Adrenalin Rush (Open)

[Maku]

The burning desire in the boy's eyes wanted to finally get a grip on his mutation. His fingers wrapped tightly around a pen he found. His stride had a drive. Maku was ready to know the power inside. He knew where to go to get some bruises and cuts to help his adrenalin pick up. Inside, he knew that getting pressured would help kick his mutation into effect. Being bullied seemed to get his power to work, a fight might do the same. The day that changed it all ran through his head. That fateful school day. The blood. The disfigured pen. He even remembered his parents telling him to have a nice day that morning. Parents... He almost wanted to cry. They were the only people who could relate to. But now he had Freakopolis.

Maku walked to what was referred to as, "The Arena". Rebellion territory and where people fought for adrenaline rushes. Blood stained the ground and coagulated over time. It was ruthless sport in some people's eyes. Other viewed it as a way to get grudges over with. Not to mention for those who just loved to fight and kill did nothing but fight. Maku had a reason this time. The consequences were his own. If he got a scar, he got a scar. If he got paralyzed, he'd get paralyzed. If he was to die. He'd die. Just as long as he finds out his mutation. Then he'd be happy. Maku needed to know why he was forced to be imprisoned here.

His feet took him to the entrance of the Arena. He was wearing a dark red t-shirt, blue jeans, and a pair of sneakers. Maku thought it was appropriate to fight in. He was afraid though. Maku was never a natural fighter. Blood made him sick to his stomach, and he'd never felt any terrible pain before. Maybe he wasn't as ready as he thought. But, just if he could get his power to function, then it would be worth it. Maku looked around. No one was in sight. Odd. Maku walked into the Arena, losing his proud stride. He was timid now. The pen was still gripped tightly in his hand. It was slightly dark in the arena, but light permitted. Despite all that, Maku saw no one. Not a single person. Soon, he found himself in the center of the Arena. Not a single person was in sight.

The boy just frowned. Maybe today wasn't the day. His fingernails dug into his palm. Maku bit his lip, still looking for at least one person. Where were they?! He took his free hand and ran it through his hair. Maku stood, taking in a deep breath then exhaling. He truly believed it was not the day to fight. But he was disappointed. Maku's heart was racing in anticipation. The boy was ready to leave. It was too quiet, and he had nothing left to do here. "Maybe another day..."

[Crisis]

Claude walked into the arena carrying himself with the same regal bearing he always did. His steps were silent, eerily so, it seemed that even if he stomped his foot full-forced against the ground, he would still not make a sound. Claude was dressed from head to toe in white. His shirt was high collared and snug to fit his form,his pants seemed to be made from the same material and shaped themselves to his legs but not quite as form-fittingly as his shirt. Even his loafers were just as pristine as the rest of him. Claude carried an inquisitive expression upon his angelic face, and his eyes had a glint of knowing about him. The entire feel of him was something benign, almost holy. But Claude knew that it was just an illusion, he should have, he designed it.

Claude had always liked white, it had so much symbolic meaning to it. It could be associated with the absence of color, but at the same time Claude was aware that with the science of chromotology, or coloring, white light was actually created by all colors blending together. It was quite artistic if he thought about it, philosophical even. Perhaps in some way, white was the representation of himself. The Absence and Gain of everything.

On the crook of his arm, Claude carried a heavy-looking leather bound book of the darkest black. there was some gold scroll work across the spine, but it was a combination of many different ancient languages and didn't actually translate to anything but gibberish. Claude quite enjoyed misleading people into thinking it was an actual spell book. Even more, he enjoyed letting people think it was the source of his power. In a way however, it actually was.

The book was also the reason why Claude had chanced upon the arena today. He knew that sooner or later he would find his path crossing to this place, he would probably have to fight for his life. His powers always depended on him being able to manipulate the measure of the disorder or randomness in a closed system. That was entropy distortion, and in Claude's case it meant a great deal of math..so much so, that even in his genius level intellect he had decided that carrying a manual or a guide would be better than causing catastrophes that could very well harm himself.

That was why he was at the arena, he wished to measure the variables of the area, see what distortions he could influence when need be. He didn't expect a person to be here though. He had thought he already manipulated the stoichastic forces to make people leave. That was the problem with probability however, there was no such thing as a hundred percent, and Claude would give his life to be able to compute for those values. If a hundred percent existed, then he would rule the world...but Claude's aspirations were never so megalomaniacal, but still the prospect was alluring was it not?

He couldn't risk people finding out how his powers functioned, he kept everything about his powers in the dark. Kept people guessing as to what he could actually do, and most importantly didn't reveal his weakness that he needed to do the math before he could influence his surroundings. That was why he puts wards over his book, it would take nothing less of a construction crane to even lift a page of his book, except of course for him...

