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|"Plumber? I'm not a plumber, just a researcher," Alex responded, shaking the offered hand. "Why would you need a plumber? I thought this place had been abandoned for years..."
For some reason, Alex had a bad feeling in his gut about this guy...but that could be the tacos he had eaten at lunch...
|"Ah," the man responded as the last whistle faded out into the dead town.
He got up and walked over to the newcomer, extending his hand. "Name's Phoenix. I suppose you must be the plumber I called for."
|OOC: I haven't done this in a long time. I'll try to not be technical and be more creative.
Quick lowdown on my character as he is now:
- can create fire and throw it from hands
- uses nannites to manipulate magnetic fields and electrical fields in close proximity
- uses magnetic coil-guns and gauss rifles primarily
- can fly at low speed and low altitudes using magnetic fields
- all electrical/magnetic energy is generated by a "reactor" that is permanently attached to his body
- fire is chemically generated in artificial glands in torso that connect to palms - uses alcohol, protein, and carbs as fuel, can also use hydrogen and/or oxygen.
Alexandor Solaris drove his beat up old junker jeep down to the ghost town. He wasn't looking for trouble, but it seemed trouble always found him. As he pulled into town, he saw the gallows and the man sitting on the platform. Knowing his luck, Alex figured he was in for a fight.
Alex parked about a block away, never letting the man out of his sight. Walking to the center of the town brought back memories of other ghost towns he had investigated. Maybe this one would be different...
"Can I help you, stranger?" Alex called when he entered the town square. He was starting to wish he had taken another helping at lunch, just for the additional energy.
|ooc: A battle between Lord Alexandor and I. Oh shi--[/quit]
The gallows hung empty in the center of town. Orange rays of the setting sun streaked through air thick with dust, highlighting the wooden houses that had not been inhabited for many years.
Sitting on the platform was a dark haired man in an old fashioned button down and slacks. His shoes were shined, and clothes impeccable. If he was a ghost of the forgotten town, it didn't show.
The man stared down the dirt road that ran between the homes and shops, apparently looking for something. He began whistling an upbeat tune as he sat patiently.