August 12th, 2020
Phoenix, Arizona
Headquarters of the Humanity Defense Organization

The air felt heavy with tension. An unpleasant atmosphere of silence disturbed only by the whirring of the ceiling fan, occassional cough, and clinking of ice as it melted in untouched glasses. Six figures impatiently sat, four woman, two men. Behind an unimposing desk, a seventh stood, tapping her wrist, staring at a laptop's dim display. Most of the occupants also clutched cellphones.
Suddenly, the phones rang. They went to them except for one. She stared at the laptop, the open window suddenly returning results from the latest testing of a listening satellite long since considered unlikely to ever find anything. It was returning more data than it had in the last 30 years.
She flipped open her phone and said "Status?"
For a moment no one answered. Then "They were right. It's here."
She put down the phone for a moment, wiped her brow, and returned to the line. "Confirmation received. Procede to activate it. Summon them."
She hung up and mumbled quietly "If any are still alive."

The Humanity Defense Organization has existed in various forms for thousands of years. Part of the duties of the current guardian of Earth from various threats is the continued safeguarding of a number of sealed ruins containing an ancient device known as the Aedificator, the last line of defense. Now, they've just encountered a reason to untomb it. A listening satellite embedded itself on a living mass several times the size of the sun. It's traveling steadily towards the heart of our system. In response, the Organization has activated an emergency beacon, calling forth those of a certain line. Various people will experience visions, dreams, or just feelings that will hopefully lead them to the Organization and the salvation of our world.

The setting begins with the bloodline characters finding their way to the Organization in Phoenix. For those starting with characters of the bloodline, it is preferred your character starts in Phoenix, whether because they live there or are visiting. You don't have to play a bloodline character, but it is encouraged. General idea is supernatural modern. Public knows nothing about it at large.

Guidelines
-In the event two players come to a disagreement about the story that can't be resolved, a general vote will be taken in which all active players will pick one or the other. If there is a tie, the host will choose. In the event the host is one of the players, the secondary host will choose. In the event both the host and the secondary host are the two players, this rp is a shambles why did we even bother trying.
-If you are playing one of the bloodline, you might occassionally get a private message in character from the entity traveling towards the sun, probably related to trying to dissuade your character from doing things or to aid it instead. If you feel your character needs a specific message, be sure to talk it out with either host. While we will be in control of what it sends, we don't want to step on the spirit of freeform. Also, people of the bloodlines are implied to have a connection to the entity headed towards the sun. The people of the bloodline are likely to have latent or active psychic abilities. The organization does not have any/many people of the bloodline in their ranks, why they sent out the call.
-Have fun.

Hosts
Niklor
Rubik

Current Players
Niklor
Lilan
Rubik
Mown
Squinty_Eyes
Aaarrrgh
TPmanW
Deadpoet

[Reserved]

She glided across the pavement, her steps setting a comfortable pace and rhythm to soothe her clouded mind. Not that she appeared to be troubled. Life had taught her a hard lesson about wearing her heart on her sleave. No casual observer would have spared her a second glance as she jogged past.

But for all her composure, she was deeply bothered this morning. She hadn't slept well, her dreams filled with dark shadows and immense awareness. Candace's spiritual side was not something she much considered or cared about, but she felt so small compared to the universe today. So, here she was, jogging unusually early, proving beyond a shadow of a doubt how she ruled her life as she headed deeper downtown.

Despite knowing she should be headed home to get prepared for another grueling week of clerical work and smiling and not yelling at all the idiots around her, she kept jogging. The heart of downtown was more unfamiliar than it should be to a resident of 20 years. She kept turning on instinct, feeling she'd inevitably get back to familiar territory at some point.

Paul Andersson, HDO field agent, 2nd class, Aedificator security detail, Northern Europe sector, was suddenly awoken by his phone. A quick peek at the alarm clock told him that it was 2:45AM. And the only reason someone ever called at that hour was because bad things were happening in other time zones. He immediately snapped to attention.

