hogsofwar | Help me practice with my OC motherbastards

[Here's the deal. The world is a lot like the world we know - same shapes of continents, same flora, same fauna. The only difference is in humans: every human being is born with a particular ability, something that would be considered superhuman. Some can conjure water, some can read minds, some can teleport, some can fly, some can suppress powers; some are stronger, some are weaker. Some people use their abilities only rarely and some depend on them for their livelihood.

This means that human history is also somewhat different. Countries have different borders. The United States, for example, is a loose confederation of nation-states, some ruled by the colonists, some by the native peoples whom the colonists weren't able to subdue back in the early days of exploration. (Colonialism is less effective when the people you seek to conquer can shoot fire right back at you.) War is uncommon, but crime runs rampant. Patriotism is comparatively quaint. People largely look out for themselves.

Technology is largely comparable to current technology, though their weaponry is less sophisticated and their medical science more so.The area of technology that far exceeds ours, more than anything else, is genetics: governments pumped enormous resources into understanding how these abilities work and how to develop more sophisticated ones. This has some positive repercussions: birth defects and certain cancers have been all but eliminated, obesity has been reduced, et cetera. However, there are also some negative ones: breeding programs, decried by human rights groups, have sprung up, and - sinisterly - more organized criminal gangs are beginning to grow strong enough to pose a threat to the government.

So! This OC right here is Sonya Karimova, and she is a prosecutor on the bottom of the totem pole at the New York City District Attorney. She's asked to fetch coffee and has to work burglary cases, and this pisses her off, because she has a plan for her life that culminates in being named to the Supreme Court by the age of 55. She will stab you in the back to get ahead. She will do anything to get ahead.

So help me thread, please, by AUing your character into this universe and giving them a power

thanks

love you all

ps if you don't know how your character will fit in leave me a blank comment and I'll figure it out for you]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

waiting

[ Rick Bradbury had been a Captain New York's military, once, but that was a few years ago by this point. Nine years spent working in demolitions, putting his natural abilities to use protecting himself from the occasional blast of an improvised explosive device. He's traveled to a fair few places, sometimes for military operations and sometimes as a diplomatic escort. Now, though, he's a member of the city's Harbor Patrol, not really looking forward to the mind-numbing years stretching ahead of him, that will mostly be composed of circling New York's waters.

He has an ex-wife and twin girls he only gets to see about once every two weeks, and right now, he's counting down the days until the next visit.

Right now, though? He may very well be giving prosecutors at the end of the food chain a ride on his boat, ostensibly on escort duty and chasing the rumors of a small-time operation in the warehouses along the waterfront. It's too early to expect any real activity, though, so it's probably the dullest stakeout ever. ]

From:

legal_eagle

[Sonya thinks she's going to die out here. She really thinks there is a ninety percent chance she's going to die by her own hand. She is going to lean over and stick her head into the water and drown herself, and then she will send up a thankful prayer to God and then wait for the promised resurrection at which point she will be taken straight to paradise because she will have been a martyr to a righteous cause.

Boredom would be bad enough. But boredom combined with seasickness - and unfair fucking seasickness, because the water isn't even choppy, it's smooth and level in the harbor...

Oh, God.]

Give me the bag, I need to -

[But it's too late. She sticks her head out over the side and retches loudly. The fucking criminals aren't going to be taken by surprise with all the noise she's making.]

From:

waiting

[ Bradbury's seen a lot of people get seasick, but never this spectacularly: even he's starting to feel his throat gag in sympathy, though he's quick to quash the urge. Still, it leaves him with the awkward feeling that he should be doing something, but the healing touch isn't exactly something he's been blessed with. ]

You all right there, Miss Karimova? [ He ventures, tentatively. He hopes he's not mangling the pronunciation. They've only just met, and while he's by technicality still a lieutenant, he'd introduced himself simply as an officer. ]

We've got antiemetics in the first aid kit. Or I could get us back to shore.

[ He sounds dubious as he offers the last, hoping she won't take it as an insult, but he really does feel like a sitting duck out here. A sick, retching duck. ]

From:

legal_eagle

[Oh, right. That would be great, wouldn't it? Karimova can't hack it. First stake-out and she has to chicken out. Why? Well, weak stomach, of course. This officer - Bradbury, right? - he's a bit of a lug, doesn't say much, but he's going to have to file a report and that report is going to get read and everyone is going to know within a week. And that's the sort of reputation you don't get rid of. That's the sort of reputation that gets you passed over when it's time for a promotion.

Her stomach spasms again, and she hurls up the last of the coffee she drank before coming out here, and then it calms down. She pants a moment, then gives an answer:]

Oh, no, Lieutenant. I'm just chumming the water. If we give it a few minutes, we can catch some supper.

[And then she slumps back down into her seat, groping for her water bottle and using it to rinse out her mouth. She leans over again to spit it over the side. Doesn't swallow anything. Having something in her stomach's a path to disaster.]

I hope you like mutant pollution fish.

From:

waiting

It's just Bradbury, miss. And I'm not all that fond of seafood. [ He snorts, glancing out over the water at where the warehouses sit prettily in the dying sun. No one's ever been murdered out here, at least not as far as anyone can actually confirm, but that probably says more about the efficiency of the gangs than the actual peacefulness of the area.

If the rumors are true, the waters don't need any more chumming.

He cut the engine out some time ago, set anchor so they're rocking gently on the incoming tide. At least the girl looks like she's not likely to puke all over his shirt now, so he risks approving closer, idly offering her the use of the binoculars he's been squinting at the warehouses through. ]

Must have been a good tip to get you out here. [ Idle conversation. He doesn't really expect her to actually answer. ]