Post by Inferno on Sept 30, 2006 3:35:48 GMT -5
Walking down the street wearing an all too baggy black sweat shirt his black hair falling over his eyes, his black eye liner eyes looking dead and tired. His eyes were emty, glazed slightly as though he was in a daze. His eyes werent the normal dark and aloof ones most most were used to, he didnt care, if he was tired,depressed the whole world should know it, feel it along with him. Jason had never been the most respectful man in the world, though he knew the limits and boundries, he didnt care what happened so long as he didnt have to lift a finger. There were rules to limiting your respect, you didnt cross someone who was about to step off a bridge, who was about to chug down a whole bottle of vodca after taking a bottle of asprin, some of these mutants didnt seem to have a ounce of sense, of street smarts. And now one of his recruits was dead, a pretty girl no older than sixteen, he could still picture her pure white blonde hair stained red from the blood that flowed from her left temple. She had been stupid really, but then again what had they to live off on at Hexus? Want. Take. Have. The fact that non of them were immortal didnt seem to process in the young mutant's minds yet.
The younger mutants these days didnt know their limits, the true extent of their powers, one of the reasons Jason was so keen on getting the mutant revolution in motion. They couldnt carry on like this, not for much longer. Mutant against mutant was a vile crime. Powers gone to waste, another advantage lost. Shame really, the girl had only done what she was trained to do, steal information from a medical military base, do anything and everything to get it, even if it kills you. The thought of it almost make him laugh aloud, he had heard that line once before, a line of reckless abandon, a line never given to someone so young and passionate. She shouldnt have gone, Siren would have been best for the job, she wasnt sloppy with her work. She would get the job done. Even if it killed you... But he had been the one who had given the order hadnt he? Jason wasnt one to care for a random mutant death arround 37 had already died previous to this new blonde haired girl. He hadnt cared before, he shouldnt care even now. Though he doubted that was why he was wondering the streets in the middle of the night.
He was always such a nice boy
The quiet one
With good intentions
He was down for his brother
Respectful to his mother
A good boy
But good don't get attention
Jason remembered when he was that young, that passionate about something. Back then, Jason's passion was derived from baseball. He would die for the feild, once the pricipal had threatened to ploy away the baseball feild of his school in order to put in a new gym. Jason did everything and anything to keep people off his field. He was protective of the things he loved, the things he was passionate over. Passionate or reckless, those were the two things most teens never seemed to grasp correctly. One was brave the other was pure idiocy.
Despite anything that Jason did, he was considered a misfit. An odd ball with a brain. True, Jason had been at the top of his class when he had been in high school, however after his incident with the west wing fires he wasnt considered the "best" example for class validictorian. He was a loner in school and in class, no one spoke to him and he didnt much care to speak to them. He knew the first thing that could come out of their mouths and he didnt much care for it. He didnt need friends, nor did he want them. Friends was something people who werent independent enough, needed to have for 'moral' support. The way Jason looked at it, if they needed moral support from other people, they didnt have any of their own. He was a misfit, a trouble maker, and a smart @ss to boot, but teachers only put up with him because of his brain power. He was the one kid in class who knew how to think outside the box even without trying.
They were crying to the camera
Said he never fitted in
He wasn't welcomed
He showed up the parties
We was hanging in
Some guys puttin' him down
Bullying him round round
Now I wish I woulda talked to him
Gave him the time of day
Not turn away
If I woulda been the one to maybe go this far
He might have stayed at home
Playing angry chords on his guitar
Jason had always been flirt with the girls, or at least the ones who would care to look his way. They liked his look, the way he held himself. The air of superiority and confidence drove some of them crazy, though the fact that he was always aloe whereever he went drove them away. Most of the guys at school found him to be a bit of an ass the way he walked arround with a different girl hanging off his arm every other week. It was just the way Jason was, there was no changing it, no helping it. So he got his face kicked in by the football team once, what was the big deal? It wasnt like they didnt get what was comming to them later on. The west wing fires was one of Jason's brilliant passioate plans. He had made sure that they were all locked in good and tight in the Chem room, after school was the best time for it, less crowds, not as many witnesses. He didnt need the gas pipes to be working for the plan to work out right. He hadnt planed on the pipes exploding, but then agian that was a perk, something that had gotten rid of any of those who would have survived the fire.
The fire had a big impact on the community, half of their beloved football team were now dead burried in the rubble of the west wing, either that or Jason had finished them off when the fire died down. The news papers caught wind of the explosion, of the fire. Jason hadnt anticipated this before hand, there were too many witnesses and he was turned in though without protest from him. He didnt mind or care for that matter, what could be more dangerous than he? He could handle himself, that
and he knew Blink wouldnt let any brother of hers stay behind bars despite what she said she cared, if only slightly.
