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howlingday · 7 months

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My idea for a potential DEATH BATTLE! #5

2023, October 18, 19, 20, 27

Link to the fourth post: https://www.tumblr.com/donotmindme1/731349657571278848/my-idea-for-a-potential-death-battle-4-2023?source=share

Master list: https://www.tumblr.com/donotmindme1/731003687600881664/mind-what-you-do?source=share

Korra vs Delsin Rowe (Avatar vs inFamous)

They're the second legends in line!

Fighter 1: Korra, the continuing spirit of the Avatar cycle.

Fighter 2: Delsin Rowe, the accomplishing Akomish Second Son.

Wiz: Many of us aspire to live up and uphold the legacies of our predecessors.

*insert clips of Miles Morales & Peter Parker, Deku & All Might, Ruby Rose & Summer Rose, Batman & his Robins*

Boomstick: However, just because they're tough acts to follow up shouldn't discourage you from making your own path. He's Wiz and I'm Boomstick.

Wiz: And it's our job to analyze their weapons, armor, and skills to find out who would win... a Death Battle.

PREFACE: I am wasting my time writing this. I should be working on an important project. I wanted to write an idea that suits the chilly weather of autumn to serve as a nice gateway into other MUs. I played inFamous Second Son during the last three months of 2021 and I fell in love with the gameplay. Being able to scale the buildings of Seattle with Conduit powers, doing drug busts, and saving innocent people really gave me a sense of power. I am sure I am not the only one who was disappointed when Season 8 announced Korra vs Storm due to how unbalanced the powers are between the two (however, I enjoyed the episode, mainly Storm doing the Moses and Wheather the Elements). So, now that Cole made his debut on the show, we can finally let Delsin have his time in the spotlight. Besides, I think that Korra vs Delsin is a more fitting MU, and you'll see why later on. Also, I will mainly be using True Hero Delsin (Good Karma) as it is the canon ending. I'll consider Infamous Delsin (Bad Karma) separately as it does affect the fight.

WHY:

Connections:

1. Both carry on the legacy of a famous protagonist who was able to control multiple forms of matter (Aang and Cole McGrath).

2. Both are capable of manipulating at least 4 different forms of matter (Korra has Earth, Fire, Air, and Water; Delsin has Smoke, Neon, Video, and Concrete) due to a physiological trait (Korra has the spirit of the Avatar, allowing her chi to pass through all of her body better than the rest and manipulate the elements; Delsin has a Conduit gene that lets him obtain the abilities of other Conduits upon extensive contact and draining Core Relays).

3. Both started their journeys being childish and/or immature but through their actions and strife, rose above and became better people and consequently, better idols and saviors.

Personal reasons: I wanted this to be Korra's MU during Season 8, but alas, it was not to be. More than anything, I want them to react to each other's powers. Delsin would ask Korra if her conduit gene is like his but better since she doesn't need to absorb matter to change her powers and Korea asks about how the heck is he manipulating light and becoming invisible. After all, conduit powers and bending are different in their manifestation, how they manipulate the environment, and more importantly, how they interact with each other.

THE FIGHT:

Art and animation: The animation will most likely be 2D like all Avatar fights, but the dream is to have it be a 3D battle with fluid movement and lots of different camera angles. The animation from Korra vs Storm is good for Korra, so reusing it would benefit her, but Delsin tends to fight from afar using his projectiles. While he does have dashes, his chain, Comet Drop, and some support abilities, Delsin is mainly a ranged fighter, and the 3D team works best with characters that have a wide assortment of abilities, especially ones used in midair or while running. However, to be able to get the most out of both worlds, the fight is best in 2D, and it's not like Cole was limited to ranged combat in his fight. It could really go either way and still be great regardless, and that's honestly the best part. I really want this fight to be a finale so it could be a long fight with lots of pretty stuff to gawk at, especially since Spiritbending, Neon, and Video allow for flashy maneuvers.

Possible setup:

In a metropolitan area, the Second Son is doing stencil art dedicated to his dear brother. "Man, I miss you, Reggie."

"Hey! You can't paint the walls of this city!" Delsin sighs. He misses his brother, but not his overly bureaucratic attitude. As he turns around and puts down the spray paint, he sees Korra who is looking a little stern. "Hey, there. Isn't art a form of self-expression? I'm building a masterpiece here, and it'll be my gift to the world."

"That's fair, but you're painting on public property. Unless you have a permit to do so, step away from graffiti." Korra was a little miffed. The graffiti looked cool, and it looked to be a dedication to a departed soul, but duty calls. Besides, it's just graffiti, not a murder or kidnapping. If he refuses, however, she can have her way.

"Who are you, the fun police? I'm not hurting anyone." It's like dear Reggie was still with him: being a pain and not letting him have his fun.

Korra smirked. "Fun? Oh, I'll show you fun." She got into a fighting stance. Hey, if you're having fun on the job, good for you, right? It's been a boring day of patrolling, so she's itching for entertainment.

"Oh."

FIGHT! :

1. As it turns out, she was nothing like Reggie. Korra firebends at Deals and catches him off guard. However, Delsin absorbs the smoke, unharmed. This causes Korra to look puzzled. "Wait, how did he- He barely moved." She then attempts to earthbend, summoning rising pillars, but Delsin smoke dashes away. "How did you do that?" Korra had never seen someone turn into smoke before. Maybe she should ask him how to do that.

2. "I'm a conduit. I mean, aren't you one?" Delsin starts to use Smoke Shot as he moves around, but they're easily dodged and dispersed with more earthbending. "I'm the Avatar, master of all the elements." "Is that right?" Delsin uses a smoke dash to sneak up on Korra from behind and tosses a Sulfur Bomb.

3. The Sulfur Bomb explodes, but Korra just rolls up to Delsin and engages him directly. Delsin tries to punch her and use his smoke-imbued chain, but all his attacks are evaded or blocked. Korra roughs up Delsin, punching him in the face, kneeing him in the stomach, etc. Delsin drops another Sulfur Bomb that leaves Korra coughing, and attempts to subdue her.

4. Korra bends away the ash and sulfur and launches Delsin into a building using waterbending. Delsin is able to recover and takes the high ground through a smoke vent. On the roof, he shoots a Cinder Missile. Korra is able to notice and puts out the Missile before it hits. "Wait, she didn't drain water." Come to think of it, she was able to use fire and then the cement beneath. Is her Conduit gene better than his? Korra starts to airbend projectiles and Delsins fires Smoke Shots (like Might Guy's Morning Peacock vs All Might's air punches). Korra then firebends her way to Delsin and delivers a powerful kick, sending him flying.

5. Delsin crashes onto another building, but drains the neon from the nearby signs. Noticing some injured civilians, Delsin starts to heal them, earning him Good Karma. As Korra rushes in, Delsin rushes her first due to his Neon Dash. "Wait, are you a Spiritbender!?" She's good up close, but it doesn't matter if she can't hit him. He strikes her with his chain, but Korra grabs it and uses a powerful earthbending punch on him. Delsin Neon Dashes away. "Oh, no you don't!" She knows that he has powerful ranged attacks, so she needs to be close to him. She gets on an air scooter and chases after him as she shoots air at him, chasing him to near a spirit portal.

6. Delsin is able to outrun Korra and fires a stasis bubble. Korra uses a firebending soccer kick on the bubble, punting it away. Delsin runs before he's hit with his own bubble (he doesn't seem to be affected by it in-game, however). He then rushes up to Korra who attempts to strike him, but he instead rushes past her and fires a phosphor beam, successfully hitting her and knocking her off balance, and successfully uses a stasis bubble. He attempts to obtain more powers, but he feels nothing. "What..? Then how..? You must not be a Prime Conduit." Korra gets back up in fiery fashion and Delsin employs hit-and-run tactics, firing phosphor and neon beam, but Korra is able to block with her bending. She then does Zuko's "breakdance" and catches Delsin off-guard.

7. Delsin quickly heals by absorbing video from a nearby TV. He then uses Video Torrent. Korra simply dodges and attempts to get in close, but Delsin strikes using his longsword, damaging Korra a fair amount. He then uses Bloodthirsty Blades. Korra dashes away, but is unable to avoid the blades, so she destroys one with a fireball, another by raising a stone wall, and the last one by creating an ice structure. Korra is then attacked by a... Is that a spirit!? Whatever it is, it has wings, metal plating, and is currently shooting a laser. Korra dodges and bends water and freezes the spirit, but it... Disappears into wisps of light... These are not like the spirits she knows, but she is then pushed and pinned to the ground by smaller swords. Delsin appears out of thin air. "How did you do that!?" "A friend lent me his powers, you could say." Ok, that is NOT how bending works. Using a combination of earth, wind, and fire, Korra frees herself by creating a crater underneath her, enters the Avatar State, and then bends the concrete around Delsin, encasing him in a shell, and bends him to her. He's a fire bender and a spirit bender, but he is not the Avatar.

8. Delsin absorbs the concrete before being fully encapsulated and does his boulder dash. He starts to engage Korra, but she is nimble enough to dodge. Korra then gets an idea and starts to make her way to the spirit portal. Delsin starts to climb on top of a building and does a Comet Drop, doing his pose on the Second Son cover art, and he starts to fire concrete shrapnel and a concrete barrage, but Korra instead redirects them. However, Korra gets a leg up and is able to use bending to get Delsin into the Spirit World and she enters.

9. In the Spirit World, Delsin is taken aback due to the colors and... weird animal things... He doesn't get to gawk for long as Korra makes her bombastic entrance. However, she firebends at Delsin who promptly absorbs the smoke, but he's starting to struggle and to get hurt so he smoke dashes away

10. Korra wins by overwhelming and overpowering Delsin. Since they are in the Spirit World, Korra becomes stronger, and in the Avatar State, she is in no need to wait for Delsin to exhaust himself. Even as he tries to distance himself and use his sulfur bombs and sulfur headshots, the Avatar is easily able to bend them away. She then is able to unleash a powerful bending attack that overwhelms Delsin and he blacks out, thinking of Reggie. After Korra finishes the job, she exits the Avatar State. "That was fun, but I'm sorry. I hope you find you and your departed family can reunite here". She then bows to her opponent. She's fiery and hotheaded, but she's still empathetic.

11. Delsin wins by being able to stall Korra and connect a successful attack. The fire is hurting him, but if he keeps his distance, all it serves is to fuel and heal him. He gets in a good sulfur headshot, briefly stunning Korra and leaving her coughing again. He then tosses another sulfur bomb, leaving Korra coughing more. He then does his Orbital Drop, but as he reaches the apex, Korra bends away the smoke and then launches herself, attempting one last attack. They meet halfway, and after a noticeable explosion, both are left on the ground, Delsin tired, and Korra dead. Korra, in her last moments, apologizes to her friends and family for being able to say goodbye. Delsin recollects himself, and upon returning to the Human World, finishes his graffiti of Reggie. However, we see him painting another mural, and he says "Say hi to my brother for me". He then turns to leave, and we see a mural of Korra, reading "Dedicated to the Avatar."

RESULT:

Strengths and weaknesses:

Korra:

+ Physically stronger and more durable.

+ More experienced.

+ Has superior training.

+ Easier access to her elemental manipulation.

= Firebending and Earthbending fuel Delsin, but Smoke and Concreted are easily negated.

- Energybending cannot negate the Conduit Gene.

- Energybending cannot manipulate Video or Neon.

- Is vulnerable to suffocation. When she was poisoned as she was. suffocating, the Avatar State only held off the poison and not the suffocation.

- Can be immobilized via the stasis.

Delsin Rowe:

+ Can heal from firebending and earthbending.

+ Has a healing factor.

+ Is likely faster with Neon.

+ Neon allows for fast attacks, and the stasis bubbles are immobilizing.

+ Infamous Delsin has easy access to instant kill options.

= Firebending and Earthbending fuel him, but Smoke and Concrete attacks are negated.

- Untrained in physical combat.

- Physically far weaker and faster. Is also slower without Neon or Video.

- Is not immune to fire when using smoke or to earth when using concrete.

- Cannot access all his elements at will.

- Draining a power source leaves him vulnerable.

- There's no evidence to say that he can resist being immobilized by being surrounded/encased in concrete like he did to Augustine.

- Cannot obtain bending powers as they are spiritual and not genetic. Even then, he'd need Core Relays and blast shards to be able to get any use of his newfound abilities and to be able to absorb any other element.

Ending puns:

"The Avatar's victory was elemental."

"Delsin got a concrete victory."

MUSIC:

Name: "Four Infamous Elements"

The title makes reference to both combatants' abilities to manipulate four elements or states of matter as well as the inFamous game series' name. Brandon Yates used Second Legends for his commissioned track, so I cannot use it.

Art: The art would depict Delsin's chain forming a circle imbued with Raava. One half would have Korra's elements spiraling outwards. The other half would have Delsin's elements spiraling inward, forming a Yin Yang. The center of the circle would have a gene symbol like that of the Second Son power skill tree on the side of Korra's elements and the symbol of Raava on the side of Delsin's elements.

Sound: the start of the music is that of the Second Son main theme and it plays during the initial confrontation. The music is kicked up a notch when Korra first attacks, where the sound shifts to be more Avatar-centered, but with some hip-hop elements, and even has parts and bits that sound like Second Legends as a callback, much like Final Formersr referenced Deceptive Tyrants. As the battle gets closer to its climax, the sound is that of the main theme of Avatar, but with a mix of Asian instruments and rock instrumentation.

Holy cow, I love doing this one! Especially imagining the track and its art due to the possibilities of symbolism.

THANK YOU AND I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS!

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Ooh, another interesting match-up! Although, to be honest, I already have my doubts as to how this plays out. Great fight idea, though!

URBAN SPRAWL

Honestly, the Avatar fights have been kinda meh in Death Battle, usually because they've all been so one-sided (except for the first, Toph v Gaara).

