>>330450
>>You feel the world snap into place and begins waiting with bated breath

>>330450
>>You feel yourself shudder as weightless nothing slips in your pores as the world grows dim

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>330462
>Option B

>>330496
Option C

Looks we rolling. 1 for B, 2 for C.

>>330524
>not putting on the trip
>making us look incompetent
pls
writing for C

>>330529
Who are you and why do you have my trip?

>>330556
You tried, try harder next time.

>>330450
>You feel yourself shudder as weightless nothing slips in your pores as the world grows dim

>>330637
You're late. We're already writing that option.

You itch and squirm in a puddle of your own blood as light from the nearby lamppost bends and is drawn into your body. Your skin begins to let off a pink glow as the stolen light begins to shine from within you. It wraps around your bones and slides through your veins as it seeks to change your very nature, yet even as it causes you such pain it begins to mend the damage done by the gang that attacked you. The thought of them alone manages to draw up a hate you didn’t know you had. “Hey Ty, man the fuck is that fucking light?” You grind your teeth in anger. “The fuck you mean-, Shit nigga that idiot was a fucking freak, fucking run.” You set your jaw and begin to prop yourself up on your arms even as they begin to cover with holes and streams of light spill out.

>Stalk after those who have wronged you and deliver divine vengeance
>Abscond while you still can, you’re hardly in any shape to be making a rally
>Call to the sons of dogs and demand they face you in battle as they were so apt to do
>Write-in

>>330689
Suicide

>>330462
>>330496
>>330637
>not voting for best option A

>>330689
>>Stalk after those who have wronged you and deliver divine vengeance

>>330689
>>Stalk after those who have wronged you and deliver divine vengeance

>>330689
>>Call to the sons of dogs and demand they face you in battle as they were so apt to do

>Call to the sons of dogs and demand they face you in battle as they were so apt to do

>Call to the sons of dogs and demand they face you in battle as they were so apt to do

>>330787
>Viper: kill urself my man

>>330796
>>330802
>Get out of here, Stalker

>>330811
>Shout over my peers to be heard

Looks like taunting them wins. Jay Kay. It's suicide.

Trying to stand, you find your legs fail you but your newfound power burns through and replaces them with blistering white steel machinations made only with the purpose of enacting your will. As your ribs ache and creak with the pains of men they are replaced with naught but a solid wall of light with no thought given but defense. The blood that drips from your fingers flashes off as your arms become gauntlets and the air in your hands becomes a sword and shield. Your vision spins briefly as your mouth melds together, your nose smooths into but a bump reducing your face to nothing but an unyielding pale mask.

As this rebirth takes place you stand taller, your steps longer than any normal man’s. Your stride lengthens, and you begin you sprinting as easily as one would walk. Even as they stumble and crawl away from you, your stride does not break, as their childish minds chug to comprehend your glory, you only think of their end.

You reach them before they even manage to get to the corner of the block, they call for your mercy, they make promises of riches, they offer you anything they can pushing each other towards you in hopes of appeasing your rage just as crabs will drag each other deep into the pot. None of it truly reaches your ears, your will is that of god and it shall not waiver. The screams as your holy sword cleaves through their dark flesh echo through the empty streets of a neighborhood who hold no sympathy for their former tyrants.

>You will be the cleansing light, set for to end other such rats of the night
>You will be the thunderous flash, your work is done thus you shall return home
>Write-in
If only we could not bicker at each other about wording to the point a post takes a fucking hour

>>331135
>You will be the thunderous flash, your work is done thus you shall return home

>>331165
>Resist the urge to purge

You're going home like a good boy who din du nuffin

Also, we're just gonna run down to corner store real quick to pick up some cigarettes. We'll be back and writing before you know it.

File: 1459128802871.jpg (68 KB, 613x599)

68 KB JPG

>>331135
>>You will be the cleansing light, set for to end other such rats of the night

You wake to the sound of your alarm blaring. You can't make much sense of anything outside of the fact that you have a splitting headache and that fucking alarm won't shut up. After flailing your arm for a bit you finally manage to hit the Snooze button to turn it off. Rolling over onto your back you groan loudly and try to remember what happened the day before.

You awakened. Holy shit. You’re a fucking mutant now. And it felt… Great. Like you’ve never been more powerful in your life. You killed the 301 street gang like pigs to the slaughter. You can barely understand what happened; you could swear your body had transformed into some being made of pure light, covered in some kind of almost metallic armor. But looking down at yourself, you see you’re still very much flesh and bone. With another groan, you get up out of bed, only to change your mind halfway through and sit back down. The headache is really killing you now.

Gently this time, you stand up and make your way over to your mirror in the bathroom. You still look the same as you remember; same blue eyes, same lean build. But when you get to your hair, you notice you’ve gone from the brown-brunette you’re accustomed to to pale blonde. Thinking back, you recall your hair used to be this shade when you were young. You’d heard mutants usually change physically when they awaken; you’ve seen some with massive horns and wings and some others with weird colored skin. Your change seems pretty mundane compared to them. Maybe you got off lucky?

After going about your other usual morning routines, you hop in the shower seeing as you’re covered in sweat. Oddly you don’t smell too bad despite having spent an unhealthy amount of time lying in a garbage filled alleyway. Your state of temporarily being made of pure light probably has something to do with that. After showering and getting dressed, you head to kitchen area of your trailer and start thinking about how to spend your day.

