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Sekah
Star
- Joined
- Jul 25, 2021
- Location
- Your mom's house.
For my main information thread and info on how to play with me, look here.
Karim Mahmoud Magdi is Onyx, just one of many loosely organized crimefighters trying to make the city a better place. He's famous, well-known, flashy, his sister's exosuit making him able to compete with metahumans and monsters.
And then one day he fucks up.
He was so famous that a little boy saw him collaring a dangerous criminal with kinetic powers along with an 18-year-old up-and-comer with the Spirit Detectives. The nine-year-old bolted over to help, and both Karim and the other super let go of the power-suppression cuffs at the same time to wrangle the child to safety.
The next few seconds are a blur, but during them the teenage detective's head and the adoring child's entrails hit the pavement, and the badguy got away scott-free.
Every second since then, Karim has expected the slurry of news, to lose his license to protect New York, the lawsuits and media coverage and shame.
Nothing.
Little does he know, a powerful blackmailer and news mogul has caught the story, intending to use his leverage to make Karim his plaything. But really, a workplace accident isn't such a juicy story. He needs to manufacture more blackmail to control Karim - video taping his rapes and using them to claim he's working as a hooker? That might do nicely.
[size=36pt]Potential Starter[/size]
It was not a nightmare. It hurt too much, more than any nightmare Karim had gone through in his life. He saw it in his head, over and over, the nine-year-old boy in a spirit detective t-shirt running up. Karim was trying to fit the anti-magic cuffs over one of the violent perp's struggling wrists. His partner du jour, an eighteen-year-old up and coming detective, turned and let go of the cuffs that were all that was keeping the perp's energy in check to grab the child, at the same time as Karim did the exact same thing—
—and those hellish seconds in which the teenage Spirit Detective's head and the adoring child's intestines hit the concrete.
He hadn't even caught the perp. He hadn't even caught him.
He touched his face, feeling the tears. His stomach hurt, and he vaguely realized that he, Karim Mahmoud Magdi, who never missed a meal willingly in his life, had gone two days without eating or sleeping.
He heard the knock on the door from so far away, and jumped, disturbing the warm brick of Foxboy in his lap.
This was his hideout, where he kept his suits, not his apartment. He didn't know who'd think to find him out here.
With his stomach sour, he forced himself to his feet, groaning and stumbling as he realized they were asleep. He wobbled to the door, using the metal-reinforced walls as a crutch, and touched the intercom. He didn't recognize the man outside. Seeing a man who looked so official, Karim began to reach what he thought were the final stages of his hope for the future and himself disintegrating. Police, he thought. He's here to take me away.
Karim's eyes were red, his hair messy, ungroomed, his beard after two days of no trim starting to look less neat and more like a hobo's than it ever had before. He looked handsome, still, in a vulnerable way, but haggard. He picked up foxboy and just held him for a moment.
Karim opened the door with tears dripping down his face, clutching his little fennec fox to his chest and moving his fingers over his silky fur like a warm worry stone.
"Are you here to arrest me?" he asked, his voice breaking, the question as simple and guileless as a child would give. What would he be charged with? Reckless endangerment?
Something, something had to happen for him to have allowed two children to be killed yesterday. He deserved the Panopticon, he deserved the trial, with the cameras flashing like they did on TV when a police captain had a scandal. True scandals in the Spirit Detectives were rare, but this seemed worth one, to Karim.
He never thought he would be the subject of a scandal.
He wondered what prison would be like. He wondered how many years he would spend, never aging. His mind had spun away to a far, terrible future, and he'd lost track of how long he'd stood in front of the strange suited man, clutching foxboy and weeping tears that dripped onto his big fennec ears.
Karim Mahmoud Magdi is Onyx, just one of many loosely organized crimefighters trying to make the city a better place. He's famous, well-known, flashy, his sister's exosuit making him able to compete with metahumans and monsters.
And then one day he fucks up.
He was so famous that a little boy saw him collaring a dangerous criminal with kinetic powers along with an 18-year-old up-and-comer with the Spirit Detectives. The nine-year-old bolted over to help, and both Karim and the other super let go of the power-suppression cuffs at the same time to wrangle the child to safety.
The next few seconds are a blur, but during them the teenage detective's head and the adoring child's entrails hit the pavement, and the badguy got away scott-free.
Every second since then, Karim has expected the slurry of news, to lose his license to protect New York, the lawsuits and media coverage and shame.
Nothing.
Little does he know, a powerful blackmailer and news mogul has caught the story, intending to use his leverage to make Karim his plaything. But really, a workplace accident isn't such a juicy story. He needs to manufacture more blackmail to control Karim - video taping his rapes and using them to claim he's working as a hooker? That might do nicely.
[size=36pt]Potential Starter[/size]
It was not a nightmare. It hurt too much, more than any nightmare Karim had gone through in his life. He saw it in his head, over and over, the nine-year-old boy in a spirit detective t-shirt running up. Karim was trying to fit the anti-magic cuffs over one of the violent perp's struggling wrists. His partner du jour, an eighteen-year-old up and coming detective, turned and let go of the cuffs that were all that was keeping the perp's energy in check to grab the child, at the same time as Karim did the exact same thing—
—and those hellish seconds in which the teenage Spirit Detective's head and the adoring child's intestines hit the concrete.
He hadn't even caught the perp. He hadn't even caught him.
He touched his face, feeling the tears. His stomach hurt, and he vaguely realized that he, Karim Mahmoud Magdi, who never missed a meal willingly in his life, had gone two days without eating or sleeping.
He heard the knock on the door from so far away, and jumped, disturbing the warm brick of Foxboy in his lap.
This was his hideout, where he kept his suits, not his apartment. He didn't know who'd think to find him out here.
With his stomach sour, he forced himself to his feet, groaning and stumbling as he realized they were asleep. He wobbled to the door, using the metal-reinforced walls as a crutch, and touched the intercom. He didn't recognize the man outside. Seeing a man who looked so official, Karim began to reach what he thought were the final stages of his hope for the future and himself disintegrating. Police, he thought. He's here to take me away.
Karim's eyes were red, his hair messy, ungroomed, his beard after two days of no trim starting to look less neat and more like a hobo's than it ever had before. He looked handsome, still, in a vulnerable way, but haggard. He picked up foxboy and just held him for a moment.
Karim opened the door with tears dripping down his face, clutching his little fennec fox to his chest and moving his fingers over his silky fur like a warm worry stone.
"Are you here to arrest me?" he asked, his voice breaking, the question as simple and guileless as a child would give. What would he be charged with? Reckless endangerment?
Something, something had to happen for him to have allowed two children to be killed yesterday. He deserved the Panopticon, he deserved the trial, with the cameras flashing like they did on TV when a police captain had a scandal. True scandals in the Spirit Detectives were rare, but this seemed worth one, to Karim.
He never thought he would be the subject of a scandal.
He wondered what prison would be like. He wondered how many years he would spend, never aging. His mind had spun away to a far, terrible future, and he'd lost track of how long he'd stood in front of the strange suited man, clutching foxboy and weeping tears that dripped onto his big fennec ears.