He eyed the man in front of him, it didn't take long before his eyes narrowed down to the pen. Claude always did look so innocent and harmless, another illusions of his orchestration. He needed to get rid of this boy, although Claude was using that term lightly, the boy was probably older than him if anything. [white]"I would very much appreciated it if you leave."[/white] the infinite blackness flooded into Claude's eyes, and for the first time since entering the area he didn't seem so innocent anymore. He took the book from the crook of his arm and flipped to a page that he had labeled as Basic Offensive, of course he wrote it in a complicated mix of Chinese, Arabic, Greek and Russian, so that few would understand it.

He traced his finger down the white paper until it stopped over a word that would have translated into English as detonation. He brought his eyes up towards the boy again, that infinite blackness seeming to eat away at the light. everything was reduced to numbers and equations and Claude drew on the air. Air was a mixture, it contained oxygen, hydrogen and nitrogen mostly. Claude concentrated on the oxygen formed a nexus then at the center of that invisible net of air, he increased the friction of air so that they rubbed together and created a spark. The pure state of oxygen immediately caught the flame and spread out in all directions like a star. It was a small explosion, and wouldn't have even reached the boy except for a flash of heat. Everything went back to as it was for Claude, no longer numbers and equations, for all that he did it took a few seconds to activate.

It was a warning shot more or less, to make the boy leave. Claude didn't have the time or patience to deal with him right then and there. [white]"I won't tell you again"[/white] said Claude, keeping his expression blank.

[Maku]

As his foot took to the ground, he looked up, noticing the silhouette of a person coming this way. In no time at all, a single figure appeared before him. Maku bit his lip. Mentally, he just given up on trying to fight, but the likelihood of it all made him slightly distraught. What was the chance? Maku had no idea, but his first instinct was to try to avoid looking weak. He was in the Arena after all. Despite his usual mannerisms, he hadn't tried to analyze the man. Freakopolis did change his world upside-down, and he didn't have the time. It was all too weird. But Maku puffed out his chest in a very poor display of bravado. His hand was almost to the point of breaking the skin. He could feel his blood pressure rising. Almost in fear, but also anticipation. It was the same feeling he had before arriving.

Maku was soon addressed. "I would very much appreciated it if you leave." Maku's lip receeded under his teeth. The irony was he was just leaving. But he was unsure if he should have stayed to challenge this guy, or just bolt out of the Arena. Through is nervous constraint on his body, Maku began to analyze the man. The other guy seemed older, but by not much. His frame was thin and restrained, as if in a formal manner. To Maku, the other didn't seem like a fighter either. As the man began to open and leaf through the pages, Maku broke eye contact, putting on a more kinder posture, taking a step forward. He smiled softly with the motive of not making war and maybe a new friend. He started out saying,"Don't mind me I was-" But he was interrupted.

The ingredients that required ignition were simple. A fuel, and oxidizing element, and heat energy. It was as if all three were to collide together in an invisible, light speed instant right beside Maku's head. First thing he noticed was light. As soon as it registered, he had two mental relays, wait or move. Maku reflexively moved away from the light, the burst of flames scattering to bite at him. His heart rate jumped and once he was out of harm's way, he began to pant. Maku quickly cursed under his breath, wondering what the hell that was. Logically, there was no possible way for that to happen unless the man standing before him was pyrokinetic. Maku barked out rather angrily, "The hell are you doing!? I just told you I was going to leave!" The metal of the pen slightly compressed under the pressure of his grip. Maku didn't notice, he was focused on the man.

"I won't tell you again"

Maku bit his lip, staring at the man. His eyes said fear and innocence, but his body reeked of aggression. He set a foot back behind him, almost to pounce, the grip furthering on the pen. To Maku, it seemed like the book was influential, but only slightly. Maku gritted his teeth, unsure of what he should do. At least incapacitate the man so it gave him time to get away. Or just move fast leave. Then there was a third option. Just get close for a quick fight. After all, it was what he was waiting for. The adrenalin in his veins were only beginning to pump...

[Crisis]

The little display of his powers didn't seem to work very well, to Claude's infinitisemal display. Just a few seconds ago the man in front of him was no man at all, he was a spineless worm, shaking where he stood at the mere sight of Claude walking through those Arena doors. Claude thought it quite pathetic and just wanted to get rid of the other man by scaring him off with a little gout of flames. Unforttunately the display of aggression seemed to activate some primal self-preservation instinct upon the other boy.

