Heroes, Great and Mighty (Exalted x World of Darkness)
- Thread starter JayTee
- Start date
- Crossover
MedievalParadox
Echeladder rank: Bravesprout
- Location
- Nowhere Important
[X] Took the hit, throwing the fight.
Alright we keep our new powers hidden, a reasonable choice for anything in the Chronicles of Darkness
Alright we keep our new powers hidden, a reasonable choice for anything in the Chronicles of Darkness
- Location
- Tarn-Vedra
[X] Took the hit, throwing the fight.
[X] Took the hit, throwing the fight.
[X] Threw a gut punch, defeating Bart.
Beating someone in a fight and getting respect is not "hiding our power". The supernatural is already aware of Malcom.
I said this would happen. Everybody ignored me.
Beating someone in a fight and getting respect is not "hiding our power". The supernatural is already aware of Malcom.
I said this would happen. Everybody ignored me.
Last edited:
Story Post 6
[x] Took the hit, throwing the fight.
As the blow drew nearer and time began to speed up again, Malcom shifted his stance and threw up his arms in a sloppy block, allowing Bart's punch to connect with the side of his head with an almighty smack. Normally Bart hit like a truck, but this time he barely felt it, even taking the protective headgear in to account. Whatever had happened to him, it seemed like it had put him out of Barts league. That was not something he wanted to advertise, and so when Bart pressed the advantage, Malcom allowed him to keep landing his punches, occasionally throwing out his own.
As they circled each other while trading punches, Malcom noticed that the strikes he intended to connect always, without fail, made contact, while the punches that were intended to be intercepted where expertly dodged or blocked by Bart. It was an unusual thing, drawing on his newfound, superior skill to not win a fight, but to throw it in a way that was convincing to his trainer. If Bart suspected anything he didn't show it, and eventually he called for a time out.
"Everything okay with you, man? Your form is pretty bad today." Bart asked as he adjusted his gloves.
Apparently he had thrown the fight a little too well.
"I'm fine. Just preoccupied with a few personal issues." Malcom said. It wasn't a lie, not technically.
"Anything you want to talk about?" Bart asked.
Malcom considered the offer. He had been friends with Bart for a while now, and trusted him with most things a man could trust another person with. In this case however it wasn't a matter of trust, Malcom simply wasn't sure if he wanted to involve him in whatever was going on with his life right now.
Still, it would be good to talk about it, so perhaps if he spared him the details it would be safe.
"I just feel like my life is spiraling out of my control lately." Malcom said, resting against the ropes of the boxing ring. "Life keeps shoving new things on my plate and not giving me enough time to deal with one thing before another thing shows up."
"Oh, yeah that sucks." Bart said. "Listen, unless you're dealing with something life threatening, you always have time to take a break from things, alright? Don't let life dictate terms to you, tell life to fuck off and take a number."
Malcom nodded. "Thats what I'm trying to do, but things just keeps insisting on themselves, like they want me to pay attention to them and wont leave me alone until I do."
"Is there anything you can tell me about in detail? You're being pretty vague about this." Bart said with a concerned look as he joined Malcom on the ropes. "This doesn't have anything to do with Maggie, does it?" He asked.
"Sorry, I want to keep this one close to the chest for now, but thanks for trying." He said. "Maggie is doing better, actually. We went out to the park the other day and she had a really good time. I think she's starting to come out of her shell."
Bart smiled. "Hey, that's great! You should bring her to the gym some time, I can probably squeeze her in to one of my classes. Martial arts do wonders for your confidence." In addition to being a personal trainer, Bart also taught women's self defense.
Sure enough, as he spoke Malcom could see a group of women congregating around the entrance, making small talk and going through their stretches as they waited for Bart.
"I should probably get ready for class." Bart said. "Listen, if you want to talk about whatever you're dealing with, give me a call, alright man? Its not good to keep that shit bottled up." He said, getting of the ropes.
"I will. Thanks for the pep talk." Malcom said. The two of them discarded their gloves and protective gear, and said their good byes before parting ways. Malcom went to the showers for a change of clothes, while Bart went to talk to his students.
When Malcom emerged from the showers, Barts class was in full swing, and he could see the women lined up in rows dutifully mimicking the maneuvers Bart was demonstrating for them. Malcom stayed and watched for a few minutes, staying until they began to pair up for sparring.
