Author Topic: walk around in your mind — private  (Read 121 times)


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walk around in your mind — private
« on: December 29, 2020, 03:40:29 PM »
It's nighttime again.

Exhaling slowly, Brendan quietly reaches for the adhesive, rubbing the bridge of his nose momentarily before plastering the glue onto the back of his mask. He waits for a moment, leaning against the glass of his shower as his eyes dart around the bathroom; once the glue dries, he presses the mask against his face and lifts himself to his feet. He dusts off his suit, grabs his staff, and hustles out the door.

The cold air whips against his face as he locks the door to his apartment, breathing in the scent of an autumn night. His breath comes out in little spurts of fog—he covers it with another mask. With a quick roll of his shoulders, he tiptoes past the boundaries of the apartment complex, slips past the broken security camera, and rockets off into the night.

He has no idea what led him up to this point.

Six years ago Brendan had no desire of becoming an outspoken vigilante. Six years ago, he was a junior in high school, worrying over his grades and praying to God (or whoever is up there) that he did good on his algebra II test. But then that kid from his taekwondo disappeared, all signs leading to kidnapping, the damn cops presumed she was spiraled after that, burning buildings and all. the public dubs him Phoenix at night, but this Phoenix is nothing more than a rumor on one's lips, a hypothetical.

Yes—no one truly believes in Phoenix. He is all gossip in the city, a hesitant promise that people might be safe at night, because Phoenix is always there. Phoenix doesn't wrestle bank robbers, though. Rumors have it that he would rather help out the civilians that are alone at night, the ones cornered in dark places and are beaten.

Truth be told, it's not like this city needs superheroes or anything of the sort: crime rates seem to be just fine. Even so, Brendan—no, Phoenix—always finds himself running off into the dark nearly every night, lurking in the shadows of street corners and alleyways as if this is an addiction he can't contain. Half the time nothing happens—he can go home without much worry. But the other half...

Wincing as he wraps his hand around a cold ladder, Phoenix hauls himself up onto the roof of a shorter building, rubbing his hands together momentarily before plopping himself onto the brick. As he scoots towards the ledge, he listens to all the silence of the night: the faint car in the distance, the slight breeze, the leaves scuttling against the pavement. And, for a moment, he hears whispering, too; he brushes it off for a moment. Sounds like nothing more than a drug deal, really, but as he listens further anyways...the words "jump" and "knife" are like a beacon in the dark.

And, as if on cue, there's someone across the street, barely visible in the flickering streetlights. Phoenix ducks low, peering over the edge of the building and staring down at those dressed in all black with ski masks on their heads. They're staring at the dude across the street, never ripping their eyes off of him, and then they move.

(( idk if you wanna rp the bad dudes but I think it'd be easier if you did? lmk if you don't wanna :^0 @vix. ))