Maxx's (not so) Terrible Writings

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Re: Maxx's (not so) Terrible Writings

Post by Maxx[2.0]ine » Sun Apr 28, 2019 9:48 pm

Just the 'scenes' from a req thread I'm writing at the moment, putting them here because why not. This isn't all of them, I'll update this when I actually write the rest.


April 20, 2069
Dagenham, England

Smoke fills the house. The firemen run in; ten minutes ago there had been screams of pain and terror, now it is silent apart from the crackling of flames. But then there is a single noise, one that is so out of place: the laugh of a toddler. The firemen find their way to the living room, and are astonished by what they see. Sitting in the middle of the room, surrounded by flames, a two year old, laughing at the twisted, blackened corpses of her family. By all rights, this child should be as dead as the people around her, but the fire bothers her no more than water would.

June 28, 2069
House of Commons, Palace of Westminster
Central London, England

“Madame Prime Minister, what are we going to do about this situation?” the Head of the Metropolitan Police asks. “Every week, there are thousands of calls from panicked citizens, certain that their neighbour or colleague is some sort of vicious metahuman. There are hundreds of random attacks, and the perpetrators are claiming it's self-defense. And there's nothing the officers can do about it.”
An unknown MP speaks up. “No one knows who's normal. These freaks of nature should be forced to show that they are metahumans.”
“As much as I disagree with your wording,” the Prime Minister says. “I agree with what you are saying. People need to know if they're in danger or not.”

January 5, 2070
BBC News Studio, Broadcasting House
Central London, England

“And with us here in the studio is Emilio Milbank, metahuman rights activist,” Jeremy says. “Thank you for being with us here today.”
“I'm grateful to be here, Mr Paxton,” Emilio says.
“Tell me, Mr Milbank, why are you fighting so hard for these metahumans?”
“What sort of question is that?” The disbelief on Emilio's face is obvious. “Metahumans are no different to anyone else. They deserve the same treatment.”
“There are many people who would disagree with you. They say that metahumans are dangerous, that they should be monitored closely. Everyone remembers what happened April of last year.”
“But that was a kid. If metahumans weren't so terrified of being attacked for who they are, they would be able to focus on working out their powers. If there were resources for them to use, people who could help them, there wouldn't be any issue.”
“How exactly do you suggest they be helped? No one knows anything about them, so-”
“That's the problem,” Emilio cuts in. “No one wants to learn about metahumans. No one wants to understand them.”
“Please don't interrupt me, Mr Milbank.”
“But you're not listening, are you? You invited me on here so I can talk, so actually listen to me. Or are you just like everyone else, pretending to fucking listen, when in reality you don't give a shit?”
The news presenter is visibly shocked. “Do not cuss on this show, please.”
“Don’t fucking tell me what to do! I've had enough of everyone trying to tell metahumans what to do and how to act.” Emilio leaps across the table at the presenter, before the camera is cut off.

December 24, 2084
Downing Street
Central London, England

The Prime Minister walks towards Number 10, wary. After so many threats, she is jumpy. Her bodyguard is nowhere to be seen; even the armed policeman that watches over the guarded entrance to Downing Street is gone. She begins to feel like she is being watched, like she is in imminent danger. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees something. A shimmer. She puts it down to a trick of the light, but quickens her pace. Twenty feet away. Fifteen feet away. Ten feet a-
She gasps, feeling a searing pain in her chest. Her attacker reveals himself, grinning as he pulls the knife from her chest, and a gun from his pocket. “Merry Christmas, bitch. See you in hell.”