Watching them spar was uncomfortable for Malcom, as the same tactical hypersensitivity he had noticed with Bart was present here as well. He could see every subtle mistake, every flaw in their move, every opening they left as they jabbed, grappled or defended themselves.
He was unnerved to realize that he could probably fight every person in this room at the same time, including Bart, and come out the victor. As soon as he realized this he tried to dismiss the notion as absurd, even experienced martial artists recommended retreat when outnumbered.
It didn't work, and the notion persisted, becoming more and more certain the longer Malcom watched. Eventually the unease at his potential capacity for violence grew too much, and he left the gym quickly thereafter.
Upon exiting the gym, Malcom's eyes adjusted immediately to the bright light shining down from above. It was still the hight of summer, and the clear skies above gave the sun ample opportunity to bestow its rays upon the earth. Malcom watched as people passed by, eyes covered by sunglasses, dressed in light clothing or drinking from bottled water to stave off the heat and brightness of the sun above.
For Malcom, the heat and light of the sun beating down from above brought no discomfort at all. If anything, he felt oddly comforted, like he had a guardian angel looking out for him.
Shaking off the surreal feeling and putting it in the back of his mind, Malcom reached in to his pocket to pull out his phone. He still had groceries to buy, and he wanted to call Maggie and let her know that he would be home after shopping like he promised.
As he grabbed the device his thumb brushed against something sticking out from his wallet. Curious, he pulled it out and saw that it was the business card that Naomi had given him a few days ago.
[] Tell life to fuck off, call Maggie and ask her if she wants anything from the store.
[] Call Naomi, see if she has answers for you about whats going on.
As the blow drew nearer and time began to speed up again, Malcom shifted his stance and threw up his arms in a sloppy block, allowing Bart's punch to connect with the side of his head with an almighty smack. Normally Bart hit like a truck, but this time he barely felt it, even taking the protective headgear in to account. Whatever had happened to him, it seemed like it had put him out of Barts league. That was not something he wanted to advertise, and so when Bart pressed the advantage, Malcom allowed him to keep landing his punches, occasionally throwing out his own.
As they circled each other while trading punches, Malcom noticed that the strikes he intended to connect always, without fail, made contact, while the punches that were intended to be intercepted where expertly dodged or blocked by Bart. It was an unusual thing, drawing on his newfound, superior skill to not win a fight, but to throw it in a way that was convincing to his trainer. If Bart suspected anything he didn't show it, and eventually he called for a time out.
"Everything okay with you, man? Your form is pretty bad today." Bart asked as he adjusted his gloves.
Apparently he had thrown the fight a little too well.
"I'm fine. Just preoccupied with a few personal issues." Malcom said. It wasn't a lie, not technically.
"Anything you want to talk about?" Bart asked.
Malcom considered the offer. He had been friends with Bart for a while now, and trusted him with most things a man could trust another person with. In this case however it wasn't a matter of trust, Malcom simply wasn't sure if he wanted to involve him in whatever was going on with his life right now.
Still, it would be good to talk about it, so perhaps if he spared him the details it would be safe.
"I just feel like my life is spiraling out of my control lately." Malcom said, resting against the ropes of the boxing ring. "Life keeps shoving new things on my plate and not giving me enough time to deal with one thing before another thing shows up."
"Oh, yeah that sucks." Bart said. "Listen, unless you're dealing with something life threatening, you always have time to take a break from things, alright? Don't let life dictate terms to you, tell life to fuck off and take a number."
Malcom nodded. "Thats what I'm trying to do, but things just keeps insisting on themselves, like they want me to pay attention to them and wont leave me alone until I do."
"Is there anything you can tell me about in detail? You're being pretty vague about this." Bart said with a concerned look as he joined Malcom on the ropes. "This doesn't have anything to do with Maggie, does it?" He asked.
"Sorry, I want to keep this one close to the chest for now, but thanks for trying." He said. "Maggie is doing better, actually. We went out to the park the other day and she had a really good time. I think she's starting to come out of her shell."
Bart smiled. "Hey, that's great! You should bring her to the gym some time, I can probably squeeze her in to one of my classes. Martial arts do wonders for your confidence." In addition to being a personal trainer, Bart also taught women's self defense.
Sure enough, as he spoke Malcom could see a group of women congregating around the entrance, making small talk and going through their stretches as they waited for Bart.
