kitsuja: White shield overlaid with an orange chevron set above a larger blue chevron. (Default)
Flash of Lightning: Bolt Action, the action show star, has been cast in many movies and productions over his time as an actor. He enjoys the challenges, and the opportunity it gives him to exercise his real talent in the realm of flight -- doing the stunts most others would find impossible due to danger. The only problem with his role as an actor is that he is always cast as a villain. In his latest film, he is once more the villain of the story. But when ponies start to go missing on set, and bloody scenes of horror meant to be fake turn into reality, will Bolt be able to survive long enough to discover who is behind the grisly activities in Los Pegasus?
 
 
Chapter 1:
 
 
The pegasus stood stoicly over the body of his latest victim, the leather bindings around each of his hooves securing a set of nasty blades to his limbs. The blades on his front right hoof dripped blood as he extended it over the body towards the only other pony in the room.
 
"Game's over, girl," came his gravelly voice, beckoning with menace. "No where to run... and nopony to save you!" The air vibrated with her scream as the masked pegasus, draped in rotten canvas moved to strike at her. A splash of red fluid was thrown up from the blow, splattering across the mask and pale wings of the assailant. "Your mark is mine!"
 
"Aaand CUT!!" rang out a voice from beyond the scene. "That's it for today!"
 
Immediately, the pegasus in the mask sighed, relaxing his pose and flapping his wings to try and rid them of the fake blood that he had just been splattered with, before resting them against his body. He pushed up his mask as his fellow actors moved from their respective places, the pale pegasus with the bloody mane and tail reaching to undo the straps around his hooves as his coworkers left the filming area.
 
"Good job, Mr. Action, you really brought out the terrifying nature of Blank Flank," gushed the same voice that had spoken the command earlier.
 
Bolt Action glanced up from his work with the strap, nodding his head imperceptibly at the compliment, before freeing his front hooves of their prop weapons, planting himself on his rear to remove the other parts of his hoof-affixed props. "Glad you seem pleased with the work," replied Bolt, eager to get out of the gear and wash off the dyes and remove the rest of the make-up. "But seriously. Blank Flank? That's a foal insult. Why name a horror villain after that?"
 
"That may be, but Blank Flank: Call of the Mark is going to be my best work yet." Replied the haggard looking director. He happened to also be the writer of the movie Bolt was playing the titular villain for. "Who wouldn't be scared of a terrible pony that carves out your cutie mark?"
 
"I just think that you might be better served with another name." Bolt replied, fluttering his wings as he moved over to a bin for the props of his costume, placing the mask and claws inside it, before following it with the canvas that covered his body. His violet eyes glanced back at the director. "I just think you could call him something scarier than a schoolyard insult from when we were foals."
 
"Well, I appreciate the input, I suppose..." hemmed the director, his red mane hanging around the left side of his muzzle as his equally red eyes narrowed. "But this is my project, Mr. Action. I like your work, but don't question me about it too much," warned the brown pony with the red canister of film-reel  as a cutie mark. "I know my job."
 
Bolt sighed, knowing what he really meant by that was more akin to "shut your mouth if you want to be paid". "Alright, Mr. Red Reel."
 
"Good. You're a good actor, Mr. Action, but this movie is my -vision-. I really DO appreciate your help, but certain things aren't up for debate. You can head on out now." Red Reel finished, dismissing the actor as he turned to go do the last part of his own job.
 
Bolt nodded faintly, moving to the area where the showers were kept, slipping in with the other actors for a quick wash-off of the makeup. He sighed as he stepped on the panel that let the warm water flow over his body, stretching out his wings to catch the water before he took a sponge in his hoof and began to scrub. As he worked, the make-up faded, and he could see the dyes washing out of his hair. Fake blood flowed down the drain, along with the rotten green of the dye in his hair, and the red of the "dried" blood that streaked it. It mixed with the pale white coating his form, before that too was washed away under the warm flow.
 
