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    Welcome to the year 2038, where the heroes of yesterday are dead and gone. Division and the Mutant Control Enforcement Agency (MCEA) saw to that. This dystopia we live in is the result of one anti-mutant hate crime that sparked the third world war. The law now requires mutants to register, to spend the rest of their lives on file being and being tracked. New York City is a shell of its former self but still remains a beacon despite all that has happened there. Despite this, a mass exodus brought people to the new country capital; Chicago. Which is why so much money and effort has gone into attempting to restore it to its former glory. Chicago isn’t the only thing rising from the ashes of a world that no longer exists. The children of former X-Men have come together to bring back the much needed hope that only they could bring. The road is long and will not be easy for anyone, but something has to be done before it’s too late.
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    Unless on they appear on the canon list, mutants working for Division are banned until the further notice. IE until the number of humans in this category out number the mutants. We would also love to see more MHA and Morlock affiliated characters.
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 Night's on Fire, Tag Egan
SONNY Z. LEBEAU
 Posted: Apr 24 2016, 12:06 PM
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Everything had been going so good. Now as he was shambling through the dark alley Sonny wondered where he had gone wrong. It was suppose to be a simple smash and grab. The place was suppose to be littered with food supplies. Some rich corporation stockpiling supplies in case things went south. The information came from someone he thought he could trust. Andrew Blackwood had proved himself before, time and again. Lebeau had no reason to doubt his loyalty to the family. He’d taken the time on numerous trips above to gather what they needed., now things had changed.

The alleyway smelled like timing hot garbage. Like the trash collection company hadn’t done their responsibility in quite some time. Vision was starting to get blurry, like after a night of hard drinking, except he’d rather be drinking now. Left hand felt slick with wet fluid, eyes glanced down at the bullet wound in his side. The aged tee he was wearing was damp with his bloody fluids. The front of his right leg was starting to stick to his leg, not a good sign.

Sonny paused for a moment, right forearm leaning against the aged brick of the closest building. Legs were starting to feel sluggish, as if they weight a great deal and were becoming harder to move. The only thing keeping him on his feet right then was his hope to get back to the sewers. Perhaps he’d be safe there, safe from the Division agents currently hunting him. Andrew had lead him into a trap. The warehouse seemed too good to be true now that he thought about it. The kid brought a tale of how the place was filled with enough supplies to feed them for at least several months.

When they got there the place was quiet, nothing unusual about that. Him and the kid had even procured an old beat up u-haul truck. The thing made quite a ruckus when it pulled into the loading dock. Breaking in wasn’t an issue, the lock was simple enough, just charge it and the goods for theirs. Sonny was in the process of grabbing a box of dry goods when he noticed the men swarm in through the entrance he’d made. He’d noticed Andrew standing with some of the men at the door, looking like he was part of the plan to capture him. Sonny hadn’t wasted any time in acting, the whole place was a weapon for him. Unlike his father he could charge any number of things. He through cans of beets, corn, even a box of cereal. They wouldn’t take him alive, not today.

Through all the chaos Andrew had tried to stop him, but Sonny didn’t show any mercy. He had charged the kid up as best he could, his screams of agony were almost deafening. After his treachery there wasn’t anything more the kid deserved, probably sold them out for money or a place to live. The rat was pushed towards the agents and provided his distraction, making a rather large explosion, proving he was more useful as such then anything he had done in real life.

It wasn’t until after fleeing the scene on foot that he’d noticed that he’d been hit. His side ached wickedly fierce. The world started to spin now, all due to that little annoying hole in his side. He stumbled again then slumped against a wall, he was in danger of passing out. God he felt like sleeping then, just taking a nice long nap.
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EGAN N. DOYLE
 Posted: Apr 25 2016, 09:24 PM
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Another night, another disappointment; his legs moved at a disheartening pace, slow and aimless as he felt. For weeks Egan searched the city for his supposed sister, turning over streets and corners like they were proverbial cushions hiding spare change when all he needed was the television remote. Futility washed over him for days and he felt so heavy from its weight that the only option in sight was acceptance. Acceptance that this girl was not living in the city, at least not any more. Acceptance that when he returned to Belfast his father would kill him on the spot. Acceptance…that his mother was as good as dead. They both were.

