Messiah Complex: Part I

[Prophet]

Sign Ups and OOC Here

November 12th, 2010

The air was crisp, as wet and cold as fresh caught salmon. The wind was tinged with the scents of New York; exotic spicy foods combined with a hint of exhaust. Simon took a deep breath, a hand running over his clean shaven face as he gazed across the street. He was hardly an invisible fellow; his broad shoulders and gorilla-esque gait marked him separate from the hustle and bustle of the normal New York City crowd. His burly arms were held stoically by his side as he gazed deeper, his piercing brown eyes digging deep into the people of the city. They were lost sheep; animals who simply did not know the grace of their shepherd. He had seen the light; he could almost cry at their loss. They would know His love and Message soon enough. The Word of Jason would be spread.

"The Love of Jason be with you."

"And also with you," Simon replied gruffly, his voice deep and ragged, a sharp contrast to the light, youthful voice that had offered him the typical Jasonite greeting. He turned, his chiseled jaw breaking into a soft smile as he faced the teenager before him. As the crowds parted around them like water breaking over a large boulder, he wrapped his hands around the young adult, intertwining in a hug as the giant embraced his fellow Jasonite.

"How are you feeling, Matt?" Simon asked, his dark brown eyes glistening with passion, "Is everything going smoothly?"

"Yes, Brother," Matt said, breathlessly brushing a strand of brown hair out of his eyes. Even with the clean pressed white dress shirt, he looked boyish; his 17 years of age often mistaken as less. A white grin spread across his face as he caught his breath, his chest heaving as he raced to spit out something, "The word is spreading; I've networked with the others- we managed to confirm another 70 for the rally."

"That is excellent news Matt," laughed Simon, his booming voice carrying over the sounds of ringing cellphones and revving cars, "The will of Jason will be done!"

"It is wonderful," laughed Matt, the infectious youthful laughing spreading throughout his body, before his eyes grew more serious, "Do you think... He will be there?" Simon grew quiet, his dark eyes softening as a combination of wishful thinking and wondrous hope ran through his mind.

"Jason only knows, my young, eager Brother," he sighed, looking up at the sky before turning down to look at the young teenager, "But I know that his presence will be here, even if he is not. The Master has much to attend to."

"Yes, Simon," replied Matt wistfully, turning his eyes up as Simon put a loving hand on his shoulder, standing the midst of the crowd as a single flake of snow fell to the ground from the graying heavens...

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"It's begun to snow, sir."

"That it has, Loq."

A few wavering snowflakes drifted down from the stony gray sky, dancing their way along the outside of the dark tinted window. They slid their way along the dark hued glass, leaving a watery trail along the window. A man watched them, the dark gray light from the sky reflected slightly on his dark black suit. Dark grey eyes followed the snowy droplets, tracking them across the tinted pane until they finally slipped off into the crowded fathoms below. The man bent his head, bowing in thought for a second before turning around, his silhouette outlined in the dismal landscape beneath them. He was not broad, simply fit. His figure was slim, yet as he walked, he walked with a sense of control that showed in every purposeful step he took. Simple black dress shoes touched on the carpet silently as he made his way away from the window. His face was slightly paled, black strands of hair pushed back along his head as if by some unknown gel. His lips were pale, as if life had been removed from their contours a long time ago. And when he spoke, it was with the command of a general, yet with the humbleness of a servant.

"The rally is progressing as planned," he said calmly, addressing a dark chair in the tinted room. A single light was on, and in the end of the room, a fireplace burned softly, the cracking flames lighting the room with a burning orange glow, "I have set up various events across the United States; this will be the epicenter of your appearance though."

"Thank you, Loq,"

The voice from the armchair was sweet, like honey plucked straight from the hive. It was quiet, yet powerful, like it held the oratory command of a thousand great leaders. It was almost creepy in its resolve and quiet energy. A single shadowed hand rose from the shadows, the fire light casting a fiery glow on the tanned hand that reached for the edge of the armchair. He pushed himself up, straightening his clothes as the firelight shone its unnatural aura around him. A halo of light.

"And Mary is waiting for you downstairs," Loq continued, his face remaining emotionless as he tucked his hands into his pockets, "She is the only other one to know of this location, as you requested, Jason."

"Yes," said Jason Christopher, the light catching his powerful dark brown eyes, which burned with the same energy that they did five months ago on May 25th, "Let us be going Loq. We have a world to change."

