I didn't expect to roll with this character but I'll see where it leads. Post.
Damon_Ford's forum posts
La Fortaleza // 8' - 8:15 AM
Ford sat in the wake of an empty home, eased into a couch large enough to fit the foes he's slain. His calculating eyes followed the screen that bore before him. Not a hologram nor a supercomputer. Just regular television of regular America. Deemed the 'new' White King of the Hellfire Club, Damon found a subtle sense of worry. The American Red Cross vans that were to be avoided were being taken out little-by-little. At least this world still had heroes to defend their livelihood. If their livelihood wasn't the means of action, it'd be to defend their lives.
The White King rose, his silk-white dress shirt enveloping each of his movements in its warmth. The dress-pants he wore proceeded the same. Turning off the flatscreen with a mere look, Damon strode towards the kitchen. The vast, empty kitchen. His thoughts still lingering on the state of the country, Ford grabbed an apple. Inspecting it, envisioning the world in his hands. If one side was rotten it'd affect it as a whole. If the entire outside was rotten the taste would inevitably be bad. If just the core was rotten taste would be realized too late and the entire experience would be ruined. In the scape of the world, Earth would be in ruins. Only remote areas would be safe of the virus. And it was only until then they'd be affected as well.
His mind worked like a supercomputer. The White King rendered each factor he learned and siphoned the important from irrelevant. Terrorist Attack at the American Red Cross, dozens upon dozens of blood vials carrying the Sapien Flu taken as collateral of America’s naïveity. There was no mistaking the urgency of the situation nor was their understating it. It was a world-scale crisis. Various vans intended to poison each major city of the United States. It was only the state of those vans that was in question. As his thoughts occurred, only two have been dealt with. Though will the others reach their target? Will the true blues be too late? Damon thought. Biting the apple, a thought flickered.
“Leiland, ready the jet.”
A young man’s voice became apparent through Damon’s earpiece, “Yes sir. But if I may ask, why?”
“We’re going to DC.”
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