[identity profile] metal-door.livejournal.com
A note has been toed underneath Darla's excessively leafy door. The handwriting and signature belong to Chandra Suresh.

It says: I'm so glad you're alive. It says: I hope you're safe. It says: we need to find one another again.

It gives an address.
[identity profile] leto-reficio.livejournal.com
In Metropolis, there is a motel.

It's haunted by something that you can't see, can't hear, can't smell, can only feel as a chill in the air.

It's been abandoned for a long time. There are signs of later habitation -- clothes, disturbed dust, a little food -- but nothing more recent than the unbroken circle of salt around it that was laid down more than a week ago.

Sylar can't cross it. He's tried, many times, but an invisible wall rises up in front of him, as high as he can go. He can't touch the stuff, can't disturb it, can't do anything but hope that someone living will come and create a break in the circle. He's trapped.

The whole setting is somehow eerie.

He wasn't killed by the battle and the exorcisms, wasn't sent over to some more distant afterlife or oblivion, but he was weakened considerably. And, bereft of any human contact, Sylar is losing his grip on the world of the living.
[identity profile] ineveryport.livejournal.com
It's a regular caravan that shows up at Metropolis today.

Vehicle One: The Coraline, a modifies pick-up truck being driven by everyone's favourite bloodthirsty pirate, with a distinctly anti-killing ex-Robin in the passenger seat. The ghost of a teenage girl is technically sitting on the roof of the cabin, but sometimes she pokes her head in to interrupt the boys in their conversation.

Vehicle Two: A 1967 Chevrolet Impala, the only one blaring out tunes, while the driver and his blonde passenger sit in relative silence, not having much to say to each other.

Vehicle Three: A Porsche, containing one carefully prepared hunter and one blind woman who prides herself on not needing any preparation. The conversation in that one is a little more lively, even containing the occasional laugh from the girl.

It's a ridiculous procession, considering they don't really know where they're going. But Jack has all six of his senses peeled, looking for a young teenage girl of Chinese origin who isn't a young teenage girl of Chinese origin.
[identity profile] leto-reficio.livejournal.com
There may be plenty of things to complain about, but all in all Sylar has come out of this situation on top.

Not so long ago he was a ghost, barely conscious, barely even tangible, haunting a stinking alley in a decimated city. The decimated city part hasn't changed, and he's now occupying the body of a young woman who can shoot fireworks of all things, and he's lodging with the most insufferable man he's ever met without looking in a mirror -- but that's still a body, and that's still a home, and he still has the delicious intuitive knowledge that tells him he can rebuild his lost collection.

He even knows what he's going to begin with.

Well, what did you think he was doing with his days, if not lurking about and stalking innocent phasers?

Metropolis

Aug. 28th, 2008 08:50 pm
[identity profile] lecter-md-phd.livejournal.com
A man walks into the city, having been brought here from the Farm. He is currently looking for a place to stay.

A hunting bag is on his shoulder, and in his hand is a very sharp knife.

If you help him, you'll have a friend. If you annoy him . . . well, I suggest you don't do that.
galwonder: (chee!)
[personal profile] galwonder
Metropolis is the biggest, highest populated, most important functioning city in the world. It also, right now, isn't much of a fucntioning sity - the police are pushed to their limits, the population is higher than it can really support and its economy is crazy thanks to a distinct lack of anywhere to trade with. Crime is higher than it used to be in Gotham.

Which provides a lot for a young crime fighter to do. And Sparrow is after a drug ring specialising in Ruhipnol and other, related sedatives.

So she's not Sparrow right now. Her shades are off, her outfit is stashed, and the only equipment she's carrying is that which she could cover in the pockets of her big yellow coat.

She's undercover on the streets of Metropolis.

[OOC: Still open to new threads! They just will ALL take place before the Sylar thread for obvious reasons]
[identity profile] wearsredhelmet.livejournal.com
In Metropolis....

Eden McCain has a table to herself at a coffee shop - notebook papers are spread over it with titles like 'Main Character' and 'Subplot 1'. The great post-apocalyptic novel isn't going to get written any other way! She felt like dressing like a cliche artist - and is wearing a navy blue beret.

Tom Therin is whistling cheerfully to himself as he walks down the street, idly looking for pockets to pick.


On the Cooper farm....

Bridgette Dubois has a stuffed pony, a lion, and a unicorn in a semi-circle on the lawn to the Cooper house. "Whoever wants me to sing Lion King at the talent show, say aye!"

The stuffed animals are silent, but Bridgette - after checking on Marie, who claps her hands in agreement an area to her left - nods as if they actually spoke. "All right - how about Sound of Music?"

Oliver Wycliffe, dressed in white and looking thoughtful, is riding his stallion Beauregard down the road to the farm.

Dana, an extremely tired-looking young woman in ratty jeans and a T-shirt, is waiting nervously in front of the hospital, gnawing on her lip.

[ooc: Tag one, tag all, but please let me know which one you're tagging!]
[identity profile] lytii-intuition.livejournal.com
[OOC: Intuition has the power to walk in dreams. She does it when she sleeps, at random; the process isn't under her control. If you feel like threading out an Inty cameo in your pup's dream, tag away! Check her character tag for past examples.]
[identity profile] leto-reficio.livejournal.com
Sylar inna field.

Sent to sleep with superpowers.

Not yet eaten by Triffids.















Botherable.
[identity profile] dear-carbon.livejournal.com
Flash. BANG.

And somewhere in the ruin of New York, not far from a parkful of triffids, three people appear in varying states of confusion.

Darla was leaning against a wall. Since that wall is now thin air, there's a bit of a flail as she sorts out her balance.

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