[jozi parue]

Sean dusted of the remaining dirt off the shot glass. He tried to make it perfect, it shined with definite brilliance. But something seemed wrong. He started to make circular motions with his cloth, again and again. Until he could see his own reflection, his vision got fuzzy. He had to close his eyes: But when he opened them he wasn't in the smoked filled bar...
Marines ran past him, their eyes bewildered like lions prey. He tried to run with them but he couldn't move one single muscle. Sand blew through the air and scratched is eye. Sitting on its side in front of Sean was a standard military Humvee. Flames grew from the inside. A faint figure screamed out in terror from the inside. His face was blank, since he has seen this many times before. So he got used to it. But something new happened, a small box was thrown at him...
He woke up, the whole flashback was only about one-minute and forty seconds. The shot was slipping from his prosthetic hand. Two men appeared in front of him...

[cloudwolf124]

People began taking their seats in the theater when Arron Lithgow moved out onto the stage to began his show. "So hows everybody doing tonight?" Arron yelled into the microphone as several people began cheering and clapping. "Alright before i begin the show i want to ask how many of you seen the Jason Christopher video on You tube?" The people cheered louder.
"How many of you actually believe his want for world peace?" Half of the people raised their hands or clapped. "So a good percent of you like Jason then?"
As the people cheered or booed at the mention of his name Arron began pulling out a small tape recorder. "I have the audio on tape. Let's listen shall we?" Arron said as he pushed play and a soft voice echoed through out the room.
"Hello my fellow people i am Jason Christopher. I bring to you a message of peace and love but first you must give up all hate and envy of your friends and family. In order to achieve world peace we must learn to give up our petty wants and love each other. I hope you listen and think on this for my love is with you always."
The room became silent with scattered applause. Arron put away his tape recorder and looked out into the crowd.
"Well enlightening am i right?" Arron spoke once again. " So what he said was forgive and forget?"
Some cried yes and other just laughed.
"Imagine the man whose neighbor slept with his wife. How do apoligize and love that man?" Arron asked looking into the crowd "Hey i want to forgive you for doing my wife while i was at work. Between you and me though she needed sex man she was driving crazy."
Some people laughed while others just coughed.
"Dont be fooled by Jason though people he could be some sick perverted occultist set on taking over people and watch commit suicide." Arron laughed "How do you like me now Jason Christopher HA HA!
As Arron laughed people began to boo him. Others got up and left the theater.

[Insectivora]

If there were one thing that he hated more than traveling, it would have had to be snow. It was no surprise then that he found himself in a foul mood; the sight of his own breath as he sighed heavily only fuelled his frustration as he waited for his cab. He of course was Damien, and much to his dissatisfaction, he was late. It went against nearly everything his brain told him, but as a reporter Damien had learned early on to go with his gut when following a lead. His gut told him that he needed to be in New York today.

If it were anything else, one would say that he was being irrational and that he should investigate his lead more thoroughly before rushing into something. Unfortunately, nothing about this Jason Christopher made any sense. In a matter of months he had gone from being nobody to the most talked about person in the world. Thousands of people had gone from being ordinary, respectable Americans to religious fanatics willing to follow this character’s every command. As such, the media paid top dollar for any information regarding his actions and anyone wishing to expose his “true intentions.”

Damien didn’t buy into any of that bullshit, because quite frankly it didn’t make a difference to him whether or not this Jason was what he seemed or not. His job was to find and report the truth, not his own opinions, and that’s what made him (in his humble opinion) the best at what he does.

“Airport please.”

As if even before the taxi had an opportunity to stop Damien had already clambered into the backseat and they were off. Choosing not to partake in the usual awkward discussion with cab drivers, he pulled out his Blackberry and was already checking his e-mails for the fifth time that day. As he expected, there were no new messages. As he put his phone back into his pocket and stared out the window attempting to ignore the fact that the driver was there he, only for a moment, doubted whether or not he was doing the right thing.

[Ashes Remnant]

Quinton smiled widely. He stared out the window, watching the people go by. They took pictures, not that it mattered with the tinted glass. It must be a sight to see out there. Sure, this was Hollywood, but a stretch limousine this long was still something to see. Quinton wasn't like those other celebrities though. The ones that longed to be normal, like Miley Cyrus, or those other disney kids. He loved it. Loved himself even, I mean, he WAS perfect.

Quinton didn't even know where he was going. Some fundraiser or something. Nonetheless, he wore his trademark clothes. He wore them everywhere, even to major events. When he was awarded a Golden Globe, he wore it, which caused tabloids to go nuts. It was a light colored button up shirt, jeans that were ripped into shorts, and bright orange converse shoes.

He turned to his assistant. Her name was Tasha Sanders. She had auburn colored hair that flowed past her shoulders. Her eyes were a deep green, and she wore glasses that only amplified her beauty. She wore her usual blouse and black skirt. Most men would die to have her, and yet Quinton didn't even notice. "Where am I going again?" Quinton asked in his usual, carefree voice. She looked down at her cell phone, and repeated off it, "You are invited to a Celebration of Change at the Shark. Looks like a Jasonite thing."

