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z-May Allman's Achievements

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  1. It was beautiful, watching Vanya fight. It was also terrifying. It wasn’t just the blood arcing into the air, the smell of burning flesh or the sight of the Russian mutant tearing through former comrades. It was their cries rising into the night that touched her the most. They cried his name like a prayer for mercy, and his cold eyes looked back and denied them clemency. May was startled to discover that her vision blurred with tears. She wasn’t sobbing; just a steady leak of tears from her eyes. She blinked them away, and a soldier made it another five feet before he died. May wasn’t crying for them, exactly; more of her sorrow was for Vanya. From what little she knew about him, he’d lost his innocence long ago, assuming he ever had it. But it still hurt to hear them crying for mercy as Vanya struck at them without hesitation or remorse. A soft sound when she stopped a burst of fire short was her only warning. May twisted, trying to bring the rifle to bear, but the soldier was already landing on her, shoving her down into the snow. A massive fist to her jaw stunned her for a moment, long enough for the man to wrest the rifle from her. His eyes widened as he saw her face. “Pizda! Trakhat zhopa!” Cunt. I’ll fuck your ass. Even as May’s mind was providing a translation, she was lashing out, her metacarpals elongating into claws. But she really wasn’t a fighter, and being on the ground while a trained Marine stood over her and stomped her into a red smear wasn’t good odds. Worse still was when he caught her left hand. He wrapped his other hand around her forearm and twisted savagely. May screamed as the bones in her wrist snapped, the ligaments loosening and pulling apart. She choked back further screams; she didn’t want to distract Vanya. She was a mutant; even with a broken wrist, she could take this guy. She hoped. A hard boot came down on her right hand, trapping it against the frozen ground. With one hand, he grabbed her hair and jerked her head up. There was a knife in his hand and he went for her throat. Bones shot up from her clavicles, forming a shield that stopped the blade. At the same time, her hair wrapped itself around his wrist, trapping him to her. The man gaped at her for a moment; then May brought her broken arm around, the snapped bones shooting out of her wrist like a spear. It was his turn to scream as she gutted him. He tried to get back, but May’s hair snaked up his arm and over his body, pulling him closer. “Maybe,” she grunted as her exertions pulled him close, “I should fuck your ass, eh?” The metacarpals of her right hand stabbed into his throat, opening his jugular. Before he was fully dead, she wiggled over to her gun and pulled it out of the snow. She quickly humped herself to a new position, looking for anyone who might have gotten away while she was fighting. She saw fleeing forms and quickly positioned her rifle, aiming as best she could with a blood-slick gun and a useless left hand.
  2. This would have all been easier if May wasn’t trying to deal with her newest sociopath. He both scared her and tugged at her heart; she saw equal parts loneliness and pain and sociopathy in him. And there was no way in hell she knew how to deal with that. At least this part was easy; shoot the shit out of the place and blow it up. Anticipation of the coming battle hummed in her nerves as she taped clips end-to-end for her chosen weapon. Grimly, she tried to estimate how much ammo she’d need to kill a hundred men. She was trying really hard not to focus on the size of that number. A hundred was so many people, so many souls that would be ended because Vanya needed secrecy. She felt his eyes on her at that moment, and she looked up so see him watching her. “I think I’m ready,” she said, testing the final clip to make sure that its taped companion wouldn’t interfere with loading the clip. Even she heard the nervousness and grimaced a little. It was a cute grimace as she tucked her hair behind her ears and said, “I mean… I don’t do this much, so I am feeling a little nervous.” “You do not have to do this,” Vanya told her. “Van… I said I’d help,” May said softly. “I meant it when I said I like to see people get what they deserve. These guys mowed you and your friends down. They did it because it was easier than actually treating you guys like people. I just… I don’t normally do stuff like this and it’s a little freaky.” Vanya seemed to be at a loss for what to say. “You do not have to do this,” he repeated after a moment. “I appreciate that, buddy,” she said with a smirk but she was shaking her head. “I meant it. All I ask is you understand that this isn’t normal for me. Usually I ferret information, not shoot people. But I’ll help. So let’s get it done, Van.” “Very well.” He turned to the door outside, and after checking that all her body parts were secured behind something warm, May followed him. The night was drawing into the darkest part, and the wind cut right through her layers. “Fuck,” she hissed into her scarf, gripping her gun more tightly and staggering after Fenris. She wished she had his tolerance for the cold as she shuffled through the knee-deep, wind-driven snow. He led the way, pausing before the building that was the barracks. May was already setting the stock of her rifle against her shoulder, popping one into the chamber and thumbing the safety off. Looking to Fenris, she gave him a nod to show she was ready. Without preamble, he settled the launcher against his shoulder, aimed and fired. Praying her aim wouldn't be thrown off by her shivering body, she aimed for the front door and waited.
