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maskormenacelogs2014-03-09 08:59 pm
ropedin) wrote in maskormenacelogs2014-03-09 08:59 pm
Things get tougher when the sun goes down
WHO: Hooded Justice and YOU
WHERE: Starting in Heropa, eventually migrating to Maurtia Falls
WHEN: 3/5-3/19
WHAT: Some people don't know how to cope with change
WARNINGS: Hooded Justice means they are likely. Content Warnings may apply. Definite violence.
➤ 1 [ 3/5-3/9 ]
[ The first week or so is probably the longest. That's the one that starts it all out, and Hooded Justice is the sort that is hard to miss on the streets. He starts in Heropa, because it's the easiest. It's close, and HJ doesn't have to go anywhere to hit the streets. He left false-comfort of a home provided by the government -- because he doesn't trust them -- he tells himself. They knew too much, he lies to himself, that they likely had cameras, some way to spy on him, as if they needed it. From the folder they'd given him, the one that he'd immediately burned and destroyed, they didn't need to watch for his face. They wouldn't need it to find it, would they.
The indicator on his arm was enough, he knew it. Oh, he knew what they'd said, but he didn't believe it. He refused to believe it. There would be no other appropriate reason to have him tattooed, marked in such a way. There was a part of him that understood the aim of tactics like this, accepted such things could be necessary.
But not to him. Which was why he tore down the streets in the shadows, keeping out of sight as best as possible, slipping only to stop the occasional robbery, but he never left the streets, there day and night, even if he was resourceful -- which he was -- no man should be out there for as long as he was. Hooded Justice wasn't the type to stop and rest, but men his age could only go for so long -- but still he pushed through it, violence the language he spoke the clearest, when he tugged a man to the shadows, punishment the thing Hooded Justice knew how to dole out.
Each time, when he pulled someone into the shadows, it was accompanied by screams. ]
➤ 2 [ 3/10 ]
[ Getting to another city was what Hooded Justice figured out was more difficult. It wasn't just the fact that outside of the area, the public transportation cost, and Hooded Justice had very little money to waste on such things, but that there was a definite air of distrust, at the idea of a man like him on the bus. As if the hood meant there was something to make of that -- were they in trouble? -- was this going to result in their death?
Hooded Justice didn't want to take the bus anyway, it was beneath him, to ride with the masses. He listened, though, he'd been listening, and he knew where he could go, where it would work the best. Where he would do the most good. He knew where that was, but getting there was -- unsatisfactory. Using them, the government, to get where he needed spoke of a reliance Hooded Justice refused to hold.
And yet, eventually, he was there, trying to teleport from one to another. He watched them first, for a good few hours, looking to get a feel for these machines, see them used, before he himself decided he would bother stepping through. ]
➤ 3 [ 3/11-3/19 ]
[ It rained a lot, in Maurtia Falls, it seemed. Not conductive for a man who was stuck in the same clothing, the cape and costume he had on his back, but Hooded Justice would adapt to it as best he did anything else -- and he thought that he adopted new situations well. When he wanted to, when it was a worthy cause. He only found that most situations weren't worthy of his time, or effort, to adapt to. This new world, new situations, the changing and shifting landscape of who he was expected to be. He refused to comply.
Instead, he found himself in one of the seediest, worst parts of the city, where there was the occasional sound of a scream, a shout, a gunshot, the sharp cry of a vehicle, the screech of wheels. Every sign possible that there was trouble to be found here, and HJ felt honestly and truly at home here. This was where he would do the work that he'd lost sight on. That was the heart of his trouble, not whatever else the stupid, sentimental part of him might think that there was. It was misleading him, and he simply had to remind himself of where his mind should be. It was obvious he'd lost it, or maybe it was the shock of showing up in a new world.
Whatever the cause, he couldn't let it stand, could he? No, he couldn't. So he intended to do what he could -- what he did best -- which was make sure that the scum of the streets learned just what happened when you broke the law. ]
➤ 4 [ 3/5-3/19 ]
[ The problem, of course, that he was in a strange city, with little funds, and Hooded Justice -- while infinitely resourceful and adaptable, could only go so far in the way he'd been going. He could only stay hooded for long, before people knew who it was that was lurking in an area, and he was positive he was making enemies. Normally, he had a place to stay, some place to hole up, or the funds to cash in on a hotel room -- which was a defensible position. He didn't have that here. His money was limited, and he could make it, knowing how to live on nearly nothing, but there were some needs and necessities that warranted not tracking a man in a cape and a hood.
He'd found a dump site, and he'd pulled the items together so that he would blend in, but men like him never really blended in, did they? It wasn't the height, or the mass, or the fact that by now the face; one that nobody knew -- no, that wasn't accurate, two people could pick him out of a crowd, but they wouldn't, would they? If they could even be found outside of Heropa, Hooded Justice had a feeling they wouldn't see each other again for a long time. Hoped they wouldn't, he had already shared whatever words he needed to with the both of them.