After he was set free by his older sister he saw news reports of his old girlfriends speaking to news reporters, not, as Jason would have hoped, speaking of his innocence but of his dark guilt and how he should burn just as the others had. Jason didnt feel betrayed, he expected as much from high school girls, they were disloyal,vain, and would sing your life story if you gave them ten bucks. One of the reasons Jason had no friends in High School.
They couldnt understand why he never spoke about his 'friends'. Truth being told, Jason wasnt a 'friend' sort of person, he liked relying on himself and himself alone. Rumor got round school that he was a stuck up tweaker. Something Jason didnt much mind, so long as his baseball feild stayed where it was and his girlfriend didnt go off and jump off the Brooklyn Bridge. The fact that Jason attracted negatives didnt make him popular, then again, Jason never wanted to be popular. He never asked for it, never wanted it, didnt need it. It was like love, what good could it do?
So another mutant was dead, another advantage over the X-men and Brotherhood lost, but that was in the back of his mind at the moment. He didnt need anyone telling him why he felt so miserable. He could feel it plain and simple. People, too many people for comfort, knew his name. He was all over the news now, a mutant and a reckless one at that. He was never one to watch television but when he did he nearly dropped dead from the pure insanity of it. Girls were forming fanclubs for him saying he was "misunderstood" and the reporters were now adressing him by full name along with the title of "Jason Cameron Dangerous Mutant at Large..." Popularity. Give him something anything but not that. He didnt want the fan clubs, well truthfully he didnt mind them it would be an easier way to get a one night stand in this god-forsaken town, but he sure as hell didnt want to be seen as "misunderstood." Jason didnt do misunderstood,he did alot of things but never misunderstood. But what killed him the most wasnt that his name was on the tongue of every man, woman, and child who owned a tv it was the fact that now...hell he wasnt quiet sure what part bugged him the most.
So being the man he was Jason Cameron Dagerous Mastermind Mutant decided to go to, of all places, a bar. The dead of night, the stars shone down on him, the pale moonlight illuminating his even paler skin. He was sleep deprived and pissed. He wasnt in the mood for games, though it was more likely than not that someone would decide to come and 'play' with him.
He walked into the bar his hood still pulled down over his eyes his dark hair covering the rest of his eyes. He heard the bar go quiet. He gave an angry sigh and shot a few people a look of utter disgust, they were drunks anyway, what harm could they do dial 411 to get the police. The thouht of it made him smile slightly, he hadnt smiled in days, it felt awkward slightly but it seemed to fit him more like a smirk than anything.
He's not invisible anymore
With his baggy pants and his legs in chains
Since he walked through that bar room door
Everybody knows his name....
The younger mutants these days didnt know their limits, the true extent of their powers, one of the reasons Jason was so keen on getting the mutant revolution in motion. They couldnt carry on like this, not for much longer. Mutant against mutant was a vile crime. Powers gone to waste, another advantage lost. Shame really, the girl had only done what she was trained to do, steal information from a medical military base, do anything and everything to get it, even if it kills you. The thought of it almost make him laugh aloud, he had heard that line once before, a line of reckless abandon, a line never given to someone so young and passionate. She shouldnt have gone, Siren would have been best for the job, she wasnt sloppy with her work. She would get the job done. Even if it killed you... But he had been the one who had given the order hadnt he? Jason wasnt one to care for a random mutant death arround 37 had already died previous to this new blonde haired girl. He hadnt cared before, he shouldnt care even now. Though he doubted that was why he was wondering the streets in the middle of the night.
He was always such a nice boy
The quiet one
With good intentions
He was down for his brother
Respectful to his mother
A good boy
But good don't get attention
Jason remembered when he was that young, that passionate about something. Back then, Jason's passion was derived from baseball. He would die for the feild, once the pricipal had threatened to ploy away the baseball feild of his school in order to put in a new gym. Jason did everything and anything to keep people off his field. He was protective of the things he loved, the things he was passionate over. Passionate or reckless, those were the two things most teens never seemed to grasp correctly. One was brave the other was pure idiocy.
Despite anything that Jason did, he was considered a misfit. An odd ball with a brain. True, Jason had been at the top of his class when he had been in high school, however after his incident with the west wing fires he wasnt considered the "best" example for class validictorian. He was a loner in school and in class, no one spoke to him and he didnt much care to speak to them. He knew the first thing that could come out of their mouths and he didnt much care for it. He didnt need friends, nor did he want them. Friends was something people who werent independent enough, needed to have for 'moral' support. The way Jason looked at it, if they needed moral support from other people, they didnt have any of their own. He was a misfit, a trouble maker, and a smart @ss to boot, but teachers only put up with him because of his brain power. He was the one kid in class who knew how to think outside the box even without trying.