March 4, 2085
BBC News Studio, Broadcasting House
Central London, England

“And now,” says the news reporter. “We have a returning guest. Just over 15 years ago, he was in this studio, but that ended with him being escorted off the premises by security. You know him as Mister Metahuman, I know him as the reason I need a stick to walk. Emilio Milbank, thank you for being here in the studio today.”
“No, thank you for inviting me back on, Mr Paxton. I deeply apologise for what happened all those years ago, but it really was just what everyone needed, it appears,” Emilio replies.
“Yes, indeed it was. Tell me, were you planning on attacking me when you were last here?”
“No, not at all.” Emilio shakes his head. “I'm usually a calm person, I would never even think of attacking someone else. Even in prison, I managed to stay out of any fights. It was just the heat of the moment, you know? I just had enough of everyone tell metahumans what to do. It's their lives, they can do what they want. There shouldn’t have been any laws saying that they couldn’t.”
Jeremy nods. “Indeed. Speaking of the metahuman laws, how do you feel about the murder of the Prime Minister?”
“I say good riddance to that bitch,” Emilio says. “Oops, sorry, I didn't mean to cuss.”
The news presenter gives a small laugh. “It's fine. Do you care to explain your feelings on her death?”
“Isn't it obvious? She was the one who put that silly law into place. She was the one who made life so difficult for metahumans. And I doubt she would ever step down. So her dying, it's a chance for someone to fix her mess.”
“And do you think you could be that person?”
Emilio thinks for a moment. “Honestly, I haven't thought about it. Running for Prime Minister, it's a big thing. And I've just came out of prison, I don't think it would be a good idea.”
“Well, we recently ran a vote on Twitter, and 87.3% of people said that they would vote for you if you ran.”
“Really?” Emilio looks genuinely shocked.
“Yes, really. The people love you, Mr Milbank, and would fully support you as the new Prime Minister.”

May 4, 2085
Downing Street
Central London, England

Dan Clermont looks into the cameras, at the crowd of journalists and news correspondents. He is nervous, very nervous, but he doesn’t let it show.
“Good afternoon, everyone,” he begins. “I would like to thank everybody who made today possible by voting for me. As a kid growing up in Dagenham, I never thought I’d even see Downing Street, let alone be standing here today. But here I am, thanks to all of you. And I promise that I will try to undo the damage caused by my predecessor.” He catches a glimpse of someone appearing at the back of the crowd, and knows he needs to wrap this up. “Once again, I thank you all for voting for me, and for being here today.” He waves goodbye to the crowd, before turning and entering Number 10.

July 2, 2085
10 Downing Street
Central London, England

Dan Clermont looks at the people around the table. The only person he knows is his best friend and bodyguard, the rest are metahumans from various places around the country. Before this day, he had never even spoke to these people; an acquaintance of his was the one who set up this meeting.
“Thank you all for being here today,” he says, and the whispered conversations stop. Never a good one for silences, he continued. “This meeting was set up to try to establish why the metahumans refuse to work with the government, and-”
“We know why the meeting was set up,” a female metahuman interrupts, fixing her icy gaze on Dan. “And it's not that we refuse to, we just don't trust any of you. Why would we? For the past sixteen years, we’ve faced abuse and torment, all thanks to you corrupted trashbags.”
The lady sitting to the right of the one who spoke turns to her. “Cool it, Carla,” she warns. “Remember what you promised me.”
The original speaker crosses her arms and slumps in her seat. “Yeah yeah, whatever, Miche…”
Miche rolls her eyes and looks at Dan. “What she said is true, though. The meta community was perfectly fine before that incident back in ‘69. We were able to keep each other under control, and made sure that no one without powers knew about us. After that law was put into place, we were forced to show ourselves, which was when all the trouble for us started. If the whole situation had been covered up, the truth of it hidden, like so many other things the government covers up, we wouldn’t be here right now.”
The other metahumans around the table nod in agreement. “We were perfectly fine with hiding who we are,” one male says. “So many of us have done so for so long anyway. Perhaps, eventually, we would have shown our powers, but in our own time.”
“You guys are supposed to help the country, help all of us,” another says. “Yet you singled us out, the moment one of us made a mistake. It shouldn’t be that surprising we don’t trust you.”
“Oh, right…” Dan isn’t too sure what to say. After all, he was one of those who wasn’t the biggest fan of metahumans when they first became public. That isn’t something that most people know, and is something he doesn’t want anyone else to know.
The only other non-metahuman in the room notices his friend’s discomfort, and takes it upon himself to end the meeting. He stands up, drawing everyone’s attention. “Everyone, this meeting is over. The Prime Minister will schedule another meeting at a later date.”