Quinton rolled his eyes. That Jason thing was all over the place. Hell, they asked him to advertise for him. But someone else paid more at the time. Quinton's time was expensive. The limo stopped in front of the club. There was even a red carpet for the celebrities, and separate lines and doors for the normal people. The door opened, and Quinton slowly stepped out, and slipped his hands into his pockets. He stood there for a minute as the paparazzi snapped hundreds of pictures. They ate up every bit of his careless, punk look. Gladly, the paparazzi was held back by red ropes. At least he wouldn't be hassled like any other day he goes out.

He started moving towards the door, and some woman stopped him. She held a microphone to his face, as she bombarded him with questions. Quinton grabbed the microphone and pushed it down. "Just talk to me later, 'kay?" He winked and kept going. He stopped by the sides where the normal people waited. Both men and women reached out just to touch him. Quinton loved teasing the normal people. He stepped closer, took one of the women's hand, pulled her close, and kissed her. He let go, and walked through the door, leaving both the men and women jealous.

[Watson]

It was bright, and hot. It annoyed him so much how hot the shingles got when he was replacing them... and the metal, it was a nightmare. He didn't know why he even chose this job... his eyes shifted slowly to his left, oh right. That's why. As he looked down at the road, a breeze wafted by and he began to cool off a bit. The view though... spectacular. The view... as high as you could get without being in a very dangerous position. Three story roofs mean nothing, they may look large from the street, but it's not that high when you're really up there. Now four stories... yeah, that is pretty frickin' high.

If he happened to fall off of this roof, he would be fine. Probably. Perhaps not, but who really cared if he did, eh? He'd be stuck in a hospital, or maybe even dead. But who cares? The feel... Made the risk worth it. And so long as his neck and spine where okay, he'd be out in no time... probably. He really should have gotten insurance... Or had he already? Yeah, he had... so he was in the clear, no? Maybe not. But if he fell, whatever. Even if he died it's not like there'd be fire and brimstone waiting. Or some crazy looking little baby with wings and a circle floating above its head. Nothing awaited him, which reassured him in a way, and frightened him in another. He understood completely how someone could fall for a farse like Christianity, especially considering the price you pay for not sticking with them... according to them.

He turned his eyes back to the job, and started ripping up a few shingles. How were you gonna put new ones on if the old ones were still there, right? As he pried a few from the roof, he heard a voice from the room beneath him.

"Yes, the guy's amazing! I still can't believe this feeling I have nowadays! It's as though this cloud has been lifted from my mind and I've seen the light!"

He expected that one of the house's inhabitants had turned the television on, and though nothing more of it. He had a job to do. No job meant no pay, which meant no health insurance or money for food, which meant no chance he could pull off such a dangerous job... Or eat. So he went back to tearing up shingles, but that same voice kept yammering on... How long would it last?! I mean, are commercials even allowed to be that long? And who'd make a full time show about some crazy religious crap?! An image of Fox News flashed into his mind. Right.

"Really Kathy, it's like it all makes so much sense! Jason is an amazing man, and I can't believe that people still dont' believe he's holy! And... Get this... I just met him recently! He's as amazing in person as he is on youtube!"

He was beginning to think it may not be a commercial, or Fox News... Of course, it finally hit him when----

"So, I checked our roofer's background a bit... (mostly through facebook) and found out he despises Jason."

He popped his head down from to roof, so he was now hanging upside-down.

"You're damn right I don't. Man's a lunatic."

He said before pulling himself back up and continuing his job.

"What? You can't say that! Come, I'll show you some of the things he's done and---"

The voice began but was vut off as he interrupted.

"I know what he's done, and I think the guy's insane. What of it?" He said loudly.

"What? He is not insane! I've met the man, just recently as well, and he seems perfectly---"

"To each his own."

He interrupted loudly.

"Of course, but... Well, You have your own messiah, and I have Jason... who is the true messiah."

"Ken... Please don't argue with him. The man's doing the work for a steal."

The female voice, likely a girlfriend or wife, piped in. He recalled her name was Kathy.

"I'm not trying to argue! I'm just spreading the word of Jason!"

Kent replied to her, sounding slightly agitated.

"Listen bub, I have no messiah. They're all crackpots who want power and nothing else. Any old person could say they're holy. If I said it first, I'd be hailed as the messiah like him, or Jesus. In fact, even Hitler could have been considered holy if Jesus hadn't done it first. Anyone can be holy as long as the ignorant masses like them. I've been listening to tons of crackpots for years, and there're thousands of guys out there claiming to be holy. But here's the thing. Jason's no different. He just happened to know how to disarm someone. All that takes is police or Martial arts training. So he does something mundane, and now he's as good as a god to you people. Big whoop. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a roof to re-shingle."

He shouted down at them, before turning back to the shingles he had been working on.

"You can't say... but he really is..."

Ken tried to reply, but was not coming up with much while being able to withold his temper.