I really like the premise of the fight and how it plays out. Unfortunately, I gotta give it to Korra here for one reason; resource. Korra can bend anything from anywhere with little limit on where. Delsin, however, has very specific sources from which he can draw his power, such as his concrete abilities can only be drawn from conduit enforcers gifted with the same powers.

Still, though, it would be a pretty neat fight.

#submission #death battle #ideas #legend of korra #avatar korra #delsin rowe #infamous delsin #infamous second son #korra #tlok korra #my submissions #infamous #the legend of korra #my thoughts

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rogueshadeaux · 1 year

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Chapter Seventeen — Reascendance

6k words | 20 min read time | TRIGGER WARNINGS: child death, implied terrorism. Sorta ooc Delsin but just pretend it's his customer service voice

Brent didn’t object when I appeared in his bedroom in the middle of the night — I knew he was awake, he wasn’t snoring. He didn’t even say anything when I took one side of the full sized bed and bundled up in the woven blanket, finally managing to fall asleep. Maybe it was the few years before we moved to Chapman where we shared a twin mattress as toddlers in that one bedroom apartment in downtown Portland, or maybe it was the fact that we entered this world sharing a womb — but I always felt better with Brent close. He’d never admit it, but he felt the same — it was an unspoken agreement of sorts.

We were up all too soon again for exams, of all things, Betty shuttling us to the absolutely miniscule high school and parking in its front lot. “God, how many kids go to school here?” Brent asked, sleep still thickening his voice.

Betty, being chairman of the Akomish, apparently knew. “Well the middle school has about 350 kids and the high school has 270.”

“Middle—“ I cut off, glancing back at the school. “Is this a blended school?”

Betty nodded. Holy shit, I didn’t even know schools were allowed to do that.

Four teachers met us in the lobby, guiding us through a hall that seemed smaller than the one at my fucking gyno. We were taken to a small computer lab in a glorified broom closet, and told we’d take each exam with a break in between. “We provide lunches to those on the free and reduced lunch program during the holiday,” one guy with thick glasses said. “You’ll attend lunch with them at 11:45.”

All this life changing drama and yet I somehow couldn’t escape my AP Lit exam.

But hey, we survived, finishing up just before eleven and told to just sit tight. “You can even play around on the computers if you’d like,” a woman teacher that stayed behind offered, her partners all going to the lunchroom to prepare it.

There was no hesitation; Brent immediately began typing in a news channel’s domain name, and I left my place on the other side of the room to sit beside him.

The march was headlining news, helicopter view of COLE’s remains, which was now gated and its front absolutely covered in little offerings. Couple posters I couldn’t make out, unlit candles, one section completely dedicated to a pile of dinosaur toys. There had to be thousands, all lined up in the street and contesting it enough they had to fan into the corners of the intersections, and there at the head was Eugene Sims.

But no Dad.

That didn’t make sense; he left at 9 at night. He probably got to Portland by midnight, two in the morning if he was more cautious. Why wasn’t he there? Did something happen?

Brent’s leg started going again.

But eventually 11:05 came, and Dr. Sims started forward, leading the entire march with his own group of supporters at its head. It took me a moment to realize I knew a lot of those in the group he walked with; that financial advisor who always played on his PS Vita-lity in the break room, Annabelle. He specifically linked his arm with a woman in all black, and it took me a second to tell it was the mom of that seven year old, the charred remains of that little toy Annabelle made in her hands.

But no Dad.

We were ushered to the cafeteria at some point, something that didn’t really register with me because of how absolutely worried I was. I wasn’t sure if I should say luckily, but the teachers had a television going on in the cafeteria with the same feed, volume turned high, a bunch of kids ranging from sixth to senior in the tables surrounding it, all turning in place to stare at us as we were directed where to sit and handed some tray with cold cut ham sandwiches and baby carrots.

“Hey,” one called, an older boy with hair damn near as long as mine, staring straight past me to Brent. “Aren’t you the guy from the Longhouse yesterday?”

One of the kids, seemingly excitable ‘cause she simply wouldn’t stop moving, confirmed before Brent could even try to. “Yeah! That’s the dude with the wings!”

We were surrounded before I could even blink.

It wasn’t a bad thing, though; the younger ones were absolutely enamored, begging him to pull the wings out and making him act all awkward. There was one girl who immediately began flirting with him and his ears started to turn pink, but he managed to keep his cool enough to say, “Sorry, I’ve uh, got a girl.”

The guy with long hair slid in beside me. “They’re saying you’re Rowe’s kids,” he directed at me, the only one to actually pay me any mind. “That true?”

My first chance at admitting it. “Yeah, we are,” I said with barely any hesitation, the teeniest bit of pride managing to burst through the nausea.

“Jean,” Brent said urgently, shooting up to stand, “Jean, look.”

There was a bit of commotion on the television now; the march had been met with a small batch of Lifeline protestors that broke through the police barrier on an adjoining street, practically rushing forward to meet Dr. Sims and the COLE survivors. He made them stop, letting the mother of the seven year old go and gently putting her behind him, standing tall and refusing to flinch. The cops didn’t look in any rush to aid Dr. Sims either, the bastards. “They’re just gonna let them get through,” I scoffed, not even bothering to phrase it as a question as we walked closer to the television, the group moving with us. Cops around the march didn’t even flinch at the Lifeline protestors, instead eyeing the marchers, waiting for them to move to take action.

“Where the hell is he?” Brent muttered, and I instinctively reached out to grab at his wrist in an effort to stay there. If Dad was in trouble, we’d already know, right? But I mean, how? It isn’t like he could message us, and if something happened with that Archangel thing, wouldn’t the whole point be for no one to know?

I glanced at Brent, who was already looking down at me with the same face. I was about three minutes from stealing a car and driving to Portland myself.

Brent looked back to the television as I felt a tap on my shoulder, a little face full of equal amounts freckles and acne looking up at me. God, was I that small at some point? “Are you two boyfriend and girlfriend?” She asked, giggling.

Oh I wanted to vomit. Did we really look that unalike? “Ew, god no, he’s my twin,” I almost gagged out, going to move my hand from around his wrist. His hand twisted and shot out though to keep it in place, the grip hard.

“They’re not stopping,” Brent muttered, eyes still glued to the television.

The chatter around us died off as they all began to realize there were more important things going on — like the altercation that was about to begin on television. Dr. Sims was losing control of the crowd, who were beginning to shift defensively. A few of the Conduits in the crowd called up their powers, the stagnant hold of sleeves of their abilities waiting to be used. Lifeline was making an aggressive beeline straight for the center, seemingly not intending on giving them any kind of space, and the cops in riot gear surrounding the show readied their weapons.

But off to the side, some hard light overexposed the camera, making the Lifeliners stop abruptly in place — especially as the aura of neon rushed down the side of a building at a speed I never knew he was capable of, the camera’s frame rate catching frozen glimpses of him mid-run. He zipped onto the road and skidded to a stop in the middle of the 10 feet of space between Lifeline and the COLE survivors, the pink and blue neon on his body slipping away into the air with a snap like a lightning bolt. Dad stood, shoulders squared and chest out as he eyed them, challenging them to try and push further.

They didn’t dare move.

Eugene Sims broke away from the crowd, closing that space and meeting Dad there in the middle, a hand clapping his shoulder. Dad turned, the two embracing for a quick squeeze featuring that man-back-slap thing, separating just as the camera tried zooming in on the Conduit emblem on Dad’s back. The anchor was saying something about it being Delsin Rowe, and the kids around us began looking at us again, but I didn’t care — he was okay. He made it there, and was alive.

There was newfound vigor to the marchers, Dr. Sims taking time to lead Dad back to the group of survivors. They hovered there for quite a while, giving the camera the chance to grab that million-dollar angle it was looking for a moment ago, zoomed in only on Dad now as he talked to the COLE survivors. He went to reach out to the mother but paused midair, hands eventually falling back to his side. He was making his apologies.

Lifeline didn’t move this entire time; in fact, when the camera zoomed back out, it showed they were standing stupidly in the middle of the road, wind gone from their sails. Their dumb little picket signs hung at their sides now, and they glanced at each other confused. Now that their theories were proven real, it seemed like they lost a reason to fight at all. Like they lost their cause, the ability to point their fingers accusingly.

I guess that’s why, when Dad and Dr. Sims turned back around to resume the march, the Lifeline idiots gave them a wide berth, moving to the sidewalk and pushing as close to the building as possible. Dad took his place beside Eugene Sims at the helm of the Second Age Movement, only one other person missing from the original trio.

I’m pretty sure I failed my Earth Science exam when we were shepherded back to that computer room, if I’m being honest. There was just so much distractive chatter in my mind that wouldn’t shut the hell up as I tried to remember if oceanic crust is thinner or denser than continental. Brent finished his exam a whole hour and a half later, and we left to find Betty waiting for us with her little Beetle, beaming at the fact that she gets to take us to Seattle — and immediately deflating when she figured out it wasn’t the first time we’ve been there. “We went with Dad to a gala two years ago,” Brent informed her. “Something for COLE’s charity donations,”

She just huffed in a comical way, telling us to get in.

Seattle’s skyscrapers reached higher than Portland’s, and there were so many more here too. It was strange being here with new context to our lives; this is where things changed for Dad. This is where he and Mom met. This is where Dad helped change things for Conduits. Not Delsin, Dad.

Yeah, still weird to think about.

But we got our phones, sitting in the cellular provider’s store and watching the television that streamed the end of the march as Dad, Dr. Sims and everyone else descended on Portland’s city hall. There were a few minutes of stagnant movement, the camera switched from aerial coverage to on scene as amps appeared and a mic was put up. It was normal for Dr. Sims to speak after events like this —he was their Martin Luther King Jr. after all —and sometimes when it was after a tragedy, he’d have survivors or family come up after to state their piece.

So it was surprising when Dad stepped up to the mic first.

Even now, in the throngs of a mall during last minute Christmas shopping, there was a tension to the air as people watched from food court televisions or the screens in here while Dad readjusted the mic a bit. There was feedback the news camera barely caught, and a weird staticky hum as Dr. Sims appeared beside Dad in a puff of pixels, a hand on his shoulder as he took a deep breath to steady himself, thinking hard on how to start.

“For nearly sixteen years,” he finally said into the mic, putting on his smooth and slightly-deeper-sounding lawyer voice, “I’ve gone by the name Damion Rowland, and for ten of those, I’ve worked as a head legal consultant for COLE. But…the rumors are true. I’m Delsin Rowe.”

There were immediate whispers, auditable in the crowd on the television and in the food court on our left. Dad inhaled deeply again, continuing with, “I hid after my fiancée, Abigail Walker, was killed, to protect our twins. The same fear-mongering rhetoric that took nineteen lives yesterday took my children’s mother, and I didn’t want them to be next. So I hid. That all changed last Wednesday when my daughter was kidnapped and my son was shot, all to bring me out of hiding. They…neither of them knew who I was, either. And I know most of you have seen the CCTV footage, so there’s no point in hiding it: they’re Conduits, too. I’ve spent the past few days helping them come to terms with the truth and their powers.

“But my absence shouldn’t have provoked something like this. Nineteen people are dead, and for what? Why?” He demanded, glancing over the crowd, knowing they wouldn’t have an answer either. “Everything I’ve ever feared, nineteen different families get to experience. Right behind me is a parent that lost her son because of this attack. A seven year old boy, Elliot Prue, who loved the Mariners and dinosaurs. She—” he pointed to the mom off behind him, who had the burnt stuffed toy held close to her chest, “—shouldn’t have to bury her son. Our sixteen year old resident, Amelia Soto, shouldn’t have had her life ended before it even began. My assistant should have been able to retire, Not a single person that lost their life yesterday should have.”

Dad paused to reel himself in a bit, visibly upset at the state of things. Eugene’s hand left his shoulder to go to the mother behind Dad, who began to sob, and Dad’s shoulder visibly sagged with the absence. “I have approval from the Portland Police department and the FBI to announce that we know the cause of yesterday’s attack. A dozen people were radicalized by something called Archangel, met through the networking of this group and began planning this attack almost seven months ago. Archangel was also behind the attack on my children, so we’re assuming that the attack yesterday…that it had something to do with me. Whether they thought I’d be here in Portland’s COLE chapter or if it would draw me out, I’m not sure.

“But I’m here now. And I can promise you all that I will do everything I can to help stop these attacks, not just violent shootings and bombs and whatever — but the words and legislation that’s causing all the fear. Conduits are here to stay, people are going to have to make peace with that. Cole MacGrath’s efforts to save those without the Conduit gene came at the price of having to live with us, and it’s time we begin searching for ways to live harmoniously, because it isn’t going to change. No more harassing your neighbors, no more stalking random people. I am going to return to my position at COLE to push back against the Conduit Registration Bill, as well as file suits against the various segregational legislations that’ve been passed recently. We’re looking to expand in fifteen more major cities in America, as well as starting chapters in Canada and Europe and expanding our services. I can only do so much for Conduits, though — it’s up to our government to find ways to bring peace to the nation without impeding on anyone’s rights.”

Dad’s eyes found the camera this news channel was streaming on, and his stare went entirely icy, so harsh that it felt like I was getting reprimanded a state away. “And as for this Archangel thing — I’m only giving a single warning to whoever is perpetrating these attacks. Using low-tier criminals and radicalized conspiracy theorists to do your bidding is weak, and it isn’t something I’m intimidated by. You wanted me out in the open? I’m here. I won’t let you use the lives of innocent people, of my children, to try and, what, scare me? It isn’t working. All you’ve done is piss me off. I’m only going to say it once: back off. Because if anything else happens, and I have to fight back? You’re going to regret ever challenging the one person with experience tearing down organizations like yours.”

That seemed to be where Dad wanted to stop, looking over his shoulder and waiting for Dr. Sims to look up, motioning towards the mic.