August 8, 2089
Downing Street
Central London, England

Dan Clermont once again stands before the mass of news correspondents and journalists, just as he had on his first day as Prime Minister. But almost four and half years later, it is for a different reason.
“Thank you all for coming today,” he says to the crowd. “I made a promise four years ago, to undo the damage caused by my predecessor. And that, I've done. I revoked the Metahuman Law, and allowed metahumans to have their names taken off of the register. I attempted to start a program to help educate the public about metahumans. And yet, in recent years, I have been branded a liar and a metahuman hater, and have been the subject of abuse and violence. As a result, I step down from my position. I no longer wish to be the one who gets blamed and harassed for not being able to do this. From this day, I am no longer, and will never again be, Prime Minister.”

February 7, 2090
Main Presentation Hall, Dagenham University
Dagenham, England

An excited murmur runs through the crowd assembled in front of the stage. Cameras and news teams are scattered throughout the hall, just as excited as the public. For the first time since metahumans were made public, people have the chance to learn about them properly.For the past six months, scientists have been studying metahumans and their powers, and millions of people across the country are tuning in, just to see the reveal of what they have learned.
A hush falls over the room, as three people appear on the stage. Two of them are dressed like typical scientists, and the third is dressed in a simple sweater and jeans. It is this casual-looking male who steps up to the microphone. “Hello all, thank you for coming,” he says. “I am here as the representative of the head of this program, who unfortunately was unable to be here today. Behind me on the stage are two of my colleagues, both of who have made a substantial contribution to our research. Firstly, I will give a brief summary, and then my colleagues will explain further. In our research, we have found that the powers metahumans have can be sorted into five categories, and that there seems to be a restriction to what powers a metahuman can have. And now, I hand over to my colleagues.” He steps back, and the two scientists walk to the front of the stage.
“Hello, I am Doctor Serena Campbell,” one of them says. “And this is Doctor Connie Beauchamp. For the past six months, we have been doing intense research into the powers of metahumans.”
Connie takes over. “As our colleague said, we have found that metapowers can be sorted into five categories. These categories are energy-based powers, matter-based powers, mind-based powers, biological powers, and powers that involve light and sound. Out of these, matter-based powers and biological powers appear to be the most common.”
“In addition,” Serena says. “It seems that metahumans can only have two or three powers, from the same power category.”
Someone in the audience puts their hand up, and asks a question. “Could you explain the power categories?”
Serena nods. “Of course. Powers that involve sound and light, that's the easiest to explain. Any powers that in anyway involve the use or manipulation of sound or light fall into this category. It can be anything from being able to amplify sounds, to being able to manipulate the color of light, to being able to make illusions from light.”
“Biological powers,” Connie says. “Are also easy enough to explain. This category involves any powers that enhance or alter the biology of a person, or allows them to alter the biology of another. It involves the basic powers such as super speed, super strength, enhanced senses, all of the cliché ones you can find in comic books. It also involves powers that include any type of shapeshifting or direct altering of their biological structure. The most interesting case I saw, was a girl who can create a poison within her body, that is deadly to others, but that she is immune to.”
“Mind-based powers are, once more, easy to explain. Any powers that involve the mind, be it altering someone else's mind, or any other things. Telepathy, mind control, and mind-based illusions all come under this category, amongst many others.”
“The category of matter-based powers is the largest. It is anything to do with manipulation of matter. This includes elemental powers, telekinesis and teleportation, as well as many, many others.”
“The most interesting powers, in my opinion,” Serena says. “Are energy-based powers. They utilise any sort of energy, from auras to electricity, and are able to even use it to make solid objects.”
Another hand goes up. “How does that work? Energy isn't tangible.”
Connie looks at Serena and smiles, before looking at the man who asked the question. “That's why it's so interesting. I'm sure you've heard of the formula that Albert Einstein is famous for, right?”
“Yeah,” the questioner says. “E equals MC squared.”
“Correct. That equation says that energy equal to the mass of an object multiplied by the speed of light squared. Anything with mass takes up space, and is therefore matter, which is tangible. In short, the equation says that energy and matter are the same physical entity, and can be changed into each other. Which is how metahumans are able to turn the energy they use into solid matter. Does that answer your question?”
“Yeah, it does,” the man says, nodding.
“So far,” Serena says. “That is what we've learned. We haven't yet worked out why metahumans have powers, or why their powers are restricted. But we won't stop our research until we know everything there is to know about this wonderful phenomenon.”
The audience and news presenters rise to their feet, clapping loudly.