His stance seemed solid, and he grabbed unto that pen as if it were a razor sharp blade. Claude rolled his eyes before he flashed the other boy a condesecnding grin. He couldn't have been serious could he? Whether it remained a pen or turned into a fully functional shot gun, it wouldn't matter to Claude...not with what he could do.

Claude let go of the book, but somehow it hung suspended in the air before him, as if on an invisible pedastal. Claude stared back at the other boy, his eyes pupiless and as black as a botomless pit. He lifted a hand lazilly in Maku's direction and gave a scoff.

[white]"So bothersome..."[/white] was all he said, and he delivered it in a completely stoic manner, with a slight hint of irritation and impatience. He gave a dismissive wave of his hand an immediatley more star shaped explosions began erupting around the area. These were no longer warning shots as far as Claude was concerned, he could actually kill this naive little sop, if the other boy didn't attempt to evade.

Claude immediatley went to his book, and using his powers flipped through the pages again. He stopped at Basic Defensive and scrolled down with his eyes until he stopped at Arc Shield. Claude wasn't dumb, far from it, his intelect was at genius level. If ever the other boy survived the detonations, he would attack. This arc shield would prove to be useful. Claude began concentrating the points of electrodes around him, ready to destabalize them once required.

[Maku]

As he stood, looking almost to pounce, and designing his plan to get through this alive, Maku looked up at the man before him. Eye contact was made. It was as if he was peering into the depths of pure darkness. A shiver crept up his spine. It was unusual and very eerie. Maku almost feared the man before him, but the rush in his veins said otherwise. The book floated in front of the man, just as odd. The smirk that the man carried made Maku cringe slightly. It was mocking and degrading. Maku blinked, suddenly remembering how alike it was to his bully. A shot of true fear ran down his face.

The same day. The light was exactly the same for only a moment. Maku's mind saw the sunlight streak down, but clouds floated in the distant sky. He was walking to the bus, his backpack pulling down on his shoulders. But he was quickly stopped by an arm and a sardonic voice. "Hey buddy. Where do you think you're going?" Maku had blinked. He remembered his eyelids closing then opening to see the blistered face of his bully. The next moment, a fist flew toward him. Maku quickly stepped aside to avoid the punch. From all of his experience in being bullied, he developed a good set of reflexes. His heart rate jumped, but a another kid pushed him from behind, back at Marc Lindel. Marc was Maku's bully, and everyone knew it. But Maku didn't see it that way. Just another kid from another school trying to expend hate. But Maku held a pen close in hand. Another fist, another dodge, another push. He was getting worn out. Suddenly, a fist made contact with Maku's stomach. Air escaped him and the pain shot through him. He took a step back, trying to gasp for breath. A powerful shot crossed against his chin. It went up and across his nose. Blood streamed down his lip. Maku teared up, and swallowed painfully. His eyes peered up, wiping the blood from his nose. Maku took a step back. Marc's gang hovered around, shouting profanity and things like, "Hit him!", "Show him not to mess with us!", and "Kick his ass, Marc!" The crowd was overzealous.

Maku charged at Marc instead of running, only because he couldn't stand it anymore. He could stand like a wimp. He had to fight for himself. Only the difference was, the adrenalin ran through him, and suddenly the pen became sharp, thin and spear-like. The malleable metal hardened, yet it was deformed. Marc had no time to react, and the spear-like pen carved into his flesh. Maku blinked as the blood flicked off of Marc's skin and stained his face and clothes. Then silence ruptured through the crowd. Marc lied in a puddle of blood, forming larger. Maku just dropped the pen, as it suddenly appeared in a more natural, yet still deformed state. The thought burnt into his mind as he ran to the bathroom. No one stopped him. That same smirk just peeled on Marc's face. Artificial and natural at the same time.

Maku was soon faced with reality as the man scoffed, "So bothersome." What was he to do? He took a deep breath, and pressed against his right foot, pushing off towards the other man. However, in no time at all, more light suddenly bursted and flames flicked out to burn at Maku. The boy quickly moved, dodging and avoiding the best he could. Fire peeled at his shirt and arms, leaving warm sensations that could have easily caused him to light up in flames. Maku couldn't get to close without having to dodge another rupture of flames. Heart rate was speeding, blood burned through his flesh and sweat ran down his head. Maku soon got no more that two feet away in front of the man, thrusting out the pen, which had taken the shape of a thin knife. It was almost like a letter opener or pocket knife. The blade itself was paper thin but long enough that if the knife were to make contact, it would penetrate quite deep. Maku aimed toward the torso, focused on just leaving a cut. However, he thought out this process through. Maku also threw his body at the man, in a full shoulder tackle, as a way to knock him off balance. But he was just being foolhardy. This wasn't an airtight plan, and Maku was just deathly afraid of dieing. He would risk it, but now he just wanted to get away.