The quiet in the mall erupted into chatter, shock and disbelief at the actual Delsin Rowe being back. “How didn’t anyone know? That looks like him,” I heard someone say as they entered a Bath and Body Works, rolling her eyes like there weren't eight layers of complication to the lie. Another person walked past saying, “Rowe’s kids deserved it after all the bullshit he did,” and I had to physically grip Brent by his wrist and drag him away. Thank god he was wearing the beanie so no one would realize his hair changed color.

“Do you two need anything?” Betty asked, spinning to face us. “I know you left home with next to nothing, and I have fifteen Christmases to make up for.” She didn’t even wait for us to answer, just spun back on her heel and said, “C’mon, let’s get you two some new clothes.”

We started to object, but the glare she shot over her shoulder shut us up. She may have been old, but I had no doubt we’d get in deep shit if we continued to go against what she said. She was little, but kinda scary. Like a rabid cat.

She took us to as many discount department stores as possible, trying her best to get as much as she could for us out of some invisible limit she set in her mind. At first it was awkward, and Brent and I fished for the most minimal, low-priced items we could; but the way Betty’s face lit up when Brent found a nice jacket with some soft sherpa lining, and with how she insisted on him getting it…I don’t know, it was sort of sweet. It activated that deep want within me to have a grandmother, someone who’s entire job description was to love and spoil and care about me. Seems Brent got the same impression, because soon it became a sort of family bonding day, Betty learning more about us than we offered in the past five days and taking time to actually ask questions and become interested in everything we did, everything we were.

“Oh, you do art?” Betty smiled when she caught me in the discount art section of a Ross, casually browsing all the upended supplies. “You’re so much like your father. I still have so many of his drawings from his school years, they’re hiding somewhere in storage–”

“You’ve got to show me those,” I laughed.

Looking at the art supplies was a bit of a mistake, because we were both suddenly harassed into getting things we wanted, not just needed. Betty didn’t let me leave that aisle until I had a new sketchbook in hand and a pack of watercolor paints Brent handed to me as a joke, Betty missing the tease entirely and grabbing the set when I chucked it back at his chest, insisting I get it. “Yeah, c’mon Jean, think about how easy it’ll be to use those now.” He smirked, knowing good and well the last time I used watercolors it looked less Van Gogh and more God, no.

“I hope you rust over one day, Tin Man,”

All that teasing dissipated, though, when Brent discovered there was an official LEGO shop on the other end of the mall. I mean, it did from him — I sure didn’t spare him from a few comments of my own.

Everything ended at the same food court we were by when we got our phones, Betty having us put her number in our phones and message her our favorite Panda Express orders so she’d have ours. “Oh, I nearly forgot,” she gasped out, “Your father wanted you to call as soon as you could, I have his number—”

“We’ve got it memorized,” Brent assured her. “We’ll call while you grab food.”

Brent was dialing in the number before she’d left, saying as it rang, “Maybe I should have messaged him first, I dunno if he’s gonna answer some unknown nu—”

“Hello?”

Dad sounded winded, a bit tired in a non-negative way. Like someone does after a footrace or swimming. “Hey, Dad,” Brent greeted, putting the phone on speaker and bringing it close to his ear, motioning for me to move closer so I could hear too. The mall was packed, and because of that, it was loud too.

“Hey, son,” I could hear the smile in his voice, “Guessing you got your phone?”

“Yeah.”

“Your sister too? No issues?”

“Yeah, I did,” I said, tacking on a, “How are you?”

“Oh, hey Jean!” Dad’s chuckle was breathless as he said, “It’s something, being back out here like this. Did you see any of it?”

“Yeah, we did. Saw your speech and saw you get there late—” Brent glanced at me and motioned forward. “See you right now, too.”

I looked where Brent was pointing, to a large flat screen television posted on the skylight’s support beam; the news’ camera feed was still, not exactly grounded but definitely not in a helicopter, pointed to Dad as he paced a bit in place in an alleyway, phone to his ear.

But he froze immediately when Brent said that, glancing around. “What do you mean you see me now? You’re not here, right?”

I chuckled, “No, you’re still on camera.”

Dad’s eyebrows furrowed, and he kept looking around, suspicious. “Well that’s great,” He scoffed, annoyed. “Where?”

“Okay so, turn right.” Dad did, Brent immediately becoming confused when Dad’s back faced the camera. “Wait that’s — are cameras inverted?” he asked me.

“No, you’re just an idiot, that’s Dad’s left. Dad, turn around.”

“Wait are they — are they left or behind?”

“Around, do a 180.”

Dad turned in place, and I caught the tail end of an eye roll. “Okay, now what?”

“Whatever’s in front of you, it’s on that, but higher. Start looking up.”

“What, on this building?” Dad asked, eyes trailing up and shooting around. It only took a few glances before his eyes settled on screen, looking directly in the camera’s lens. “Oh, there it is.”

And with that, he raised a hand, pink and blue beginning to swirl around his arm in a bright pulse, and shot the camera, killing the feed. “Can you still see me?”

“No, you’re good now.”

“Good, okay.” Dad sighed. “I don’t want anyone recording our conversation.”

“But there wasn’t audio—” I started, Dad immediately cutting me off as if he knew that was what I was going to bring up.

“Even if there isn’t, they can still get someone to read my lips,” He tacked on, the camera switching to helicopter view, trying to focus in on him in the alley. With a camera so much farther away, his features became grainy as it zoomed in. “It’s — we’ve gotta be safe, now.”

“Yeah,” Brent hummed. I started nodding, taking a moment to remember he wouldn’t be able to see me before throwing in some sound of agreement.

“That’s actually something I wanted to talk to you two about. Have either of you logged into anything online, or talked to anyone yet?”

“We haven’t had the chance,” I shook my head, “Betty’s made this into a whole field trip, this is the first time we’ve actually sat and gotten on them.”

Brent inhaled, “I did. I got on my discord while you were trying on something.”

“Trying on—” Dad sighed, the camera feed catching him bringing up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Betty took you two shopping, didn’t she?”

“Yeah, she did.”

“I shoulda known.” Dad shook his head, laughing. But the sound quickly died in his throat. “If you saw the speech, you heard about Archangel. They’re behind yesterday’s attack, and I — we need to be careful for a bit longer, at least until Eugene and I find out more about them. I know I said you could talk to people and such, but until we know more about these guys, I want you to keep quiet. Don’t log into anything that can track your location, don’t tell anyone where you are.”

“Do you know why they did it?” I asked, admittedly throwing a glance over my shoulder; was it even safe to be out right now?

Dad shrugged on camera, shaking his head. “Not really. I know I made them sound incompetent in my speech but these guys know what they’re doing. And the attackers won’t talk — they brought me in as a last resort to talk to who they think was in charge of everything, and he said something about it. That’s all we’ve gotten out of them so far,”

“But you think it has something to do with you?” Brent asked.

“When the FBI sent me into the interrogation room, we had this whole thing planned where I’d pose as his counsel, see if I could get him to slip up. Guy knew I was Delsin Rowe, even without the vest,” Dad scoffed. “Called me out and said something about how Archangel was going to be happy to know I was returning. I know it has something to do with me.”

I began absentmindedly playing with the aglet on the end of my hoodie’s drawstring. “That’s not good,” I muttered, as if it wasn’t painfully obvious.

“It isn’t,” Dad agreed, “And until Eugene and I can learn more about them, I want you two to stay safe. So far we know none are Conduits, and they’re all lackeys to something bigger — but what is that bigger, y’know?”

“They’re probably just some sort of Lifeline wanna-be,” Brent scoffed, “Bunch of crazies that got too ahead of themselves,”

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Dad leaned against a wall on camera, glancing up at the helicopter, “But either way, they had the organizational skills to kill nineteen people. To find me and track Jean in the mall. Crazies or not, I don’t like that they can plan,”

“Makes them stronger.” I threw in.

“Exactly.”

“Dr. Sims — what’s his power, technology?” I asked.

Dad chuckled a bit. “Close — video.”

Right, video. What the hell did video powers entail? Either way, I continued with, “Can he use it to follow any like, online footprints? I don’t really know how the power works but they had to coordinate somehow,”

Dad hummed. “That’s a good point. I know Eugene can manipulate technology to an extent, I’ll see what he can do. Maybe I’ll work with the FBI to see if we can get access to their things under the Patriot Act and look over them tomorrow.”

Brent seemed to catch on to something, the thought in the back of his mind forcing its way out of his mouth as he asked, “Are you still gonna come back tomorrow?”

I could see Dad’s hand come up, making some sort of motion that I only realized a few seconds later was snapping. “I wanted to bring that up, too. I was thinking about swinging by the house and grabbing some things, since we’re going to be staying in Salmon Bay for now. Get all your clothes, grab some other stuff until we decide what happens next. But that’d mean I definitely wouldn’t be back till Christmas Eve.”

Brent glanced at me, and I could see the discomfort in his eyes; there've been times on his work trips before where extra days were added to it, and we weren’t really phased. But now? I really wanted nothing more than to know he was going to be back as soon as possible. But on the other hand, having some of my actual possessions, clothes that fit right and my makeup and the chest that held my art supplies — it didn’t sound too bad.

“Sure, if you want,” I eventually said, watching Dad nod on screen.

“Okay. I won’t be able to bring everything, but I’ll pack all your clothes, and you can send me messages about what you want me to grab.”

A Christmas miracle — we get some of our identity back. “Sounds good,” Brent agreed, fiddling mindlessly with the silicone of his phone case.

“What else are you going to do today?” I asked the receiver, watching Dad kick away at some slushed snow by his feet.

“Gonna go to the hospital, visit the survivors. I have a lot of apologies I gotta give. Margie’s wake starts at five, and I want to be there for Antonio, plus we’re covering funeral costs for all the victims so I’m gonna get together with COLE and hunt down relatives, find out if there’s any next of kin that want things done a certain way.”

Jeez, this conversation suddenly turned bleak. And on top of that, Dad was going to try and crack the domestic terrorists that blew up COLE — was there even enough time in the day to do everything? “But you’ll be back Christmas Eve?” I nearly begged for confirmation.

“Yeah. Promise.”

Next came the goodbyes, promises we’ll check in with him every now and then and a repeated assurance that we’d be together for Christmas. It was such a stupid thing to worry about, but it was the only bit of normalcy I was aching for; our movie marathon full of tales that didn’t really count as Christmas movies if you thought about it, the Christmas Eve taquitos meal tradition that started after Dad nearly burnt down the house trying to make turkey and we had to visit a taco truck. Maybe I could even convince them to bring back Tent City and make a pillow fort out of Ruth’s blankets and the stale bed sheets we found when unpacking. Sure, Brent and I weren’t waiting for the second we could open our presents anymore, but it had to be fun, right?

The time leading up to Christmas Eve felt awkwardly stagnant, kinda like waiting for a doctor appointment planned just after noon; like we couldn’t concentrate too hard on something out of fear that we’d miss our appointment. Like we were waiting for change. I regularly pulled up live news streams to see if Dad would make an appearance just to make sure everything was fine, and when I wasn’t, Brent was browsing the internet to see what everyone was saying. At some point I snuck a peek over his shoulder to see him on Mei’s profile, staring at a post that simply said I just hope you’re safe posted the same day we were ambushed at the mall, and didn’t do much more than squeeze his shoulder when he realized I was looking.

I understood; I found myself on Reese’s profile a few times, thumb immediately jumping to the ‘message’ icon out of reflex before I pulled it back. It was this, the torturous in between, that made the hours pass at a snail's pace, waiting for further instruction. Waiting to see what bits of normalcy we could reclaim.

Dad called regularly, which was a nice reprieve from it all despite how depressing what he was doing was; Margie was cremated, and her funeral was due to be hosted on the second. The young boy, Elliot, got a beautiful burial plot with a headstone in the shape of a t-rex, his favorite dinosaur, all thanks to some charity. He called when in the house to finalize what all he should grab, and only after we hung up did Brent’s face pale as he said, “Oh, fuck, he’s going to pack our clothes,”

“Yeah?” I watched as he laid his head in his hands, confused. Brent already knew this, why was he freaking out? “What’s so bad about that?”

Brent’s hands left his face to rest of the sides of his head as he muttered, “My dab pen is in my bottom drawer,”

“Your—“ I snorted, earning a dirty look from him. “You hid your weed in your underwear drawer? What are you, five?”

“He’s gonna kill me,” Brent said with a resigned finality. “I’m actually going to die.”

“Will me your LEGO collection before you do so I can sell it on eBay,”

Later that day as Brent grappled with his impending death, I stared at the watercolors Betty got me before finally giving in and opening them, turning to the first page of the new sketchbook and staring at it. Watercolor. Watercolor. I could totally do this, right? And if not, I’d just throw it away and act like it never happened.

My inspiration came from those few minutes of peace as I floated in the Puget Sound, staring up at the rippling sunlight refracting off of the water’s surface. I could see the picture almost perfectly in my mind, so much so that when I summoned my water gauntlets, I was able to pull and mix the shades I needed, slowly beginning to layer them on the canvas.

Bleeding art into the page with my powers was something else entirely. Making art felt vulnerable in a soft way, like exposing pieces of myself in flashes; but using water to spread the blue and shade it deeper the further down the page it went, to highlight ripples in the surface of the water and create shining rays of sunlight…it felt sincere. Forthright. Like I was screaming through the canvas here I am, the water Conduit, and I have something I need you to understand! The end product actually looked like what I meant it to this time, no doubt because I had way more control over the display. Kinda hard to fuck up your brush strokes if you’re literally using some form of hydrokinesis on a water based product. Next came the ink, something I added way too early and caused it to bleed a bit, ink blots escaping from the solid black silhouette of what was supposed to be my body and trying to unsuccessfully slip away before sinking into the page. Honestly, though? I liked how it looked. Something about the contrast between the soft watercolor and the harsh ink struck me, even if this picture was technically a failure. I let the page dry and closed the book, vowing to try and do more after the holidays as the clock hit ten at night. I had to get started on Brent’s gift, anyways.