Finally, when Bolt was sure he was clean of all makeup, he stepped away from the shower, flapping his wings briefly and shaking himself to dry off. Trotting out of the cleaning area, he waved briefly at the co-stars on this horror film. Their response was a brief wave, and a laugh at the way Bolt was shuffling his damp wings while he walked. A couple of them asked Bolt to join them for drinks, but he carefully deflected the offers by simply saying that he was tired, and wanted nothing more than to go home and relax.
 
In truth, Bolt was far from tired. He was full of energy, but he couldn't tap a single bit of it on set today. The action scenes were not physically demanding, today. In fact, most the scenes filmed the past week had been very relaxed, and mostly free of any strenuous action. He was -dying- to stretch his wings and legs, to really show what he could do. He liked to move, loved to perform, but most of all, he loved to look death in the face and offer it a breath mint now and then.
 
It was an exhilarating feeling, to be sure. And Bolt had been aching for another experience, something he usually got while on set. But this project had done nothing but make him long for the sky in the worst way, the way one might long to take a lover against a wall and rut them into rapturous delight after months apart. This level of longing surprised Bolt, but he sighed, slipping into his trailer.
 
He paused at the mirror to look at himself, to double check that he really HAD cleaned off all his makeup. Staring back at him was his expected reflection -- a very light grey pegasus stallion with a black mane striped with bright pink. His tail matched his mane, and on his flank sat his cutie mark: a sky blue lightning bolt, intersecting a purple ring with yellow filling the background of the inner portion of the ring.
 
Bolt's examination was quick, before he brushed his mane into the style he preferred, and flexed his wings, turning his head to inspect them. Preening his wings for a brief moment, Bolt considered his evening's tasks. He was in Los Pegasus, a coastal town on a coast opposite Manehatten. Coastal towns like these tended to be above average, second only to Canterlot. By all accounts, Bolt should have no trouble finding something to do in town, but none of it would sate the desire Bolt had itching at his body, focused on his wings.
 
He wanted to fly, REALLY fly. Do things like that pegasus from the Cloudsdale flying competition, that Rainbow Dash. She had broken through a barrier most thought impossible to break, smashing through the barrier of sound to create a Sonic Rainboom. Bolt had been there, and he had been amazed. He had wanted to fly out and meet this wonderful mare, to ask her how it had felt. Alas, the Wonderbolts had the honor of her time, and he never saw her again. In fact, he only learned her name and where she lived due to a story in the LP Times, telling of Ponyville's six mares that had saved all of Equestria from Discord.
 
Bolt sighed, shaking his head as he moved to place his purple cloak and drape on, flexing his wings under it before settling them against his body. Placing a set of sunglasses on his face, he trotted out of the trailer. He would mourn his lack of proper flight time at a later date. Right now, he just wanted to get away from work, and that meant walking himself down to the small hotel he was staying in. He had a friend coming that night, and he would have to have some food waiting.
 
"After that fox leaves," mumbled Bolt as he spoke to himself, "I am going to fly my wings off if it kills me." He smiled as he promised this to himself, waving to the security pony at the gate as he left the property.
 
----
 
The walk to the hotel where he was staying was mercifully short, only a mere four blocks away. As Bolt's hooves struck the stone of the streets, he found himself continually glancing toward the sky, the sunset blanketing the horizon making him eager to spread his wings yet again. Unfortunately, such a thing was ill advised in general right now. It would catch undue attention for him to take wing in the middle of the hustle and bustle of ponies making their way to home or whatever their nighttime destination may be -- party, play, film, or bar. 
 
Not to mention, this was Los Pegasus, and taking flight in the middle of a crowd would mean not only catching the attention of the ponies around him, but also the photographer ponies that always seemed to lurk in the skies or scenery, just out of sight. The last time Bolt had done something like that in Las Neighas, the papers in the gambling town had been aflutter with speculation as to why the actor was in town behaving such a way. Worst among them had been the Equestrian Enquirer, Bolt recalled, suggesting that he was in fact rushing off to his rival and "secret lover", Jet Stream. The allegations had caused a fight on set that following morning, in which Bolt had to fend off an irate male lead.
 
"Definitely don't need another "Enquirer" incident.." mumbled Bolt, flicking his tail as he turned into the entryway for the hotel. "The Setting Sun", the owners had named it. It seemed fitting for him, given that his arrivals to the place seemed to always land on that period of the day.
 