Egan blindly moved through the alleyways and trudged the outskirts of the dismal metropolitan without caution anymore. Whatever dangers he came to face were no more or less the fate that would welcome him back in the North. Hell, he would almost be fortunate to encounter someone with the stones to punch his timecard. Perhaps then, if he died on the front lines of his mission, Fagan might just reconsider his threat and leave Maeve to die from a broken heart rather than a bullet through it. But this, too, was a hollow dream. His father wasn’t so impractical. Even if he failed, his mother’s death would only be that sweet cherry on top of a bloody sundae. Fagan was sadistic like that.

No, he thought to himself. I can’t go on. “I’ll go on.”

Beckett’s words echoed inside his head like an cavern. The message resonated and penetrated him, growing louder and louder - fueled by the touch of the Light still burning at his core. His will healed. His soul found comfort again, hopelessly; a warm blanket wrapping around his fragile state and resisting the cold, somber beats in his mind. Samuel Beckett was an odd inspiration, but he always reasoned that the poet’s jaded lens was one of indomitable spirit instead of trivial indifference. For as close to the finish line as he always seemed, Beckett continued to exist - on and on. “I’ll go on.

Feet hastened, his march was stronger; not revived, but retaken. Egan resigned to failure tonight, but tomorrow was only a few hours away and the sunrise would offer him hope once more. That was until those same feet stumbled over a pair of legs haphazardly laying in his path. The force jarred a man’s grumble, a groan of pain ushered from the impact. Egan looked down and found blood. Pools of blood, and in the middle of it a fellow looking paler than he.

“Jesus!” Reflexively, the Irishman’s hand signed the cross over his chest to pardon His name used in vain. Crouching low, Egan leaned over the man beneath him and looked for the damage causing all of his blood to spill. A gunshot wound to the abdomen, just right of his descending colon - at least he hoped so. Looking up to his face, he found the victim treading consciousness, but still responsive. “Can ye hear me, brother? Yer seriously injured.” Egan was certain the man knew this much, given the crimson wash he was near swimming in. “Ah need to get ya some help.”

Reevaluating the entry point at his side, the doctor surmised that there must also be an exit wound. Egan gingerly twisted his hand behind the man, probing until his fingers swept over the second opening that illicited another painful groan. “A thousand pardons, friend - but that’s a good sign.” Removing his jacket, the Irishman ripped at the sleeves until they tore off. He bunched them into solid knots and applied them at each wound. “I need ya to get up wit’ me, aye? This is gonna hurt like a sonofabitch, too.” And so he lifted him, using every muscle and ounce of strength in his legs to leverage the man’s weight. “There’s a hospital not too far. Let me get ya to the street an’ hope we can find th’ guards to get ya there.” The man resisted his efforts though, muttering incoherently as he tried to push Egan off. “C’mon, lad - ye can’t be walkin’ on yer own.”

As they paused, the Irishman heard commotion up ahead at the turn of the alley. Boots, several of them by the sound, were clambering in their direction. Egan cast a glance at the stranger in his grip, adding two and two together. “I gather they aren’t yer friends, aye?”

This was surely not where he saw his night going. But Egan had taken a vow years ago - he wasn’t leaving this man to die. Come what may, he readied himself to the march of heavy steps seconds away. “And shepards we shall be, for Thee my Lord. For Thee.”