#infamous erosion #infamous second son #infamous #delsin rowe #sucker punch productions #Eugene Sims #fanfiction #infamous oc #infamous 2 #I finally get to mention Cole MacGrath holy fuck #Fetch Walker

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byeolyeou · 3 months

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❝ ooh , that MIGHT leave a mark . oh well . ❞ the akomish tongues over his upper teeth before lips curl into a crooked smirk . he doesn't feel bad , not really - head tipping to the side as he rolls the dup soldier over with his foot , shrugging a shoulder to himself . ❝ what you get for getting in my way . ❞

@sovrumana

#ic post. delsin #verse. evil karma #sovrumana. arson #sovrumana

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sucker-for-yanderes · 6 months

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Holy Smokes

youtube

Yan!Delson Rowe x F!Reader

Bad karma Delson who's absolutely infatuated with the unfortunate reader. Reader is represented as a girl so mlw relationship. TW minor ish angst and dubcon kiss. "I will have you." Implied reader death so not rlly a happy ending sorry :p I'm feeling angsty

For context: This version of Delson is near the end of the story where he has smoke powers, neon powers, and video powers.

Your heart heavy with sadness and angst seeing the path Delson went down after he got his powers. Perhaps he wasn't changed, maybe he was always like this.

Maybe he was always so obsessed with you that he would watch you change in your window next door.

Maybe you hadn't noticed how he always got so jealous that he would grind his teeth and get so standoff-ish with any guy that dared approach you. You thought he was just being protective in an older brother sort of way. After all, you guys basically grew up together. You hadn't known anyone when the tribe took you and your parents in after your father turned out to be a conduit. Banished by everyone except the Akomish. Everyone here treated your family like people instead of spawns of the devil. For one, there was a fear that you had inherited your father's terrifying shadow powers. But that wasn't true, you were just a normal, powerless girl. You were angry at the world for painting these world-changing powers as a bad thing. Time after time you would beg your father to show you his powers, and without fail he would impress you everytime. You were so damn proud of your father, it made you sick to your stomach that society-the whole world- would abandon him and conduits alike. Delson understood you long before he had the powers. It seems like he was the first person to understand you as you were. And that's what made this... situation... so hard.

To leave him behind in your past as you planned to abandon his mission to catch Augustine in pursuit of her affliction. Closing your eyes as you turned your back, you felt a warm hand on yours. A silence followed but you knew who was there." I'm leaving, Delson." You sighed, not bothering to turn to meet his eyes. Those eyes that you hated to love.

" Look at me."

A pang in your heart as he spoke those words, knowing it wouldn't be long before you caved. It isn't fair. His grip desperately tightened so hard on your hand as you attempted to take another step forward and away from him, you winced." Delso-" He didn't give you time to finish as he turned you around to pin you to the cold brick wall. His intense gaze desperately looking for you in your eyes, the eyes that refused to give into him, that refused to give into your heart.

" Please..."

With the painfully long silence, it was clear he wasn't going to yield. With tear filled eyes, you finally give him what he wants. He doesn't smirk like he usually would. He's serious about you. You wanted to scream and cry and push him away right now because looking into his eyes reminded you of all the painful memories leading up to this moment.

When you overheard Fetch talking to him about hooking up and what you've heard about him from the media and people. The killings, the murders, hurting innocent people, hurting anyone who spoke out about his evil doings. The silencing. Delson knew he wouldn't be able to hide the truth from you forever.

The truth is, he didn't exactly have a plan as to what he would do when you found out about what he had been up to. Because everything he's doing really is for the tribe. If he could get you to understand that, then that would be ideal. But not good enough. He has to have you. When the smoke man heard those words come out of your mouth that's when he started panicking. He can't let you go. Not now. Not ever.

" Why? Why are you doing all of this?"

Tears escape your eyes and cascade down your warm cheeks. You can barely see the man in front of you.

"Doing what, exactly?"

The way he had said it wasn't in a 'playing dumb' type of way. You knew he wanted to hear you say it." Tell me. Tell me how bad and scary I am. I'm doing what I have to for the tribe." He defends.

" Taking the lives of innocent people? That's how you're going to save the tribe? Because the tribe is terrified of you, Delson. I'm terrified of you." You gripe. Delson leans in closer towards you, placing a finger under your chin.

" I scare you?"

He asks softly with genuine concern, but at the same time he really feels kind of nice about it. It's nice that he can manipulate you with fear at the very least.

" Do you even care? Because I thought you were all about Fetch now. You're perfect for each other at this point-"

Delson lets you go no further and smashes his lips into yours. You hate it. You hate that this is the way you're kissing him right now. The only time you want to kiss him is when you are happy, or literally in any other mood right now. You push him and bang your fists on his chest. He moves your hands away and above your head against the brick wall behind you. When Delson pulls away to admire your face, he can't help but feel sad too.

" I didn't want it to be like this either. But I wasn't going to be accepted either way. This was always going to be how it is. It is the only way, (Name)."

He studies your face in the purple lighting from the neon signs from the alleyway you two are in. It's just after sunset and the night has just begun." And for the record, Fetch wishes. There's someone else I'm sort of into..." Of course, he's suddenly back to his playful self. He's not the one who can be serious for too long. It's one of the things you liked about him." How can I trust you anymore? I feel sad that I ever did..." You cry out even more.

" Because you love me. That's why you'll trust me." With one last, surprisingly gentle, kiss to your forehead, he walks away. Leaving you. But you don't feel sad that he's leaving. You're sad because you know you'll always be connected to him. You're in love with him and it's terrible. He vanishes with the fading neon images of him left behind in his trail. You can't help but follow. More tears escape your eyes as you see the neon-scribed image left on the building in front of you.

"I love you."

Delson has always loved you. Down to every minute detail. Not just your looks, he really saw you. The way you spoke, how your humor and his matched perfectly, the way he could be himself around you because you allowed him to be, and how you could allow yourself to be vulnerable to strangers because you believed in people and that no one is inherently evil. The best way to describe your guys' bond was like a lock and key.

The last trait is something Delson is almost envious of. But because of the way people have been treating him because of his newfound power, he can't say he would ever allow himself to believe in people ever again besides you and the tribe.

And that's another reason why he must protect you.

You're too trusting, too easy of a target. And from what Delson's seen, the world is way too dangerous with the threat of dealers, gangs, and the corruptness of the city overall. He's not entirely sure how he could ever make you understand since you and him are different. You're normal, and he's not. That's the way society made it.

When he got his powers he was so happy, but the more he's used it it seems the more it's put a divide between you and him. And he hates that. He hates it more than anything in the world. Delson wants to be with you always.

His playful crush for you when he was just a boy had turned into something deeper as he matured into a man and as you matured into a woman. He knew that no one could ever understand you like he could, if only you understood that. If only he could make you understand that.

Would kidnapping you be going too far? No, no, that would just make you resent him forever. You've got your parents to go back home to after all. If he could just try to convince you, then he won't have to resort to plan B.

A part of him knows that deep down behind your stubborn act, is the love for him that you're ashamed of. Your heart seems to be locked in a cage that he knows he rightfully should have the key to, but you've hid it from him. He knows he has that power over you. Because whenever he's hurt, you're the first person running to him with tears in your eyes and ready to help him and save him, despite being powerless. It was comical.

You protect him? Ha, please. It's unheard of for a mere human to go out of their way to help the big scary bio-terrorist.

And he loved your devotion to him. If he could convince you to keep devoting yourself to him.

Delson was hurt by the fact that you would even think he would go and hook up with Fetch. It's always you that's on his mind, he doesn't see Fetch as anything rather than something he can use as an ally to help get his lick back at Augustine and her pathetic excuse for an army. Maybe he'll have to deal with Fetch. Her way of hitting on him, especially in front of you, was something he had always disliked. Hated, even. Because he could see the look on your face, the tears that you would try to quickly hide. He punches himself for even letting it go that far, to make you jealous. Although, it's nice to know you want him.

But right now, he's about to lose you. And he won't let that happen. Absolutely not.

Think, Delson, think.

If he can just get Fetch out of the picture, keep a low profile (because ever since he started killing the DUP officers and the protesters, he knows he cannot be redeemed), and heal everyone back home then that's when he can earn you back.

But what Delson doesn't know is that karma will catch up to him. What he has taken from others, it will surely be taken from him.

A/N: Guys I rlly recommend playing this game (available on playstation and pc I think) or you can watch the gameplays. Pewdiepie's gameplay of this was hilarious but yeah please give it a try! It was ahead of its time but it barely gets the recognition it deserves and hopefully I can change that.

#angst #delsonrowe #infamous second son #infamous #xreader #delsonrowexreader #badkarma #videogame #ps5 #Youtube

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yandere-plague · 1 year

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[Yandere Delsin Rowe](Headcannons)

Human reader

// mentions of manipulation, other stuff sos I'm tired rn.

He only starts becoming a yandere when he gets his powers.

At first you're friends, maybe even lovers. But since he's discovered his powers, he wants more of you.

He's even more protective of you now, he can and will kill anyone who even glances at you funny.

No offence but, you're weak af as a human. Fast healing is unfortunately a Conduit exclusive.

The DUP would probably try and use you as leverage.

So he doesn't keep you out of his sight for long.

He doesn't want you to be afraid of him, but at the same time, he kinda does.

"Oh I'm not gonna hurt you, how many times do I have to tell you that?"

You can hurt him all you want, after all. Why have fast healing if you don't have anything to hurt you?

He considers it bonding, even though its far from it.

After every power he becomes more of a monster, more deranged, more selfish.

He manipulated Fetch and Eugene. So why not you too? Not too much though, all he wants is for you to see things from his point of view.

He always keeps his promises, mostly to himself mind you. He's going to attempt to heal the Tribe back home. Per his brothers wish.

Though of course the Akomish / Betty disbands him. The final turning point being Delsin trying to blackmail her. Everyone will die without him there. And if he's gone, well, goodbye Akomish.

After that, the Delsin you knew is gone. Now replaced by a megalomaniac who runs the streets of Seattle.

As for you? You're his girl/boyfriend and damn to hell everyone in Seattle knows about it.

Delsin will do anything to keep you with him. Romantically and literally.

He'll do anything you want him to, ask and he'll do it before you could even say please.

"I rule these streets baby!! Oh, and before I forget..."

"I love you." kissing your cheek before he headed off to the 'conduit club'. Disappearing with a neon trail. He'll be back for you tonight. Don't worry :D

But for now you're in the most luxurious room with everything you can imagine. Nobody will say no to Delsin, alive that is.

"All of this, I've done for you! Aren't you great full of me? Aint I the best Boyfriend ever."

You have the most powerfull Conduit wrapped around your finger, congratulations!

#yandere #yandere hcs #yandere imagines #yandere x you #tw yandere #tw kidnapping #yandere infamous #yandere infamous second son #yandere delsin #yandere delsin rowe

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phantoms-lair · 1 year

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Apparently my brain was NOT done with Good Ending Water Conduit Reggie

Survivor's Guilt was something they both had, Reggie knew. Delsin openly blamed himself for what happened at the longhouse, for the concrete spurs Augustine had struck through each member of the tribe, trying to determine what Delsin was hiding.

But how could Reggie blame Delsin? Delsin had told her the truth, tried to sacrifice himself for the tribe, but simply hadn't been believed. He'd had those same concrete daggers shoved into him, he'd just been able to recover because of his new condition. He'd tried.

Reggie, who was the new Sheriff of Salmon Bay, the one who was supposed to be keeping everyone safe, wasn't even there. He was being treated for smoke inhalation and a bruised femur. He hadn't found out until after Augustine was gone. Spent two weeks at the longhouse-turned-hospital. Listened to the doctors give their grim news.

There was a time when he feared he was going to be the last of the Akomish tribe due to the concrete growing from out their bodies messing with their blood vessels and muscles. Concrete that could only be removed the way it got in in the first place. Augustine's power, the face of the DUP herself proving why people with powers were called bio-terrorists. And Delsin wouldn't wake up.

But he had and now that situation had reversed. Delsin was the one who could only helplessly watch the concrete creep over Reggie's body, weighing them both down. Delsin could barely keep them both up, one arm clutching the ledge they dangled off of, the other holding his brother's hand. They couldn't both survive, but at least Augustine's dramatics of having the concrete slowly grow on him gave him time to say his last words, no matter how much Delsin was trying to deny they were so. He got to tell his brother he was proud of him, that he believed in him.

And then, for the first time since this started, he got to be the one who saved someone. A snap of the wrist and Delsin would not longer be weighed down, his only real regret being that he knew he'd be leaving his brother with even more survivor's guilt. And as he fell he hoped Delsin's crazy plan worked, that he could steal Augustine's power and heal the tribe. It would be hard enough on him being the last of their family. He didn't need to be the last of the Akomish as well.

Hitting the water hurt as much as he expected. It was agonizing. He could feel the concrete break apart into pieces. Pieces that were still sadly lodged in his body. But the pain was receding as the coldness of water washed over him. Was he going into shock? Probably. Nothing to do now but close his eyes and wait until he was reunited with his parents in the afterlife. He had no doubt he had a LOT of explaining to do about the past few weeks.

He wasn't sure what he expected of the afterlife, but he was sure it wasn't the taste of salt on his tongue or the feeling of sand in uncomfortable places. The wind was whistling by quickly and Reggie risked opening his eyes. The sight of Seattle wizzing far below him made him scream.

"Don't worry, I have you." Eugene's digitized voice, the one he used as He Who Dwells, reassured him. Oh right, he'd taken this ride before.

"You saved me?"

The giant knight-angel construct was silent. "I couldn't. By the time I broke free of the concrete, you'd already hit the water. I've had my sprite's searching for your...for you. I found you washed up on the beach."

For his body. They'd thought he was dead. Reggie couldn't help feeling a twig of gratitude at that, that Eugene had taken the time to look for his remains while everything in the city had to be hitting a boiling point. "Delsin? Where's Delsin?"