>You should go to work. Your boss will kill you if you’re late again.
>Your boss can blow you, you’re a fucking awakened now, you need to practice this shit.
>You just killed at least nine people last night. You should pack your shit and get going.
>Write-in

>>331465
>>Your boss can blow you, you’re a fucking awakened now, you need to practice this shit.

>>331465
>Your boss can blow you, you’re a fucking awakened now, you need to practice this shit
Real life is for normalfags

>>331465
>Your boss can blow you, you’re a fucking awakened now, you need to practice this shit.

>>331465
>Your boss can blow you, you’re a fucking awakened now, you need to practice this shit.

>>331482
>>331523
>>331524
>>331527
>Fuck money, get powers

Writing.

Steve can suck a big one. He’s a dick anyway. You’re fucking awakened now. You’ve got bigger shit to do than slave the day away for a penny. You’ve been wanting to quit anyway with the pay being so shit, but with the job market in Detroit being at an all-time low these days you decided to suck it up for the time being. All of that can wait now though, you’ve got to start finding out exactly what you can do with this power stuff.

You head out the door, locking it on the way out. Not that you’ve got valuable shit inside or that it’ll stop anyone from getting in, but it’s still a hard habit to break. You never know who might find inside when you get back in this shitty trailer park. You walk down the street, heading for the bus stop outside of the park. On your way, you pass Jim Lahey, the park supervisor driving slowly down the road. He slows his car as he sees you on the side of the street.

“You running a damn lightshow in your trailer, boy?” he says while rolling his window down. “I don’t want no spotlights shining out of your windows in the middle of the night keeping the whole neighborhood up.”

“Fuck off Lahey,” you mutter as you keep walking. He’s pretty used to your attitude and knows you usually have work in the morning, so he keeps driving. You’ll probably hear from him again later; he’s always going off on somebody about something. You at least have a job, unlike half the people living in this shitty trailer park, so he usually doesn’t give you as much shit.

You make it to the bus stop and take a seat. Now that you’re here, you should start thinking about where you’re heading whenever the bus shows up.

>The dilapidated ghetto on the fair side of town, no one who’s around will be dumb enough to not mind their own business.
>An abandoned warehouse on the edge of town. Lord knows there’s enough of them.
>A storm drain. You know a good place to enter the sewers at that leads to a fairly large cistern.

>>331651
>>An abandoned warehouse on the edge of town. Lord knows there’s enough of them.

>>331690
>Warehouse

Abandoned warehouses make for great nesting grounds. Writing.

This will probably be the last post of the night.

Ignore the man behind the curtain.

Rolled 43 (1d100)

>>331724
>fugging up

Detroit has a ton of abandoned warehouses in it. Perfect place to practice these newfound powers of yours. So perfect in fact you bet everyone and their mother has thought of it. Even still, the odds of running into anyone out there is still fairly low. With this in mind, you board the bus as it pulls up and pay the fare with some of what little pocket money you have left after you lost your wallet last night and find a seat. The warehouse district you have in mind eastside of Detroit, about forty minutes by bus. You settle in for a long, boring bus ride. Fortunately there’s not many people on the bus this early in the morning. You need to get a new phone now too; you have no idea what happened to it. Safe bet is the 301 gang took it and your wallet as they were tearing into you, and you didn’t have much time for thinking about mundane things after you were awakened.

Forty minutes later, you’re in a warehouse district. You would call it decrepit, but that would be like calling a barnhouse smelly. You walk down the street, making a few random turns as you go, looking for just the right shade of abandoned. After five or ten minutes you find a good candidate. It doesn’t look much different from the rest, but you get the feeling it’s a good one. You try the door and like you’d expect no one’s bothered to lock the door. Stepping in you’re hit with the dry dusty smell all warehouses tend to carry with just the barest of touches of mold, perfect.

You set up various bits of cardboard and half broken bottles around on the rusted piles of machinery and catwalk that litter the ground. With your targets in place you throw your hand back and tug on the knot in your stomach to summon up a spear of light to blast one to bits. What you actually get is a knife smaller than your hand that petters out of existence as it leaves your hand, which is just fucking great. You figure you just didn’t put enough power into it, after all you were working on instinct last night so it just flowed. Once more you throw your hand back and drag as much as you can from within yourself and launch it with all you’ve got, at least the knife was bigger than your hand and made it about a foot that time.

Feeling rather down about how shit you apparently are you take a walk around the place kicking at whatever various bit of junk ends up in your path, stopping yourself just shy of kicking what you’re pretty sure is a crime scene marker. Looking around you see more markers all numbered and a good deal of them have their own brownish stain on the concrete floor. There's yellow tape wrapped from some machines and pillars blocking off a large section of the place. You chose to practise being an illegal mutant in a crime scene, today's gonna be so fucking fun.

Shows over, fuck off and get out.

We have no idea when the next thread/session will be. It'll probably be in this thread though. We'll announce when we're running on twitter ahead of time. We'll probably be around periodically for Q&A stuff, so feel free to leave questions in here.

Twitter: https://twitter.com/acesimmon_qm

We'll probably pick this up Thursday. Exact time TBD.

Kill urself

>>345116

Somebody forgot to link the new thread. I'm not going to name names, but I will deny all blame.