I couldn't resist the urge to throw in the Boondock's quote...for all the obvious reasons here.
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SONNY Z. LEBEAU
 Posted: Apr 27 2016, 04:11 PM
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He was thinking about all the kids down below. How much they needed him, that was the only reason he hadn’t fallen asleep right then and there. To shut his eyes forever and take that dirt nap. No there were too many people depending on him, not only for food but for protection. The Morlocks were like a family to him and he needed to protect them. ”I ain’t dead yet.” Sonny said looking up to the man standing over him. The guy clearly wasn’t from around these parts. The accent was a dead give away. If he had to put money on it the guy was Irish. He hadn’t met too many people from across the pond. Fiona was one of the few ones actually. He’d helped her get set up in American. Provided a source that was looking for a waitress and gave her an idea of where to look for a place to live. The girl didn’t want to live in the sewers and well that was her choice. Sonny wasn’t going to blame her.

”It ain’t that bad, just a scratch.” A chuckle escaped his parted as he tried to stand but couldn’t find the strength. ”A flesh wound really..” Falling back onto his rear end. When his hand ran around his back Sonny didn’t think it was the act of feeling someone. No, the guy seemed to have some kind of medical experience. The king was about to protest about the bandages but the sleeves of his shirt were already torn off and stuffed into where both wounds were.

Sonny resisted the urge to scream out when he was raised to his feet again. The pain was one of the worst he’d felt. ”Nah that wasn’t that bad, just like taking a stroll through a field of flowers, the sun on my back.” Humor was something Sonny always took great pleasure in. Sure he could be serious but he wasn’t one hundred percent of the time. Even now with his bodily fluid leaking out of him he was still cracking wise. ”Nah, no hospitals.” He tried to stand on his own but couldn’t. ”That’s no a good idea for someone the likes of myself. They’d be lookin’ for me.” The Division agents were probably searching all over the place for him. He’d managed to escape so far. It was just a little bit to get to one of the entrances.

Lebeau heard the sound of boots hitting pavement as well. ”Fuck me..” He cursed out loud, not thinking about being polite. ”Yeah they’d be my welcoming committee for the slammer.”His head spun to look behind them as they made their way as fas as they possibly could down the alley. ”If ya can get me to the beach I can make it to safety.” Sonny didn’t know how much fight he had left in him tonight. Sure he wouldn’t go down without a fight. He didn’t want to die, but he’d be damned if he was going to taken tonight.
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EGAN N. DOYLE
 Posted: May 1 2016, 08:17 PM
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Despite the holes in his waist and the subsequent river of blood spilling from him, the man was conscious enough to cough up unbroken wit. Egan resisted the urge to laugh, more so relieved that he didn’t need to hoist a dead body for another few minutes or so. Still, the circumstances were less than ideal. The sleeves stuffed into his wounds were already crimson stained and saturated. While he was on his feet, he couldn’t support his own weight without Egan’s shoulder as a crutch; and the seconds grew louder with every boot step drawing closer. This was no longer a run of bad luck - it was a situation.

“Yeah, they’d be my welcoming committee for the slammer…” His words weren’t missed, but Egan didn’t bother to reply either. He knew nothing of this man’s predicament. Assumptions were drawn however; this man was a criminal, to some degree. Based on the stampede coming, he was dangerous - or highly valued. With a quick glance, the Irishman could discern him to be a mutant. His lifeforce hummed with that familiar frequency, but it, too, faded with every staggered breath. “If ya can get me to the beach I can make it to safety.”

Egan knew he had a choice to make.

“Yer not makin’ it five steps, my friend.” He said as he backed the man closer to the wall behind them. “Who’ever shot ya had piss aim, but they knicked an artery. I don’t know where this beach is, but I promise ye - it’s too far in too little time.”

Egan weighed the options. He could leave the man here to die, whether it was by bleeding out or another assault. The truth was, even if those coming for him were the police, he wouldn’t survive the ambulance ride to the hospital. On the other hand, Egan could stand by him. Defend him. There wasn’t a doubt in his gut that the men were coming with artillery. Their movements were organized and in number. Too many for it to be cops, which meant that it was another organization he wasn’t any more fond of himself. Even in the best case scenario, this man died and they questioned Egan’s involvement. It meant they’d look into him. It meant they’d find nothing and take a deeper look at his records. It meant they would find out who he was, and nothing after that worked in his favor.