[Crisis]

Claude remained rooted to the ground, the little movements he betrayed being the triffle gestures with which he directed the origin of the explosions. Claude had no real need of a somatic component, itwas just a berefit aid in concentration, it was so much easier to aim at subjects when he pointed to them. But beyond that, Claude could do little else...his powers requires too much thinking, so much so that if he couldn't spare any thought to running around.

Much unlike the boy in front of him, the boy traversed through the maze of explosions with a skill that irritated Claude. He didn't like the fact that the detonations did little but lick his shirt with flame. Despite the outward blackness of Claude's eyes it did nothing to inconvenience his sight or powers of observation. The boy before him was afraid, but that fear pushed him on edge, like a fox backed up against a wall, ready to fight for its life. Looking at the other boy's expression Claude could surmise that this boy treated him with the deference of a high school bully who had pushed one of his victims over the edge. How inanely misappropriate for the ingrate.

Claude looked nothing like a stereotypical bully, he was no knucklebrained neanderthal. Claude was more slenderly built, but stood with the sure confidence of an unsheathed rapier. He stood about a head and a half shorter, and whatever muscles he had were only sculpted but not large. This boy was broader along the shoulders, stronger physically. At face value, it would make more sense if the charging brute were the bully. Claude eyes the pen, or what had been a pen in the boy's hands...it was no a paper thin sheet of metal that caught the light on it's edges.

Claude had no fondness for being cut by that. Suddenly the boy pivoted and ducked another explosion, his arm struck like a hooded viper and, Claude acted mentally. He called the nodes of electrons he had set up as a precaution, and there was a bright flash of light as a ring of static blue electricity materialized before Claude. However, the other boy's arm got through before Claude's mental commands could appropriate themselves.

Claude took a step back but was too late before the tempered piece of metal struck him at his neck. Finally, the arc shield activated created a translucent field of blue energy hovering before Claude. It was a combination of magnetic forces, hardened air and a construct of isolated electrons that comprised the shield. And due to the tardiness of the effect the other boy's arm was half-way through the shield, inevitably held in place like a brace of light. He would probably feel the forces crushing into his arm keeping it there like an air tight container.

If Claude had wanted to, he could have severede that arm right then and there. But he stood there, his hand instinctively held against the part of his neck where he was slashed. In a half-state of stupor. He had come so close to death, if his powers delayed just a second longer, of if he misjudged the distance and not stepped back. Claude always took comfort in the fact that he could always use his powers to get away from difficult situations...but to come close to death, it was like an epiphany.

He stayed like that for a few more seconds before he tamed his expression into the virtual nothingness it was before.[white]"You border unto the impressive..."[/white] he said with a slight smile, albeit his tone was still empty and cold like a void. He made a motion as if to crush something in his hands, and willed the twisted arc shield to tighten around the other boy's arm...it would cause pain, but damage nothing. The crimson of fresh blood stained Claude's white garb. He ran his finger across the wound, channeling enough heat at his finger tips to cauterize it closed...it would be a nasty scar that Claude would need to tend to later with a more complex and difficult set of equations and formulas...once again Claude couldn't help but compare what he did, with sorcery and incantations.

But now that he thought of it, knowing how things worked didn't make it any less of a miracle. And what was miracle but another word for magic?

[Maku]

As the boy charged, his hand swinging towards the other with the deformed blade in hand, he accidentally went too far with an uppercut like motion. The same feeling he had when he cut into Marc coursed through him. It was a form of guilt, shame, and something else... It felt like a burning sensation. Perhaps it was his blood infused adrenalin. But he had power, and this time, he knew he did something to the pen to make it that way. The question was what. What could be his power? But Maku had better things to think about. Blood had stained the blade, and it partially spattered onto his face. The boy in front of him moved only enough, not to die from his attack. The thought of ending another person's life made him shiver in fright. The idea was menacing. Maku's focus was else where when his arm was suddenly caught by an invisible force.

The feeling was pressing onto his arm. It was excruciating and painful. A blue tint hovered in the air, bracing around his arm. Maku's arm had a slight twinge feeling in his arm. It stung and burnt, twisted and dug, punctured and pierced. He couldn't hold it in. It hurt too much for any one person. Maku cried out in pain. He whimpered for relief, and his body couldn't hold up under the pain. But he endured. He looked at the boy with pained eyes, his body no longer stressed in agitation or aggression. Despite his original focus, he now intended to live. Maku tried to sustain through the pain, tears stinging at his eyes. He could only half here the man say, "You border unto the impressive..." Impressive? Maku hadn't really understood the context the man was speaking in, considering that he could cause explosions and net energy fields that could stop someone in place. The pain exceeded with the wave of the man's hand.