"I should probably get ready for class." Bart said. "Listen, if you want to talk about whatever you're dealing with, give me a call, alright man? Its not good to keep that shit bottled up." He said, getting of the ropes.
"I will. Thanks for the pep talk." Malcom said. The two of them discarded their gloves and protective gear, and said their good byes before parting ways. Malcom went to the showers for a change of clothes, while Bart went to talk to his students.
When Malcom emerged from the showers, Barts class was in full swing, and he could see the women lined up in rows dutifully mimicking the maneuvers Bart was demonstrating for them. Malcom stayed and watched for a few minutes, staying until they began to pair up for sparring.
Watching them spar was uncomfortable for Malcom, as the same tactical hypersensitivity he had noticed with Bart was present here as well. He could see every subtle mistake, every flaw in their move, every opening they left as they jabbed, grappled or defended themselves.
He was unnerved to realize that he could probably fight every person in this room at the same time, including Bart, and come out the victor. As soon as he realized this he tried to dismiss the notion as absurd, even experienced martial artists recommended retreat when outnumbered.
It didn't work, and the notion persisted, becoming more and more certain the longer Malcom watched. Eventually the unease at his potential capacity for violence grew too much, and he left the gym quickly thereafter.
Upon exiting the gym, Malcom's eyes adjusted immediately to the bright light shining down from above. It was still the hight of summer, and the clear skies above gave the sun ample opportunity to bestow its rays upon the earth. Malcom watched as people passed by, eyes covered by sunglasses, dressed in light clothing or drinking from bottled water to stave off the heat and brightness of the sun above.
For Malcom, the heat and light of the sun beating down from above brought no discomfort at all. If anything, he felt oddly comforted, like he had a guardian angel looking out for him.
Shaking off the surreal feeling and putting it in the back of his mind, Malcom reached in to his pocket to pull out his phone. He still had groceries to buy, and he wanted to call Maggie and let her know that he would be home after shopping like he promised.
As he grabbed the device his thumb brushed against something sticking out from his wallet. Curious, he pulled it out and saw that it was the business card that Naomi had given him a few days ago.
[] Tell life to fuck off, call Maggie and ask her if she wants anything from the store.
[] Call Naomi, see if she has answers for you about whats going on.
LinkOnScepter
The One who Strangles Concepts to death
- Location
- Interwebs
[X] Call Naomi, see if she has answers for you about whats going on.
- Location
- [REDACTED]
[X] Tell life to fuck off, call Maggie and ask her if she wants anything from the store.
- Location
- Jersey
What kind of maniac keeps their phone and their wallet in the same pocket? Clearly this whole sun thing is ruse and Malcom is actually an Abyssal.
[X] Tell life to fuck off, call Maggie and ask her if she wants anything from the store.
"He still had groceries to buy, and he wanted to call Maggie and let her know that he would be home after shopping like he promised." A promise is a promise.
[X] Tell life to fuck off, call Maggie and ask her if she wants anything from the store.
"He still had groceries to buy, and he wanted to call Maggie and let her know that he would be home after shopping like he promised." A promise is a promise.
I mean... uh... I do?
Dmol8
The Undead Unhinged Lunatic of the Web
- Location
- Belgrade,Serbia
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
[X] Call Naomi, see if she has answers for you about whats going on.
Yeah. No. Sorry everyone my paranoia is acting up and I think Malcom is going to need answers.
So is your pocket just that big? Or is your wallet just that small?
Also since you are doing an Exalted crossover with Chronicles of Darkness I have questions:
Will Princess The Hopeful be involved in this quest? If it is Vocation or Dream?
Will Promethean The Created be involved in this quest?
Yeah. No. Sorry everyone my paranoia is acting up and I think Malcom is going to need answers.
I mean... uh... I do?
So is your pocket just that big? Or is your wallet just that small?Also since you are doing an Exalted crossover with Chronicles of Darkness I have questions:
Will Princess The Hopeful be involved in this quest? If it is Vocation or Dream?
Will Promethean The Created be involved in this quest?
[X] Call Naomi, see if she has answers for you about whats going on.
Yeah. No. Sorry everyone my paranoia is acting up and I think Malcom is going to need answers.
Also since you are doing an Exalted crossover with Chronicles of Darkness I have questions:
Will Princess The Hopeful be involved in this quest? If it is Vocation or Dream?
Will Promethean The Created be involved in this quest?
My pockets are probably a lot larger than most peoples due to be being very tall, and my pants being correspondingly larger.
