Jack is an average, unassuming guy. He stands bashfully, avoiding eye contact as he looks around at everything except the person he's speaking with. A closer look. however, will reveal more.
Beneath this carefully neutral appearance, Jack's body is lean and efficient. He's slow to anger and behind his bashful demeanor is an assertive individual observing his environment with an almost predatory nature.
Post by Jacksoπ Flεtchεr on Apr 18, 2016 9:16:14 GMT -5
"I think I know what Frank is referring to," The young man told Ilya, his brow creased slightly with worry. "A terrorist group comprised of supernaturals? I don't know this specific one, but groups like this pop up every so often. They're usually not subtle when it comes to using their powers and they're found out and taken care of before they can become too much of an issue. But these guys, these ones seem smart. Almost disciplined."
Jack rubbed his chin, glancing back at Frank. "If it hadn't been for Fred over there getting cold feet, who knows when they would've been found out. As things stand, there might not be enough time to do anything about whatever evil shit they have planned in Paris."
The young man sighed. Things were spinning out of control very quickly and Jack had no idea what he'd somehow managed to get himself into. He'd just been chilling in a gas station, buying candy. How did he end up in the middle of this mess?
"I really don't like this. You should probably take off. I'm going to try to fix whatever mess these wannabe super villains are apparently attempting to make before it gets too bad, hopefully. I can't ask you to help me out with this one."
"I wasn't looking for your permission, Jack," Ilya retorted coolly, catching a leveled gray gaze against his own. She was already knee-deep in the mess that this was, and for him to try and dismiss her like he had the right, like she would simply let him go at something far bigger than the both of them on his own regardless of the extent of his skill. It's not as if she could end the lives of a dozen in hours and not find the reasoning variable at its source; the mere thought was absurd.
"Actually, no. I am giving you a solid 'no' on this one -- and I'm staying, and helping, no matter what you think is best. You'll have to toss me over your bloody shoulder and escort me a hundred miles away if you even want to attempt to go at this alone." Truly, carrying Ilya around like a rag-doll would be a substantially easy feat, but she had to put her foot down, thick brows knitting together as she stared at Jack. The rumor always was that Scottish women were stubborn -- stupidly so.
"I do not want to be human - I want to be myself. They think I am a lion, that I will chase them. I will not deny I have lions in me. I am the monster in the wood. I have wonders in my house of sugar. I have parts of myself I do not yet understand."
Jack is an average, unassuming guy. He stands bashfully, avoiding eye contact as he looks around at everything except the person he's speaking with. A closer look. however, will reveal more.
Beneath this carefully neutral appearance, Jack's body is lean and efficient. He's slow to anger and behind his bashful demeanor is an assertive individual observing his environment with an almost predatory nature.
Post by Jacksoπ Flεtchεr on Apr 18, 2016 16:23:06 GMT -5
The young man looked at Ilya, slightly confused. "I wasn't offering it, but, um, ok?" There seemed to be some slight confusion. Jack was neither offering Ilya his permission nor was he dismissing her. But it didn't seem like a misunderstanding that was worth clearing up, so he didn't say much else. He got her point. She wanted to help him murder a bunch of people. Well, a bunch more people. "If you wanna help, then fine. I won't ditch you or anything."
Turning back to Frank, the young man asked. "So where in the city is their headquarters where they're planning whatever is supposed to go down here?" Jack wanted to hit them as soon as possible and get home in time for his afternoon sugar crash.
Fred stared at him for a moment before shaking his head. "Wrong Paris. The city they're planning on attacking... Is Paris, France!"
Paris -- the good Paris, that is. At least Ilya was relatively fluent in French, right? Il est temps de tuer des terroristes.
She came to the realization that today was over -- done. She could breathe, collect her thoughts and grasp the scenario without a panic; she could sleep off her soreness and unease, stitch her wounds and shower away the blood that was both hers and many strangers she had just slaughtered, basically. Was there such thing as a nice motel in Tennessee?
She took one last look at Frank, and spared no glance to Jack before taking her leave from the house. She chose to drive this time out of sheer needing to be somewhere comfortable and safe, and waited impatiently for him to get in the passenger. She would drive and drive and drive until a motel was in her sights and she could catch Z's without an over thought of what was to come.
"I do not want to be human - I want to be myself. They think I am a lion, that I will chase them. I will not deny I have lions in me. I am the monster in the wood. I have wonders in my house of sugar. I have parts of myself I do not yet understand."
Jack is an average, unassuming guy. He stands bashfully, avoiding eye contact as he looks around at everything except the person he's speaking with. A closer look. however, will reveal more.
Beneath this carefully neutral appearance, Jack's body is lean and efficient. He's slow to anger and behind his bashful demeanor is an assertive individual observing his environment with an almost predatory nature.
Post by Jacksoπ Flεtchεr on May 28, 2016 2:51:25 GMT -5
The young man ran one hand over his face, tired and frustrated with how things had gone. All Jack had done was set up in a gas station for some candy and now he'd stumbled into this little situation. He folded his arms across his chest and stared down at F, sighing. Ilya began to leave and the young man waited patiently, stifling a yawn.
Once she was gone, Ten began to approach the other man. He didn't say anything but when Frank began to talk, he shoved the man to the basement floor, sending the chair skittering across the room. Jack wrapped his hands around the man's neck and began to squeeze, his face red with effort. Surprised, Fred still fought quite a bit. Well, as much as he could. The younger man had one knee pressed into his chest and he continued to squeeze, wrenching his neck back in forth, slamming his head into the concrete floor every so often to keep him disoriented.
Jack was feeling a bit peckish and he hoped the humid environment hadn't done much to ruin the candy he'd grabbed from the gas station. A sugar crash was the last thing he wanted. Naturally, once he was done here, the young man intended to go home and call up some of his European pals. After that, a nap was definitely in order before the big journey across the Atlantic.
Giving one last great heave, he felt something in Fred's neck snap before the man, face now a grotesque caricature of before, went limp. Breathing heavily, Jack climbed to his feet and wiped his hands off against his jeans. All in all, no more than maybe a couple minutes had gone by during the whole process. He still trembled from the adrenaline but kept the presence of mind to bring his heel down through the man's chest before making his way up the steps and out to the car. By then he'd caught his breath and didn't say anything as they drove off, filling his mouth with candy instead.