  3. Okkkaaaayyy… I’m not sure what was creepier, Vanya’s Torture Time or Storyhour with Vanya. Still, her heart ached for the young man. Hesitantly, her male features melted away into her ‘normal’ form, one that she’d had for so long it was now the face she kept. Her face was now beautiful, delicately featured. Her eyes were a lovely green, bordering on unnatural. Her black hair was hanging loose as she stepped behind Vanya. Her borrowed clothing hung loosely, accentuating her feminine frame unintentionally. Her hand lifted, reaching for him. He’s having a really bad day, she reminded herself. It started when he died, so some… mental slippage is to be expected. He’s more or less confessed to being a sociopath all his life. She touched him; he didn’t jump, probably because he knew where she was. May told her nerves to stop screaming as she gently squeezed his shoulder. “That’s over, Vanya.” “Once we finish killing the soldiers.” “Yeeees, once we’re done with that.” May’s agreement was stated in a soft voice. “Then you can go and do whatever you want from here. Vanya will be dead. You’ll be able to be whoever you want to be.” A smile tugged at her lips; she knew the value of that statement. Being whomever she wanted to be was her stock in trade. “Get to rebuild yourself from the ground up. It’s very freeing.”
  4. What were you fuckers up to? May wondered, flipping through the files. The question was as much for her curiosity as it was to distract her from the sounds behind her. Vanya had earned this; May just didn’t have the stomach for it. Locking her tongue against the roof of her mouth to keep herself from retching at the sounds, she scanned as quickly as she could, but the science was beyond her. She tucked the files under her coat and secured the vials in a pocket, wrapped in a handkerchief so that they wouldn’t break. The only exceptions were the file and vial that were Vanya’s; she felt he deserved to have them. Crouched, holding her knees, she waited until Vanya had finished his long litany of names and cuts, until enough pain had been spilled to banish Vanya’s ghosts. Finally, she heard the death rattle that signaled the end; the shifter gave the animalist mutant a few more moments. Namely, she wanted to wait until his breathing settled, because it sounded disturbingly like he was recovering from an orgasm. When the blonde Russian cleared his throat, May hazarded a peek. The gooey mess in the middle of the floor didn’t look very human; it was more like something had hit a side of beef with a car. Only random parts that were all-too human stood out in the mess – a finger here, an ear there. May swallowed and looked away, her eyes coming to rest on Vanya. His glowing blue-green orbs were watching her and she flushed with the certainty that he’d caught her unease. She probably wasn’t giving a very good showing for the good ole U.S. of A. right now. She’d killed; she’d even killed people who were just in the way of what she needed to do. She’d never tortured someone to death, though, or seen it being done. Clearing her throat, she said, “If you’re done, I have something for you.” She extended her arm, holding out the slim finger of glass and the papers. “These are yours.”
  5. May huddled under her coat, her masculine body so weird to her. She had pretended to be male from time to time and she never got over the differences – how strange it felt to her. What was even stranger was that in a few hours it’d feel as normal as being a woman to her. She just needed some time to adapt. “I agree with the plan,” she said simply. “We’ll have to be fast and quiet. Are you ready?” He gave her a curt nod and eased away to the right. She followed, doubled over behind a snowdrift the curled higher than her waist. May tried not to stare, but all she could see was darkness and the shape of Vanya’s ass bouncing in front her, almost hidden in the ebon night. And the snow – the endless white that gathered any light and refracted it back at them. Even that couldn’t lend the world any visibility; there was so little light to reflect. They snaked around the edge of camp until they were as close as they could get to the HQ before entering. The two mutants were cautious as they crept along the side of the building, two more shadows in the darkness. At the corner, they waited five minutes while two guards finished sharing a cigarette and obfuscated sips from a concealed flask. The moment of truth came; one guard turned and resumed his patrol, carrying him away from them. The other fellow was the first to die; as he walked past them, Vanya slipped out and grabbed him. There was a wet sound; then May heard the familiar rattle of a last breath. May slipped out next to the dying guard, gazing down at him. As the light faded from his eyes, the soldier looked at her, sacred and confused. The last thing he saw was her male face, twisting until it looked like his. May stripped off his coat and removed his belt, hooking it around her strange waist. She slung the rifle over a meaty shoulder and grabbed an arm. Together, they dragged his body into a shadow and shoved snow over the body. That done, she nodded to Vanya and whispered, “I’ll take the frontal route now. Back me up.” He nodded back and May took off across the center of the compound, walking briskly toward the HQ. At the door, she paused, counted to twenty to let Vanya position himself and then knocked on the door.
