Gunslinger doesn't have a custom title currently.
Location: No Information
Born: No Information
Website: No Information
Character Quote: Aim to please. Shoot to kill
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Joined: 13-January 17
Last Seen: Jul 12 2018, 07:01 PM
Local Time: Jul 22 2018, 10:29 AM
165 posts (0.3 per day)
( 1.10% of total forum posts )
Jul 10 2018, 12:05 AM
John couldn't say he was as close to his family as he had been.
Half of his life and half of his memories had been taken from him. Stripped and vanished. So a lot of the connections, a lot of the peace and good things he would normally associate with his family, were not there. For the people he had grew, and to him it was like he went asleep one day and woke up to time having left him behind. Where the people he had been so close to were now strangers.
But he had slowly been reconnecting. And that absence wasn't a reason not to exercise some basic common sense.
So he slipped into the loft that Trevor and Merry lived in.
He paused as Trevor was in there, staring ahead blankly with his eyes lit up with that eerie blue flame. Frankly it sent a chill down John, but he had a mission. He quietly went to work, hands lightly touching guns. Touching knives. Making them vanish into his dimension. He also got most of Trevor's whips.
But as he got closer to his cousin and reached for the handle of that enchanted weapon as it was coiled around the man, the handle smacked his knuckles before curling back like a serpent. Despite it not making any noise at all, he could FEEL the thing focusing with intense desire to smack him if he tried to take it.
And he had the unnerving suspicion it was going to aim for his junk if he did so.
So he left that one item there, and pulled up a chair to look at his cousin. Frowning, he then sighed and stood up, clapping him on the shoulder. Cause there was not a god damned thing that John could say about the situation. "Don't even register I'm here do you?" he said softly. "Your mom and dad are worried. The version of Neena from the future is likely flipping out. Liv is beside herself. And you know how your girlfriend is."
But he also knew that there wasn't much he could do, so he waited a bit to see if his cousin would respond. Then he quietly got up and left the loft.
Strolling down to the stable, he then started to gather up feed to give the horses, knowing that neither Trevor nor Merry would be in the mindset to do that. And he wanted something to do, to distract his mind and collect his thoughts before going inside. Just handle this, get my head straight, then go see Liv some more. Should give her some time to collect herself, John thought.
May 3 2018, 10:06 PM
John was not overly fond of a hotel that by all rights should have cost an arm, leg, and possibly a small mortgage on a man's soul. That and the fact all of the white made him think that the idea of comfort most had was pristine perfection never stained by grease, sweat, blood, dust, or oil.
In other words, an ideal of perfection and comfort. Selling the idea and concept of luxury as being the same as contentment. Looking around, John thought It is a cocoon. A glided lie that nothing can touch us. Nothing can hurt us.
From what the apparent future version of Neena said, he had lived past a second day when he should have died.
So being in a place where he wasn't supposed
to be armed, wasn't supposed
to be worrying, was less than comforting. The X-Men survived, so either the future she came from no longer exists, or it occurs in a different fashion,
John thought as he walked the hallways, looked at notes and maps and timing approaches to elevators and stairwells.
Cause he wanted to have multiple means of escape if the Brood attacked the hotel.
Walking back to his room, he shut the door and summoned a barricade bar
to put on the door. Setting it up at the proper length, he nodded and set it on the table. Then he summoned a long length of rope and a pulley system for rapid deployment down the building if needed.
Setting both were he thought they would be most useful, John felt the comfort of his belt, with communicator buckle and hidden push daggers, as well as the decorative disks that housed a variety of goodies.
And in blatant disregard of hotel policy, he felt the comforting weight of one of his 9 mm pistols on him. Muttering to himself, John said "So we have teleporters and those with super speed in these rooms. Good places to get to for evac if needed."
Deciding he needed to check for lines of fire and check where emergency lighting was, he left his room and started walking the halls, considering the best routes if there was an attack. And he felt frustrated as he knew the adult version of himself likely could have done this as a matter of course instead of having to go over it again and again. What i need is some lightweight body armor that is stab proof,
John thought, not wanting to ever experience the pain of those stingers pumping that hellish concoction into him.
At one intersection of hallway, John touched the drywall, thinking Thin enough I could shoot through it and hit stuff on the other side of the hallway that intersects at the T.
