#event!securitybreach

Making pacts with the devil takes far less pomp and circumstance than they had suspected. It had been a simple affair, done on a couch with their hair wrapped up in a stolen towel. No speaking, no ceremony, nothing but the thought that they could and would be so much more with just a bit of cooperation. Merely the thought (more a carefully woven how they’d do it) had granted them their abilities back, and Amalie, both overjoyed and overwhelmed, had spent the rest of the night in a feverish state of shivering, slipping out just before daylight to stalk the streets. 

The air clear and cool, Amalie revels in birdsong as they make their way towards the opening in the earth nearest them, sticking to the shadows and slowly letting themselves change, rotting the things beneath their feet and funneling them into a new face. 

They stretch out, longer and blonder, with fine hair and brown eyes. The freckled skin stays the same, though Amalie makes a point to lose the malice that could be perceived from their energy. They probably look odd, with no fingerprints and an sort of way of standing. Their bag of poisons has been hidden on their person, a sedative in their sleeve. Lingering just out of sight, they rest a hand on the gas mask at their hip. It’s heavier, with a different haunt to it than what they usually do. 

Someone comes along, and Amalie draws up a sigh. 

Taking refuge from the flood meant entering the storms. Amalie has a soft spot for this sort of weather, full of memories spent in windows, face lit up by lightning strikes. This brings back a similar nostalgia, even if the scarf that was supposed to keep her somewhat dry is plastered to her head along with all of her hair. All she can really do is watch everything and shiver, relishing in the solemn misery of being alone. 

Being interrupted by another presence isn’t exactly welcome, but Amalie isn’t completely antisocial in this moment. It takes a moment of observing the stranger from across the street, before she decides that it’s worth anything at all. She’s taken no sides in this mess, after all. Her disdain stretches for miles, and Amalie is still unsure if outing herself as something more sinister is worth having her abilities back.

“It’s a terrible day to not have a raincoat, hm?” Amalie appears out of the mist, hands folded behind her back and eyes constantly darting between the only other person on the street, and the rounded shape of the storm clouds. 

Amalie is having a terrible day. They’d gone back to the mess of their living spaces to collect some things, only for the sky to open up and rain hell. Something about someone pounding on the door and screaming about the FBI had been enough to send them into a small panic, and with the scene of horror left on the doorsteps, Amalie had fled out the back door and into the bright of day, not noticing the trail of decay circling around the building, as if something had been tracking there. 

Now they were in a quiet cat and mouse game all over the city, Amalie occasionally lashing out and rotting the thing, only for it to repair. They were not without their own issues though, given the wounds they were required to keep repairing, half ill from being on the move and not being able to stop and think for a moment. 

They’re in Golden now, skulking through all the other fighting, and constantly looking over their shoulder. It works, but it’s exhausting, and Amalie feels half mad by the time they run into someone else who looks like they don’t want to be in the middle of this either.

// Here’s a part 2 starter call! I’m happy to send Amalie to help fight your character’s demons, or we can play Stealth Mission and try dodging Amalie’s big bad. Those threads will likely have horror themes, so please keep that in mind! 

Her powers are pretty cool, and so’s her fun enemy. 

She’s sick and tired of all of this. Frankly, a normal, respectable sort of world is one where she’s not being harassed all damn day by warped conceptualized versions of people who likely want her ass on a platter. Amalie doesn’t like using her powers on innocent people, and for some reason, this doesn’t tick all of her boxes in the way certain people do. This doesn’t feel right for getting into character and so, Amalie fumbles through defending herself from the onslaught. 

Thoroughly upset, and looking for something a bit easier than this, Amalie makes for the less populated areas, hoping that there is some worth in finding somewhere less crowded. It doesn’t turn out fantastically at first, Amalie forced to practically melt someone who gets too close for comfort. If she’s shot at again, it’ll be too soon. 

In fact, she’s so distracted by her stress, that she doesn’t realize there is another presence here until she’s practically tripping over them. Heel caught in a crack of the asphalt, Amalie spits out a curse before catching herself on a wall. 

// It’s important to note that Amalie is the villain of her world. There are things she fears, things that make her anxious, but the world she comes from is very much an ordinary sort of world. The fact that she has the abilities she does is highly unusual, and Amalie doesn’t know of anyone else who works in the same way she does.

In short, she is her world’s only super-villain, and while she only operates in the US, her presence essentially has the eastern seaboard in a state of paranoia. 

In addition, she’s got all of her powers unlocked, and can do some pretty nasty stuff. Check out her app if you don’t believe me. 

Looking to get in on this? Looking to fight some weird stuff? Here’s a quick list of both the basic enemies, and the big terrible boss you may encounter.

Basic Enemies: - FBI Special Agents: Faceless (Amalie never focuses on them) individuals dressed in dark jackets and wielding badges. They’re terribly, ordinary human, though their presence seems to be more anxiety inducing than you may expect. 

- Paparazzi: Blurry individuals wielding cameras. The lights are blinding, and they like getting very, very close. Thankfully also very human, but their energy seems far greasier than the agents. Maybe don’t let them touch you. 

You can see both of these all over the city, though the former seem to travel in packs. 

Terrible Enemy You Don’t Want to Run Into:

Phanuel (Redux Edition): A warped version of the angel of justice visage she typically uses, this gas mask wearing thing goes head-first into the uncanny valley, consistently shifting its form by pushing and pulling at itself. Subsequently, it’s a bit ill-proportioned, with long limbs and odd, ballet like movements.

The mask they’re wearing is permanently affixed to their face, and will not come off, even with tugging. Additionally, things will frequently rot beneath their feet, making them traceable via the trails of ruin left around the city. Phanuel, unlike the original, will be antagonistic to anyone on sight. 

Amalie is trying to make a decision. Well, she had been, before the quakes had started. It hadn’t seemed bad at first, and she’d stared at the window and watched it go on and on until a light post went through a building across the street, and Amalie had decided right then to get the absolute hell out. To the opposite end of the city, even, and that’s how she had packed a bag and set off towards Archimedes. 

Trekking through the rains in Golden Ward had left her with her hair plastered to her head, and a building feeling of rage. Maybe it would be easier to make a decision when she was angry. 

The storms build as she enters Archimedes, and Amalie, with wet hair and a sour expression, sticks to cover, skulking between the houses and taking shelter under a tree with thick branches. If the lightning got too bad, she’d have to take additional precautions, but for now, Amalie was content to meditate, and shiver. Rain soaked to the bone rather quickly. 

Spotting a familiar sort of face, even in this weather, prompts Amalie to call out from her hiding spot, a hint of snark in her tone.