"Just let mister Watts get back to his job, it's not worth it to pick a fight."

Kathy said to Ken. Luckily for Mr. Watts, she wasn't a Jasonite... yet.

"Whatever..." He heard Ken moan as he walked to the house's first floor.

"I'm so sorry for that Mister Watts. He's not usually this... opinionated."

Kathy tried to apologize to him.

"It's fine, but if you'll excuse me, I really do need to finish up."

He ripped off a few shingles, and turned his eyes skyward, it irritated him so much to see people like Jason getting so much power... any day now he'd declare himself president of Earth... he noticed clouds rolling in. Large clouds. Dark clouds. "Aw dammit." He mumbled to himself as he ripped a few more shingles off. Now would be the time to get out the trusty old tarp... if he could remember what side of the roof the ladder was on. The roof arched in a way that made it look slightly triangular, meaning a large area in the middle was raised, completely obscuring the view of the other side. He had no trouble climbing over it, as it was a large house and there was ample flat ground to walk on, even on each side of the raised bits. It would be no trouble getting down, and back up again... So long as the ladder was up...

[Deathsight44]

"Hey, I'm taken a break, k?" Matt said to his co-worker, Michael. Mike would have replied, but Matt had been out the door already, going out back to light up a smoke. He plucked his cig from the box and repeated the same process of flick, light, repeat, till he got the cig going. he had become dependent on them lately. When he wasn't selling some rated R movie with a cheap sex scene to some teen, he was convincing the masses of Jason and how his little 'nice act' was a load of bull.

He never did like Jason. Met him once, but never liked the feeling he got from him. He was too good a person to be real. He himself considered himself a good person, but he found that there was reason as to why there were such 'negative' feelings out there. He knew that if Jason kept this up, then people would become soft, and in doing so, one of two things could happen. After all, he wasn't blind to the teachings of the bible, and he knew that no matter how you looked at it, for those who didn't go along with Jason or God's teachings or whatever bull people called it, something bad was gonna happen to those that didn't, and he didn't like that idea at all.

While he was inhaling the nicotine though, something caught his eye. By the garbage can, he saw a bunch of fliars. Now, normally he would never notice anything like this, but something was different about these. One name, which he had detested most. Even his own neighbors were an eerie reminder of the name, constantly bragging "Oh I know my son is meant for greatness! His name must have been Jason for a reason!", and God only knows how many other stupid nuts. "Jason this, Jason that. I'd love to take these fliars right now and shove em right up his-" he started to say, before he cut himself off. He picked up the fliars, and stared long and hard at them.

"So they're having a convention..." he mumbled to himself. He himself did not care enouph to read the fliars, but certain things caught his attention. Key words, such as "Jasonites", "Gathering", "Time Square". It was obvious to him that they were going to try and rally at Time Square, perhaps even in an attempt to move the citizens of New York into becoming a literal 'state of Jason'. With enouph people, they could even use the actual tech there to widen their image. But of course, Matt wasn't going to let that happen.

Matt quickly reached into his pocket and took out his cell phone, and quickly began to dial the number of a very close friend of his. After dropping his cig from his mouth, he put the phone close to his ear. "Hey, Ben, you there? It's me, Matt. You know that friend of yours who works in the building with the giant Coca Cola billboard in Time Square? I need you to connect the phone convo to him. You're not gonna believe what I just found." Matt said, a grin forming on his face, as he stomped on the cig beneath him, planning to do the same thing to this little Jasonite gathering.

[Prophet]

"This way," called Simon over the noise of heavy traffic, directing a few people along the busy New York sidewalk, "The hotels are over there." He cracked his neck, smiling broadly as another set of people went down the side of the road. Another dozen Jasonites. Some were really calling in early! Way earlier than the rally had planned to take place, they were coming. It was going so much better than planned. He sighed out, his eyes filming over as he glanced at the heavens, grinning as the sounds of the city washed over him. "Praise be to Jason," he whispered, lowering his head in reverence before walking over to a telephone booth. Taking the black phone in his massive hands, he dialed a quick number, letting the ring vibrate in his ear before a sharp click answered.

"Frank? Yeah, it's Simon. The peace of Jason be with you too, brother," he said with a smile, before looking carefully around the booth; it was difficult to know who to trust with Jasonite details these days, "Has the party in Cali started yet? Just now? Awesome. I need you to get me the number of the Apostle over there. I need some details. Thanks buddy."

The lined clicked dead, and Simon glanced up at the sky, cracking his hands as he placed them behind his head, staring at the clouds with a smile on his face. Things were looking up and up...

OOC: Testing to see who is still interested in this. I need more than the five people that have posted active in order for this to work. If not, I might just turn it into a fic, like I had once planned. As those who have posted, I will include your characters in the fic when it goes up.