Though some sort of mirror up there would be useful to see what was around the corner first. Sighing, he said "Even if i installed it, somebody would gripe." Much like how Trevor had intercepted him and told him 'No' on making a sniper nest on the roof.
He'd thought that super heroes would be more understanding when it came to potentially shooting bad guys from a long ways off.
Mar 30 2018, 11:52 AM
3-15-2017 9:57 pm
[doHTML]<p class="triangle-isosceles">Hana, this is John. Myself and a few others are going to investigate a very weird murder scene. The killer is there. Could you please access the camera features of my phone to send video and audio to the adults so they can make sure we don't miss something? </p>[/doHTML]Fifteen seconds later:
[doHTML]<p class="triangle-isosceles">I am an idiot for saying 'this is John' when this thing tells you who it is, aren't I?</p>[/doHTML]Faust
Mar 19 2018, 12:51 AM
The thought of were to take Ion
on a date had been simple.
if there was one thing both the ionic manipulator and the detective in training had in common, it was a love of knowledge. Of information. Of learning.
So finding a nice little bookstore with a cafe in it seemed a pretty good bet.
From what he had seen looking online, the Housing Works Bookstore Cafe seemed like a good bet. Books. Stuff to drink and snack on. And a part of the money went to AIDS research. He figured it was a good bet all around as it seemed like a nice place to hang out with a beautiful girl, look at some books, and even help out others by paying for a few.
Having slipped on a better pair of boots and jeans, and having a nice pressed shirt on, John had slipped on both hat and a decent length coat, and had met Liv and walked with her to his truck. Both got in and chatted on the way on there date, with John smiling at the fact that he was getting to simply spend some time with a smart and clever woman.
While her pink electric glow would dissuade many, John thought that it suited her, accenting her well and making a nice contrast with her dark hair.
As they got to Manhattan, Radigan was happy that he hadn't told her where they were going, just that they were going out to have some simple fun after the events in the Savage Land. Though as they parked and made their way to the bookstore, John held open the door and smiled as he breathed in. "Love the scent of books," John admitted. "And thought it seemed like a place you might like."
Mar 4 2018, 10:58 PM
While not the best at modern computers due to the handicap of missing on about 20 years of development, John Radigan had learned the basics. And also knew that said programs helped him with some design and planning.
So he found himself in the computer lab, working on a few projects.
The first was simple. He was working on a system to convert the decorative round conchoes on his western belts into concealed items, such as highly pressurized gasses and acids. The idea was a system that would lock them in place until a concealed piece was pressed to release, and a second one either allowed it to erupt on impact or set a timer to go off.
The second and third items were simpler. It was designing a pair of custom revolvers, unlike those currently in production and use. Chambered in .45 Colt and capable of using a convertible cylinder for .45 acp ammo, the custom weapons were taking standard Remington 1860 revolvers and extensively modifying them. Adding a spring in the handle and reworking the trigger for double action weapons. New barrels for smokeless powder as opposed to the black powder they normally used. Rechambering for new rounds. Setting one up for a left opening cylinder and the other for a right hand opening cylinder.
Purely to use with the gun belt and holster system that himself, Trevor, and their grandfather were putting together.
If it worked, it was going to be sweet. But if not..... this was going to be a lot of work and hours down the shitter.
As it was, he had a schematic for the revolvers up, and was measuring the recessed cylinder fluting on the outside of the cylinder that held the ammo. He was working out the trigonometry and geometry on a scratch pad, wanting the raised areas on the cylinder to hit the small raised lumps on the gun belt in front of the holster just right. Cause if it all worked right, he'd be able to use the device inside the gun belt to spread open the bullet loops, letting a round fall in as the gun cylinder rolled under them for a fast reload.
Letting out a sigh, he ran his fingers through his hair as he tinkered with it, muttering "It'll be sweet if if works. Though kind of wish grandpa would have built them instead of just telling us to plan it out and get it done with him supervising via internet chat and video calls." Though as old as his grandfather was, couldn't say that it was beneficial for the old man to come out to New York. That and if some of them thought he was bad, Grandpa Radigan would induce strokes by his presence and opinions. Shadowcat