josh "elixir" foley (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
goldtoxicity) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
capencowl20202020-01-16 01:16 am
goldtoxicity) wrote in capencowl20202020-01-16 01:16 am
day by day by day we're falling down [OPEN]
WHO: Josh Foley and YOU!
WHERE: All around the city
WHEN: Early to mid-event
WHAT: A week in the life of Josh Foley. Everything from healing fellow metas to assassination plots.
WARNINGS: Mild body horror, torture, terrorism, mental illness, violence, blood
safehouse.
[ it's not often that he's here. but if the porters are active again, that means it's time to act. right? right. time to recruit, or in the very least, make sure that everyone who turned up here is in fighting shape. because they will need to fight.
he's all smiles as he approaches new folks, reaching out to take hands. ] I'm a healer, [ he says, and his hands begin to glow. ] don't worry, it's gonna be okay. Did you just get here?
[ and to the oldbies, he flashes a lopsided grin that doesn't quite meet his eyes. ] Never thought I'd see this again. Did you?
healing.
[ anyone who knows of elixir most likely knows three things at this point. the first, and perhaps the most important, is that he's wanted for a damn good reason. the faction of the resistance he runs with doesn't really have a name, but the brotherhood of evil metas is bandied about in hushed whispers. they're extremists. assassins.
the second is that he's a healer and a powerful one at that. you want that incredibly obvious scar removed? he's got you covered. broken bones mended? easy. a limb regrown? sure. it comes at a cost to him, sometimes. but a cost to you. money, loyalty, or information. his hands might itch to touch the wound to fix it when it's presented, but he'll stay back unless you're a friend or willing to owe a favor to his team.
( but he's never great at sticking to it. some parts of the old kid remain. he was never meant to be this. )
the third, and the most important, is that there is something fundamentally wrong with joshua foley. there wasn't always. he used to be a pretty good kid, the kind of kid that'd rush up to strangers to heal them. but that golden skin of his isn't quite so golden now, blotched and spattered with black spots that induce illness when touched. sometimes, while healing, he can't handle whatever it is he's trying to do. sometimes he loses the thread, sometimes you get hurt before you get better. he's always apologetic, always quick to fix it, but it's a game of russian roulette.
but still, he's here. operating out of an abandoned storefront for the time being. there's a cot set up behind the counter. if you need him, you only need to ring the bell to draw him from the back room. ]
harming.
[ this side of his powers comes easier now. the gold washes away, leaving shiny ink black in it's place.
this guy is small potatoes. metas are coming back in a big way, if the porter being active again is any indication, and right now people's focus is on containing the newly activated porter. resources are split, information is easier to get a hold of, and that leads him to here and now. walking down the street in the middle of the night wearing all black, hood pulled over his shock of white hair as he follows a few yards behind a man.
the guy's not really all that important in the grand scheme of things. has some fun ideas on metahuman imprisonment. used to be opposed but now he's been bought out, because every human has a price that can be paid for their mortality, and as far as josh's fucking concerned he deserves to suffer.
maybe you do too. or maybe you don't. maybe you're sick of extremists making it hard to go about things the proper way and you're keen to intervene. ]
running.
[ and of course, you can't be one of the most wanted metas alive without complications. something goes wrong, somewhere somehow, and josh is bolting through the streets, running as fast as he can to evade pursuers. there's a price on his head - enough for someone to live very comfortably for the rest of their days - and the promise of immunity if they come forward.
he springs over a fence. shoves a pile of boxes over in his way. weaving in and out of traffic, alleyways, doing whatever he can to ditch the eyes on him so he can disappear into the shadows.
maybe you're keen to cash in. maybe you believe in his cause. but he's running your way and you've got one shot at a choice. ]
hurt.
[ the thing about his dark side? it doesn't heal.
anything. all processes dedicated to fixing grind to a halt and reverse, even the ones that should be fixing the damage to himself. the higher his bloodlust, the harder it is to switch back. trading compassion for power only leads to misery and bullet holes.
he's dripping blood. the streets are mostly deserted and the chaos that was following him has finally died down, but he's a long way from any safehouse. breathing hard and pressing an arm to the bullet wound in his gut that's warning him he doesn't have a ton of time to be fucking around. he came back from the dead once, but there's really no telling whether that was a fluke or not. he isn't keen to test it.
but he's not moving very fast either. he looks like hell. his head hits the back of the dumpster he's hiding behind, teeth grit as he tries to force himself to his feet. ]
wildcard.