"Supposedly waiting for us at Fetch's. Honestly, knowing him, doing his best to get to us after I reported we found you alive."

As if on queue there was a burst from a nearby antenna and Delsin appeared from it, digital wings gliding towards both of them.

He almost crashed into Eugene, whooping in excitement. The Video Conduit considerately landed on a roof, since Delsin didn't have the same control over his flight he did.

Without preamble Delsin grabbed Reggie into a hug, squeezing him as tightly as he could then-

Reggie had always heard your life flashed before your eyes before you died. So why was it doing so now? Loosing his parents, trying to raise Delsin, fear for the tribe, Seattle's occupation, his own near death played before his mind. The next thing he knew he was on the ground. Trying to make sense of things.

Delsin was on the ground too, laughing and crying at the same time. Eugene had dropped his constructs and was just looking vaguely uncomfortable, like he did in most social situations.

"Delsin, what's going on?" "

You-you're..." Delsin couldn't speak, he was laughing too hard, genuine mirth mixed with grief. Reggie looked at Eugene who had no answers. The clouds answered instead, rain falling over the city as it often did. Except the rain on that rooftop fell differently, curving towards him and hitting his skin with small energy discharges. Energy discharges that felt soothing rather than burning.

"You're a Conduit." Delsin finally got out. "A water Conduit."

He was a Conduit. It didn't seem real. But he couldn't deny that he could feel the rain around him and that despite nearly drowning he found himself craving the water like a man who'd been trapped in the desert. And he found he couldn't blame Delsin anymore for trying to feed his powers when he first got them. At the time Reggie thought he was making the problem worse, but now he understood. It wasn't about becoming more powerful, it was something his body had needed. And he thought of all those Conduits in Curden Cay who were completely cut off from their element and wanted to scream on their behalf.

"I guess water's fitting." He said wryly, trying to stave off any internal panic and identity crises until he was alone. "Put out all the fire from your smoke and embers."

Delsin's demeanor shifted. "Yeah, honestly I've been leaning more into neon and video. More bright, you know? And once I get a good jumpstart from a core relay, I have water now too." He grinned, though it wasn't reaching his eyes.

But that didn't make sense. Smoke was Delsin's go to. It was the power he'd had the longest. He loved turning to smoke and letting vent fans propel him in the air. So why... "Delsin, did you stop using your Smoke because of Hank?"

There was no hiding the flare of rage in Delsin's eyes, the rage that had at one time scared Reggie. Eugene's pupil's shrunk to pinpricks too. It didn't make sense to Reggie. Like on one hand yes, Hank's actions had led to what they thought was Reggie's death and Reggie absolutely would hate anyone who got Delsin killed with the burning passion of a thousand suns. But why would Eugene be just as furious? He barely knew Reggie.

"I don't want any part of the fucking traitor," Delsin spat out and oh.

Reggie had never liked Hank. He was a serial criminal and prison escape artist. Quite possible the one person in Curden Cay who deserved to be locked up. Delsin and the others, though... With so much of Seattle taking an us-against-them stance in the sides of human and Conduit, all most Conduit's had were each other. The other three may not have especially trusted Hank as a person, but at least trusted him to be on their side against the DUPS. Him choosing to betray them to Augustine was unforgivable, even without factoring in his 'death'.

"I said it before, Conduits are people. And sometimes people are shit. And Hank? He was shit long before he was a Conduit. I had to get one right, at least." Reggie said wryly. "But that's not Hank's smoke anymore. It's the smoke you used to save Betty at the cannery."

"Fat lot of good that did." Delsin griped, but Reggie grabbed his arm.

"She has a chance now, one she didn't have before. You're going to steal Austine's powers and heal her, right?"

"Right." Delsin sounded a little more sure of himself.

"And I wouldn't want my little brother to go in to fight the big bad concrete queen with a lack of power."

Delsin laughed at hearing the words he'd used to convince Reggie to let him power up at the beginning thrown back at him. "Fine, I get it. Whatever it takes and fuck Hank." Delsin reached for the smoke coming out of the vent on the roof, but nothing happened.

"We're going to need more core relays." Eugene adjusted his glasses. "At least one to get Delsin's powers back online."

"And a second to recharge him after he gets Augustine's power. " Reggie reminded them. "I'll see what I can find. When's this going down?"

Because there was no way Delsin was going to let her 'killing' Reggie go unanswered.

"Tonight."

Well that didn't give them a whole lot of time. "Where's Fetch?"

At this Delsin was back to looking uncomfortable. "I think she needs some space. I got my big brother back-"

And Fetch didn't. Like Delsin Fetch's only family was her older brother. And unlike Reggie, Brent Walker had stayed dead. The 50% of DNA they shared hadn't included the Conduit gene. Like Hank, Reggie hadn't originally trusted Fetch due to her drug abuse history. But right now he'd give almost anything to be able to hand her her brother back.

"I'll try to find us a relay core. I know she's going through a rough time, but I also know she'd probably love to vent that rough time on some DUPs"

"I'll go talk to her, I'm probably less of a sore point." Eugene bravely offered.

"I'll send you the coordinates of what I find." Reggie promised.

"Gonna find us a relay core. Planning on powering up too?" Delsin teased.

"Hardly. I had no idea what my powers are beside 'absorb water' and 'survive long drops into the ocean'" Reggie said dryly. "I'm going to be more useful with my gun than powers. Power improvements go to you and others who might actually use them."

"Just saying." Delsin laughed.

#Ghost Writing #InFamous #InFamous: Second Son #InFamous: Second Son Spoilers #CW: Character thinks he's dying #Dunno if that needs a warning #but better safe than sorry #Probably need to come up with a name for this now

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collectingmuses · 5 months

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Alright, ships I think Flash would be interesting with?

Elias. Because the drama of literal star crossed lovers. Never truly able to be together. One is Agent Venom, the other is the Spider-Man of another universe.

Delsin Rowe, the punk hero who saved Seattle. But also a mutant with obligations to Krakoa as well as an Akomish indian. He has a lot to balance.

And finally? The most out of left field bullshit ship that makes no sense. But hear me out. Hank Pym. Under dogs, no one believes in them, no one gives them a chance. But they support one another. I don't know, there's something of a weird idea there.

// Double for these.

They all sound like interesting counterparts to Flash, they'd be super fun to explore.

#defyxoblivion #ask: flash

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autisticsupervillain · 6 months

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Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to Stats Equalized!

The show where we equalize strength, speed, and durability to decide who would win a battle of hax, skill, and versatility.

This Month's Fighters....

Delsin Rowe vs James Heller!

Conditions:

Good Karma Delsin

James does not have his powers from the DLC

Scenario:

Delsin shows up in Manhattan to stop the second Blacklight outbreak, mistaking Heller for another Mercer's infected minions.

Analysis: Delsin

Seven years after Cole sacrificed himself to stop the Beast, the few Conduits that remain in the US have been labeled as Bio-Terrorists by the government, seen as inherently dangerous due to their incredible powers. As such, the Government created the Department of Unified Protection, a group of government sanctioned Conduits tasked with hunting down and imprisoning "Bio-Terrorists".

With full government authorization to do whatever is necessary to contain a threat, the DUP has no problem inpounding and torturing innocent civilians, to the point of brutalizing an entire Native American tribe and leaving them to slowly die of their wounds.

Unfortunately for the DUP, this act of brutality just pissed off one of the most powerful Conduits in history, Delsin Rowe.

Delsin Rowe was the mischievous outcast of the Akomish Tribe, a lovable delinquent with a knack for graffiti and a gift for parkour. This all changed when a Conduit escapee came barreling through his village and Delsin's own Conduit powers awoke to copy the escapee's. When the DUP brutalize his village looking for the escapee, Delsin gets the idea to use his new powers to heal them. If he can copy the powers of the DUP leader, Brooke Augustine, he can remove the concrete shards stuck inside his fellow tribe members.

On his way to avenge his family and save his home, Delsin copies a whole host of superpowers from other Conduits. From the first escapee, Hank Daughtry, he copies the power of Smoke. From the vigilante killer Fetch Walker, he gains the power of Neon, and from the closted shutbin Eugene Sims, he gains the power of Video, each with a huge variety of powers.

With Smoke, he can blast fire out of his hands, superheat the chain around his wrist for combat, turn into smoke to dash through objects and vents, fire smoke grenades, levitate with firey thrusters, create smoke restraints, and even sufficate you. He even shows the ability to manipulate this power on the molecular level, able to transmute people into smoke for him to absorb and turn his smoke into organic matter to heal people's wounds. He can even go as far as to turn himself into a giant bomb, drop from the sky like a nuke, and explode on contact with enough power to sink a concrete island. After which, he just regenerates from the smoke like nothing happened.

With Neon, Delsin can turn into Neon light to dash at lightspeed, run up walls, toss gravity grenades that leave people helplessly hovering in the air while frozen in time, turn his chain into a lightsaber, speed up his reaction speed so that everything moves like a blur to him, shoot neon lasers out of his hands, and reduce human beings to neon particles through Mass Energy Conversion, making his targets explode into Neon energy.

Video, which might more accurately be referred to as Data, allows him absorb and manipulate the pixels and data from any technology with a screen. With it, he can summon angels and demons made of pure data, shoot homing swords from his hand like missles to down attack helicopters, fly on wings, and even turn invisible.

And, of course, there's Concrete from Augustine herself. With it, he can shoot massive disks of stone out of his hand, cover himself in armor and charge through all your defenses, and even generate concrete shards inside of your body, completely nullifying a Conduits powers and potentially damaging vital internal organs.

The problem with all of these remarkable abilities is he has to pick and choose. He can only use on element at a time and to switch, he has to absorb an element from the environment, just as he does whenever he runs low on his energy and needs to recharge. Hell, he can only take Concrete from the dead bodies of other Concrete Conduits, so he wouldn't be able to use it in a fight at all in most circumstances. And, every time he copies a power from a Conduit, all of his powers get completely sealed off until he restores them with Ray Field Energy.

Overall, Delsin is one of the most powerful and versatile Conduits the inFAMOUS universe has ever seen, rightly dubbed the "second coming of Cole" by his adoring public audience.

Analysis: Heller

It had only been fourteen months after the first Blacklight Virus outbreak had ravaged Manhattan. Fourteen months since New York City begain putting itself back together and its people began to truly live again when the second outbreak struck. Alex Mercer, once the begrudging savior of New York, had completely abandoned his humanity. He'd seen the selfishness of humans and grown disgusted with it, prompting him to unleash a second strain of Blacklight on New York. Deadlier, faster, stronger. This new strain would burn humanity down so that Alex could rebuild something from the ashes.

This attack would leave Sgt. James Heller without a family. He would come home from his tour overseas to find his wife and daughter dead. Stricken with grief, Heller would request reassignment to the front lines of the Manhattan quarantine, hoping to go down swinging to join his family in the afterlife. What he'd get instead was a once in a lifetime shot at revenge against the man responsible. Heller would go at Mercer with nothing but a knife, successfully slitting Mercer's throat.

Unfortunately, this is Alex Mercer we're talking about, so he just regenerated. Impressed with Heller's unrelenting determination, Mercer would transform Heller into one of his "Evolved", allowing James full access to all the powers granted by the Blacklight Virus, while still allowing him to keep his higher brain functions and humanity.

Mercer would attempt to manipulate Heller into helping to bring about his new world order, but Heller would eventually see through his tricks. This would backfire in the worst possible way for Mercer, as James Heller had nothing to lose and wanted nothing more than cold blooded revenge.

James Heller has all the powers you could expect from the Blacklight Virus. He can regenerate and shapeshift down the cellular level, allowing him to regrow from nothing but a puddle and shapeshift himself into any weapon he could possibly need. He can turn his arms into blades and claws to slice apart tanks, create spiked shields that can reflect rockets, grow armour to become completely bullet proof, and turn his arms into whips to pull helicopters right out of the sky. He can even alter his body's density to allow him to glide through the air.

And, like any good bioweapon, Heller can assimilate anyone he touches, copying their genetics and memories perfectly, allowing him to shapeshift into them and even copy their powers perfectly. Using this trick, Heller would devour his way through the ranks of Mercer's Evolved lieutenants, copying all of their powers. He can summon Hunters, giant bio-organic monsters that can crush tanks with their punches, to assist him battle, unleash the Blacklight Virus as a gas, and unleash massive Devastator attacks when he has enough biomass stored within him. Such as the tendril barrage Devastator, which shoots tendrils out of his body everywhere, absorbing everything within a mile radius of him.

Despite having a loud, bombastic temper that would put Kratos to shame and not being good with technology, Heller is a very intelligent and strategic fighter. He has all the combined experiences of every marine and Blackwatch soldier he's absorbed on top of everyone Mercer has and he's smart enough to see through Mercer's bullshit when he tries to string him along. He's frequently able to play the military, Blackwatch, and Mercer's Evolved against each other when he needs to and is skilled enough to take on groups of Evolved at once, many of whom have his same powers.

But despite his monsterous powers and quick temper, Heller would not lose his humanity. He would spare his former commanding officer after learning he too has a daughter and would go out of his way to protect the pastor at a local church. Heller would not succumb to the inhumanity that Mercer had. Not when he had a daughter counting on him. When he learned his little girl was still alive, he found the drive he needed to overcome Mercer once and for all.

The nightmare was over. The infection was gone. And Alex Mercer was dead. Only one question remains for James Heller and his daughter. What now?

Throwdown Theme:

youtube

Throwdown Breakdown:

This fight is very similar, yet simultaneously very different to Cole vs Alex.

On the one hand, Delsin could resist the Blacklight's assimilation and infection abilities much as Cole could. He should be immune to the disease much as Cole was, because being immune to disease is a trait applicable to all Conduits. That's why the Beast believed only Conduits would survive the plague. Furthermore, Delsin is not transmuted into Neon energy be Fetch's attacks, despite her clearly trying to kill him in their fight, meaning his molecular structure is likely endurant enough to, if not resist, than at least slow down the assimilation process.