Princess: The Hopeful will be a no. Its fan content and I'd prefer to keep things within the actual game lines.
Actually, lets be upfront about what will and will not be included. I'll spoil it in case people want to be surprised.
Mage, Vampire, Werewolf, Changeling and Hunter are all going to be included one way or another.
Geist, Demon, Promethean and Mummy are all on the "Maybe" side of things. They're somewhat niche (in terms of premise, not popularity) so I'd have a hard time fitting them in.
Deviant is awaiting judgement one way or another, leading towards a polite "No" for the same reasons of Geist and the rest.
Beast is a hard "No", due to popular request.
Geist, Demon, Promethean and Mummy are all on the "Maybe" side of things. They're somewhat niche (in terms of premise, not popularity) so I'd have a hard time fitting them in.
Deviant is awaiting judgement one way or another, leading towards a polite "No" for the same reasons of Geist and the rest.
Beast is a hard "No", due to popular request.
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- Location
- Tarn-Vedra
[X] Call Naomi, see if she has answers for you about whats going on.
Story Post 7
[X] Tell life to fuck off, call Maggie and ask her if she wants anything from the store.
Malcom ended the call and put his phone back in his pocket. When he had first called his apartment Maggie hadn't answered, as she had assumed the caller was someone else trying to reach him. It had taken two more attempts before she had picked up, leaving Malcom in a state of near panic, convinced that something had happened to her.
Eventually he had gotten through to Maggie and confirmed that she was alright. The conversation had been a little strained on Malcom's end due to his worry, but he had kept it hidden and informed her that he was heading to the grocery store as promised, and if she wanted anything.
Pizza. She had wanted pizza again.
That had broken all tension in Malcom, and he had to fight the urge to laugh. Not at her, exactly, but at the notion that the only thing she wanted was the staple food of all kids her age.
Typical teenagers.
Malcom promised that he would get her a pizza, but also warned that it would be a once-a-week meal, not an every-other-night meal. Pizza was good, but she was a growing girl and she still needed to eat healthy foods took. He wasn't completely sure, but he suspected that she was sulking towards the end of the conversation. Sorry kiddo, Malcoms apartment, Malcoms rules.
Now, a few hours later, the steady beep beep beep of the cashier ringing up his items filled his ears. A mixture of weakness justified as forethought had compelled him to get two pizzas against his better judgement. Something he could break out in case Maggie was having one of her bad days. The rest was actually good food. Steak and fish, whole grain spaghetti, and an assortment of fruits and vegetables for snacks and side dishes.
He had gotten twice the amount of food he normally did, and hoped that this time they wouldn't go through it as fast as they had before.
It was early evening when Malcom left the store, the sun was past its zenith and slowly making its way towards the horizon in the distance. The parking lot of the grocery store was mostly empty as people made their way home to begin preparing dinner. Some of the more inconsiderate shoppers had left their carts in the middle of the parking lot, but thankfully none of them would be in Malcom's way once he got to his car.
"Excuse me, can I talk to you for a moment?"
Malcom had just put his grocery bags on the ground next to his car and was in the process unlocking it when a voice called to him.
The speaker in question looked to be a girl roughly his age, maybe a little younger. She had bright pink hair in a bob cut that framed her silver eyebrow and lip pricing. She wore a black tee shirt with the words 'bitch queen' written on it in white, and a pair of pre-ripped jeans.
Behind her were two other figures. One was the largest man Malcom had seen. Heavily muscled, wearing a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up and sporting a thick beard. The other was a small slip of a girl who was trying to hide behind the man, but making an attempt to look like she wasn't hiding behind him.
"Can I help you?" Malcom asked, looking at the trip.
"Hi, I'm Abigail." The punk looking girl said, holding out her hand for him to shake. Malcom glanced at the offered appendage for a moment before taking it in his own, shaking it.
When he did, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Something was off about this girl, not wrong or foul, just highly unusual in all the ways that mattered. At close proximity, he could smell a faint scent of seawater, which was odd considering they nowhere near the shoreline.
"Hi Abigail. Whats going on?" Malcom asked, looking at the other two behind her.
"We just wanted to thank you, and give you some advice as payment for a debt owed." She said.
"Sorry, I'm not sure what you're talking about." Malcom said. He had an inkling, though, and was waiting for her to confirm it.
