drop the blue spoon at dawn. [open]
He had thought to humor the idea of living in a community full of “his own kind”. Côte Céleste, it was called, or so, that’s what the man in the letter addressed this little place as. At first glance, the little community was quaint, quiet, the only source of life as of now were the newcomers flowing in from the ports and stations, himself included. He had come overseas.
The more he thought of it, the more it frustrated him, why he made the decision to come here in the first place. Back home, back in his place of study, he felt superior to the others; his “gift” made him such. Adding on to his high intelligence was the conditional strength to push past human limits. With the right preparations, he could overcome almost anyone back home. The thought made his mind’s lips curl with a sense of pleasure. The thought of being a superior in every aspect— no. Such thoughts were interrupted by his past failures— reason enough for his move here to be justified. Everyone knew his “face”, the lunatic scientist the Professor had thwarted many a times. Perhaps here, he would be an unknown once again, able to work without drawing attention, able to go about his research without the automatic assumption of doing no good.
When has he ever done wrong, he wondered? All he wished to do, at the latest point, was study an ancient “urban legend” of a city. That’s it, nothing more.
To outsiders, or those involved somehow, their viewpoints differed vastly. In Descole’s eyes, he was no criminal, no one with true malicious intent; just a passionate scientist and researcher.
His grasp tight on his bearings, Descole took his first step into the quaint community. Clean, quiet, just as he’d guess before. There wasn’t a single hint of familiarity, no reminders of the stigmas Descole bore in London. This is promising, a start of a new life without these stigmas, without the automatic assumption of him being a scheming criminal. Truth be told, the “scheming” aspect of this claim was fairly accurate.
A greeting, so soon? From the size of the area, he wouldn’t push past the idea of friendly neighbors. He glanced to the stranger, brows perked behind the mask.
He went on and on, introducing himself as “Crow” (already strange), offering to be a guide. Was he sure if he would even accept a stranger’s hand of aid? His pride needed to be swallowed at some point or another.
“Well, Crow, was it? Could you tell me the way to Wrest Street? I could bear my own from that point onwards”
Crow had an interesting past.
Abandoned by his parents for the powers he had, which in reality, weren’t even that shocking. He could move a little faster than others, big deal. But his parents hadn’t cared, seeing him as something that would only bring them shame and unwanted attention, and left him behind. He saw it as no matter and lived on his own, creating the Black Ravens to make up the family he wasn’t able to have. Everything had been wonderful with them. They’d figured out a successful system for running their black market, and none of the kids minded that Crow had these powers. In fact, they looked up to him for them. Made him their leader for it. All this had done was boosted Crow’s self confidence, boosted his desire to want to continue on with his life everyday.
There was one day in particular that had been incredibly successful. He’d heard of another man in his town with powers like his, and went to investigate further. He watched the man, and noticed as through the power of music, he became stronger. Alright, interesting, whatever. What was more interesting was the immense wealth displayed in his home. Crow made a note of that, and moved on.
The next couple of days were filled of news of a scientist that would be showing off an invention of his in the square. Crow attended, simply because he was curious, and was surprised to find that the scientist was the man he’d seen before. He watched as the man was laughed at, jeered at for his creation, and thought to be a liar. Though there was the slightest twinge of sympathy for him, what he cared for more than anything was his wealth, and when he had heard even further of the things this scientist had done, thwarted by another, well. That in his eyes was all the more reason to have him as a target.
With the Ravens he organized a break into his home, where they stole a couple of things they’d be able to sell well on the Black Market. They’d been successful in stealing a couple of artifacts, and when Crow had returned later on to see the man’s reaction, he’d laughed at how angry he’d gotten. Laughed at him in general, why he wasn’t sure. Later on, when this man tried to level the city with one of his creations, Crow had played a part in bringing him down.
He did not know fate would bring him to this man once again.
He didn’t recognize him at first, and offered his help, but when the man responded, it took everything Crow had not to let out a yelp of surprise now that he’d recognized him. It was that man. Descole.
It seemed he didn’t remember him. How could he, when they’d never met face to face?
“Yes that’s right, Crow’s my name. What’s yours?” He said as he walked in front of him. Had to play it cool. “Wrest Street you say? Why that’s where I live!” Goodness no. Bloody hell. “Duplex 4000, in fact. Perhaps we’re neighbours.”
He started to walk ahead of him, showing him the way, but there was a sinking feeling in his stomach….