Turning to meet the stranger’s face, Egan took another look at him. His decision was made. There was no turning back.

“I don’t know ya. I don’t know yer story.” One hand moved over the man’s wound, the other pressed into his chest. “But I took an oath to saves the lives I could. Why’ever they're coming, it won’t matter if yer dead.” From beneath his palms, a golden Light ignited with electric celerity. Warmth spread like a wildfire as Egan channeled his energies into the man’s own lifeforce, renewing his strength to hold on, keep his eyes open, to draw another breath. “So do me just one favor…” Lowering his mouth to the stranger’s ear, “Don’t die yet, aye?”

His hands retreated back, now held at either side. The Light did not fade, it glowed fervently, becoming brighter every second. When the first guard turned the corner with his pistol drawn, Egan didn’t waste time for a second thought. He threw a disc, charged with Light; striking the man at his heart. His body dropped instantly, writhing on the ground like a child. Two more followed; two more Halos were thrown with equal precision as the first. They, too, cried out in agony, seizing in violent spasms as their own lifeforce galvanized the nervous system.

The assault seemed to pause. Egan could hear a commotion of commands exploding from the radios on each man’s vest. They ordered a retreat and issued a new strategy in code, one he was not privy to. He grabbed at Sonny’s blood soaked jack and yanked him back on his feet to walk with him. “Let’s not stay for the next act, yeah? I’m not particularly fond o’the ratings so far.” He practically dragged the man along, keeping a strong grip of his far shoulder to help him. “Tell me more about this beach.”
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SONNY Z. LEBEAU
 Posted: May 31 2016, 05:19 PM
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The man wasn’t lying, Sonny knew the beach was still a good bit away. He just needed to get back there and they could patch him up good back at home. ”Well they were kind of busy with someone else.” The king of the underground thought back on the young man and traitor he’d sacrificed and used as a weapon. It was the first time he’d used his gifts like that. Sonny wasn’t sure if he’d do it again after hearing the kid scream. Lebeau couldn’t even fathom what kind of pain the traitor went through before he exploded. That wasn’t to say that Sonny didn’t think that Andrew didn’t deserve it, he did, many times over.

Sonny chuckled slightly when the man told him not to die. He had no plans on dying tonight. Dying from a lucky shot wasn’t the way he wanted to leave the show. Passing into the great beyond between the doc’s or Daniels’ legs might have been one hundred times preferred. ”The reaper ain’t here yet.” The king felt the power surge through him as Egan did something to him. His body didn’t feel like quitting, but quite the opposite. ”Wow” It felt like he’d been hit with some kind of drug, at least it was keeping him alive and he was more than grateful. ”That’s quite the hands ya got there partner.” The scruffy man gave a slight wink towards his savor.

Lebeau watched as the man that saved him from certain doom took down one of the scum bags following him. The first one dropped like a sack of potatoes and danced on the ground. Egan didn’t waste anytime following up his attack on the next two men who rounded the corner. Sonny hadn’t having to stay out of the fight, but he wasn’t sure if he could muster up the energy to do what he needed. Somehow Sonny doubted that this Irishman needed any kind of help.

”Yeah this movie has run it’s course and the crowd has left the theater.” He said being helped back up to his feet. The guy didn’t seem like another mole or someone trying to infiltrate his little family. Even if Sonny did take the guy to the sewer entrance the underground was a series of very long tunnels, much like a giant maze. ”Couple blocks away. There’s an old run off tunnel that dumps into the lake.” Sonny didn’t really trust the guy but if he was a Division mole he probably wouldn’t get too far with that info.