"Evenin', Mr. Action. Long day at th' set?" called out a friendly voice from the desk as he passed it.
 
"Oh, about as long as the last few weeks, Mr. Weather," Bolt replied amicably, turning slightly to face the speaker, pausing in his advance towards the stairs. 
 
"I dunno, guy, you look a lot more antsy than usual. You been gettin' enough time airborne? I seen that look before, I have. Take it from Fair Weather, I seen Stormy with that itchy look before. She been dyin' to hit the skies, or... well, you ain't got a problem with th' mares, now have ya, Mr. Action?" teased Fair Weather, the owner of the hotel. He was an elderly unicorn, lean with a faded cyan coat and cloud-white mane and tail that was now streaked with silver. His cutie mark was a wispy cloud shrouding the lower quarter of a sun.
 
"You keep tellin' me about your eldest daughter like that, I'll think you're trying to hook me up with her, Mr. Weather," Bolt retorted, trying to back out of the awkward conversation in a hurry. "I don't need that kind of help."
 
"Oh, I know, I know..." laughed off the elder pony. "I just like teasin' ya young bucks. Gives me somethin' to do when I'm waitin' for Sunny to finish dinner. By th' way, she said she's makin' a tomato basil soup, if you get hungry. Lotta garlic bread to go with it, too!"
 
"Now THAT I am interested in. If you can drop that off in my room, I'd be grateful. And make it two, please, I'm expecting a guest in an hour or two."
 
"Well, I suppose th' soup can be arranged to wait till your friend gets here... But Mr. Action, if you don't take care of that itch of yours..." began Fair Weather once more, grinning at Bolt.
 
"Thank you, I'm fine, see you later!" Bolt hastily replied, before he cantered off in a hurry towards his room on the second floor, leaving a laughing unicorn in his wake.
kitsuja: White shield overlaid with an orange chevron set above a larger blue chevron. (Default)
A Rising Jade Sun
 
It was an average day in Metropolis' Chinatown district, the small area where most of the asian immigrants had settled upon immigration. Whether chinese or not, the asian population that lived here seemed secluded from the influences of the rest of the city in many ways. Supermarkets had no foothold in the neighborhood, instead being served by small local markets with people everyone knew. Within chinatown were smaller areas of specific asian collection -- Koreatown, Little Tokyo, Little Vietnam, and the like. Within the confines of Little Tokyo, most spoke japanese. Even there, they picked up words of chinese -- cantonese or mandarin -- just to speak with the neighbors, even if racial prejudice prevented many from interacting too closely.
 
Despite being the average day, Kayla Shimazu was nervous. Something felt wrong in the air, and as she biked to work, she could not place the feeling with its origin. She was a small woman of japanese descent, only five feet in height and slender in build. She glanced to the sky briefly as she applied the brakes to her bike, waiting at a stoplight. She scanned the sky with her angular brown eyes, both looking for a potential cause to her unease... as well as searching for the city's unofficial mascot. It was unlikely that she could even pick out the red and blue of the city's hero if he was at his usual cruising altitude, but it had been a hobby for her, ever since her first sighting of him. To see Superman flying low through the streets meant that something was happening, but the brief glimpse of his piercing blue eyes and the resolve his jaw had been set with inspired Kayla a little. 
 
Sure, the alien looked like the "white devil" many in chinatown despised or made light of for being stupid, but everyone in the city tended to be genuinely grateful for the foriegn guardian. For Kayla, it was not too different. She found the alien handsome, as did most every woman in the city -- even the world. But she was more interested in what he stood for; Truth, Justice, and Honor. The good of the people -- and their rights to live in happiness, pursuing their dreams. While he had the power to crush the world beneath his heel in domination... they had been gifted with the benevolant titan as a guardian instead of a conqueror. The thought made Kayla wonder many times if she would be able to hold herself to he level of honor he had, especially if she had been gifted with the kind of power he possessed.
 