[ choose your own adventure! hit me up at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
minimoffs
WHERE: All around the city
WHEN: Early to mid-event
WHAT: A week in the life of Josh Foley. Everything from healing fellow metas to assassination plots.
WARNINGS: Mild body horror, torture, terrorism, mental illness, violence, blood
safehouse.
[ it's not often that he's here. but if the porters are active again, that means it's time to act. right? right. time to recruit, or in the very least, make sure that everyone who turned up here is in fighting shape. because they will need to fight.
he's all smiles as he approaches new folks, reaching out to take hands. ] I'm a healer, [ he says, and his hands begin to glow. ] don't worry, it's gonna be okay. Did you just get here?
[ and to the oldbies, he flashes a lopsided grin that doesn't quite meet his eyes. ] Never thought I'd see this again. Did you?
healing.
[ anyone who knows of elixir most likely knows three things at this point. the first, and perhaps the most important, is that he's wanted for a damn good reason. the faction of the resistance he runs with doesn't really have a name, but the brotherhood of evil metas is bandied about in hushed whispers. they're extremists. assassins.
the second is that he's a healer and a powerful one at that. you want that incredibly obvious scar removed? he's got you covered. broken bones mended? easy. a limb regrown? sure. it comes at a cost to him, sometimes. but a cost to you. money, loyalty, or information. his hands might itch to touch the wound to fix it when it's presented, but he'll stay back unless you're a friend or willing to owe a favor to his team.
( but he's never great at sticking to it. some parts of the old kid remain. he was never meant to be this. )
the third, and the most important, is that there is something fundamentally wrong with joshua foley. there wasn't always. he used to be a pretty good kid, the kind of kid that'd rush up to strangers to heal them. but that golden skin of his isn't quite so golden now, blotched and spattered with black spots that induce illness when touched. sometimes, while healing, he can't handle whatever it is he's trying to do. sometimes he loses the thread, sometimes you get hurt before you get better. he's always apologetic, always quick to fix it, but it's a game of russian roulette.
but still, he's here. operating out of an abandoned storefront for the time being. there's a cot set up behind the counter. if you need him, you only need to ring the bell to draw him from the back room. ]
harming.
[ this side of his powers comes easier now. the gold washes away, leaving shiny ink black in it's place.
this guy is small potatoes. metas are coming back in a big way, if the porter being active again is any indication, and right now people's focus is on containing the newly activated porter. resources are split, information is easier to get a hold of, and that leads him to here and now. walking down the street in the middle of the night wearing all black, hood pulled over his shock of white hair as he follows a few yards behind a man.
the guy's not really all that important in the grand scheme of things. has some fun ideas on metahuman imprisonment. used to be opposed but now he's been bought out, because every human has a price that can be paid for their mortality, and as far as josh's fucking concerned he deserves to suffer.
maybe you do too. or maybe you don't. maybe you're sick of extremists making it hard to go about things the proper way and you're keen to intervene. ]
running.
[ and of course, you can't be one of the most wanted metas alive without complications. something goes wrong, somewhere somehow, and josh is bolting through the streets, running as fast as he can to evade pursuers. there's a price on his head - enough for someone to live very comfortably for the rest of their days - and the promise of immunity if they come forward.
he springs over a fence. shoves a pile of boxes over in his way. weaving in and out of traffic, alleyways, doing whatever he can to ditch the eyes on him so he can disappear into the shadows.
maybe you're keen to cash in. maybe you believe in his cause. but he's running your way and you've got one shot at a choice. ]
hurt.
[ the thing about his dark side? it doesn't heal.
anything. all processes dedicated to fixing grind to a halt and reverse, even the ones that should be fixing the damage to himself. the higher his bloodlust, the harder it is to switch back. trading compassion for power only leads to misery and bullet holes.
he's dripping blood. the streets are mostly deserted and the chaos that was following him has finally died down, but he's a long way from any safehouse. breathing hard and pressing an arm to the bullet wound in his gut that's warning him he doesn't have a ton of time to be fucking around. he came back from the dead once, but there's really no telling whether that was a fluke or not. he isn't keen to test it.
but he's not moving very fast either. he looks like hell. his head hits the back of the dumpster he's hiding behind, teeth grit as he tries to force himself to his feet. ]
wildcard.