A few minutes later, the entire five man team was awake. Paul had quickly brought them together at the Aedificator site (which was officially a private corporation technology test course). With a grim look, he addressed his men.
"We have a situation. Code Red. The bloodlines have been activated, and we need to prepare the Aedificator for activation. We don't know if anyone else is aware of the situation, but we are increasing security on all Aedificator sites until activation is complete. Phoenix will send reinforcement within the week, but until then we have to step up our game. The security of the planet rests on the security of this facility. We will not let it down."

However, her instincts appeared to be less trustworthy than she thought. She wasn't completely certain exactly how long she had been running, but it felt like everytime she started to head back north, she inevitably ended up turning back into downtown at some point. She'd never been the best with directions, but just being able to go in a straight line shouldn't be require nearly this much attention. It was almost as if some part of her didn't want to go back home.

While it was true her job was the least appealing part of her day, she certainly didn't want to jeapordize it. Her boss might've been a whiny bitch, even if he presented a charming front whenever parents or the board was around, and the hours sometimes longer than should be expected of her. But where would she be without this job. Back with her mother and brother.

Even the thought made her feel a bit queasy so she slowed her pace coming to a brisk walk. The morning was considerably warmer than when she started. She hadn't planned to go quite this far afield and hadn't thought to bring a water bottle. Hindsight is always 20/20 she thought with a slight coughing laugh.

Glancing around, she noticed a rather weathered building with an unusually fresh looking installation. The glass doorway was clearly a rather new addition. However, it was the vending machine within that caught her eye. It would be overpriced, but she really needed to quench her thirst at this point.

She walked into the simple lobby, empty save for a receptionist busy at the computer. Didn't seem to be the most suited to the position, mostly ignoring her as she came in with only a quick glance before returning his gaze to the monitor before him. Well, perhaps they didn't need cheerful people at whatever this enterprise was. Maybe I'll ask for an application she jokingly considered as she purchased commercial bottled water with the little cash she carried while out for her morning exercises.

Young Nerkel added some strokes to his monochrome blue painting, as his eyes moved around the classroom. Contemplating what to call his masterpiece, he let his arms stretch out without concern for his surrounding, as he had a spacious circle distancing him from the class. Unease, xenophobia, frigid... Icolation? No, that is too tacky. Jonathan tapped the brush on his knee a couple times while thinking, adding yet another color to his originally beige pants. There was a clear display of favoritism towards the colder spectrum. He eventually wrote Frostbite in the lower right corner, not entirely satisfied. The language he chose to write in for today was Sanskrit, for no reason in particular. Being abstruse was a reward in itself, and the teachers never properly understood his paintings regardless of how he denoted them in the first place.

He let out a sigh having finally completed the assignment, wondering what exciting interpretation it would receive. He rolled his eyes over the possibilities, and decided to check out the work of his peers. Various synonyms for 'dull' came to mind while scouring the classroom, until his eyes paused on a blot of black and red. It made a nice contrast to the pale face of its artist, Daniel, local thug and self proclaimed 'rapper'. His friends might see it as some cheap rebellious message, but the trained eye notices the dreadful nuances embedded in the canvas. Jonathan was convinced that Daniel experienced an event out of the ordinary as of late. He usually went to the library after school, but this day seemed to have something else to pique his interest. Maybe this mundane life could finally find some spice?

All day long the girl had felt that there was something very wrong. Although she knew she shouldn't, she felt very happy about that. Something wrong meant that she got to go outside. It had been a long while since she had been allowed outside and she had trouble keeping her composure when the men arrived at the cell labelled 510-15.
"Hello director Carlis", the girl chimed. People liked it when she remembered their names. "Is there something I can help you with?"
"Why yes Sidis-" the director began when another man- a man without a name tag, interrupted him.
"This is it? That's not even a teenager!
Sidis knew what this meant- the man didn't know anything about the project. She wanted to be the one to inform him. Maybe then she could gain his trust. "Oh I'm not very old at all, but because of how I was born it's actually more like I'm 15 or maybe even 16. I'm sure I can help you with what you need. Lots of people needed my help with very important things and I've never, ever let them down. Where are we going that people need help?