March 29, 2090
Unknown Location

The screens show the rooms in which the unconscious forms lay. A figure stands at the control panel, looking at the live feed. The metahumans in the rooms begin to stir.
“The drugs must be starting to wear off,” the figures mutters, pleased. “That means the research can continue very soon…”
madness is a rational response to a crazy world

you need a little bit of insanity to do great things

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Re: Maxx's (not so) Terrible Writings

Post by Maxx[2.0]ine » Wed May 08, 2019 11:22 am

Silent Ghost

I am but a silent ghost,
Drifting through this world.
Unseen.
Unheard.
If I were to fade from this world,
And go to the next,
Would my absence
Be noticed?

I am but a silent ghost,
Invisible to all but a few.
Intangible.
Inconsequential.
If I were to do something,
Anything at all,
Would it even
Matter?

I am but a silent ghost,
My name unknown to most.
Anonymous.
Ambiguous.
If I were to were to change myself,
In any way,
Would anyone
Even care?

I am but a silent ghost.
Unseen.
Unheard.
Intangible.
Inconsequential.
Anonymous.
Ambiguous.

I am but a silent ghost.

Is it even noticed?

Does it even matter?

Does anyone even care?
madness is a rational response to a crazy world

you need a little bit of insanity to do great things

Check out my writing thread, if you want ^-^

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Re: Maxx's (not so) Terrible Writings

Post by Maxx[2.0]ine » Thu May 16, 2019 7:58 pm

Until That Day Arrives

Until that day arrives,
And all comes to an end,
We just have to deal with it.

Just grin
And bear it
And say nothing
And just put up
With all the abuse they put us through;
All the insults
And pain
And everything.

Until that day arrives,
We can’t get away from it.

But when it does come,
We’ll be able to escape
And leave it all behind;

...Finally
madness is a rational response to a crazy world

you need a little bit of insanity to do great things

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Re: Maxx's (not so) Terrible Writings

Post by Maxx[2.0]ine » Sun May 19, 2019 8:21 pm

Grey

Greyness all around.
Drab.
Dreary.

People laugh
And play
And try to be cheerful
Joyful
Colorful.

Yet
It is still grey.

It's just the sky,
They say,
Affecting how I see things.

But
Even on the bright days

It is still grey.

When
Will this greyness
Come to its

End?
madness is a rational response to a crazy world

you need a little bit of insanity to do great things

Check out my writing thread, if you want ^-^

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Re: Maxx's (not so) Terrible Writings

Post by Maxx[2.0]ine » Tue May 21, 2019 6:55 pm

Broken

All
Of us

Are a little

Broken

With
Pieces

Missing

But
Some of us

Make each other

Whole
madness is a rational response to a crazy world

you need a little bit of insanity to do great things

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Re: Maxx's (not so) Terrible Writings

Post by Maxx[2.0]ine » Wed May 22, 2019 4:07 pm

Unreal

Unreal,
Yet so real:

These feelings inside
Make no sense;
But make more sense
Than anything possible.

I don't know what to do
About how I feel inside.
All I know
Is that you
Feel how I do.

It's all so unreal,
But all so real.

I don't know what
These feelings are.

All I know is

...I love you
madness is a rational response to a crazy world

you need a little bit of insanity to do great things

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Re: Maxx's (not so) Terrible Writings

Post by Maxx[2.0]ine » Sun Jul 21, 2019 4:04 am

Who?

"What is worth saving anymore?"
Asked they.
"Who is worth saving anymore?
Everybody?
Anybody?
Nobody?"

"We live in a world
Where those who call themselves angels
Are no better than the demons they go after."

Children
And mothers
And fathers
And brothers
And sisters
Die everyday.

The world is dying.
Is there anything,
Or anyone,
Worth saving?"

"Save me!"
Cried Everybody.
"I may have destroyed everything,
But I can change.
Surely I can reverse the irreversible damage
Dealt to the world we must live in.
"

"That's crazy,"
Said Nobody.
"The irreversible can't be reversed."

"I have the answer!"
Cried Anybody.
"If we do this
And that
And this again
Surely we can once more
Be worth saving.
I may say it over
And over
And over
But one day it will be true.
"

"Doing the same thing repeatedly,"
Said Nobody.
"Just means you're crazy."

"Why do we just listen to Anybody?"
Asked they.
"Anybody can give an answer
And Everybody just accepts it
And Nobody protests.
This is the world we live in."