Maku's eye sight was becoming bleary, as his eyes traced the man's fingers to the cut, congealing the blood to create a small scab. The pain made everything worse. He was becoming weak and his breathing was laborious. Maku was weak from using his power inadvertently and the stress of pain. The twisted metal in his hand was released and fell down, getting caught in the web of energy. The boy uttered softly through the pain, "I-I.. I'm sorry.." Maku had no idea the limits to the man's power, considering he had to weave through a maze of explosions. However, he knew that in a place for those with mutations, ones with no idea of their own had power had no place for fighting. Maku didn't stand a chance against someone who had complete control of their powers. He was at the man's mercy. But Maku's question was, "Who is this man, and what power does he possess?" And other than that thought, he asked himself, "Am I going to die?.."

[Crisis]

[white]No you're not going to die"[/white] answered Claude, eerily seeming to be able to peer into the mind of the other boy. Of course, it was not so much an act of telepathy rather being fairly observant and identifying the inhuman terror he incited within his adversary...adversary wasn't even a right word anymore. The other boy seemed to lose his nerve just as quickly as it came. Claude would have found it quite pitiful if the tightness of the healing wound on his neck did not remind him otherwise.

Claude languidly extended his hand forward and the altered pen came flying into his grasp. He took the piece of metal and inspected it for a moment before turning his dead-star gaze back towards Maku. [white]Well at least not for now...especially if you don't apologize to me like that again."[/white] Claude threw the pseudo-weapon aside, and it embedded itself to the ground with a hollow echoing thunk. Claude lowered his arm and the arc shield blinked out of existence.

[white]"I have no love for worms who squirm under the heel of my shoe. I'd like nothing better than to crush them. But you wounded me, a feat ought to be exalted for it's rarity."[/white] Claude shot the other boy a challenging glare, just daring him to attempt to apologize and lose what little respect Claude had for him.

Claude had to admit that he underestimated the boy, and it was probably the reason he had been struck. But still everyone was of some use or another. [white]"What is your name? And more importantly what do you do?"[/white]

[Maku]

"No you're not going to die."

Should he be relieved that he won't die? Maku definitely did not feel relieved. If the man wanted to, he could have just died. Right there. The looming shadow of death had fleeted away, and yet, Maku was afraid it would soon come again. He was feeling dizzy and was on the verge of blacking out. The words he heard were barely registering. "Well at least not for now...especially if you don't apologize to me like that again."

A hollow sound echoed through him and the tightness on his arm released him. Maku pratically crumpled to the ground, lying on his back. His breath was catching itself and a bit of wheezing slipped between his teeth. Maku felt alive, yet, more than usually. He generally loved the feeling of waking up refreshed, because that made him feel alive every day. But this was the feeling of veering the very ledge of death, then hitting the brakes with the tips of his toes over the edge. Then taking that small peek into the darkness. Nothing is visible. Suddenly a rope slings him back away from the snapping jaws of death, only getting scratched and bloody. That was the feeling. But Maku was exhausted too. He had finally gotten his breathing to be smooth and fluid.

"I have no love for worms who squirm under the heel of my shoe. I'd like nothing better than to crush them. But you wounded me, a feat ought to be exalted for it's rarity."

Maku had closed his eyes. He just grinned, talking between breaths. "I don't really need love... from anyone..." He didn't want it either. Especially here. If he got to close to anyone, he might have just been used like a pawn, or even get stabbed in the back. Just another person dead. He'd rather be alive. Maku continued, smirking slightly, "Exhalted? Ha. To draw blood is no feat at all. I don't know too much, but sometimes one needs to take a hit to deliver the final blow... I don't know why you just didn't... What did you say? Crush under your heel? You had the chance, but if striking you gets me my life, I just might have to draw more blood for some favors around here." Maku laughed, a bit pained. Some of the flames that had touched his clothing were burning slightly in his back, and the lasting pain still stung his arm.

Maku was still curious with the boy before him, thinking hard about what his next move should be. He opened his eyes, being addressed the man. Maku sat up, all of his vital stablized. "What is your name? And more importantly what do you do?" He blinked, looking at him quizzically. What do I do? What the hell does that mean?! Maku's thought was pointless as he quickly responded, "M-My name is Maku. And I don't do much of anything, I guess..." Maku then looked down at the ground. He held a hand in his other, nervously fiddling with his thumbs. Where does he go from here?