In the Ring [SL+]

[*Linn*]

This is an RP set loosely in the X-men movie universe. Evolution has leapt ahead, and humans with unusual genes are being born all over the world, gifted with strange abilities that can be either blessings or curses. Mutants throughout the country are oppressed and feared, cursed on the street or thrown out of their homes. A war is coming, and everyone can feel it. But it is not simply mutants against humans. The mutants have become divided into two factions, one fighting for peace and understanding, the other clamouring for supremecy.

-Xavier's X-men: Started by the incredibly powerful psychic Dr. Charles Xavier (not playable), this group of mutants believe in, and fight for, cooperation between humans and mutants. When they aren't out trying to prevent war, they teach at Xavier's school for Gifted Youngsters, which is in fact a haven for mutant children. Here, they can live and gain an education in safety, and are taught to strive for equality, not supremecy.

-The Brotherhood: Lead by Erik Lensherr, or Magneto, a very powerful mutant with the ability to manipulate metals on a tremendous scale (not playable), these mutants believe that they deserve to rule. They consider humans genetically inferior, and yearn to avenge the injustices that mutants have suffered.

All other canon characters are playable, as well as original characters, human or mutant.

Setting: An underground cage-match arena specifically created for no-rules fights between mutants, in modern-day New York. Humans are not allowed into this club, and while it would be possible for one to sneak in, few risk it, seeing as they would probably be lynched if they were discovered. The arena is a haven for human-haters, frequented by rebellious, angry mutants with low-level powers.

Eh, I got rid of the bio since it's a pain. you can just start on in, guys. Any takers?

[*Linn*]

In the hot, filthy underground levels of an old warehouse, hundreds of voices roared for blood.

They were crying for his blood. The thought made Jason smile. He had challenged their long-time champion, and won- which would have been enough to get the watchers riled up even in normal circumstances. But in this ring, when the air smelled like blood and sweat and rage, and when the new challenger was a small, unnaturally skinny man in a beige trench coat with a maniacal grin and eyes that were just wrong and who had defended the position for three hours since without any apparent effort whatsoever, it drove them completely mad.

It was too easy. His oppenents seemed all the same- piercing-studded, musclebound, tattooed, their low-level powers simmering. Jason didn't need muscle. He didn't need them to see anything beyond exactly what he was. He would simply smile and wait for them to attack, and then, with a lazy flick of his hand, send them writhing to the floor, wracked by agonizing pain. Or what they thought was pain, anyway. He was good at pain. Sometimes he'd be a little more creative, make them see loved ones in his place or make them think they'd won and then strike when their back was turned- metaphorically, of course. And the crowd ate it up. They hated him. They didn't see what his opponents saw, of course, and they were outraged that this scrawny little half-dead freak was tearing men twice his size apart without lifting a finger. They saw no dazzling displays of power, and they didn't understand subtlety.

Despite his impressive winning streak, Jason knew he could not get too comfortable. His ability had absolutely no physical basis. Outside the mind, he had no power whatsoever. And he was physically vulnerable- if one of them landed a blow, he really would be out for the count, illusions or no.

Fortunately, minds were easy to manipulate, and he'd had plenty of practise. He stood calmly in the ring, one converse-clad foot on the head of his silently weeping enemy and looked out over the crowd through mismatched eyes, wondering who would be next.

[PuppyWuffyKins]

He glared at the ring. Oh, how bad Robert wanted to fight in there, but all he would do was sit and fidget with his fingernails, making them grow longer, shorter, painted, ragged, and other cell manipulations until the fight started, and then he'd study every move of the lucky mutants. Mind reading and shapeshifting weren't useful in fights when all you could do was change your human appearance, from man to thug to little boy to girls to old ladies, instead of animals.

Or so he thought, at least. And until he realized what he could be capable of, he'd never go up there unless they made him. As he waited to see who the guy tortured next, he fidgeted with his fingernails some more. Then he turned over his left arm to look at the underside of it, where he had carved his name: Robert David Smith. That had been the day the blood addiction had started. He had tasted his blood out of curiosity, and had loved it ever since. Now and then he still cut himself in random spots, not bad enough to make a scar, but good enough for some blood.

Yet, despite that, he had never thought of using his mind reading, and shapeshifting abilities to hurt people in the ring: read their mind to see what they would do, dodge it, attack them with his fingernails when they were long and sharp, and jagged. Despite the rumors among humans of red-heads being smart, he was slow. Oh so slow. Intelligent, but slow. But not slow in the normal way. Give him a math problem, or a puzzle, he solves it fast. But it's things about himself that puzzle him so.

He looked up from his arm to see if anyone had gone to be the next opponent yet. He saw nobody, and thats when, after years, it'd finally kicked in about his abilities.

'Hey, why don't I go up there?' Robert thought. He looked down at his fingernails. If he did decide to go up there, he wanted them to be ready. His deep green eyes stared at his fingernails as he concentrated on growing them longer, slightly curved, with jagged, pointy tips. He'd always like cutting himself upward, and he figured curved nails would catch any blood.

He breathed a little faster and his nostrils flared as he made a decision that would probably end up in the writhing pain of those other poor mutants. He stood up and walked toward the ring.

[*Linn*]

Jason saw the red-haired man approaching the ring, and for a moment, a single idea very nearly overrode his senses altogether: blood.

Jason had another ability beyond illusions, though the two were closely linked and he could not imagine one without the other: sensory telepathy. It was like, and yet not like, mind-reading; he couldn't actually peer into the thoughts of another person, but he could access their sensory memories- any information their senses took in was available to him just as if they were his own memories. It allowed him to do almost anything full mind-reading would. A side-affect was that whenever he came face to face with a new person, whose mind he had not yet invaded in any way, he would experience a brief flickering of memories; things they saw, heard, smelled, tasted, or felt every day. Normally it would be two or three things.

This time it was just blood, and it was unusually strong. The smell, the colour, the... taste? For a moment Jason wanted to spit, as if it were there in his own mouth, the metallic tang of blood... then it faded, and he realized what had happened.

He looked at the boy, knowing instinctively that he was about to be challanged. A rational person might have been spooked; they would know that facing up against someone with such an obvious lust for blood was deeply dangerous. Jason had never been very rational.

Bring it on, he thought. Jason smiled a mad, slightly open-mouthed smile, running his tongue along white, slightly pointed teeth, and snuck into the boy's memories, searching for a weapon.

Or, at least, he tried to.

The boy was broadcasting blood, which was why he'd gotten a flicker of it, but beyond that, there were walls. Jason had not met with walls like these in a long time; not since Professor Xavier. Of course, they weren't as strong as Xavier's, but they were too strong for him not to be a telepath. Jason scowled. That damaged his strategy. There was no way his challenger would not know that he was an illusionist, and that took the punch out of psychological warfare.

Then again, not even Charles Xavier had been immune to illusions. At the very least, this would be interesting.

[GOD!]

~Warning, if someone doesn't post in this roleplay, it will be locked and moved.