They were crying to the camera
Said he never fitted in
He wasn't welcomed
He showed up the parties
We was hanging in
Some guys puttin' him down
Bullying him round round
Now I wish I woulda talked to him
Gave him the time of day
Not turn away
If I woulda been the one to maybe go this far
He might have stayed at home
Playing angry chords on his guitar
Jason had always been flirt with the girls, or at least the ones who would care to look his way. They liked his look, the way he held himself. The air of superiority and confidence drove some of them crazy, though the fact that he was always aloe whereever he went drove them away. Most of the guys at school found him to be a bit of an ass the way he walked arround with a different girl hanging off his arm every other week. It was just the way Jason was, there was no changing it, no helping it. So he got his face kicked in by the football team once, what was the big deal? It wasnt like they didnt get what was comming to them later on. The west wing fires was one of Jason's brilliant passioate plans. He had made sure that they were all locked in good and tight in the Chem room, after school was the best time for it, less crowds, not as many witnesses. He didnt need the gas pipes to be working for the plan to work out right. He hadnt planed on the pipes exploding, but then agian that was a perk, something that had gotten rid of any of those who would have survived the fire.
The fire had a big impact on the community, half of their beloved football team were now dead burried in the rubble of the west wing, either that or Jason had finished them off when the fire died down. The news papers caught wind of the explosion, of the fire. Jason hadnt anticipated this before hand, there were too many witnesses and he was turned in though without protest from him. He didnt mind or care for that matter, what could be more dangerous than he? He could handle himself, that
and he knew Blink wouldnt let any brother of hers stay behind bars despite what she said she cared, if only slightly.
After he was set free by his older sister he saw news reports of his old girlfriends speaking to news reporters, not, as Jason would have hoped, speaking of his innocence but of his dark guilt and how he should burn just as the others had. Jason didnt feel betrayed, he expected as much from high school girls, they were disloyal,vain, and would sing your life story if you gave them ten bucks. One of the reasons Jason had no friends in High School.
They couldnt understand why he never spoke about his 'friends'. Truth being told, Jason wasnt a 'friend' sort of person, he liked relying on himself and himself alone. Rumor got round school that he was a stuck up tweaker. Something Jason didnt much mind, so long as his baseball feild stayed where it was and his girlfriend didnt go off and jump off the Brooklyn Bridge. The fact that Jason attracted negatives didnt make him popular, then again, Jason never wanted to be popular. He never asked for it, never wanted it, didnt need it. It was like love, what good could it do?
So another mutant was dead, another advantage over the X-men and Brotherhood lost, but that was in the back of his mind at the moment. He didnt need anyone telling him why he felt so miserable. He could feel it plain and simple. People, too many people for comfort, knew his name. He was all over the news now, a mutant and a reckless one at that. He was never one to watch television but when he did he nearly dropped dead from the pure insanity of it. Girls were forming fanclubs for him saying he was "misunderstood" and the reporters were now adressing him by full name along with the title of "Jason Cameron Dangerous Mutant at Large..." Popularity. Give him something anything but not that. He didnt want the fan clubs, well truthfully he didnt mind them it would be an easier way to get a one night stand in this god-forsaken town, but he sure as hell didnt want to be seen as "misunderstood." Jason didnt do misunderstood,he did alot of things but never misunderstood. But what killed him the most wasnt that his name was on the tongue of every man, woman, and child who owned a tv it was the fact that now...hell he wasnt quiet sure what part bugged him the most.
So being the man he was Jason Cameron Dagerous Mastermind Mutant decided to go to, of all places, a bar. The dead of night, the stars shone down on him, the pale moonlight illuminating his even paler skin. He was sleep deprived and pissed. He wasnt in the mood for games, though it was more likely than not that someone would decide to come and 'play' with him.
He walked into the bar his hood still pulled down over his eyes his dark hair covering the rest of his eyes. He heard the bar go quiet. He gave an angry sigh and shot a few people a look of utter disgust, they were drunks anyway, what harm could they do dial 411 to get the police. The thouht of it made him smile slightly, he hadnt smiled in days, it felt awkward slightly but it seemed to fit him more like a smirk than anything.
He's not invisible anymore
With his baggy pants and his legs in chains
Since he walked through that bar room door
Everybody knows his name....
