only be unlocked by certain combinations, or "passwords". In institutions, these tend to be instructors or generals
  
• Bracelets can be "hacked" to allow the wearer to consciously lock or unlock their powers
  
• People generally have one bracelet per ability. Some very strong abilities require two bracelets. Three bracelets per power is unheard of (or is it....?)
  
• Sometimes, people with very strong powers can damage or destroy their bracelet (e.g. during stressful situations). A malfunctioning bracelet can be dangerous to the wearer and people surrounding as it results in energy misdirection, usually resulting in damage of internal organs and all that jazz.
  

Also...

• So the powers require varying amounts of energy
  
• different types require different amounts, and obviously varying intensities and duration
  
• People using power have a ridiculously high energy requirement, and those who have unrestricted and regular use carry small glucose packs which are easily attached to surgically implanted catheters
  
• You can preemptively top up on energy stores, but this tends to lead to erratic use. It's generally better to have regular topups, or to be hooked up to a steady feed
  
• If you're running low, you show symptoms of exhaustion. Generally a good idea to stop whatever power thing you're doing or get a glucose pack.
  
• Over-exertion to the point there is no energy left can result in death (dun dun DUN)
  
• Healers can transfer energy from one person to another (this is the basis of their healing skills) through any form of physical contact
  
• Unrestricted (ie activated) power states use more energy regardless of whether the person is using a power or not
  

So that was my rambling
Um
Ok