Kayla jumped slightly at the honk of a horn behind her, telling her the light had changed. Sheepishly, she waved to the car behind her and got her bike moving, pedalling herself down the street towards her job. It didn't take long for her to arrive, with little in the way of traffic wait between her and her work. Coming to a stop in front of the Japanese market, she made sure her short braid had not come undone during the ride to work, before she swung herself off the bike and walked it inside, moving it to the back room where she had always kept the bike. On her way there she paused, looking at the schedule as she brushed a small bit of her black hair out of her eyes.
 
Under "Shimazu", which had been written in Japanese characters, she saw she had a full week ahead of her as usual. This time, however, the store owner seemed to want her working the early morning shift as opposed to midday. The owner tended to cycle her around the shifts, much to her annoyance -- something about training her, but she didn't see it. All she saw was a man being difficult because she was a woman without other obligations. As it was, she didn't doubt for a second that the owner would put her on an all-day shift if he thought he could get away with it. In fact, Kayla banked on at least a few of these days that someone would "call off sick" just so that might happen.
 
Despite her annoyance with the owner, she was loyal to her job -- it was hers, after all, and many people liked her friendly nature. She spoke Japanese, English, and was even almost fluent in both Mandarin and Cantonese after living for so long in the "china" section of Chinatown. She was a valuable asset to the store, so she knew that the owner would fight to keep her... but she really didn't want to start any trouble by pushing him on that. That seemed a little bit too rude to really consider outside of an extra long shift's supplied annoyance -- or the annoyance of a fresh schedule change.
 
Ducking into the employee area, she grabbed the apron that had her name stitched across the left breast as if a name-tag, right above the name of the store -- "Hazu's Family Market". It was a green apron with white lettering, and it practically swallowed her form while she was putting it on. Hazu Shinichi, the owner of the store, liked to buy things in "one size fits all" for employees. As a result, most of those store items were too big for Kayla's five-foot tall frame. Once tied on, she proceeded into the store proper again, heading to get to work. Along the way clocked in with her time-card, and waved briefly at another one of the store's employees as they were on their way out.
 
When looking back, Kayla would remember it as the day "normal" died.
 
----
 
In space, many ships approached the planet known to the inhabitants as "Earth". All were under the flag of a single entity -- and all may as well have been the same entity, in truth. Though spread out, all were of one mind -- the mind of Brainiac. The synthetic eyes of his body watched with cold indifference from his primary lodging aboard the main ship, planning his strike. All was clear to him -- the inhabitants and their guardians, these "heroes" and the potential threat of their "villians" carefully caluclated and prepared. All was set. And nothing could stop his assimilation of the planet into his databanks.
 
Were Brainiac human, he may have even been giddy at the prospect.
 
Instead, he waited. Simple synthetic precision guiding his movements. Earth would be the key to expanding his library -- it was the point on which many other universes connected, many timelines split from this one, otherwise insignificant ball. It was best to be fully prepared. Fully ready. Simple scans showed that a recent atmospheric event had occured, but nothing to be concerned with. And as the first of the harvester ships descended, Brainiac allowed himself the barest glimmer of organic emotion -- a flitter of confident exultation at impending victory.
 
He paused as the harvester arrays began to "bottle" sections of planet, focusing on places in Metropolis and Gotham first, both locations of prime "super" activity. He curiously regarded the resistance of the heroes, knowing them doomed to fail. He briefly brushed off an intrusion into his network, a probe from one of the earthbound support for the figures resisting his work. Their intrusion was expect, but pointless. They would be unsuccessful.
 
Just as so many other worlds before had been.
 
----
 
Kayla's head snapped up, glancing around as she felt her skin begin to tingle. Something was DEFINITELY wrong. She knew it without seeing the danger, nor hearing it. But soon she heard it -- deep impacts all around the block she was located in. She rushed outside, the tingling along her body seeming to intensify as she went. /What was happening?/ thought Kayla, /What is that sound? This feeling?/
 
When she stepped outside, she found the source of the sound -- as well as a new sound. At the corner of the block she saw a strange purple THING embedded in the ground. As she watched, a segmented lenth stretched from it in three directions, meeting quickly with other parts extended from other bulbous purple machines Kayla HADN'T noticed. The shock came, though, when a transluscent purple field sprang into being within these frames, sporting a honeycomb like pattern that shifted on it's surface. She stared with disbelief, before moving to test the wall. It was solid, and it hummed... she, and everyone on the block was trapped. 
 
