ROLEPLAY HQ - blackmailed-hero

Grey Northstorm had been on the run for the last two weeks, he was dirty, hungry, hurting, and just down right exhausted. As he found himself on the number 37 bus in the city of New York, he would finally feel like he is lost amongst the crowds better here than he would have been in Poca, West Virginia, where he was born and raised. He looked up at the signs that flashed amongst the many billboards amongst the crowded streets. Here, he would just be looked at like one of the many homeless people that have become a problem in the city since ‘superpowers’ began to become a thing in the world. He remembered sitting in the comfort of his little 60 foot trailer that he had purchased after being kicked out of the drug rehabilitation center in the town of Oceana. He worked hard to get back on his feet, but he fell back into the pill game. He had been in it so long, he didn’t remember why he even started taking them, but he would be on a pain pill binge when he heard about the first super powered mutant exploding in the middle of a park in midwestern Iowa. Reports indicated that the man would glow almost a flaming orange before just exploding. It wasn’t very long after that, bank robberies would occur around the country by super powered individuals who would use their ability for evil and their own gain. He would remember what would happen to make him realize that he had abilities… It was a suicide attempt. He had enough of life, he was addicted to pills, unable to find a job that didn’t involve him going miles underground to mine coal or flip burgers at a fast food chain. He didn’t like life and he had no one to tell him otherwise. What little family he did have would almost encourage the drug use, only if they could get them some as well. His mother and father both passing around his 18th birthday from drug related overdoses that may or may not have been connected. The officers wouldn’t tell him anyway…

10:17

He would drive all the way to The New River Gorge Bridge. Leaving his rental car that he essentially stole to make the trip under a fake name, thanks to his friends that could set him up with fake IDs and fake cards to use, at the edge of the bridge as he would walk to the middle, the highest point, and step up and immediately walk off. As the wind soared through his hair, he could feel the calm relief of it being over pulsing through his veins, and once the darkness hit as he smacked the water and ground underneath, the normal person would think, that’s it. But, he would wake up three days later, only finding out about this by finding a newspaper at a grocery store parking lot with a date that was later than he remembered, on the shore of a lake that seemed to feed off of the New River Gorge. Initially confused, he would immediately figure out what happened and begin to question life. Hwe was suppose to die right there. Why did he not die? Did he not land right to die? Did he just survive because the fall was not high enough? He remembered everything up to that point of impact, but he couldn’t think of any reason for why he was here on this shore now. He would sit on the shore for a few hours before making the long hike to find a road. Wet, tattered clothing from the rapids of some unknown body of water, he would continue to move through the brush of the backwoods, looking for someone, anyone to help out until he happened upon a house in the hollers of West Virginia.

10:18

In this house, when he knocked on the door, he was greeted by something unpleasant. A shotgun pointed directly at his face. The older man and woman in the home, probably in their later sixties, did not take kindly to new visitors, but it was definitely not a welcome sight at midnight in these woods. He would raise his hands silently, looking over at the duo in front of him, “I am sorry,” he would exclaim, “I just need help or a phone. I don’t know where I am or what I am doing right now…” “You sure as shit don’t know what you have done, boy,” said the older man, probably an inch or two taller than the little woman in the doorway, wearing bibbed overalls and sporting a longer grey beard, “You ain’t calling no law in this holler. This is my holler, we deal with intruders my way.” The point of the gun at his face, the stress of trying to figure out what happened mere hours before, the pain he was feeling in his body at that moment… The moment was quick and quiet, he remembered his head would swell with pain as his eyes would melt the barrel of the shotgun with a red beam before he would grab the wall and rip the door off its hinges. His eyes would close, shielding the pulsing red glare from them from causing anymore damage… “I JUST NEED HELP!” The scream would echo as he would look down at the older couple, who now lay cowering in the house past the broken door frame, begging for help and forgiveness. His mind would immediately switch to being panicked and unbelieving of what he had just done. He looked over the doorway and immediately bolted as he saw the older woman dialing a cell phone for police. He would just run, run for hours, until he would just collapse in a park area that he found. He would immediately wake to the sounds of sirens.

10:18

The park was a lovely one, playgrounds, grills, and sheds for family gatherings, but right now, he was being woken up by a female police officer who would tell him that homeless were not welcomed in this area and he would need to go. He would agree and start to walk away before she would say, “Hey, come back, I feel like I have seen something about you…” His body would run cold at that moment, he looked back and smiled, “If it is alright, I would like to just go…” The police officer would not agree as she began to pull her weapon, “You.. .your the mutant…Stop right now or I will shoot…” He couldn’t stop, he couldn’t be taken in, he didn’t know what they would do to him. He raised his hands, feinting compliance before he would shoot the beams again, hitting the police car. He doesn't know what he hit, but the fire and explosion would send both him and the cop flying as he would regain himself quicker and not look back as he began to run, running hard. He would travel anonymously. And now, he was here. He didn’t know what to do at this point, but he knew he was being looked for as the giant billboard he looked at would show “The West Virginia Mutant…”