  6. “This is not my first rodeo, Van,” May said, once again throwing weird English words into her Russian. “I’ve killed people before, for expediency. There are doctors and scientists in that pit, people who just did a job. People die all the time.” She folded her hands together and added, “I don’t like doing it. But sometimes, it has to be done.” He could smell her unease at her statement; her stress levels were rising just thinking about it. But her expression was resolute. “So let’s go, let’s do this. It’ll make my mission easier, too.” “Your mission?” “Intel gathering,” May told him flatly. “We’d heard that they were closing shop here. I was sent to find out anything I could.” A small smile graced her lips. “I don’t think they meant personnel. But this is good anyway.” She stood up and dug into a bag, producing a couple of heavy sweaters. She pulled them on, preparing to go back into the cold without her coat. “I have an extra pair of pants here.” May tossed them to him; as she turned, her face was reshaping itself into a man’s. She was Slavic in appearance now, with crooked teeth and hollow eyes. “Will these fit?” Her voice was rougher and masculine.
  7. May was quiet for a moment. She had listened to him, but disagreed on a few points. The soldier’s deserved to get killed a lot for their part in this. They were moral creatures, capable of making their own choices, and they’d chosen to kill and burn. “Alright, I’m in,” she said, tilting her head and grinning. She seemed a cowboy, the Rodina’s derogatory term for crazy Americans. Mavericks, running around shooting off their pistols. “I’ll help you out. We should make a plan.” “No,” he said, shaking his head. “No, you have done too much for me already.” “Too much? How’d you figure that? Got a calculator in there?” At his blank look, she added, “You said too much. That seems to mean that you’ve assigned some kind of numeric value…. You know what? Nevermind. It was funnier in my head. I want to help you.” “Why?” May shifted on her seat. “Honestly?” “Yes. Honesty.” “I like being the hero. I like being the strong one. I like helping people.” She rattled off the reasons without hesitation; she wasn’t making them up. “All of this is completely true. But most of all: I love fucking with people, of dishing out their just desserts. And helping you will allow me to do all of these things at once. Because boy-howdy” – which she said in English – “do these fucks deserve some retribution.”
  8. “Vanya? Huh, funny name, though I guess that’s only because I’m not Russian. I’m May,” she told him, drawing her legs up under her so that her feet could warm up faster. After she’d done it, she realized that old women couldn’t move their bodies with so much limberness, or at least not the heavy old woman she looked like. Like unclenching one muscles and tensing another, the features of the old woman faded until they became that of a young woman, dark-haired and blue-eyed. She was gorgeous, all porcelain skin and ice-blue eyes against black hair, but it was a little less impressive knowing that she could look any way she wished. They ate in silence, Vanya because he was too busy eating and May because she wanted to let him eat. She stood and pulled a clean tin cup out of the rack by the sink. She poured some water from a plastic jug and served it to her guest. It took her a few minutes to locate her spare and then she sat back down with her own drink. “So now,” she said, as Vanya swallowed and began to pick the crumbs out of the wrapper, “what are we going to do?” Blue-green eyes settled on her with wariness and resignation, as if he’d been expecting her to say something like this all along. She could see that he expected her to ask for a favor since she’d done such a large one for him, or even to turn it into a demand. May looked sad, her constructed face built for such a sorrowful expression. “Whatever it is, we need to be careful. I won’t risk my mission here. But I’m not just going to cast you out.” She paused before asking. “What would you like to do now, Vanya?”