”Name’s Sonny by the way.” God he wanted a cigarette right now. Even now while he was slowly bleeding out he wanted to take a drag of menthol between his lips. ”It’s not everyday that someone saves my hide.” Sonny wasn’t moving very fast at this pace. His legs, even with Egan’s help weren’t feeling great. ”Ya got wheels nearby? Mine are kind of spent.”
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EGAN N. DOYLE
 Posted: Jun 21 2016, 08:43 PM
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At their labored pace, Egan knew that he and Sonny couldn’t outrun the Division agents. They were closing in and using every tactical play in their handbook. Lifeforce energies pulsed as their numbers were reinforced, coming in like winds breathing life to a storm. For all of his dealings with the international organization, the Irishman couldn’t remember landing in a pickle like this. Still, months spent deployed in active war zones honed the instincts he needed the most right now. He kept his wits sharp; eyes scanned every veiled corner and darted to the rooftops above them. The Light could sense the agents movements and help guide Egan and his new friend, but even that had its limits when they were confined to the outskirts of the city. So close to the edge of Chicago’s borders, it felt more and more like a maze trying to bring them back to its center.

“Ye can call me Egan.” His voice was hardly a whisper as they slithered from one alleyway to the next, “An’ got only the rubber of my boots with me tonight, Sonny.”

The idea of a car was nothing more than fantasy right now, though Egan appreciated the man’s renewed optimism. Frankly, even if a vehicle were nearby, Division’s pincer strategy was cutting them off from the larger streets behind them. He knew they were being tracked by some means. Not one agent or drone had been employed to ambush them since the first wave, which implied they were being monitored in some other fashion. Still, Johnny-law was far off. A ripple in the ambient lifeforce pool suggested that the runaways were separated only by the building they were pressed against.

“If I may be so bold, what’d ye do that has them clingin’ to their trousers?” Egan dared a smirk in Sonny’s direction. It was evident by their caution that the Irishman wasn’t the only mutant keeping Division at an arm’s length. “They weren’t expectin’ me, so I know I’m not the boogeyman in this story. I pray it be something useful.”

And that was the truth. Egan wasn’t a swiss army man. His gift wouldn’t help them escape until it came back to direct conflict.
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SONNY Z. LEBEAU
 Posted: Feb 25 2017, 09:58 AM
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The admission that the stranger didn't have wheels didn't make the southern feel any better about things. Sonny was hoping that he did, better to make a quick escape than fight his way out of this. Fighting wouldn't be preferred, epically since he was leaking crimson fluid all over the place. Things were just suppose to be easy tonight, now he was in the thick of things, fighting for his life. Lebeau didn't want to involve a stranger, but he didn't wan to die tonight. The Division dogs had quite the bite on them tonight. Perhaps they had the top brass had some of their top dogs on it. He after all was the son of a famous X-Man. "That's no good. Perhaps I can hot wire something." Eyes scanned the area for something they could use.

"We just need to find something." Limping around like this wasn't getting them very far. The hounds were closing in faster. It wouldn't be too long before they were on top of them, and not in the good way. "Not the crowd I'm usually use to partying with, but they are eager aren't they?" Sonny said as he heard things in the distance. Like the sound of boots kicking in locked doors.

Rounding a corner of a beaten up building the duo locked eyes on a old station wagon. Which clearly had seen better days, but someone was still keeping it somewhat alive, if you could call it living. Limping to the rusted out thing, Sonny laid his forefinger to the glass charging it. It broke inward without much resistance. He normally would have just broken it with a tool, but he was far to weak to do such a thing now. "Keep an eye out ok?" Sonny said to his partner in crime then grunted as he tried to wiggle under the steering wheel to work his magic.

Using a knife in his pocket he broke open the steering column and pulled out the wires. Fingers worked to tried and bring the aged beast to life. It sputtered each time the live wires came into contact with each other. "Come on ya piece of shit. Work for papa." Saying has his patience with the old vehicle was growing thin. Even for him the situation was serious, even if it didn't seem like he was taking it seriously. Heart raced within his unwashed chest.