I argue this because both powers, while fairly different, share a fundamental simularity. Transmuting one type of matter into another. Heller absorbs and changes DNA down to the cellular level, but Fetch's neon powers would be effecting Delsin's molecular structure at a much more fundamental level, as would be required to transmute a target into neon particles. If Delsin can resist getting transmuted down to the atomic level, he should be able to handle getting transmuted down to the cellular.

The problem arises when you realize Delsin has no feats of resisting mind control. Meaning if Heller infects him with Blacklight, he could win by simply taking contol of his brain. But, that leads back to the above issue. Heller would need to infect him first and Delsin's conduit physiology likely won't let him.

However, Delsin has no counter to James's shapeshifting and disguises. Without Cole's radar sense, Delsin cannot identify Heller when he transforms into another person, giving James a viable ambush option.

However, Delsin's regeneration is superior to Cole's, as he can come back from being reduced to smoke. Without the option of assimilation, Heller will struggle to put Delsin down and will have no option but to eat away at his reserves. Sure, you can argue that Delsin may have to absorb elements from his surroundings to maintain that level of regeneration, but even in that case, Hellet would still have to eat away at his energy reserves overtime to outmatch his regeneration.

So, how does Heller fair against each of Delsin's power sets?

Concrete should be manageable. Concrete might be able to nullify a Conduit's powers, but Heller could just shapeshift to expel the shards from his body and stop that. Beyond that, Concrete doesn't offer much other thsn making Delsin tankier, and Heller can match that.

Smoke's slippery, but manageable. It'll be hard to get his hands on Delsin when he can turn into smoke and the collateral damage from their fight would give Delsin plenty of ammo to work with, but Heller can match its gliding and the smoke grenades likely won't effect him much, as he can change his vision to see through them and armor would keep the smoke from choking him.

Video and neon are where this gets tough. Heller has no answer to anti-gravity, invisibility, or time stop, any one of which could give Delsin the opening he needs to end the fight. Doubly so since these powers would allow Delsin to transmute Heller into Neon particles or data, bypassing his regeneration all together. Given my basis for Delsin resisting assimilation, Heller wouldn't be able to survive this. Atoms are a more fundamental level of matter and Heller's never tanked anything on that level, including Alex's assimilation powers.

If you don't believe that Delsin can resist assimilation, however, than this becomes a figjt where both can one shot each other with feasibly any attack and neither can counter the stealth options the other would use to get that opportunity. In which case, I favor Delsin's range and wide area of effect attacks getting the fatal blow on Heller first. Heller's a smart, relentless, and deadly bioweapon who outpaces Delsin massively in skill, experience, and hand to hand combat, but Delsin is like nothing he's ever seen before. Any attempt to tank, block, and regenerate from a seemingly innocuous neon bolt or digital shot would reduce Heller to particles before he could reliably get close enough to absorb Delsin. And he's left helpless by an anti-gravity grenade or time stop... welp, goodbye angry virus boy.

This Throwdown's Winner is...

Delsin Rowe!

#fictional throwdown fridays #stats equalized #infamous #prototype 2009 #james heller #delsin rowe #Youtube

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donotmindme1 · 6 months

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My idea for a potential DEATH BATTLE! #5

2023, October 18, 19, 20, 27

FOURTH POST

MASTER LIST

Korra vs Delsin Rowe (Avatar vs inFamous)

They're the second legends in line!

Fighter 1: Korra, the continuing spirit of the Avatar cycle.

Fighter 2: Delsin Rowe, the accomplishing Akomish Second Son.

Wiz: Many of us aspire to live up and uphold the legacies of our predecessors.

*insert clips of Miles Morales & Peter Parker, Deku & All Might, Ruby Rose & Summer Rose, Batman & his Robins*

Boomstick: However, just because they're tough acts to follow up shouldn't discourage you from making your own path. He's Wiz and I'm Boomstick.

Wiz: And it's our job to analyze their weapons, armor, and skills to find out who would win... a Death Battle.

WHY:

Connections:

1. Both carry on the legacy of a famous protagonist who was able to control multiple forms of matter (Aang and Cole McGrath).

3. Both started their journeys being childish and/or immature but through their actions and strife, rose above and became better people and consequently, better idols and saviors.

THE FIGHT:

Possible setup:

In a metropolitan area, the Second Son is doing stencil art dedicated to his dear brother. "Man, I miss you, Reggie."

"Who are you, the fun police? I'm not hurting anyone." It's like dear Reggie was still with him: being a pain and not letting him have his fun.

"Oh."

FIGHT! :

RESULT:

Strengths and weaknesses:

Korra:

+ Physically stronger and more durable.

+ More experienced.

+ Has superior training.

+ Easier access to her elemental manipulation.

= Firebending and Earthbending fuel Delsin, but Smoke and Concreted are easily negated.

- Energybending cannot negate the Conduit Gene.

- Energybending cannot manipulate Video or Neon.

- Is vulnerable to suffocation. When she was poisoned as she was. suffocating, the Avatar State only held off the poison and not the suffocation.

- Can be immobilized via the stasis.

Delsin Rowe:

+ Can heal from firebending and earthbending.

+ Has a healing factor.

+ Is likely faster with Neon.

+ Neon allows for fast attacks, and the stasis bubbles are immobilizing.

+ Infamous Delsin has easy access to instant kill options.

= Firebending and Earthbending fuel him, but Smoke and Concrete attacks are negated.

- Untrained in physical combat.

- Physically far weaker and faster. Is also slower without Neon or Video.

- Is not immune to fire when using smoke or to earth when using concrete.

- Cannot access all his elements at will.

- Draining a power source leaves him vulnerable.

- There's no evidence to say that he can resist being immobilized by being surrounded/encased in concrete like he did to Augustine.

Ending puns:

"The Avatar's victory was elemental."

"Delsin got a concrete victory."

MUSIC:

Name: "Four Infamous Elements"

Holy cow, I love doing this one! Especially imagining the track and its art due to the possibilities of symbolism.

THANK YOU AND I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS!

#death battle #ideas #youtube #tlok korra #korra #avatar korra #legend of korra #delsin rowe #infamous delsin #infamous #infamous second son #second son

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indigenous-character-tournament · 1 year

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Delsin Rowe is canonically Akomish.

Moana is canonically Polynesian.

#indigenous character tournament #tournament poll #ict round 1 #infamous second son #delsin rowe #infamous delsin #disney moana #moana

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fortheloveofwii · 11 months

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1, 17, and 20. For 1 you can pick any fic of yours you'd like - I just like song recs!

1. Share a song that makes you think of [fic title]

I actually have a whole play list for the Moonstruck series! (In fact, if you look at some of the songs you'll find some...familiar lines/titles), so I'll share my favorites from there!

For the Wicked - Friday Pilots Club

July - Betcha

Pilgrims - New Dialogue

Bloomfield - Super Whatevr

Girl in Blue - Animal Sun

I could go on forever, but I'll stop there owo;;

17. What’s something you’ve learned about while doing research for a fic?

During the peak of my writing days for Infamous: Second son, I was actually roleplaying Reggie Rowe, and in my means to maintain accuracy and respect for his character, I learned ALOT about Native American culture specifically in Washington--the akomish are fictional, but the symbols, colors and location are based on the tribe the Suquamish!

They're a lushootseed speaking tribe with an amazing history and culture that i could go on forever about, but honestly I recommend just visting this site and reading for yourself if you're curious!

20. What’s a favorite title for a fic you’ve written?

That's a tough question, but when it comes down to the one I was most proud of coming up with, it was definitely

Never Meet Your Gods - my assassins creed fic I wrote for the modern AC zine back in 2020, it was also my first time writing an isolated fic for AC that wasn't involved with infamous second son, so it was extremely fun!

It also plays on a very old theory that used to rotate in the early days of assassins creed, so it shows how long i've been on this boat

#wii asks #thank you for the ask!#sorry it got so long #i managed to talk about 3 of the things im most passionate about writing lmao

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logobossside · 2 years

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Infamous second son sales

He must actively dive, dodge, and move around the battlefield. Unlike Cole, Delsin isn't content to hide behind cover and fire off bolts. The biggest change is the complete removal of cover systems. This may sound a little too familiar, but in practice Second Son is a very different beast. Absorb energy, fire off skills, and absorb more energy. While smoke is heavily area of effect and stun focused, Neon is very precise and fast.įans of the older games will be somewhat familiar with the general method of play. They all require very different play-styles. Delsin starts with Smoke and gains Neon pretty early on, but I won't spoil the last two for you. The powers themselves offer far more variety than past games, with 4 complete power sets, each unique and swappable by absorbing a different power source. As in previous inFamous games, these choices are always completely black-and-white, with good choices encouraging you to protect and act non-lethally and evil choices encouraging you to kill whenever possible.ĭelsin's powers will develop with these decisions as well, with good powers often restoring Delsin and subduing enemies, while evil powers kill and create maximum mayhem. All of the characters have two behavior varieties, one for your good choices and one for your evil choices. Even the side characters have well-developed stories. Delsin and Reggie are multidimensional and far more likeable than Cole and Zeke ever were. While the story is fairly standard for the franchise, the characters are a huge step up. Soon he and his brother Reggie are thrown into an adventure to save their tribe and stop an oppressive Conduit hunting group called the D.U.P. After a group of Conduits escape from a prison transport, Delsin discovers he has the power to absorb new abilities on contact with other Conduits. Second Son opens on Delsin Rowe, a street-wise punk and a member of the fictional Akomish Native American tribe. Sony's first attempt to rectify this since launch is inFamous: Second Son, but does it live up to the heavy burden placed on its shoulders? Neither platform possesses an exclusive game of the quality most would consider a system seller. While sales remain strong, exclusive software has come in at a trickle at best.

It has been a rough start for Sony and Microsoft's newest platforms.

By Nick Pantazis, posted on 24 March 2014 / 10,929 Views

#Infamous second son sales

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rogueshadeaux · 11 months

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Chapter Eighteen — Tidings

My heart dropped. “Was there another attack?” I whispered. Brent’s head shook slightly. “No. This is Curdun Cay — someone broke out.”

6.7k Words | 30ish min read time | TRIGGER WARNINGS: body horror, you know the drill. Death.

Brent and I took to unpacking casually as we waited for the hours to pass in those two days, meaning Dad’s old bedroom in the basement was now available to move into — which I did as soon as there was enough room on the ground for my bed. Or, had Brent do. I didn’t like the idea of not being on the same level as Brent, as dumb as it sounded; we were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by water and woods. We were safe.

Still, it felt too detached.

Our disappearance from the top level was enough to freak Betty out when she snuck into the house early morning on Christmas Eve, hands tightly gripping a box of doughnuts as she yelled our names down the basement stairwell, panicked.

“Oh, there you two are!” She sighed in relief when our bedroom doors opened and we poked our heads into the hall. “Nearly gave me a heart attack. It’s time to wake up!”

Brent’s bleary eyes met mine as he asked, a bit of annoyance in his voice, “Why?”

Betty took it in stride, throwing her head back to laugh. “You didn’t think I’d let you spend Christmas Eve alone, did you?”

We were coaxed out of the rooms on promises of glazes and chocolate frosting, Betty barely giving us time to wipe the gunk from the corner of our eyes before launching into the itinerary she had pre-planned for us. “I wanted to spend some time with you today, since I’ll give you two and your father space tomorrow. And besides, today is the Christmas Potlatch— it’s about time you learn more about your heritage. You’re going to love it,”

Way she was talking, it seemed like we didn’t have a choice but to.

But she continued on about how there was going to be singing and dancing and music, peeks into a heritage we’ve only just learned about. “There’ll be other kids there too, I promise. The younger ones are actually putting on a show, it’s so cute.” Betty assured us, turning in time to miss Brent’s eye roll — but hearing me smack his arm. Betty spun in place, coffee cup in hand, watching Brent try to take a swipe back at me only for his hand to pass through water.

“You can’t keep doing that, it’s not fair,” Brent chastised, trying his hand at another swing when I solidified. I just stepped out of range this time.

“Oh, get over it,”

Betty ushered us into her little Beetle as soon as we were dressed, taking us to a Longhouse that was alive more than ever with energy as dozens of people flirted through its main breezeway, decorating the Longhouse in a mix of Christmas lights and Akomish style artwork. A pile of props laid on a wheeled stage being pushed to fit in the alcove between Betty’s staircase and the wall, and the smell coming from the kitchen swing doors was divine. “Usually I help out with these things but,” she shrugged, turning the key and unlocking her door, “I want to stay with you both till your father gets back,”

“To be nice, or to babysit?” Brent joked.

Betty’s living room had switched from a comfortable little room to a holiday haven in the two days we were gone; a Christmas tree was shoved in a corner now, lights strung both along it and on the ceiling line of its neighboring walls. The throw pillows on the couch had switched to white and Christmas red flannel, the fire had stockings and garland and a decent collection of nutcrackers. How she did this all on her own in two days was beyond me, considering she was bordering five feet even and old.

“Take off your coats, it’s going to get very warm in here once I start the fire,” Betty insisted, unceremoniously chucking her purse and keys on the small kitchen table.

Apparently, Betty wasn’t done with the spoiling; the Christmas tree had gifts under it somehow, the stockings full. Betty warned us — not that we asked — that there wasn’t as much for us under the tree as it looked. “It’s my first Christmas in a while with your father,” she said, “I have to make up for that, as well.”

And yet I definitely saw at least three separate presents with my name on them as I slipped a tiny, badly folded brown parcel under the tree. She may have been taking the doting grandma thing a bit overboard.