"Do as Anybody says!"
Cried Everybody.
"Surely it is best
To save me
Than to save Nobody.
Even if Anybody has the power
To fuck up
This fucked up world.
"

"Listen to Everybody,"
Cried Anybody.
"Everybody may be the cause
For this fucked up world,
But I can fix it.
"

"Just abandon them all,"
Said Nobody.
"This world,
This fucked up world,
Is no longer a place
We can call ours.
And so we should abandon it all.
"

"Can you please help me?"
Asked they.
"Help me to choose
What to do.
The world is fucked
But it can be changed,
Right?
Maybe I should listen to Everybody
And do as Anybody says.
Surely Anybody is worth saving
Surely Everybody is worth saving."

"You're a fool,"
Said Nobody.
"To do as Anybody says
Is foolish.
To listen to Everybody
Is foolish.
But do as you like.
You don't listen.

Kill Everybody
Or kill Anybody
Or kill Nobody.
"

"Save me!"
Said Everybody.
"I am worth it."

"Save me!"
Said Anybody.
"I am worth it!"

"Okay!"
Cried he.
"I will save Anybody
And Everybody
And leave Nobody."

"Do as you like,"
Said Nobody.
"You're just a fool."
madness is a rational response to a crazy world

you need a little bit of insanity to do great things

Check out my writing thread, if you want ^-^

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Re: Maxx's (not so) Terrible Writings

Post by Maxx[2.0]ine » Fri Oct 04, 2019 7:06 pm

Oh wow, I haven't posted anything in this thread in a while. Anyways, here's a Halloween-y poem I helped my little sister write.

Halloween

In all the little towns,
In all the little houses,
Excited kiddies get dressed,
Quiet as little mouses.

Witches and vampires,
And all manner of ghouls,
All ready to go,
Come creeping down the halls.

Laughing and shouting,
Spilling out onto the streets,
Sneaking and prowling,
On their yearly hunt for sweets.
madness is a rational response to a crazy world

you need a little bit of insanity to do great things

Check out my writing thread, if you want ^-^

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Re: Maxx's (not so) Terrible Writings

Post by Maxx[2.0]ine » Fri Dec 06, 2019 4:49 pm

Yet again, I haven't posted in a while. Here's an unnamed story.

A chilly wind blew through the streets of the small town on the outskirts of London, freezing anyone who braved the cold winter's night. The dark night was illuminated by the sparkling festive displays in most windows. One small house stood out from its neighbours, with no decorations or lights or wreaths, the occupants not caring for such displays. Inside, in the living room, two sisters sat on the sofa drinking hot chocolate. The older of the two turned to her younger sister.

"Hey Emma, wanna hear a story?" she asked.

"Uh, sure," the little girl replied. "What story?"

The older sister hid her grin behind her cup. "Oh, one I'm sure you'll find interesting." She shifted on the sofa, turning to face her younger sister properly.

"This is a true story, about a wicked criminal, who disappears just like a ghost. No one has ever truly seen him, and so people make their own images of what they think he looked like. At first he was portrayed in green, like a shamrock. Now, he's shown as wearing blood red, with a raggedy white beard and a bulbous red nose."

The girl paused to sip her drink, enjoying the look of intrigue on her little sister's face that showed she clearly wanted the story to continue.

"This man is a stalker and a thief, and could hurt anyone he wanted if he so wished. Every year, he chooses one day to break into houses. He watches the people in the house, and follows their every move, and then at night, he strikes. He finds a way into their house, eats their food, before leaving mysterious packages behind. These packages could contain absolutely anything, and they're never found until the next morning."

"Why don't the police ever stop him?" the younger girl asked.

"Because they can't. No one ever has ever seen him, and so the police can't do anything. But… You wanna know something?"

"What?"

The older girl's voice lowered to a whisper. "He's coming here tonight."

The little girl's eyes widened, her voice going louder. "What? Our house?"

The storyteller nodded, just as the girls' mother walked into the room.

"Stop scaring your sister, Summer. It's Christmas Eve for goodness sake," the woman scolded.

The older sister gave her an innocent look. "But Mum, I'm not scaring her. I'm just telling her about Santa Claus."
madness is a rational response to a crazy world

you need a little bit of insanity to do great things

Check out my writing thread, if you want ^-^

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