"Target sighted on the east side. Additional target sighted. Do we have kill order?" The much larger man said over their earpieces as him and his team of three rounded the corner. The green light of their targeting dots focused on the car, ignoring Egan all together. Save for one of them, which held her gun locked onto. [i]"Down on the ground! Now![i/] She said towards Egan. Just then the old motor vehicle fired to life and the old southern boy threw it into reserve and spun it around to block them. "Get in!" Sonny said yelling over the sound of automatic gunfire.

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EGAN N. DOYLE
 Posted: Mar 7 2017, 10:47 AM
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The notion of adding grand theft auto to the list of offences tonight was simply a cherry on top of their felony class sundae. Egan knew he was up to his neck in shit at this point, there was no point in trying to turn back now. He had made his choice – that much was settled. Division was an entity he had long despised, so whatever this man was guilty of failed to measure by comparison. But the question in the back of his mind still itched: what was Sonny capable of that he had an entire unit of military trained agents pursuing him?

He didn’t need to wait long to catch a glimpse of the mutant’s power. Egan had only just helped Sonny to the car when he heard the window shatter behind him. Its sound was familiar enough that the Irishman might have otherwise been unfazed, but the crackling buzz of raw energy stirred a ripple in the lifeforce pool surrounding them. Risking a glance back, he caught only a flash of blue before the glass rained inward on the driver’s side.

“Neat trick. I might o’ suggested openin’ with that.” Egan quipped, chancing a quick smirk before turning his attention back to the alleyway. “Our friends are coming for another go. I can feel’em – none too pleased.”

As Sonny worked to hotwire the station wagon, Egan called his energies to hand again. The Light heeded his instruction, buzzing into the circular halos he’d come to rely on in a pinch like this. It wasn’t long before he caught the freckled green lines of their lasers coming around the corner. Less delightful however, were the two dots aimed at his chest from above. Egan craned his neck up and immediately spotted the agents who had managed to climb the stairs to each adjacent rooftop.

“Targets sighted on the east side. Additional target sighted. Do we have kill order?”

While it seemed the ground units were less enthralled with Egan, the two from above kept their sights focused at his chest. What was worse than the prospect of being shot though, was he knew each helmet they wore was recording the mission progress. Egan’s face had been seen – he’d be processed in short time and sought out. With prejudice after tonight’s charade, no less. That wasn’t ideal, not when the Irish mutant still had work to do in the city.

He wasn’t keen to go down without some resistance. “Ay! Knobheads. Ye have better sights on me head than me heart. Jaysis.” That was one more of many hail Mary prayers he’d be singing before bed…or so he hoped. Forgiveness was preferable over death.

“Down on the ground! Now!

“Anytime yer ready to take a ride, Sonny…” Prayer received, the car’s engine turned over and purred to life. The Morlock was quick enough to act, reversing the car to block Egan from the volleying gunfire on the other side. It riddled the passenger side with holes, breaking the rusting metal to pieces before penetrating the cab inside. “Get in!”

“Don’ gotta tell me twice.” The Irishman dove into the backseat with due haste, taking close cover on the floor so to not resemble a piece of bloody swiss cheese. The car then throttled back around with an awful hiss that told him they weren’t making it far without further miracles. With his foot pushing the pedal to the ground, Sonny sped them out of the alleyway. The sounds of Division’s artillery ceased, allowing Egan a quick peek from the rear windshield. He watched the agents pursue them on foot until it became clear that they wouldn’t match their pace. Chancing a final measure, Egan recycled the Light energy from before into a brilliant flash of white, enough he hoped would create flashbang display and temporarily blind the soldiers closest to the exit.

After several miles were navigated away from the city’s outskirts, Egan turned back to the front. Sonny was driving with as much haste as one man could after being shot. His endurance was remarkably impressive. Even with a boost in his lifeforce, the Morlock should have been succumbing to the shock and pain of his wound. It was a telltale indicator that this was not his first rodeo with Division enforcement. “Bloody hell, that was brilliant. Top driving, lad.”