"Yes you do." Abigail said flatly. "Don't play dumb. You killed Pricilla. That bitch made our lives miserable." She gestured to her companions as she spoke. "The first piece of advice I have for you is this: No one knows how you killed her. Keep it that way."
Well, that clinched it. She was definitely talking about that night. She even had a name for the woman. "I'll take that under consideration." He said. "And how do you know about that?"
Abigail scoffed. "Please, everyone knows you killed one of the Harpies." The term meant nothing to Malcom. "But because no one knows how you did it, everyone is walking on eggshells around you because the only thing the tapes show you two going in to that alleyway and you alone coming out a minute later. Whatever happened there has been scrubbed and scrubbed hard. Someone is protecting you. Thats my second bit of advice. Find out who, and what their intentions are."
Malcom filed that bit of information away for later, but for now he had other questions. "Look, you're throwing a lot at me without any kind of context. Who or what are the Harpies? Who is 'everyone' watching me?"
"If you don't know, thats not my problem. I'm here to pay off a debt, not be your tour guide." Abigail said. "The last bit of advice I have for you is that everyone is playing wait-and-see right now, but eventually some of them are going to try and start poking at you to see what you can do. Watch yourself, and that sister of yours."
The confusion and desire for more information in Malcom vanished in an instant, and was replaced by a red haze of rage when Maggie was mentioned. "Is that a threat?" He asked, his fist clenching as he took a step forward. Small motes of golden fire danced in to being around him, just at the edge of perception. "Is that a fucking threat?"
Abigail's eyes narrowed and her body went tense at Malcom's approach, ready to spring in to action. Then a hand found itself on her shoulder, and the large man who had been standing behind her interposed himself between the two of them.
"Peace, friend. We mean no ill will." He said, his voice a low baritone. Malcom stopped his advance at his words and locked his eyes with the man.
"Abby means well, but speaks poorly at times. Forgive her." The large man continued, keeping a firm hand on her shoulder as he spoke. Abigail glared at him, but otherwise said nothing and refused to meet Malcom's eye.
Malcom attention shifted back and forth between the larger man and Abigail, and the small fires dancing about him faded shortly.
"Fine, no harm no foul." He said. "I'll take your advice, but unless you're going to tell me what the hell is going on, I think its best we part ways." He still felt like punching her.
They parted ways after that. Malcom watched the three of them walk off in to the distance, eventually disappearing around the corner of another building. The whole situation left a foul taste in his mouth. Abigail was clearly apart of whatever world he had stepped in to, but refused to share anything beyond her bits of advice. Did she have a reason for being so obtuse, or was she just a bitch? Losing his temper like that probably hadn't helped matters much either.
He couldn't dwell on that for much longer, right now he needed to
[] Make sure Maggie was safe.
[] Call Naomi and demand answers.
[] Write in.
Malcom ended the call and put his phone back in his pocket. When he had first called his apartment Maggie hadn't answered, as she had assumed the caller was someone else trying to reach him. It had taken two more attempts before she had picked up, leaving Malcom in a state of near panic, convinced that something had happened to her.
Eventually he had gotten through to Maggie and confirmed that she was alright. The conversation had been a little strained on Malcom's end due to his worry, but he had kept it hidden and informed her that he was heading to the grocery store as promised, and if she wanted anything.
Pizza. She had wanted pizza again.
That had broken all tension in Malcom, and he had to fight the urge to laugh. Not at her, exactly, but at the notion that the only thing she wanted was the staple food of all kids her age.
Typical teenagers.
Malcom promised that he would get her a pizza, but also warned that it would be a once-a-week meal, not an every-other-night meal. Pizza was good, but she was a growing girl and she still needed to eat healthy foods took. He wasn't completely sure, but he suspected that she was sulking towards the end of the conversation. Sorry kiddo, Malcoms apartment, Malcoms rules.
Now, a few hours later, the steady beep beep beep of the cashier ringing up his items filled his ears. A mixture of weakness justified as forethought had compelled him to get two pizzas against his better judgement. Something he could break out in case Maggie was having one of her bad days. The rest was actually good food. Steak and fish, whole grain spaghetti, and an assortment of fruits and vegetables for snacks and side dishes.
He had gotten twice the amount of food he normally did, and hoped that this time they wouldn't go through it as fast as they had before.