Casting her gaze about frantically, Kayla searched for a way to break through the barrier. Around her, other people trapped within the "bubble", including a neighboring office building, started to come out. Some rushed to the wall and rebounded off its surface, others still gaped at the wall in shock, while more still tried to pound on the barrier between them and freedom. Kayla's itching skin distracted her as she began to breathe heavily while she looked around for a way through -- maybe a way down to go under the barrier? It did seem to be stopped at ground level, but she couldn't be sure...
 
Suddenly, Kayla was snapped out of her thoughts by a loud bang, a thunderclap of sound within the trapped area. Looking around, she froze when she saw the source of the noise, and saw it clash against the field again... soon joined by another titan attempting to purchase the freedom of the imprisoned civilians through force.
 
Superman had arrived. The sound of rolling thunder was the thunderous blows of his fists, attempting to batter his way into the area. Close beside him in the air was a female figure, covered in less cloth but none the less a titan herself. Wonder Woman, the Amazonian hero and princess was striking the wall with Superman, attempting to coordinate their efforts into freeing Kayla and the other trapped people. The mere sight of them gave Kayla a bloom of hope in her heart. If anyone could get them free, surely it would be these two heroes. And if they could not, surely they could with extra assistance!
 
However, it didn't happen. Soon the air was thick with strange robots, drawing the heroes attention away from the bottle for the time being. Other heroes and even emergency services were heard in the distance, and Kayla's heart fell. Whatever was going on had apparently been planned very well -- the heroes were distracted and the police and fire would not be able to break in... it was almost enough to make her heart break.
 
She was, however, otherwise distracted from the current situation of imprisonment as she heard someone nearby cry out in surprise. Turning to look at them, Kayla was shocked to see fur sprouting from the body of a man as his body seemed to bulk up into a different physique. The man was -changing- right in front of her eyes, and it startled her incredibly. Before she could move to help the man (a caucasian male it appeared before his changes reached his face), a pain at the base of her spine made her too shout in pain, doubling her over as she felt the grinding bone and intense pain just above her backside. Looking back and tugging at her clothes to get a look at what was going on, Kayla was stunned by what she saw, even as the fire of pain began to spread through her skeleton.
 
Growing from her was a tail. She watched only for a moment, crying out as the appendage grew and began to sprout fur. Thankfully for her, the flash of pain shot up her spine and into everything else, knocking Kayla into blissful unconciousness.
 
----
 
Brainiac had been entirely confident of his impending victory. It had been a foregone conclusion -- none of Earth's varied champions could have the might to oppose his assimilation of the planet. Even if they had managed to pull together for the singular goal of defeating Brainiac, they would fail.
 
But then Brainiac had detected the temporal anomaly, working through the atmosphere of the planet. At first he had considered the atmospheric disturbance a result of one of the various "villians" of the world -- maybe even a result of the "heroes" dispelling some malicious effect upon the planet. And yet, this folly had unsettled Brainiac once the truth had been revealed. As the ships and harvester arrays had been deployed upon the planet, preparing for data collection... they had detected something more. Something that should not have been present.
 
Exobytes. 
 
HIS Exobytes. 
 
They were most certainly his own design, and as he had discovered when the interference from their activations began to slow his plans. Closer, more detailed scans revealed to Brainiac that they stored the power of Earth's champions. Moreover, the exobytes in the atmosphere were permeating the species. In some, they became difficult to harvest. In others, they seemed to nest, until they released their potential -- creating -new- champions for earth. Not just a handful, either.
 
Thousands upon thousands of new heroes and villians. This new data could very well derail Brainiac's agenda of assimilation. In order to counter this, Brainiac shifted focus, ordering his forces to begin recapturing the Exobytes. The humans infused with exobytes, the humans with the "Champion Potenial"... would recieve harvest priority as well.
 