The scent of flowers. Fragrant green sunlight. Shapes dance across Emelita's peripherals. What a pleasant sensation. Emelita comes to the realization that she has been dreaming for a very long time. Far too long. A white light. It's harsh. Reality is returning. Emelita rubs her eyes and studies her surroundings. This isn't her home. Where is this place? It looks like the doctor's office, but its different. It's bigger. The surfaces of the floor and walls are clean and reflective, and seem to snake around the room. Nausea. Apprehension. Fear. Emelita begins to cry.

OOC: Emilta is a young girl, around 8 years old. She has pink hair. No other noteworthy features.

(OOC: For reference, Candace is in her late twenties, around 5 and a half feet tall, fairly fit, toned, and slender, Waist length redhead tied back in a tight ponytail, brown eyes, Caucasian, wearing some sort of sneakers, pants, and t-shirt. That's probably enough to go on.)

Apparently she had really needed to be rehydrated as the bottle quickly emptied down her throat. Briefly, she hovered in front of the vending machine considering another, but frugality won out over the mostly quenched thirst. Water isn't really worth two dollars a bottle when she could get it over a hundred times cheaper from her own tap or just find a public fountain. I contact far too many people a day to be afraid of public fountains she quipped to herself as she turned to head back to the door.

However, her gaze quickly was drawn to a new occupant with an unusually vibrant hair color. Why do so many parents treat their children like the dolls they never had? she fumed in response to the pink haired child before her. This slight anger crumbled the next moment as the girl started bawling. The receptionist briefly looked around his monitor seemingly perturbed before sending a dead stare her way. Her temper inwardly flared again, but she was more used to this sort of stupidity. More than a few of the teachers she knew didn't go into education because of a love of children and were always looking for someone else to deal with the problem. As she moved toward the child it crossed her mind for the upteenth time how she should have studied psychology. Could've taken that plushy Guidance Counselor position

"What's the matter, honey?", she asked with the warmest smile she could manage. No reason to let her irritation leak out onto a scared kid.

Richard Vance took a drag from his cigarette.

How mundane.

He exhaled smoke into the sky and watched as it dissipated into the air, eventually joining the rest of the smog from the city. He casually strolled through the dimly lit streets and watched passively as a man mugged an elderly woman in an alleyway. As he passed the two of them, he avoided making eye contact. As he left their field of vision, he spat nonchalantly on the ground in disgust at the both of them. This was the kind of world he lived in—surrounded by an overabundance of weak, useless, hateful creatures that either took advantage of others to protect themselves or used their higher relative power to take advantage of others.

Richard pulled out his phone. A few missed phone calls, a voicemail, countless emails—most of them spam—, and an exclamation point signifying an urgent message. His interest piqued, he swiped his finger across the screen and read the briefing.

It’s time.

Richard had long been one of the primary board members in the Humanity Defense Organization, and even longer than that, he had been aware of his bloodline abilities. Richard walked along the street and glanced at a puddle that had formed on the ground—not from rain, but from horribly misprogrammed sprinklers that still went off occasionally despite there no longer being plants within their reach. The face that looked back at him was very well-kempt, with tidy brown hair and amber eyes. It was those eyes that had made him his fortune and allowed him to keep the organization funded. He could see the future—or at least a future, as him seeing that future would change which future would actually transpire. With this ability, he managed to make billions in stock market transactions and business dealings, and he felt not even the slightest bit of remorse.

Vance looked at his phone again and made a few gestures across the screen. A map littered with red dots appeared. Without a moment’s hesitation, he headed towards the nearest dot on his map.

A soft voice. Emelita looks up and sees a woman. She asks her what's wrong.

Choking back tears, Emilta responds. "I don't know where I am."

Blind leading the blind she recited inwardly as she considered her options. She was certain that the ass behind the counter would do his job and the girl would get home. At the same time, he did not seem the sort capable of dealing well with scared children and the leaving a frightened child with an indifferent adult just seemed wrong. There was a small chance she might get into trouble over this, but walking away would have left her feeling less human.