[ choose your own adventure! hit me up at
no subject
[It's half-mumbled and bitter, a more serious note than anything that would have come out of his mouth a few years ago. A little tired, the kind of tired that comes with being an adult.]
Right, well, good news, 'cause now you've got me with you and I can help you take this guy down. What's his deal? Any powers? [Santo starts cracking his knuckles, already determined to fight this person he literally knows nothing about. Not because he's back to being a hero, but because he just spent two days stuck on a bus from Las Vegas to the City next to a man who was alternatively snoring loudly or yelling into a cell phone and goddamn does he need to work out some aggression.]
no subject
goodbye, meticulously planned blackmail. he's never felt more like a bad guy than right now, which is honestly saying something. ]
He's one of those anti-meta assholes. I was just - [ going to go up and completely fuck with his biology ] I mean, it's really better to solo this, y'know?
no subject
[A smirk breaks out across his face.]
Or are you just already trying to ditch me? What, are you afraid I'm gonna watch you...screw...
[He slowly trails off. Why would Josh not want him around? He's not being any more annoying than usual. Why is he even here alone to begin with? This isn't right.
Santo shakes his head.]
...Okay, y'know what? I think we need to start over. What's going on here?
no subject
Santo, seriously, I'm super glad to see you big guy, and I want to catch up, seriously, but I... I gotta...
[ he takes a half step backward. ]
Just give me twenty minutes, okay? Twenty minutes.
no subject
Suddenly, his big dopey grin is back.]
Yeah, alright. I can hang around for twenty minutes. [He shoves his hands into his pockets.] Go do your hero thing, man. We can catch up after.
[Of course he's not going to hang around for twenty minutes. The second Josh is out of sight, he's going to start following him. Something's up, and he's not going to let it slide.
Okay it's less funny the second time.]no subject
this guy lives in a fairly upscale part of town. he's hard to get in touch with, he's got a family, the building has tight security. but the path he walks is dubious at best, a fucking gamble with his life if he's being realistic. taking shortcuts. josh's tracked it, made note of what surveillance is in the area. even called 911 once to test the response time.
they go just far enough up the deserted street to a space with no security cameras, nothing and no one to call. josh quickens his pace until he's walking side by side with the guy, who still has not clued in to being in danger. not until josh begins to encrouch on his space, pushing him under an awning of a long closed shop.
then a lead colored hand is coming up, grabbing the front of his face, and josh slams his head back against the wall. the guy barely makes a sound before he's being shoved back into the alleyway, limp, dizzy and reeling but conscious.
and keenly aware of who exactly is holding him, and what it means. ]
You and me? We're gonna make a deal. Right here, right now.
no subject
Right?
His hand grasps the wall a little firmer, ready to jump in the second this shifts to...Santo didn't want to think about what it might shift to. Not yet.]
no subject
Shut up. If I wanted you dead you'd already be dead. But if you don't listen to me, you're going to be dead.
[ he whimpers instead. ]
You? You're going to go in to work tomorrow morning and tell all your little buddies you changed your mind. You're gonna vote no. What's more? You're going to have them change their votes.
[ he starts to argue. offers money, seriously, he's loaded. you want money to live on? how about that record, want that expunged? you could be a free man, etc, etc, etc, yadda yadda yadda. ]
You've got seventy-two hours before the thing I just put in your head kills you. So, I dunno, I'd maybe follow my simple instructions so I'll take it out?
[ that's not possible he starts to say, but the hand on his face drops to grab his arm. the other one comes up to cover his mouth, muffling the scream as the skin josh touches swells and purples unnaturally.
the dark hand washes gold, clears the injury. heals it up like it was never there at all. ]
no subject
Shit.
[He should walk away. This isn't his business anymore. He walked away from it before, he can walk away now.
Except Josh was a teammate once upon a time, and maybe that meant there was some responsibility there. He has to make a move. Growling, Santo steps out from his hiding place, stomping over from his end of the alley towards Josh.]
That's enough, man. You made your point.
no subject
josh can handle the heat on him. he chose this life. or - it was forced on him a long time ago, now he's accustomed to it. it doesn't bother him. but santo showing up here, now, when he's santo and impossible to mistake for someone else. ]
I said twenty minutes, dude.