Carefully climbing into the passenger seat, Egan examined his would-be cellmate. It was evident that the man was in pain, but he did not so much as risk a wince under the doctor’s scrutiny. “Would ya like me t’takeover, Sonny? Ye have some serious wounds. They’ll need tending, ye know.”
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SONNY Z. LEBEAU
 Posted: May 9 2017, 08:38 PM
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Bullets rang out like some sort of hellish rain. Thankfully nature didn't deliver this sort of downpour. Sonny was relieved that his savior got into the car just in time for the hot lead to behind pouring down upon them. Putting it into reverse first the car backed into dumpster with a mighty crash sending it rolling a few feet backwards. There was a brief pause in the fire. Then it picked back up when Sonny put it into drive. One would think that the mutant king of the Morlocks wouldn't have much experience in driving, but most times lately he'd been responsible for gathering supplies.

Tires squeaked as the aging car speed down the alley. Bullets could still be heard bouncing off the back of the metal beast. The drive out of the city wasn't uneventful after that. Sonny did need to get rid of the car, and fast. They'd more than likely be posting a description of the get away car. "Thank. Watched a lot of tv when I was a tike." Lebeau said about this early childhood with a grin. "When we had one that is." The older man said with a bit of a sigh, loosing his grip on the steering wheel. It was time to loosen up just a tad, even if he still felt on edge.

"That's probably wise and all. Last thing we need is for me to get us kissin' a tree." The Morlock king pulled over to the side of the road and threw it into park. The old beast shuddered a bit, like it needed a brake and demanded to stay here for a bit. "Ya might as well be callin' me King Swiss." He chuckled a tad slowly easing himself out of the drivers seat. "We need to ditch this thing. Trade in." His eyes just looked around at the middle of no where that they were. Not a good place to borrow a ride. "Mighty kind of ya to get involved. Sorry to shit on ya day."

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EGAN N. DOYLE
 Posted: Jun 10 2017, 09:21 PM
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Egan couldn’t help but chuckle in response to Sonny’s comedic indifference regarding their situation. It was a relief, and he felt almost like he was in the company of a fellow Irishman. Even in the most awful spot it was best not to acknowledge any sort of despair. Rather, it was easier to drink it away in the end. A good story made for telling at a pub. Still, the fact remained that they were stranded. The car they had stolen was good enough to get them some few miles away, but that was all. Egan was confident that Division wouldn’t be too far behind.

“Eh, I’ve been in pinches worse than this. Don’ go feelin’ too bad just yet.” He shot back, glancing in the mirror to make sure there were no headlights heading toward them. “They musn’t want ye too bad if t’eir goin the speed limit. How about I give ya another boost and then we take a walk, aye?”

Egan exited the car and sprinted over to the driver side and helped Sonny to his feet. The sleeves he’d turned to bandages were soaked in blood. “Tell ye what, I think we deserve some pints after this. Yer runnin’ a bit low on fluids.” It was his own attempt at humor, but Egan didn’t think it could make the situation any worse. He placed his hand back over Sonny’s chest and let the Light harmonize with the Morlock’s frequency. The effect was instantaneous and he could see color returning in his face. It wouldn’t last long though, not at this rate. “So, you were mentioning bringin’ me to the beach. A bit forward for our first go at it, but I’ll let ya buy me a beer and see where the music takes us.”

They began a slow pace off the road. Egan wasn’t too familiar with this part of town, so needed to keep Sonny conscious long enough to navigate. “How bout some directions then, lad? Can’t be havin’ pass out on me yet. That’s poor manners.”

Egan could hear vehicles coming up from the stretch behind them. He started steering Sonny toward a nearby alley, just dark enough that he thought it might help conceal them
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skinned by darren criss.. @ atf, caution, shine, wc & cc. cfs @ black.