It was early evening when Malcom left the store, the sun was past its zenith and slowly making its way towards the horizon in the distance. The parking lot of the grocery store was mostly empty as people made their way home to begin preparing dinner. Some of the more inconsiderate shoppers had left their carts in the middle of the parking lot, but thankfully none of them would be in Malcom's way once he got to his car.
"Excuse me, can I talk to you for a moment?"
Malcom had just put his grocery bags on the ground next to his car and was in the process unlocking it when a voice called to him.
The speaker in question looked to be a girl roughly his age, maybe a little younger. She had bright pink hair in a bob cut that framed her silver eyebrow and lip pricing. She wore a black tee shirt with the words 'bitch queen' written on it in white, and a pair of pre-ripped jeans.
Behind her were two other figures. One was the largest man Malcom had seen. Heavily muscled, wearing a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up and sporting a thick beard. The other was a small slip of a girl who was trying to hide behind the man, but making an attempt to look like she wasn't hiding behind him.
"Can I help you?" Malcom asked, looking at the trip.
"Hi, I'm Abigail." The punk looking girl said, holding out her hand for him to shake. Malcom glanced at the offered appendage for a moment before taking it in his own, shaking it.
When he did, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Something was off about this girl, not wrong or foul, just highly unusual in all the ways that mattered. At close proximity, he could smell a faint scent of seawater, which was odd considering they nowhere near the shoreline.
"Hi Abigail. Whats going on?" Malcom asked, looking at the other two behind her.
"We just wanted to thank you, and give you some advice as payment for a debt owed." She said.
"Sorry, I'm not sure what you're talking about." Malcom said. He had an inkling, though, and was waiting for her to confirm it.
"Yes you do." Abigail said flatly. "Don't play dumb. You killed Pricilla. That bitch made our lives miserable." She gestured to her companions as she spoke. "The first piece of advice I have for you is this: No one knows how you killed her. Keep it that way."
Well, that clinched it. She was definitely talking about that night. She even had a name for the woman. "I'll take that under consideration." He said. "And how do you know about that?"
Abigail scoffed. "Please, everyone knows you killed one of the Harpies." The term meant nothing to Malcom. "But because no one knows how you did it, everyone is walking on eggshells around you because the only thing the tapes show you two going in to that alleyway and you alone coming out a minute later. Whatever happened there has been scrubbed and scrubbed hard. Someone is protecting you. Thats my second bit of advice. Find out who, and what their intentions are."
Malcom filed that bit of information away for later, but for now he had other questions. "Look, you're throwing a lot at me without any kind of context. Who or what are the Harpies? Who is 'everyone' watching me?"
"If you don't know, thats not my problem. I'm here to pay off a debt, not be your tour guide." Abigail said. "The last bit of advice I have for you is that everyone is playing wait-and-see right now, but eventually some of them are going to try and start poking at you to see what you can do. Watch yourself, and that sister of yours."
The confusion and desire for more information in Malcom vanished in an instant, and was replaced by a red haze of rage when Maggie was mentioned. "Is that a threat?" He asked, his fist clenching as he took a step forward. Small motes of golden fire danced in to being around him, just at the edge of perception. "Is that a fucking threat?"
Abigail's eyes narrowed and her body went tense at Malcom's approach, ready to spring in to action. Then a hand found itself on her shoulder, and the large man who had been standing behind her interposed himself between the two of them.
"Peace, friend. We mean no ill will." He said, his voice a low baritone. Malcom stopped his advance at his words and locked his eyes with the man.
"Abby means well, but speaks poorly at times. Forgive her." The large man continued, keeping a firm hand on her shoulder as he spoke. Abigail glared at him, but otherwise said nothing and refused to meet Malcom's eye.
Malcom attention shifted back and forth between the larger man and Abigail, and the small fires dancing about him faded shortly.
"Fine, no harm no foul." He said. "I'll take your advice, but unless you're going to tell me what the hell is going on, I think its best we part ways." He still felt like punching her.
They parted ways after that. Malcom watched the three of them walk off in to the distance, eventually disappearing around the corner of another building. The whole situation left a foul taste in his mouth. Abigail was clearly apart of whatever world he had stepped in to, but refused to share anything beyond her bits of advice. Did she have a reason for being so obtuse, or was she just a bitch? Losing his temper like that probably hadn't helped matters much either.
He couldn't dwell on that for much longer, right now he needed to
[] Make sure Maggie was safe.
[] Call Naomi and demand answers.
[] Write in.