Dad called sometime near one as we finished up with that vintage movie Home Alone, declaring he was officially on the way back — and bringing a friend. “Eugene said he’d be okay with stopping by, so you’ll get to meet him. Or, re-meet him, I guess.” Dad said, an unidentified chuckle following his statement. “He’ll only be here for an hour before heading back to Seattle,”

The Dr. Eugene Sims. Holy shit!

Betty came from her bedroom dressed in what I wouldn’t say was traditional clothing, but definitely had Akomish influence, patterns and prints that reflected the art downstairs. It was enough to distract me as Brent and I had a thumb war for the last gingerbread man, Brent managing to pin my thumb down with a pinching strength that immediately made me whimper “Ah, let go, let go, let go!” I yanked my hand away, the pressure from his grip hurting it further.

Brent at least had the respect to look sorry, saying just as much. “I’m not used to the whole strength thing yet—”

“Well get used to it before you break someone’s hand, Christ.” I shook it out, trying to fling the pain off.

Betty only let this distract her for a moment before declaring, “Alright, Brent, Regina — are you ready to go downstairs? I should make sure no one needs me before the kids’ play starts.”

Brent gave some sound of acknowledgement, standing — and taking the cookie for himself. Bastard won it, I guess. “You know,” I pressed against my knuckles hard in an effort to ease the tension from Brent’s death grip, “I can’t pop my knuckles anymore, ever since the powers kicked in. Is that weird?” I hadn't been able to coax a single joint to pop the last few days. Honestly, some parts of me were so flexible now they'd bend without stressing the joints at all.

Betty led us downstairs, which was now more alive than when we arrived. There was a buzz to the air that made me feel high; elation, camaraderie. I was sure not every person here was related, but god, it didn’t look like it mattered; everyone knew everyone, everyone cared about everyone. Immediate hugs upon recognizing someone, handing over a drink as if they knew the newcomer would be thirsty. People seemed to pinpoint us, knowing we were Dad’s kids — but there wasn’t any staring and whispering. They actually welcomed us, giving smiles in greeting or asking us non-invasive questions about ourselves.

Well, mostly. The conversation would veer to Dad at some point — not in a nosey, fanatical way but in a comfortable and familiar sense. They knew Dad was the hero he is, and they also knew the kid he was. Delsin Rowe just happened to have both titles to himself, in their eyes.

The long-haired guy from the school cafeteria eventually found us — Chaz, apparently — and veered us to a group of kids our actual age, and not the little ones in traditional costumes begging Brent to whip his wings out. I never really did well in new settings, couldn’t take it in stride like Brent could, but Chaz was there to be that connection between me and the rest of the group, making the transition easier until there was no awkwardness at all. We joked and we laughed, so much so that as the Potlatch began and we were ushered to sit in front of the stage to watch the kid’s performance, Brent teased me about it. “God, you could make it less obvious, Jean.”

“What?”

Brent tossed his head back where Chaz and the others still stood, lollygagging since they didn’t have Betty staring at them expectantly. “You and that guy. What’s going on there?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Nothing is going on, dude. He’s just being nice—“

“Yeah, okay, tell him that, ‘cause it sure seems like he thinks there’s something,”

I glanced back as I moved to sit in the chair, catching Chaz’s gaze only for his eyes to immediately flit away. Was there something?

I didn’t get much time to mull over the thought, and didn’t really want to right then; it was Christmas, and everything was still unstable in my life. Chaz was something that could wait for later. For now, it was time to watch the show the elementary and middle school put on, a retelling of the myth of Thunderbird and the Akomish.

Dad wasn’t kidding about the myth; the kids went on to tell a tale of this storm-bringing bird that wished to guard the Akomish from the approaching warbringers, the kids playing this part abandoning the traditional woven and beaded clothing for stark white and mechanical looking outfits, almost like robots. Modernity versus tradition. Entire ways of life were disrupted with this introduction to technology and futurism from the Warbringers, not to mention the famine and death and torture and whatever else. The Akomish called to the Great Spirit for aid in fighting this enemy, and in return, the Great Spirit (played by a kid in a decorated bedsheet standing on the stairs to Betty’s loft) sent the Thunderbird.

The gigantic puppet they made needed five separate kids to man; one for each head, one for each wing, and one for the movement and props. The Thunderbird fought back against the Warbringers with his lightning, smiting those that threatened the innocent and attempted to return the Akomish to their natural, comfortable, familiar way of life. There were cardboard cutouts of lightning strikes painted yellow that the kids would chuck into the crowd to the laughter of the parents sitting in the first few rows, rain sticks wrapped in some aluminum in an attempt to make it sound like rolling thunder. It was precious, creative, and I glanced over at Brent to say as much—

And scowled when I saw he was on his phone.

“Dude, seriously?” I whispered, glaring at him when he looked up. “You’re being a dick,”

“Look,” he ignored my jab entirely, moving the phone closer so I could see his screen.

His phone was silenced as it watched another news feed, except this wasn’t one about Dad; there was a huge hole in the brick of a building, the barbed wire of a retaining wall tangling in itself as it fell from its position, the rest of the wall missing. Smoke was pouring out of the hole, the harsh orange of a fire flickering brightly from within, not put off in the slightest by the downpour.

My heart dropped. “Was there another attack?” I whispered.

Brent’s head shook slightly. “No. This is Curdun Cay — someone broke out.”

Curdun Cay Station was defunct for a total of seven months before the Government reclaimed and rebranded it, naming it the Conduit Detention and Rehabilitation Facility. Everyone still called it Curdun Cay, though. Once all the Conduits were released back into the wild, it didn’t take long for those with bad tendencies to return to crime — or the ones left to sit in the mud without any reparations for their illegal incarceration. What were they supposed to do, starve? Freeze?

The cops quickly realized they couldn’t keep Conduits behind bars, not regular ones, anyways. And with the UN on America’s ass for the experimentation and torture Augustine pulled, reopening Curdun Cay was their ‘compromise’; have a safe place for convicted Conduits, and refurbish the labs and battle arenas into a glorified psych ward to help reform and treat Conduits still suffering from how they were tortured. It was the only bit of resources the Government was willing to give out at first; and considering you had to be inpatient to receive care, and couldn’t be released till a doctor signed off…well, it was just another way to keep a tight leash on Conduits. A prison’s a prison, no matter how you market it.

Well, prison no more, at least not for whoever broke out.

“When did it happen?” I muttered, trying to keep my eyes on the show so I seemed at least semi-into it. Especially when Betty glanced back from her seat in front row.

“I don’t—“ Brent exited the news stream to the update tweet he found it on, scrolling up furiously. “Says last night, like, three in the morning.” He chuffed under his breath, “Congrats and Merry Christmas to whoever got outta there,”

I understood why we needed Curdun Cay, in some ways. Bad people deserve jail, and I mean, what’s to stop them when they can escape again and again? But with how easy it was to end up in prison, how judges seemed to tack on harsher sentences and how Conduits seemed to get Baker Acted more than any other person…well, I just hope it was someone who deserved their freedom. “Yeah,” I hummed, elbowing him after a moment. “Put it away,”

“Ow, no need to be an ass,” he muttered, shoving his phone back in his jean pocket.

The kids blew forward with their little play while we chatted, diving straight into the drama of the Thunderbird’s tale; the Warbringers could be postponed, but stayed close on the horizon, always looming over the Akomish as a threat. The Warbringers would respond to the Akomish’s assaults with their own, rocks traded for lasers in the form of a bunch of little NERF darts shooting their way across the stage to the kids’ glee, taking two minutes for the cast to wind down enough to continue their story. Even when told by a bunch of kids coached by someone standing on the side of the stage and narrating in a flat tone, it still was an interesting one. Especially when the Warbringers released their own avenger, the Bull.

The Bull was another puppet with silvered skin and RGB lights set to red in its cracks, steam managing to come out of its pierced nose. There seemed to be a bunch more kids under it by the not-so-quiet whispering as the Bull confronted the Thunderbird for the first time, managing to strike him from the sky with spits of flame upon their first meet.

Thunderbird now not only needed to protect his people, but defeat the Bull and find some sort of long-term solution with the Warbringers. Not to mention the hurt to his ego, failing in front of his people. He needed to be stronger and better prepared if he was to take on the Bull, so he embarked on a journey to Black Tusk Mountain, where the answers would lie once summer solstice brought the warm winds back.

Thunderbird didn’t find winds, but change in the form of a teacher, the Spirit of the same vengeful fire the Bull was birthed from. The Spirit of Black Tusk mountain was a warning; change was inevitable. This Spirit fought against the change and risked their people in the process, completely wiping them out. Thunderbird was going to have to not find a path to victory, but a form of harmony, lest he risk the lives of the Akomish he’s been tasked with protecting.

Thunderbird didn’t accept the warning at first, instead strengthening itself with a blessing ritual and returning to confront the Bull once more. Thunderbird rallied his people for another battle and dove into it on stronger lightning bolts and louder thunder, seeming victorious as the heat from his strikes brought the Bull to its knees, holes exposed in its tough armor via little hole flaps the kids under the puppet pulled back. And for a moment, it seemed like the Akomish survived with minimal casualties, and the Thunderbird won.

Until the Bull rose again.

I don’t know what they used to make those terrible metal-grinding sounds, but the kids played the part of a damaged automaton on a rampage beautifully. The screeches that made Brent cringe, the consistent stomping on the stage that they timed together so six pairs of feet hit the ground at once — it even felt like the Longhouse itself was shaking.

It’s when the kids on stage stopped and glanced at the crowd that I realized it was.

“Aren’t we on a fault line?” I asked as the last of the trembling stopped. It was minor, I wouldn’t have even noticed it if it wasn’t pointed out. The kids could have blown past the instance honestly.

Brent just shrugged.

The kids were prompted to return to the story, the Bull continuing its rampage as it began to take the lives of dozens. Thunderbird fought back to protect them as well as he could, releasing bolt after bolt on a thunderous cry. The rain stick rattled again and again from the ensemble’s hiding spot under Betty’s stairs, finally dying off as the Thunderbird did the most egregious thing he could — he left. Wounded beyond belief and actively scared of the Bull’s strength, Thunderbird fled for Black Tusk, ashamed that he couldn’t even do the one thing he was tasked with. The kids played into this, dropping the wings of their puppet and opening both breaks of the Thunderbird for a thundering cry.

The sound though, came from outside, a screech of its own as it sounded like something rattled.

That caught everyone’s attention, parents looking around in confusion. The kids stopped again too, and by the way they reacted, I knew it wasn’t something they managed to pull with the acoustics of the Longhouse. “The fuck?” Brent muttered beside me.

“Leftover stuff from the earthquake?” I hazarded on a whisper, catching Betty’s eyes. She didn’t look any more knowledgeable, giving me a quizzical look.

“Earthquakes don’t make noise, but what if the Sound is doing something?” Brent pulled my attention away from Betty as he continued, “Can’t they get tsunamis up here?”

I looked at him like he was an idiot. “Dude that was hardly an earthquake, I doubt it’d do something like that,”

Brent shrugged, actually scooting down his seat a bit. “I’m gonna go check, c’mon.”

He didn’t give me the liberty of letting me protest, standing and quietly making his excuses as he squeezed past the people in the row. It didn’t take long for me to decide to follow — if something was wrong with the Sound, wouldn’t it be better for the water Conduit to be there? The kids hadn’t started their play back up yet and the parents were still swiveling their heads around like the answer to the curiosities were etched in the Longhouse’s support beams, so I probably wouldn’t miss much anyways.

Brent speed-walked towards the exit, leaving me to practically jog to catch up as he opened one of the double doors and looked back, rolling his eyes. “God, why are you so slow?”

“I have smaller legs!”

“Stop being short.”

I debated on spraying him with a jet of water like a naughty cat as we rounded the corner of the Longhouse to the side porch, overlooking the Sound. It was a foggy day, and we were barely able to see beyond where the high tide met rock — but we were able to see where the water lapped away, and I pointed to it. “See? It’s fine,”

Brent leaned over the wood posts a bit, as if unsure that it was actually water. So to assure him, I waved my hand up, a little waterspout shooting away from the sound and hitting the bit of forehead that eclipsed the edge of the rock, making him yelp and flinch back.

I burst out laughing, earning a glare from Brent after he came to and readjusted his beanie. “You’re gonna stop doing that.” He threatened, face still as stone as I continued laughing. Sure, I may have pushed too far, but it was absolutely hilarious.

Nonetheless I forced the chuckle down, opening my mouth to instead apologize because his scowl was just a little too hard, when something cracked in the fog hovering above the Sound.

It was like the sound Tesla coils make when they zap the air, only somehow sharper and more pristine, and accompanied by a bright flash. There were a few people with us on the Longhouse’s wrap-around porch; parents on a smoke break, a few guys removing headdresses and props from the bed of a truck, and they all turned to face the bay as well, curious.

The scowl melted off of Brent’s face as the words died in my throat, both of us turning eastward in time to see more flashes, the zaps playing off of each other until the entire Sound lit up like a firework, brighter than midday despite the sun setting. “Brent?” I asked, not even sure what I was asking for.

But he answered, “I know,” on a whisper, hands gripping the wood posts. “Do you think it’s ice?”

Now that I thought about it, it did kinda sound like ice settling. “Can’t be,” I shook my head, turning to face the waters. “Why would there be lights?”

The flashing continued in the fog, zaps that seemed to try and talk over one another as they cracked somewhere far off on the Sound, the noise echoing in on itself into this cacophony that made my eardrums pulse.

And then it all stopped. Every zap, every flash, all of it died off and threw the Sound back into that eerie silence the pillowy snow caused as it ate up noise. I didn’t even breathe; I was waiting for the next movement, another sound. Maybe we were being anxious for no reason, and it was some sort of Christmas fireworks show. Did Seattle do that sort of thing? Were we even facing Seattle?

The people outside with us managed to find their way to the Longhouse’s porch too, layering in beside Brent and I as we all watched beyond the fog, waiting for who would blink first. The only light now was from the sun hidden away in the clouds, and the lighthouse just a few dozen yards off shore.

