Thread: In Search Of One Man [Defiant x Temptationist]

I figured by this day and age you are aware that humans no longer suffice in this world, and that there are powers much greater than the normality of humanity. The world wanted better, and slowly after the Second World War, a wave of evolution surfaced. Mutants of all walks of life began to publicize their newfound genetic modifications and soon, there was controversy. Now what the military longed for decades had become a reality... And a fear. A threat. Pausing as I watched you undress, I was not shy to feast my eyes on the arm that had gained such a shattered reputation. Like you, I am modified. While you were enhanced physically by HYDRA, I was tortured by my own body my genetics. I have a shallow, broken smile as I looked down slightly, coming to remember how difficult it was for me when my mutation emerged at a young age. And how alone I felt. The child is alive. I assured without hesitation. Still able to access a fragment of its life, I could feel its presence in this city still survived. But his parents aren't. I winced as I tried to further telepathically bond to the baby. It was easier than Adams adult, because the baby did not yet have a defined will or identity. Seeming slightly disturbed, He is confused, and afraid. His mother was murdered in front of him. His father never returned for him. He's already dead. Although I was soft-spoken, I didn't show much sign of emotion, despite the horrific scene I was describing. Taking a breath, I guess some would call it a gift. Talking about my mutation, I on the other hand, feel it will always be a curse. As I stepped closer, my body moved in strides - like a model on a runway. Orange juice. I chose proudly. Water is boring. I was trying to be cheeky, despite the weird situation. I looked at the orange juice but before you could pour be a glass, I interrupted you. No. I denied, I want yours. Grinning, almost with the same expression as a smart ass, I motioned to the glass you had just put to your lips. You think a trained intelligence like me would take anything less than the juice you drank? I was referring to the fact that the drink with the least chance of poison was one you would drink yourself. Unless you're on a suicide mission, I'm assuming it's not poisoned. Smiling, I gracefully, almost seductively, pulled the glass from your hand. As I did so, I brushed my fingers delicates on your hand. Tapping into your psyche the moment I took the glass, the expression on my face changed some playful to disturbed. Within a second, I became weak. The glass slipped from my hands as I unconsciously released it from my grasp. I could see nothing but a foggy haze all at the same time feeling a sense of commotion and chaos. The sensation was indescribable, almost nauseating as I felt my head spin. The sound of gunfire echoed through my head. ' Kill. Kill. Kill .' Whisper after whisper, I could see the commands pouring in. And then the pain. The screams. Surges of electricity sweeping over me like a violent seizure. But this was all in my head. In reality, I wasn't swaying in agony. I wasnt screaming like I wanted to. I stood still in front of you, my eyes fixated on the glass of orange as it dislodged from my trembling hands and began its slow-motion descent towards the ground. As it fell, I saw you. In the cold winter of 1945, as you fell from the grip of the train rail and the presence of Captain America and fell towards the icy Soviet river. To the end of the line. Snapping out of the cluster of distorted memories, my eyes returned to you. The colour in my face had drained. It was as if I had seen a ghost.