Not that he was unused to being split up. Normally, however, he could disguise any physical appearance of the stormy look that occasionally crossed his face, nobody normally knew what he looked like, how angry he really was, but it showed on his face -- expressions that he didn't know he shared, didn't really realize he was making, whenever he managed to slip out -- always during the very early morning or dusk -- and only for long enough to take care of his needs, unless stopped. ]
➤ 5
[ Wildcard! ]
WHERE: Starting in Heropa, eventually migrating to Maurtia Falls
WHEN: 3/5-3/19
WHAT: Some people don't know how to cope with change
WARNINGS: Hooded Justice means they are likely. Content Warnings may apply. Definite violence.
➤ 1 [ 3/5-3/9 ]
[ The first week or so is probably the longest. That's the one that starts it all out, and Hooded Justice is the sort that is hard to miss on the streets. He starts in Heropa, because it's the easiest. It's close, and HJ doesn't have to go anywhere to hit the streets. He left false-comfort of a home provided by the government -- because he doesn't trust them -- he tells himself. They knew too much, he lies to himself, that they likely had cameras, some way to spy on him, as if they needed it. From the folder they'd given him, the one that he'd immediately burned and destroyed, they didn't need to watch for his face. They wouldn't need it to find it, would they.
The indicator on his arm was enough, he knew it. Oh, he knew what they'd said, but he didn't believe it. He refused to believe it. There would be no other appropriate reason to have him tattooed, marked in such a way. There was a part of him that understood the aim of tactics like this, accepted such things could be necessary.
But not to him. Which was why he tore down the streets in the shadows, keeping out of sight as best as possible, slipping only to stop the occasional robbery, but he never left the streets, there day and night, even if he was resourceful -- which he was -- no man should be out there for as long as he was. Hooded Justice wasn't the type to stop and rest, but men his age could only go for so long -- but still he pushed through it, violence the language he spoke the clearest, when he tugged a man to the shadows, punishment the thing Hooded Justice knew how to dole out.
Each time, when he pulled someone into the shadows, it was accompanied by screams. ]
➤ 2 [ 3/10 ]
[ Getting to another city was what Hooded Justice figured out was more difficult. It wasn't just the fact that outside of the area, the public transportation cost, and Hooded Justice had very little money to waste on such things, but that there was a definite air of distrust, at the idea of a man like him on the bus. As if the hood meant there was something to make of that -- were they in trouble? -- was this going to result in their death?
Hooded Justice didn't want to take the bus anyway, it was beneath him, to ride with the masses. He listened, though, he'd been listening, and he knew where he could go, where it would work the best. Where he would do the most good. He knew where that was, but getting there was -- unsatisfactory. Using them, the government, to get where he needed spoke of a reliance Hooded Justice refused to hold.
And yet, eventually, he was there, trying to teleport from one to another. He watched them first, for a good few hours, looking to get a feel for these machines, see them used, before he himself decided he would bother stepping through. ]
➤ 3 [ 3/11-3/19 ]
[ It rained a lot, in Maurtia Falls, it seemed. Not conductive for a man who was stuck in the same clothing, the cape and costume he had on his back, but Hooded Justice would adapt to it as best he did anything else -- and he thought that he adopted new situations well. When he wanted to, when it was a worthy cause. He only found that most situations weren't worthy of his time, or effort, to adapt to. This new world, new situations, the changing and shifting landscape of who he was expected to be. He refused to comply.
Instead, he found himself in one of the seediest, worst parts of the city, where there was the occasional sound of a scream, a shout, a gunshot, the sharp cry of a vehicle, the screech of wheels. Every sign possible that there was trouble to be found here, and HJ felt honestly and truly at home here. This was where he would do the work that he'd lost sight on. That was the heart of his trouble, not whatever else the stupid, sentimental part of him might think that there was. It was misleading him, and he simply had to remind himself of where his mind should be. It was obvious he'd lost it, or maybe it was the shock of showing up in a new world.
Whatever the cause, he couldn't let it stand, could he? No, he couldn't. So he intended to do what he could -- what he did best -- which was make sure that the scum of the streets learned just what happened when you broke the law. ]
➤ 4 [ 3/5-3/19 ]
[ The problem, of course, that he was in a strange city, with little funds, and Hooded Justice -- while infinitely resourceful and adaptable, could only go so far in the way he'd been going. He could only stay hooded for long, before people knew who it was that was lurking in an area, and he was positive he was making enemies. Normally, he had a place to stay, some place to hole up, or the funds to cash in on a hotel room -- which was a defensible position. He didn't have that here. His money was limited, and he could make it, knowing how to live on nearly nothing, but there were some needs and necessities that warranted not tracking a man in a cape and a hood.
He'd found a dump site, and he'd pulled the items together so that he would blend in, but men like him never really blended in, did they? It wasn't the height, or the mass, or the fact that by now the face; one that nobody knew -- no, that wasn't accurate, two people could pick him out of a crowd, but they wouldn't, would they? If they could even be found outside of Heropa, Hooded Justice had a feeling they wouldn't see each other again for a long time. Hoped they wouldn't, he had already shared whatever words he needed to with the both of them.
Not that he was unused to being split up. Normally, however, he could disguise any physical appearance of the stormy look that occasionally crossed his face, nobody normally knew what he looked like, how angry he really was, but it showed on his face -- expressions that he didn't know he shared, didn't really realize he was making, whenever he managed to slip out -- always during the very early morning or dusk -- and only for long enough to take care of his needs, unless stopped. ]
➤ 5
[ Wildcard! ]