“What the hell…” Brent drew off, eyes squinting. “Can you do anything about the fog?”

I peered into it in that way that was still all too new to me, the water molecules lighting up as well as they could in the sea of sparkling frozen. “I can thin it out a bit,” I offered, “Some of it’s frost, though,”

Brent gave some hum of acknowledgement as I pulled my water out of seemingly nowhere, streams of it running down the folds of my leather jacket as more pooled up from underneath, all becoming sleeves that the people around us gasped at. “She’s one too,” I heard someone whisper off to our right, not doing much to stop Brent from shooting a glare their way.

It kinda felt like the sleeves were unnecessary, if I’m being honest, but I guess I wasn’t the one that made the rules; they stayed clung to me as I raised my hands and began to will the vapor in the air to move, pulling it down from its levitation to the Sound. Once those would leave, the frozen were bound to disappear just as quickly, and it’d clear up so we’d have a better view of what was going on.

For now, though, we gained visibility inch by inch, the Sound seemingly taking its sweet time in revealing itself to us. Someone over on Brent’s opposite side began trying to ask me a question, something no one registered as he was immediately hushed because off in the Sound came a new noise: a whistle. I pushed my hands forward in an effort to thin the air faster, proverbially gripping the moisture and yanking my hands down towards the Sound, the vapor visibly following my pull.

And as the last of the fog dipped into the Sound and only the frosty air remained, it revealed a gigantic black mass hurtling straight towards us at a speed I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop in time.

“Shit!” Brent yelled as the people around us began to panic, trying to outrun the thing. Luckily, the bulk of it wasn’t going to impact us; it left its arch in the air quickly, rotating on itself again and again as it slammed into the brick of the lighthouse, both shattering on impact. It gave people time to scatter back and kept little more than rubble shooting our way, but definitely still was going to hurt.

Brent’s arms went silver as mine dried up and he grabbed my arm with one hand, the grip of his fingers bound to leave bruises with how hard he tugged me to the ground. He punched the wood of the elevated porch and something under it shook, thick bars of steel shooting up in front of us to create a barrier. I shielded my head despite not having a need to, the effort doing nothing to keep the horrible scraping sound of the rubble hitting steel from reverberating in my skull. Brent was there, steeled arms cold as could be as his hold went from on my arm to around me, trying to keep me in the small space of the shielding as dirt and snow and dust and brick and wood chips blew up around us.

There were screams, though I couldn’t really pay them any attention from where I was. The Longhouse doors were thrown open so roughly I heard them smack against the wood wall, voices multiplying as they yelled in alarm. Everything began to settle around us, at least enough for Brent to release me and look around, arms regaining skin.

People were rushing out of the Longhouse now, looking at us when they first came out and then beyond to the destroyed lighthouse, eyes glancing at the rubble in between. There was so much; shattered brick and leftover glass sprinkled in between the splintered wood from Brent’s barrier. “How much more of the Longhouse do you plan on destroying?” I joked as well as I could, voice shaky.

Brent mostly ignored me, only bothering to shoot me a brief glare before standing straight to look over his cover at the thinned fog, eyes squinted. I stayed level with his knees; if there was something else, he had a nice metal shell to hide in. I didn’t, and didn’t feel like trying to risk the possibility of being speared by whatever just flew towards us.

What did fly towards us? I looked around for the shatterings from whatever hit the lighthouse, not many making it past the initial impact — most of it seemed to have sunk into the Sound. But there, a bit in front of me, was a piece of it sitting in the debris of some wood, and I shifted to my knees to crawl the few spaces to where it laid, my hand shaking a bit when I went to pick it up.

Brent must’ve seen me move to grab it, asking, “Do you know what it is?” without turning away from the Sound. There was this weird crunching sound echoing off the top of the water, like something was consistently being pulled apart and placed back together again, grinding on itself with the effort.

I stood, moving to place my body back behind the cover Brent made, eyes constantly shifting between the Sound and what was in my hand. “Some sort of rock? I don’t know,” I shrugged. It was black and porous, and while it looked familiar, I wasn’t exactly a geologist. If anyone would have any idea what it was, it was Brent — and that was a hard maybe.

I nudged him with my elbow, Brent taking a moment to willingly look away from the Sound to take the pebble I offered him. The crunching from the Sound was louder now, closer, shadows of something beginning to become outlined in the frosted fog. It looked like a platform, some huge pier that was constantly shifting, inching itself closer to us.

“This isn’t rock,” Brent muttered, bringing it a little closer to his face to double check. The ground was beginning to vibrate now as whatever was happening in the shadows of the mist reached down into the Sound, piercing the silt to stay steady. I could feel the perversion, the way the waters rejected the touch. It was weird. Flipping the pebble over once to look at the other side, he began to shake his head – and his face actually paled. “This isn’t rock,” he repeated, meeting my eyes, “This…this is concrete.”

Just then, the fog physically split as another sharp spire of black, of concrete, shot out of it, better angled this time. It spun like a bullet for the Longhouse, slicing straight through the Thunderbird posted atop of it and crippling him in his flight, sending him sprawling towards the crowd of kids and their parents trying to flee the Longhouse. Betty was there, flinching, and Chaz too, holding some small girl close to his chest and crouching low. "My little sister’s in the play," he had offhandedly mentioned to me, "Wants to be an actress when she grows up."

“Look out!” I shouted, the water gauntlets slipping back on with ease. I pushed my arms forward, the rings of waves around my arms becoming spouts as they shot off into the air, gathering every piece of water vapor they could in the rush towards the falling debris and forcing them to liquify. The puddle became a pool as I made a barrier between the fleeing people and the remains of the Thunderbird, catching them in my levitating basin.

God, I wasn’t expecting to feel the strain of the catch; my arms quivered as the weight of this gigantic wood sculpture settled in my pool of water, and I grunted out in an effort to keep it up. Most people understood this was their chance to make a break for it and ran without a second glance, but there were others just frozen in fear, watching the splinterings of wood and concrete float above them. Chaz glanced at the floating water above him in disbelief, looking over to where I stood with wide eyes, still frozen in place.

“Go!” I demanded on a strained scream. Brent cursed behind me and there was suddenly more shaking in the ground, making my concentration break further. My arms began to tremble with the weight, and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to hold everything much longer. Holy hell, it felt like lifting a tree. “Move!”

Chaz nodded feverishly, readjusting his hold on his little sister and standing, spinning in place and running away towards the road.

Pulling a bit more water from wherever it was stored on me, I pushed my arms up like I was lifting something, the basin beginning to drip into the crowd of fleeing people as more stampeded out of the Longhouse. I threw my hands sideways, the remains of the Thunderbird taking its final flight towards the cliffedge before shattering just short of the grass, peppering the parking lot with the woodchips.

Brent had gone to work extending his barrier between us and the Sound, the layerings of rectangular steel embedded deep in the rock just in front of the Longhouse and reaching seven feet up. Betty was at his side as his shimmering steel aura disappeared from his arms, demanding, “What on Earth is happening?”

I moved to shrug, the motion dying on my shoulders as there was a sudden shout from beyond the barrier Brent put up.

“Where is Rowe?!” The voice demanded, the anger in her screech carrying her voice easily over the chaos on this side of the wall. Some people froze, some stayed running — but it seemed like everyone managed to shoot us a glance. There was another grinding sound and the ground began to shake again. “Where is he?!”

The grinding became accompanied by a harsh slamming sound as the concrete stacked on itself, the absolute tower she was making quickly becoming visible over our wall. I’d never seen anything like it; spires shot out diagonally to make the outlinings of a pyramid but abandoned the project midway through, instead forming tiered platforms. In lieu of a pointed top there was a flat podium barely five feet across, and standing there with pristine black sci-fi looking armor over a bright orange jumpsuit was Brooke Augustine, angry sleeves of concrete swirling rapidly around her arms.

“She’s the one that broke out,” I breathed, looking at Brent. He sorta tucked himself closer against the wall he made, looking between Betty and I.

Betty, while she was a bit scared, was mostly absolutely pissed. “That trot,” I heard her growl under her breath. I half expected her to go grab her stapler and chuck it at Augustine’s head.

“What do we do?” Brent asked. “She’s looking for Dad,”

Dad, who wasn’t here.

I peeked at the huge structure she made through gaps in Brent’s impromptu fence; she had to be like, thirty yards away. Maybe twenty, I’m not sure, I’m terrible at guessing distance. Either way, she was far enough to put herself well into the Sound, the ends of her crazy build diving deep into the water.

The ground shook again, and gigantic concrete spikes began shooting out of the parking lot’s surface, cutting off running Akomish and throwing cars that were parked. She was herding everyone that remained, the concrete barrier growing up and curving in so it couldn’t even be climbed. Brent yanked me close to the wall, Betty too, helping tuck us out of her view as she continued her yelling. “I will kill someone for every minute it takes for him to face me!”

And Dad wasn’t here.

My mind ran a mile a minute as I tried to think of what to do. She sounded furious, probably seeking vengeance for the whole jail thing against Dad — especially now that he was back. How did she get out? That armor looked way too high tech; it had a bluish glow in its crevices like it was mechanical, channeling that anger into energy as the cement around her arms spun faster.

She put a hand out and tensed it, and people in the crowd in front of the Longhouse began screaming; a man partially dressed in traditional costume collapsed as the skin on his body crawled. Ridges and edges threatened to pierce his skin from the inside out, thickening the muscle underneath as the movement crawled from his appendages to his torso.

It was like watching a horror movie; he tried to scratch the pain away so roughly little pockets of burst capillaries stained his skin, peeling apart slowly as sharp edges of concrete pushed through the perforation. He tried screaming but couldn’t as his throat began to block out, blood pushing out of his mouth. There was movement behind the yellow textiles on his vest before those too were ripped apart as spires of cement shot out of both his chest and his back, pinning his limp corpse right there in the middle of the parking lot.

“Oh my god,” I shot my hands over my mouth. His blood mixed with the gross black tar that held her cement together, dripping into a pool below his partially suspended body. Oh god. I was gonna vomit.

Brent looked as queasy as I felt, the contours of his face going a bit green. Nonetheless his jaw steeled, and he said, “We’ve gotta do something, she’s gonna kill everyone here.”

Including us, and I wasn’t looking forward to figuring out if my Conduit healing would reverse that.

Yanking my phone out of my pocket, I looked at the time: 4:07. Dad called a little over three hours ago, he had to be close. I knew what had to happen, and I hated it — but it was the only way to make sure everyone else stayed safe. “Call Dad,” I said to Brent. “Tell him she’s here. I can — I can go out, distract her—“

“Alone?” Brent demanded. “Are you fucking insane?”

“She’s in water, Brent,” I pointed to the barrier beside me as if it wasn’t there. “I have the best chance of keeping her preoccupied—“

“And if she overpowers you?” Brent shook his head. “No, you can’t go out there—“

“If I don’t then everyone here’s gonna—“ I cut off, looking at the body. “They’re gonna die, Brent.”

He looked at the corpse too — only for a moment, because the green in his face darkened almost immediately. It took him a hard inhale to lift his eyes again, this time looking at Betty. “Is there anywhere in the Longhouse they can hide? A basement or something?”

Betty shook her head, unable to look away from the body. There was a grief to her face that made my stomach flip in a whole new way. “N-no,” she finally said. “Just my loft a-and the other rooms you saw.”

Brent cursed, thinking hard. The Akomish would be trapped even if they tried to hide in the Longhouse. His eyes met mine, and I knew we were thinking the same thing.

I spun in place, gripping Betty by the elbow. “Call our Dad, okay? Take everyone in the Longhouse once we’ve got her distracted and tell them to find somewhere to hide.” Dad and Dr. Sims were supposed to be here soon; we just had to hold her off until then.

“Fuck, we’re actually doing this,” I heard Brent mutter behind me.

From beyond the wall, Augustine screamed, “Clock’s ticking, Rowe!” She was going to kill someone else soon if we didn’t get out there.

She was in the Sound; I had a shot against her. Brent was the defense to my offense, and could probably land some good blows with his steel. He’d be in a dangerous position — no natural drain source, and I still wasn’t sure if he’d sink or swim — but so long as he stayed in my domain, I’d make sure he stayed safe. We just had to hold her off, Dad had to be close.

Betty didn’t look pleased at all. “You both can’t go out there, it’s too dangerous—“

“Remember that talk you gave me?” I asked. “Hide or stand up and help? We have to stand if we wanna keep anyone else from dying. Call. Dad.” I insisted, letting go of her elbow.

There was a crack beyond the wall, and another whistle as a bomb of concrete was released. It shot through the air like a missile aiming for the crowd, shattering upon impact. Shards exploded in every direction, and there were more screams — but luckily, nothing worse than cuts and bruises. For now.

Betty nodded, Brent saying something about walking along the barrier we set and sneaking to the Longhouse’s side entrance which was at an angle Augustine wouldn’t be able to see. I don’t know, I wasn’t really listening; I unlocked my phone and opened my messages, the string of texts between Dad and I, the only chat there. He’d sent me a picture of the vintage chest I used to hoard my journals and pens and stuff in, shoved in the very back of the truck’s bed. I hadn’t gotten to respond because he called immediately after with the news that he and Dr. Sims were on the way.

As Betty begged us to stay safe and began a hobbled gait along the steel wall, my thumbs flew across the keyboard, typing out and sending “i love you” before I released my grip on the phone and let it fall into the snow pile at my feet. I wasn’t going to drown this phone. I promised Dad I wouldn’t.

“There’s a lot of pollution in the Sound,” I told Brent. “If I can find anything steel, I’ll throw it up for you — if not, I’ll cover you while you retreat. Use that pavilion Dad took us to yesterday,”

Brent nodded, his ashen face disappearing as steel overtook his skin, securing him in his armored mimicry. “You ready?” He asked.

No. “Yeah,”

“Alright,” he turned to the wall. “Let’s do this.”

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