  9. May shook her head. “We’re not there yet,” she said in Russian, her accent apparent as she made no effort to hide it. “The soldiers are too close for comfort, and while they may not care about a little old woman picking through for garbage, they will object to her taking one of their cancelled experiments home.” “Home?” “I can’t leave you in the wind and the cold,” she said, nodding. Shivering, she shrugged off her coat and wrapped it around both of them. She didn’t really like being pressed to this man; he smelled pretty bad. That wasn’t his fault, but she still didn’t like it. “Hurry, before someone shines a light over here.” Together, they trudged through the shin-deep snow, pausing only so that May could grab the things she’d scrounged. She was coming back tomorrow and didn’t want the soldiers to ask why the old woman had abandoned her hard work. He leaned heavily on her as they walked, too weary to even ask where they were going. The darkness was pierced only by the starlight; they were almost on top of the small hut before Vanya saw it. It was just as cold inside as out; May slipped from under the coat and tucked it around him. Shivering and cursing the Siberian winters, she tossed some tinder in the fireplace and stirred the ashes. The flammable material caught easily and May began to add smaller sticks and then logs. “No central heating,” she said, her teeth chattering, “but it’ll warm up in here soon.” She paused only a moment, fighting off the awkward feeling of being around a stranger. “I don’t have much food. Here, have your choice of… biscuits and gravy or turkey dinner.” Grinning, she offered him both of the MREs. “I guarantee they will almost certainly not taste like either.” After Vanya had selected one, she set the other aside and sat down on one of the two rough wooden chairs. “So, what do I call you?”
  10. The snow squeaked under her feet as the Russian peasant woman trudged over the white landscape. The bent old woman looked out of place as she trudged from the village to the column of smoke. To the watching guards, she was just a crazy old woman risking the ruins to find something worthwhile – some food left behind or perhaps some clothing. There might be something of true value there. The soldiers ignored her. They'd already taken what they wanted yesterday. They were camping just under a klick away; two wandered over to chat at her. After seeing that she really was a crazy old woman, they left her alone. There wasn't anything of any real value anymore but it was too cold to put forward the effort to drive her away. That was exactly what May wanted. Humming to herself, she picked over the remains, sure that the soldiers had already taken everything they thought was important. What she was looking for was something unimportant. Something that had been overlooked. That was her hope and all she had to do until the soldier cleared out of their winter tents and she could search more thoroughly. The pile of charred bodies made her sad. All these people had done was their jobs, and their reward for good service was a bullet to the skull and a mass grave. Of course, May was aware that a similar fate awaited her; an unmarked grave after an ignoble death. Her family would probably never know. Sighing, she started to pick through the bodies. A woman in a nurse's uniform; hard to say if she'd been pretty after being so thoroughly cooked. May collected some melted bits of metal – buttons or maybe a stethoscope. She tossed them aside as if she found them interesting enough to keep. Moving along, ignoring the stink of burned flesh, she moved through the bodies, keeping what she thought a crazy old Russian peasant would keep. She worked well into the night, fading from the sight of the guards. As darkness provided her cover, her work became more focuses. The young mutant really wanted to find something to justify being out here. One of the bodies shifted, but May ignored it. The bodies would settle and shift as they putrefied and rotted. May paused, rubbing the back of her hand across her forehead. She was working hard, but it was too cold to sweat. In fact, the heat of her exertions was all that was keeping her warm enough to continue. She was tired, mostly from the work; she'd found that she needed less sleep as she got better at shifting her form. The back of her neck ached fiercely but the front of her hands were black with ash and other, worse crap. “'Join our agency, see the world, be a spy! It'll be fun!'” She shook her head and rotated her neck. “This is so much fun.” She tilted her head up and looked at the sky. Why the hell had she landed this shit-ass assignment? The bodies shifted again and May glanced at them again. She was tired of digging through bodies. She should go examine the ruins for somethin- A noise from the bodies drew her up short, her old, wrinkled skin creasing in surprise. That sound had been a choking noise, not a gasp of releasing air or bodies settling. The dead didn't make noises like that. May crawled over the bodies, pausing to listen. “Were you following my voice?” she whispered. “Here I am. Come this way.” Was there really someone under there? Could someone have lived? There was only one way to know. May heard another sound and followed it. The bodies were moving, being lifted from below. May paused and watched, then stuck her hand in, grabbing for the movement she'd seen. “This is me, reaching for you... please don't bite or anything, alright?”
  11. Hi, guys. I'm starting this thread to ask us to give Joani a bit of help. The idea is that creating the society and culture of a world like FI takes effort. When you have mutants being public for the last sixty years, things are fundamentally changed, especially socially. I'd like this to be a collaborative effort to build Our World. So what kind of changes do we see? The people that modify their body (such as giving themselves 'horns') - do they still do this? Or with the anti-mutant sentiment are alterations such as this and colored hair and contacts more a statement of support for mutants? What about movies? Music? What industries have sprung up, catering to mutants or to anti-mutant movements? Terrorist groups? I think we could have a lot of fun working all of this out, with Joani getting to override whatever isn't going to work. If you're interested, please start posting ideas below.
  12. Just FYI - I'm open to ties to other PCs. If you have an idea about what kind of tie you might want, just come talk to me. I can probably facilitate.
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