"It's okay, honey. I'm a bit lost myself today. I'm Candace. What's your name?"

Finished with art class, Jonathan pulled his black V-neck over his shirt, which he had been shielding from airborne paint. He had goosebumps from the cold temperature, but didn't compromise on this area. The sweater was almost new, and one of the few clothes of his that still looked decent. He spend the quarter before last class putting furniture and tools in their proper positions, before entering just in time for English class to start. It was the usual snoozefest, but went by faster than usual. Quite likely because Jonathan paid no attention to anything the teacher said, as his mind raced with implausible theories. The lesson was about some renaissance writer. Probably. Regardless, it was all over now, so no reason to think about it further.

Finding himself in an unknown district, several meters from his classmate, Jonathan gained a growing unease. Daniel was looking with paranoia in all directions. It could almost look like he knew he was followed, was he not scouring every corner he could find, and a couple more. He seemed to be genuinely terrified, which while a satisfying sight in its own right, raised questions about why he would go down this path in the first place. The journey eventually ended, he assumed, at some unfamiliar building seeming to undergo an identity crisis. Daniel took careful steps through the transparent entrance. Not wanting to be accused of stalking, Jonathan took a small pause scouring the edges of the building, before mustering his courage. Putting in a couple of earplugs void of any music, he strolled in casually, aiming to conquer one of the chairs in the lobby as his vantage point for further scouring. His pace wasn't nearly as smooth as he had hoped thought, almost tripping at one point from being so tense, but the likelihood of anyone caring hopefully wasn't all that big.

So, what secret hides behind these walls?

Emelita wipes the tears from her eyes and manages a smile. "I'm Emelita."

"I'm glad you showed up Emelita.", Candace told the young girl. Leaning in, she whispered "I would've been scared all by myself."

She stood up, having sat down while talking to Emelita, and turned around preparing to inevitably speak to the man behind the desk. Someone has to do the dirty wo... She found herself staring at a grim gemstone. Briefly, she considered how any precious rock could be grim, but as she stared she became quite certain. It felt serious. It was uncut, rough, some shade of green. And then it was some shade of red. And then it was sucking in all the light of the room. She was dimly aware something was wrong as her other senses dropped out and her vision focused deeply on the strange gem. Her thoughts briefly struggled to break free, but every moment she spent not considering the gem was painful. Why do the dirty work at all? was her last coherent thought.

Meanwhile, Evan sweated a little. The redhead stared deeply at the sphere he has casually set on the corner of his desk. Would the others crowding into the lobby be ensnared? His earpiece chirped "Status?" He hesitated to answer as he waited to see the other three occupants reaction.

(OOC: The sphere appears as a black sphere to people outside the bloodline and merely causes a slight headache if stared at for long. For people of the bloodline, it will appear as something and they will find themselves transfixed by it.)

Dark. Light. A strange thing. Emelita looks at the mysterious object set on the counter. She quickly forgets where she is, who she's talking to. "pretty" she manages to mutter before falling into a trance.

Vance had taken it upon himself to round up whatever bloodline members he could. His eyes glowed briefly as he examined the map. With the Coming, the number of people with awakened abilities would increase substantially. These awakenings were sometimes not as private as the Organization would like them to be, but if Richard got to them before anything happened, they wouldn't have to worry about the clean up.

The first one was easy. A kid named Rick, no older than sixteen. Told him they needed his help to save the world. Ate that **** up like it was dog food. He could turn himself intangible, a useful trick—one that the boy had yet to fully master. Called him a car to take him back to the compound. Looked like he'd just won the lottery, the naive little fool. No parents, all the easier. Managed to reach him before he made a show of it. The public wasn't ready to see someone absentmindedly walk through a closed door like it was nothing.

The next one was a bit more difficult. An old lady named Esmeralda who could read minds. Obviously experienced. Got within ten feet of her and she booked it. Didn't like whatever was on Richard's mind. Vance sprinted after her and jump tackled her, holding a wet rag over her mouth. She passed out in a matter of seconds and another car came to pick her up, this one designed for transporting prisoners.