Brainiac would not abide by the idea of a thief, spreading Brainiac's precious data to the populace of his target. And as the teleportation sequences began, he was convinced it would be as simple as that. The exobytes would be harvested and stored for proper use, and the "infected" humans would be digitized. He paused as he activated the quantum tunnelling program, as well as the relay systems for them. Soon, the harvester ships digitization pods would be full, and nothing would stand in his way again.
 
Then the Harvester ships would be able to truly assimilate this speck in the cosmos, both important and yet incredibly insignificant.
 
Brainiac paused, tilting his head. An organic form of body language that his synthetic body mimiced automatically. As he focused on re-collecting his stolen exobytes, he noticed an intrusion within his networks. No. More than one. A vast array of intrusive programs began hammering at his digital gates, as it were. They "felt" different -- like tecniques of two different entities, working in concert to infiltrate his systems. He shut them out, but they kept coming, as relentless as he.
 
The distraction he would later blame as the warning display came up, informing Brainiac about the digitization pods in the bay that had been collecting the humans that were being altered by his technology. 
 
They had failed.
 
And now containment was also failing.
 
----

More to be added. Sorry for the lack of a cut, but for some reason Dreamwidth refuses to cut the post properly.
 
kitsuja: White shield overlaid with an orange chevron set above a larger blue chevron. (Default)
 Time for a physical description of my online persona and his usual wear. As note, there IS a fourth thing, but I'm working out the text description and coloration for that first before I itemize it like 1 and 2. outfit 3 is too simple to get an itemized thing, really.

kitsuja: White shield overlaid with an orange chevron set above a larger blue chevron. (Default)
 I start scribblin ideas in my journal, and it becomes a little bit of a hassle to put it on the PC...

until I get the idea to take pictures of the pages.

This one is another character inspired by Neon and Yuki's story, as a result of me playing with some of these while reading

wheeee~

So if you want to see what that's turned into, then follow me into my book.

Open Me.

Open the book. )

More to be added when it is written.
kitsuja: KJ is shocked, confused, or otherwise weirded out by what just happened. (Elf WAT)
I am a gigantic nerd. )

Any suggestions or ideas are welcome.
kitsuja: Picture of my fox avatar wearing his trademark goggles, holding up two rainbow birds as he shouts "RAINBOW TITS!!" (RAINBOW TITS)
Kitsuja comes home to a surprise. )



8D

Thanks Dai~
kitsuja: White shield overlaid with an orange chevron set above a larger blue chevron. (Default)
Got a call just a moment ago from a coworker. Apparently, last night/yesterday before I got to the site I was guarding, one of the Bobcats(bulldozer thing) had it's window broken.

What the fuck?

The people who own the site think it was done while I myself was there. I think it may have been done before-hand. However, one big thing that seemed wrong last night? There are street-lamp style lights in the fenced off construction site.

These were all OFF last night at 10:30. What. So me and my flashlight try to make due. I very honestly probably MISSED this crap. But, on the off chance it happened while I was THERE...

It had to be done while the person was off the site. Because the whole 7.5 hours I was there, no one showed up. No one even came NEAR the fence. This idea is helped cause the guy who told me about it said it looked like the window had been SHOT. And I DID hear some backfiring(or what I thought was backfiring) while I was on site. However... it's too early to honestly say for certain. And there were a few other things odd at the site that night. But I'm not going to get into it.

Long story short, someone's fucking up or taking shots at the site. I'm lucky I wasn't nailed if it was the second. If it was the first, I want words with the guy I relieved last night.

Well.

Sep. 28th, 2010 07:09 pm
kitsuja: White shield overlaid with an orange chevron set above a larger blue chevron. (Default)
Decided to start anew with this journal. Probably not going to post any more on my Live Journal, but I'll keep the account to read what you, my dear friends, link me to.

Also, my pants are made of epic and ham. Love my pants in all their oinky glory, and tremble in fear of what they contain. You cannot fathom the girth of this situation....




















8D

Profile

kitsuja: White shield overlaid with an orange chevron set above a larger blue chevron. (Default)
Kitsuja Argus

March 2012

S M T W T F S
    123
45678910
11121314151617
18192021222324
252627 28293031

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 26th, 2014 07:13 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios