Post by Maverick on Nov 29, 2022 15:41:23 GMT
before In the Flesh
The first thing he hears is the loud blare of a horn.
Then comes the rest of the sounds that he had come to shut out. Strangely enough, a mouse could have run up to him stirred him from his slumber. But the wheels rhythmic churning of a couple hundred tons faded into the background. His eyes opened to be greeted with machinery he hardly recognized. Jackal's turned ever so slightly to the side and he saw the rapidly passing blur of train tracks rapidly passing him not even a foot away. He at his hands and feet, which were preoccupied with holding fast to said machinery.
After a few seconds, he remembered himself to be underneath one of a freight trains many cars. For many, it was a lot harder to board trains these days. New cars like the one above him were locked up tightly or only had small spaces where one could perhaps find room enough for a sizeable man to crawl people. People had cracked down on it particularly in the 90s in particular. At least in the Americas from what he understood. But there were hardly any measures put in place for someone like him.
One hand moved. Followed by another foot. And then another hand and his other foot. He crawled from underneath the train like something of a lizard, his hand finding the flat surface of the train's side before the rest of his body. Vaan Der Waals forces activated on his hands. And soon he found his bare skin able to crawl along the train's side like a spider. He had shoes on and they prevented his feet from doing the same. And yet Jackal seemed to have no difficult simply propelling himself along the entirety's side using only his arms to sustain his own weight. He prevented any contact of anything. Once his hands reached the edge of the roof, he casually launched himself up a few feet into the air.
And then he landed on the roof. And like a tiger which had departed it's den, Jackal began to stretch. With spikey hair and blood red eyes, Jackal looked quite a lot like an Albino. And yet the sun seemed to do nothing to him. He wore a simple tracksuit with the zipper open. Underneath was a form fitting, black compression shirt beneath. And finally a loose set of baggy track pants and beat up tennis shoes. All of which seemed to be almost in tatters. Bullet holes that allowed one to peak into unblemished skin. Burns from beams that shows untinged biceps. And scrapes on his back from sliding along asphalt. The soles of his shoes practically melted off.
Jackal's eyes looked leisurely into the blurry forests the train sped through what he surmised was probably still the west coast. Likely speeding through somewhere in the California Wilderness and on the way to texas. Orange, yellow and otherwise autumn leaves fell all about him. The background changed constantly, from dense brush. To a view of hilly, uneven landscape on the distance dotted with a vast stretches of forest that went until it found less than hospital stone mountains. The train cars themselves carried various forms of intermodal cargo, ready to be plucked and moved via other means. From refrigerated cargo crates full, to tubes of concrete and a giant gas tank farther off in the back that read "FLAMMABLE". The train moved at speeds of a car at the moment. A leisurely speed by his standards as the wind rushed through his spikey hair. With the tuning of his hearing, he could detect that for now there were only about two people for now. A conductor and an engineer. Most trains didn't need much more. Though knows when it -ould stop?
Such a thing would a bridge he'd reach when he got to it.
The world slowed down before his very eyes. And his hand moved forward in a jab like motion with an outstretched arm. A single had plucked a falling leaf with two fingers. And it crumpled. His expression remained neutral and unfettered, as his eyes moved to search for a new target. He let go of the pieces of the first leaf. And then moved on to catch another. And another. And another. His hands becoming a blur as he ambidextrously switched stances. Throwing quick jabs through the movement of mostly only extending the arm and shoulder. His hands open for a time measurable in milliseconds. As he plucked more and more leaves out of the air. When complete -- he looked into his palms.
This time, every single autumn leaf was intact. A subtle smile grew on Jackal's face. As he let the all the leaves go. Fluttering behind him.
The Self-Made Monster then took it upon himself to take a seat with his legs crossed to allow himself a fairly stable position. And he took to inspecting his own clothes. And he ran his hand along it, he repaired and mended it as much as one could. Seamless, fabric seemed to knit together with but his touch. The soles of his shoes were mend to some extend. They didn't seem to grow back without any mass. They were merely remade with what mass was available. The process took around minute before his mind had been freed up.
Jackal's eyes surveyed the landscape. Taking to the train was not a calculated move. It was one done in the moment. He'd no idea where the train was going to end up. There was no research or anything for the man who didn't even have a phone to his name. And so his eyes simply scanned the surrounding landscape and wondered two simple questions: One was where exactly was he going? And two was who was he going fight next?
One deep breath in. And another breath out.
The first thing he hears is the loud blare of a horn.
Then comes the rest of the sounds that he had come to shut out. Strangely enough, a mouse could have run up to him stirred him from his slumber. But the wheels rhythmic churning of a couple hundred tons faded into the background. His eyes opened to be greeted with machinery he hardly recognized. Jackal's turned ever so slightly to the side and he saw the rapidly passing blur of train tracks rapidly passing him not even a foot away. He at his hands and feet, which were preoccupied with holding fast to said machinery.
After a few seconds, he remembered himself to be underneath one of a freight trains many cars. For many, it was a lot harder to board trains these days. New cars like the one above him were locked up tightly or only had small spaces where one could perhaps find room enough for a sizeable man to crawl people. People had cracked down on it particularly in the 90s in particular. At least in the Americas from what he understood. But there were hardly any measures put in place for someone like him.
One hand moved. Followed by another foot. And then another hand and his other foot. He crawled from underneath the train like something of a lizard, his hand finding the flat surface of the train's side before the rest of his body. Vaan Der Waals forces activated on his hands. And soon he found his bare skin able to crawl along the train's side like a spider. He had shoes on and they prevented his feet from doing the same. And yet Jackal seemed to have no difficult simply propelling himself along the entirety's side using only his arms to sustain his own weight. He prevented any contact of anything. Once his hands reached the edge of the roof, he casually launched himself up a few feet into the air.
And then he landed on the roof. And like a tiger which had departed it's den, Jackal began to stretch. With spikey hair and blood red eyes, Jackal looked quite a lot like an Albino. And yet the sun seemed to do nothing to him. He wore a simple tracksuit with the zipper open. Underneath was a form fitting, black compression shirt beneath. And finally a loose set of baggy track pants and beat up tennis shoes. All of which seemed to be almost in tatters. Bullet holes that allowed one to peak into unblemished skin. Burns from beams that shows untinged biceps. And scrapes on his back from sliding along asphalt. The soles of his shoes practically melted off.
Jackal's eyes looked leisurely into the blurry forests the train sped through what he surmised was probably still the west coast. Likely speeding through somewhere in the California Wilderness and on the way to texas. Orange, yellow and otherwise autumn leaves fell all about him. The background changed constantly, from dense brush. To a view of hilly, uneven landscape on the distance dotted with a vast stretches of forest that went until it found less than hospital stone mountains. The train cars themselves carried various forms of intermodal cargo, ready to be plucked and moved via other means. From refrigerated cargo crates full, to tubes of concrete and a giant gas tank farther off in the back that read "FLAMMABLE". The train moved at speeds of a car at the moment. A leisurely speed by his standards as the wind rushed through his spikey hair. With the tuning of his hearing, he could detect that for now there were only about two people for now. A conductor and an engineer. Most trains didn't need much more. Though knows when it -ould stop?
Such a thing would a bridge he'd reach when he got to it.
The world slowed down before his very eyes. And his hand moved forward in a jab like motion with an outstretched arm. A single had plucked a falling leaf with two fingers. And it crumpled. His expression remained neutral and unfettered, as his eyes moved to search for a new target. He let go of the pieces of the first leaf. And then moved on to catch another. And another. And another. His hands becoming a blur as he ambidextrously switched stances. Throwing quick jabs through the movement of mostly only extending the arm and shoulder. His hands open for a time measurable in milliseconds. As he plucked more and more leaves out of the air. When complete -- he looked into his palms.
This time, every single autumn leaf was intact. A subtle smile grew on Jackal's face. As he let the all the leaves go. Fluttering behind him.
The Self-Made Monster then took it upon himself to take a seat with his legs crossed to allow himself a fairly stable position. And he took to inspecting his own clothes. And he ran his hand along it, he repaired and mended it as much as one could. Seamless, fabric seemed to knit together with but his touch. The soles of his shoes were mend to some extend. They didn't seem to grow back without any mass. They were merely remade with what mass was available. The process took around minute before his mind had been freed up.
Jackal's eyes surveyed the landscape. Taking to the train was not a calculated move. It was one done in the moment. He'd no idea where the train was going to end up. There was no research or anything for the man who didn't even have a phone to his name. And so his eyes simply scanned the surrounding landscape and wondered two simple questions: One was where exactly was he going? And two was who was he going fight next?
One deep breath in. And another breath out.