The third event was tiresome. Vance had gotten a vision of a man in his mid twenties who would be ripping people apart with his mind in a matter of minutes. Richard took a long drag from his cigarette, threw it on the floor, and stepped on it violently, twisting his foot to put it out. Vance entered a nearby sporting goods store and purchased a hunting knife. He confronted the man at a pay phone near a dimly lit alley. The future murderer had just made a phone call and, whatever it was about, it was what would have triggered his rampage. Richard approached the man, his knife hidden in a strap at the small of his back beneath his suit jacket.

"Good evening, I'm Richard Vance an—"

He didn't have time to finish. He knew he wouldn't. The man made a motion with his hands which should have telekinetically torn Richard's head from his body. It didn't.

"I'm afraid that won't work on me, I'm quite capable of holding myself toge—"

Again, the man didn't leave time for Richard to complete a thought. All the trashcans in the alleyway converged on Richard's location. At least, his location moments earlier. Richard's eyes glowed perpetually as he watched the not-too-distant future and avoided the maniac's repeated attempts to drive projectiles through his body.

"Looks like I won't be able to get you alive, will I?"

Vance sighed and armed himself with his knife. The madman pulled a fistful of change out of his pocket and attempted to psychically shoot them at a similar speed to bullets firing from a gun. Vance's body, infused with his own internalized telekinetic abilities, reacted just fast enough to avoid any lethal damage. His limbs were a bit cut by the coins, but as a result he'd managed to get within striking distance of his opponent. With the single clean motion of a professional killer, he ended his opponent's life. He rifled through the man's wallet afterwards. His name was Tom Harding. Would have felt wrong to kill him without at least learning his name.

Another car came to dispose of the body. Tired and bloodied, Vance walked to a nearby Dunkin' Donuts and ordered himself a coffee and a glazed old fashion doughnut. A couple of children pointed at Vance, who probably seemed out of place wearing his torn up, bloody suit, but he didn't really care. He just wanted a chance to catch his breath.

The moment Daniel takes notice of the orb, he starts fumbling around his pockets. It takes a few moments before the realization that his local basketball jersey has no pockets reaches him, at which point he moves on to the shorts. Despite clearly looking for it, he seems displeased as his hand brings a wrinkled piece of paper in front of him. Looking back and forth between the paper and the black sphere in a rapidly increasing motion, a couple sweat drops shines on his forehead. He starts to move around in a circular fashion with a worried look, giving constant glances towards the ominous orb.

I don't get it... Why the sudden change in mood? Nobody is saying anything, everyone just keeps looking at that object as if it was the second coming of Jesus. How am I supposed to interpret this situation? Will I get anything eventful out of looking at it? Maybe it's just a trap. Then again, what do I really have to lose? Don't think that's worth contemplating too hard over.
Jonathan took his mobile phone out of his pocket, fiddling around with a decent impression of changing the music. He titled it relaxed in his hands, secretly snapping a photo of the artifact. Nothing. Well, nothing that wasn't already there, at the very least. What was he expecting, a ghost? Jonathan steeled himself and looked deeply into the dark sphere. He supposed he could play along for now, keeping the room in his peripheral vision. This seemed to be the route with the highest probability of literally anything transpiring, as delusional as he found his train of thought to actually be.
Ugh, it stings. Is that good?

OOC: Guess I should hurry up and find lobby magical doohickey in the lobby.

A mid-sized girl in her mid teens arrives at the HDO building in Phoenix, Arizona. She's wearing a crisp black dress shirt and dress pants, and carrying a metal suitcase with a combination lock. Sidis would look exceptionally professional for someone so young were it not for the straw-woven sun hat with the blue ribbon. It still has the "duty free" tag on it.
If the girl's appearance is only mostly professional then so is her manner. On opening the doors Sidis quickly scans the room for threats, and finding none makes her way toward the front desk at a confident pace. She never makes it there. Something about the intersection of those floor tiles there. The way they match up at such a perfect right angle. his is like no right angle she has ever seen before. Her eyes trace the lines over and over. Something about it is just so right.