i'm hardly capable of half the damage that i would like to do [open]

[rosswood]

Who: Alex Kralie, some closed starters, and YOU
Where: All around the island of Genosha
When: August 5th - August 9th
Rating: Let's say PG-13 for general violence, colorful language, and trauma
Summary: Alex Kralie is one human attempting to tear down a society built for mutants. This is sure to go well. I'll match any format, brackets or prose!
The Story:

open to mutants; but you know i'm too full of shit to think this through

A man's been following you for a the past thirty minutes to an hour. He's been crossing every street you have, passing every establishment, stayed within a good thirty-yard radius of you this whole while. He keeps his hands in his pockets, his hood up over his features, his head low. Unobtrusive, except for the whole part where he's following you.

Maybe it's nothing. He looks normal. If he's a mutant, he's not an obvious one. He hasn't said anything to draw attention to himself or to you. All in all, he's been pretty harmless. So there's no cause to worry. Right?

Only the next time you look over your shoulder, the next time you wonder where he might be, you'll find he isn't behind you anymore.

Instead, he's walking toward you at a brisk pace, his stride hard and purposeful. There's a glint of something in his hand. A gun, or a knife, or some other weapon. He brings it up rapidly, his intent clear and telegraphed.

You can run, or fight, or let it be. But this man is here to kill you, and he's not leaving until either you're dead or his advantage is lost.

[ooc: Alex is intent on killing any mutants he comes across. He shouldn't die since he's scheduled to kill someone at the end of the event, but feel free to kick his ass if you like! Or he can kill you, either way.]

open to humans; i'm but a boy just like the rest of these thieves

A grimy office set up in some basement isn't the ideal living situation for anyone, but that's inconsequential. There's stacks of files, photographs pinned to his walls, papers with lines upon lines of names. Some of them are crossed out. Most aren't.

The Resistance isn't overly inclined to work with him. Alex clicks his tongue between his teeth, annoyed. That's a laugh. No, actually, it's not. It's bullshit is what it is.

He slips outside, stumping across streets and navigating back alleyways. He's had to lay low lately. Turns out committing acts of terrorism against mutants lands you on some higher-ups' watch lists, who knew? But he's got to stay on his feet somehow, and any humans sympathetic to the Resistance and any like-minded individuals are his best bet. He's not calling for charity here; he's got money, if only a little, and he can pay them back in favors - nothing's too unsavory for him. Whatever someone might require from him as payment, he's probably done worse for far less.

You might've heard of the elusive Alex Kralie, an anti-mutant extremist who can boast such achievements as attempted assassinations and bombings of mutants and mutant establishments. Maybe he comes to you in need of food or weaponry, offering his services in exchange. He's got no moral quandaries; he'll do whatever it is you need him to do, no matter how morally corrupt or inelegant. But if you turn him aside, think his methods too brutal - well, he won't blame you. He's on your side, after all. He's a human, just like you. Maybe you don't see it yet, but he's doing this for your own good. For the good of everyone.

Just help him out this once, and he'll never come to you for a favor again.

Comments

[rosswood]

...she knows his name. That in and of itself gives him pause, a concerned disdain rippling across his features. Alex. No one calls him Alex here. He lost the right to his first name with nearly everyone he met, now it's just Kralie, brusque and distant, without the courtesy of familiarity.

This isn't real, she says. We aren't supposed to be here, she says.

Well, people say the weirdest things to save their own lives. He's used to it. He doesn't care. He shrugged away those hesitations and impulses years ago. Years...yes, it had to be years. He's been here for years.

"That won't work on me," he says, short and clean, and why hasn't he fired? Why hasn't he - just shoot. Shoot, and it'll be over.

[endingpoint]

"No, no listen. My name is Jane. Jane Doe. I'm from a place where my memory was erased. And you...you were showing me movies and telling me what to watch, and you told me about your life. About waking up places you didn't remember going. So you started wearing a camera to record it. We've both been stuck in a place called Wonderland. Alex, please, remember."

She's begging him, but she's also not backing down, stepping forward.

"I don't want to hurt you."

[rosswood]

He snorts. Really? That's her cover? She's gonna have to do a little better than that.

"Nice cover," he says coldly. "But word of advice? Next time pick a name that isn't used for every unidentified body ever." He advances, cocks the gun with the sharp chunk of a round being forced into the chamber. "Or, you know. That would be my advice if there was gonna be a next time for you."

The banter comes easy. It's not elegant, what he's doing, but it's necessary. I don't want to hurt you, she says. Coming from a mutant, that can only mean one thing. His expression contorts into a snarl, vicious and ugly.

"Not really in the position to go threatening me, are ya?"

[endingpoint]

She's not in a position to point out the irony of her name and her heart is suddenly in her throat. But she's fast, maybe faster than he thinks, and she drops to the ground, leg kicking out in an sweeping kick to knock him off his his feet. All she has to do is get the gun away from him, that's it. Just get the gun.

And maybe erase his mind, take everything away that wants to hurt her.

[rosswood]

She says nothing. Maybe trying to exert her powers over him, whatever those might be. But that doesn't matter, he can't let her, he can't let her, and the gun sparks and goes off with the crack of a bullet, and he should've aimed for her head, that would've made it quick and clean but instead it strikes her just between her ribs.

He didn't mean to. He didn't even mean to, something about her had prompted a hesitation and he can't even determine what, but it's too late the gun's gone off and he







fires again.

The second bullet ricochets harmlessly off the wall.

[endingpoint]

It feels like fire tearing through her skin, and she stumbles backward onto her back. It's only then that she remembers everything, and she lays there, bleeding. She's still alive, for now, but she can taste the blood in the back of her throat as she tries to breathe, struggling, reaching out for Alex, not wanting to die alone.

She thinks of Kurt, a tear rolling down the side of her face, into her hair. At least he knows she loves him.

[rosswood]

Each breath tears its way through his chest, his shoulders heaving, his eyes wide as he feels as though he were teetering on the brink of something he didn't want to put a name to.

She'll bleed out slow if he leaves her like that, so he can't leave her like that. He staggers forward, fumbling with the pistol. She reaches out to him and he tries to ignore it, but it's like she's staring at him and knows him, and he doesn't - know - why.

Alex, she called him. Like she knew him.

"This'll be over," he says, trying to inject some form of conviction into his tone as he raises the gun again. It's trembling subtly in his hands. He aims for her head this time. That'll put an end to it, short and quick. It'll be fine. "This'll all be over soon."

It's hardly a comfort, but it's not really meant to be.

For some reason he can't discern, he closes his eyes before he fires the gun for the last time.