So the whole idea of this is that there aren't actually superheros running through the city of Charleston, South Carolina. Instead, it is simply normal people with rare and fantastic disorders that makes it seem as though they have powers. For instance, my character will have CIPA Disease, which makes the individual unable to feel pain or sweat, along with ADHD. Basically makes him wired up at all times and tough as shit. Almost like a superhero…..but not quite.
Oooh! May I join!
My character could have schizophrenia but for some reason, it's just information about the people around them!
I. Love. That. Idea!
UwU!
I already have a starter typed up in a different tab. Are you willing to go in blind?
Sure!
"Taxi!" Emitt shouted, sticking his left thumb out as he wiped his eyes clear of the rain with his right.
The monsoon had came out of nowhere, caused by the warm Atlantic waters mixing with a cold front that had rushed it's way in from Northern Canada all the way down to the cost line of the lower Carolina State, creating a downpour of rain with the water pressure of a fancy house's shower. Finally, his eyes spotted a pair of headlights fighting it's way though the wall of water, followed by the rough outline of a vehicle as it pulled up the street.
Something caught his attention from across the street, and a quick glace revealed it was a figure who looked just as unprepared as he did for the rain. He didn't even check the weather before leaving the house in a simple Dri-Fit T-Shirt and athletic shorts, expecting a warm and humid day that never did come. He was horrible at predicting the weather, but always forgot to check it.
"Uh, excuse me!" he shouted over the platplatplat of the rain as the taxi pulled up on the curb beside him, "You can ride with me in the taxi if you'd like!"
Blake was hugging himself in the rain, his black sweatshirt and pants soaked. He thought it was supposed to be warm today, not pouring. He was walking home when he heard the man telling him he could share the taxi.
Name, Emitt.
His mind started.
"Ay, buddy!" the taxi driver said, sliding the window down barely a crack. "I ain't got all day."
Emitt opened the backdoor and climbed in as fast as he could, happy to see that the seats were leather.
"You want me to wait for the guy over there?" the driver asked.
"Yeah," Emitt said, "If you don't mind."
"Thanks!" He called out, running over to the taxi and slipping in. "Sorry for that. I thought it would be warm today." Blake laughed sheepishly, turning to Emmit and sticking out his hand. "I'm Blake Winters."
Emitt took the hand and shook it. A quick glance at the man's knuckles made it obvious that he'd just been in a fight. Almost every knuckle was either bruised or cut.
"I'm Emitt Locke, but my friends call me Twitch," he said, pulling his hand back and slipping both of them in his pockets.
Blake stopped himself from saying 'I already knew that'.
"Are you alright?" He asked the man, head tilted towards the cuts and bruises on his knuckles. Fight, at most two people. He won or fled. Bruises on left shoulder.
He rolled his tongue around in his mouth, contemplating the best way to spin the story. Nobody ever really believed him when he spoke of his typical antics, but he figured why the hell not? This guy was a complete stranger.
"I was in a fight with a couple fellas that decided a woman's bag would be better suited in their hands," he explained.
"Oh." Blake nodded, thought so.
"Did you win or run?" He added on to his acknowledgment. "And did you get the purse back to the lady?"
(Sorry this is all I can write rn.)
"I got the purse back to the lady," he said, rubbing his knuckles. "Whether I won or lost is kind of hard to tell."
"Where you two going?" the driver asked, rolling his eyes at the conversation.
"The McDonald's on 5th street," Emitt said, handing a wet 20 dollar bill through the barrier that separated the front seat from the backseat.
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