[ he's not letting go of his victim, not yet. ]
I'm just taking care of some business.
no subject
[Santo suddenly slams his fist through the wall, inches away from the head of Josh's new best friend. Pieces of debris fall out while he yanks his arm back.]
-There, he's scared. Now let's go.
no subject
and he doesn't want to hurt him. he's pissed but not that pissed. ]
Goddamnit. What the hell are you trying to -
[ fuck. FUCK. he's not staying here. he'd risk it, but santo doesn't need to get roped into his shit. he starts backwards, his eyes on the man. ]
You remember what our deal is!
no subject
He awkwardly glances at Josh for a second before pointing at the man]
Uh. yeah! You...better remember! Or else!
[And then turns to walk away. It was definitely time to bail after that wall-breaking stunt. he turns to look down at Josh.]
So. What the fuck was that?!
no subject
Something you shouldn't have seen! Or gotten involved in! What the hell were you thinking?
no subject
[Santo stares down at him, incredulous, his hands balling into fists in the pockets of his hoodie for a second before he swings them around, gesturing back behind them.]
I was thinking you were bullshitting me the whole time and I wanted to know what was up. Here's a better question: What were you thinking? You were over there giving that guy Mega Ebola or whatever-the-hell just to scare him? Dude was already practically crapping his pants the second you grabbed hold of him. You didn't need to do that.
[Come on, this is Josh. Calm down. He's a reasonable guy. There has to be a good reason for this, right?]
no subject
[ now he's not sure it's going to actually work. or if the guy will run and tell someone who he saw when he was accosted. if this is going to fuck santo over. ]
Don't tell me what I need to do!
no subject
He really should be thinking about how this is going to look for him - he's not even supposed to exist according to government records anymore, a wedding gift from his wife - but over his time in the City Santo developed an annoying habit of worrying about everyone before himself.]
Y'know, you're right. I shouldn't tell you what you need to do. What I do need to tell you is that, from the outside, that whole thing looked shady as Hell. And not in the, like, Daredevil beats up a mob goon in an alley way. More like the goon was threatening to murder...some...other goon. [A pause, and then he shakes his head.] This analogy sucks. You know what I mean!
no subject
[ big time. ]
no subject
From where I'm standing you guys haven't changed jack shit yet. And maybe that's 'cause the world just doesn't change for the better. It gets worse and worse and doing stuff like that only makes it worse faster.
[Shit that all just kind of slipped out didn't it]
no subject
[ he doesn't mean to explode. he doesn't. he really, really doesn't. his voice goes louder than he means it to. ]
You have no idea, seriously no idea, how much worse it could get! You have no goddamn idea what I had to do back home to protect everyone, and you sure as hell aren't getting what has to be done here if that's your takeaway!
no subject
Then explain it to me, huh? Make this make sense for me like it apparently makes sense for you. You got it all figured out? You wanna be out here running the bad guy playbook and acting like you don't got a choice? Then you tell me how that makes a goddamn bit of difference when this world sucks today just as much as it did yesterday or last week or last year.
no subject
[ josh is doing a less good job at that. not loud enough to be heard, but the way he swings his arms out is a little off. ]
no subject
[There's that bitter sarcasm creeping back into his voice.]
What about the hundreds of people just like him? You gonna go pay them all personal visits too? If you aren't gonna deal with the root of the problem then you're not changing anything, you're just slowing down-
[He suddenly throws his hands up, closing his eyes.]
You know what? Nevermind. I don't even know why I'm getting involved with this crap or questioning anything. You guys are still alive so you must be doing something right, right? For our generation that's about the best measure of success we got.
no subject
there's a more important question here. ]
... Dude, why are you here. I thought you peaced out of this mess forever ago.
no subject
[Samtp stares blankly for a second. He's so far off track the track might as well not even exist. Thankfully, he re-rails after a bit.]
Oh, yeah, right! Rikku - my wife. She's in town on "business", and by business I mean probably helping one of the resistance groups blow something up. I saw the shit with the Porter on the news so I called a baby sitter [One that is paid very well not to mention the rock man he works for], got my disguise-y clothes, and hopped on a bus.
You haven't seen her, have you? Shit I should asked that but I was so pumped to help you kick that guy's ass. [So much for that.]
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