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Fabian Cortez

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In Da Club

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Age: 30
Player: Bry
Joined: 12-January 17
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Last Seen: Jul 21 2018, 10:56 AM
Local Time: Jul 21 2018, 08:54 PM
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May 23 2018, 06:48 PM
The significance that he wanted to do something special for Anna on her birthday not just because it was expected but because it was both her birthday and she was his better half had not been lost on Suvik. This was most unexpected and then again rather expected. Suvik was not the type to have emotion about anything. Often times he was a rather cold and impassive individual. Not really getting to invested in anything or what others were doing. Though when it came to Anna that was all different. Suvik was actually like a real person.

He did not understand it and it was an entirely foreign concept to the guy, but never the less there he was behaving like a real boy and not the life draining psychopath that he was at other times.

Handing the keys of the borrowed Maserati over to the Valet, Suvik stepped across and offered his arm to Spark. Half of his smiling with wonderment, the other half wondering if the valet that had opened her door for her would say something that would get him gutted where he stood. Instinctively he checked to make sure the push dagger was still safely concealed on his person. "Getting reservations had not been all that difficult." Suvik said as he walked inside with Anna. Briefly his mind dwelled on the business man who had to cancel his reservations right before Suvik drained him of his life energy. So not to difficult meant Suvik had only had to ask once really.

"Happy Birthday by the way." Suvik knew that today was likely to be a difficult day for Anna. It was the first birthday after Alexei had died. So perhaps having her out in public was not the best idea in the world. Or perhaps it was exactly what she needed. Eventually he would figure out what she needed. He had a way of figuring that out eventually. Figuring out why he was able to tell those things was a whole other story.

Jan 4 2018, 08:25 PM
The scene was a perfect rendition of Mutant Town at high noon. The only difference was scores of Trask's Mechanized units stomped through the streets. Paired off in units of two. The sound of gears and heavy footfalls filled the air around the sounds of automatic gun fire. Anytime anything remotely looked like a mutant, or was identifiable as a mutant, those walking tanks would open fire. Spilled scores of casings onto the ground and dropping the body where it stood.

High a top a building, Suvik watched as the mechanized units worked. Preparing to head into battle against the machines once his observation was done. Not like he needed to observe them much at all. He had ran this program on multiple occasions. Every since the March on Trask had revealed that Trask had mechanized walkers to mow mutants down with. Suvik knew this was an inevitability. The day would come when these things marched down the streets of New York, mowing down mutants on every corner.

He also knew the day would come when the others knocked on his door and said, "Suvik, we need you to do something." His methods were not really in line with the rest of the Bhood. Though he could conform to their methods if they would simply ask him to. It was when they did not ask him to that caused the issues. Suvik left to his own devices was and element on a mission that very few could stomach. He was not particularly clean, efficient, but not clean.

Hoping down from his perch, Suvik casually walked to the middle of the roof he was on and uncoiled his tendrils as he pulled that black hood up and over his face. With a running start, Suvik launched himself off the building, a tendril lashing out and tangling around a light pole before drawing tight and swinging him around. His feet colliding with the back of one of the mechanized walkers. Stumbling it forward.

Hitting the ground, Suvik darted to the side as the second one whirled around and tried to get a bead on him. Though he kept moving until he heard the clank of the walker reaching the end of its range of movement. Suvik used some of his stored up energy and amplified his strength. His tendrils slapping around one of the arm cannons, pulling Suvik up to brace his feet on its side and yank hard. The sound of metal being wrenched groaned out as he pulled. The massive guns in the arm firing, bullets striking the other one as Suvik controlled its aim with brute force.

Deftly he scurried over the arm and up onto the cockpit and began pounding down on the windshield, cracking it with every blow before leaping off and taking cover. The second one had regained its footing and had turned to hunt Suvik down. Braced behind a garbage container, Suvik grinned and weighed his options.
Dec 5 2017, 06:56 PM
Tensions were a little high after the incident at the Inauguration. Trevor had come for Suvik, and Suvik had been more than willing to answer the challenge. The President had some weird reaction that had promptly been blamed on the Brotherhood, and Exodus had decided to end their announcement by fracturing a lot of real estate. More accurately, their was a lot of tension, but Suvik felt no tension himself. The enemy to the Brotherhood had come for a fight, and that was what you did with an enemy. You fought them. It was pretty simply equation for Suvik, though it seemed that some of their number chose to exclude certain enemy combatants from the equation. While others seemed to not at all want to fight the enemy. Like allies with a different theory or some other weirdness.

It all made zero sense to Suvik. All of their enemies were in one central spot. They could have launched a bold attack, removed the cyst that was the President, smashed the Peace and Love hippies and cauterized the wound all in one sitting. But they choose the wag the finger. Which Suvik was perfectly content to do. He was not there to make decisions. He was their to carry out plans. The only wrench in the works was Menagerie.

He had a deep loathing for Menagerie. He was not willing to listen to reason where Malice was concerned. He had his own theory about the events in that lab and a deep seated compulsion to bring down torturous pain where she was concerned. Getting called out by the boyfriend was just to rich for Suvik to pass up. Could he have played it differently? He knew he could have, but there would not have been any sorrow and heartache that way.

After the Inauguration Exodus had decided to return to his ancestral home for whatever reason. Perhaps to prepare a new safe house should they have to evacuate the Station, or move closer to the African Continent to keep and eye on Genosha, as it seemed that tiny country was becoming a priority for them. Suvik did not care either way, though the tension in the Station was beginning to grate on his own nerves so when some supplied needed sent, Suvik had decided to go along for the ride as well. Take a day out of the Station and out of New York himself. If Exodus would allow his company. Suvik knew better than to try and impose if he was not welcome.

"These are some of the supplies." He simply said, tapping one of the containers. His eyes scanning the room and taking in the oldness of the monastery. The smell of it. "If you do not mind, I thought I'd stay a day before returning to the Station." Suvik strolled forward a bit, pausing once again to glance around. "It is quiet here."
Oct 13 2017, 11:45 PM
If the Station's kitchen had an exotic smell coming from it, then it was safe to assume that Suvik was inside. Cooking up some sort of exotic dish from his native Sri Lanka. The kitchen smelled of Curry, peppers, onion, and various other spices. The first few batches of Devilish Peppers had already been finished. Suvik was currently busy on the prep work for the next batch.

With the ranks of the Brotherhood expanding, Suvik had needed to cook even more food than before. Which meant added expense for the food that Suvik purchased. Which was never a concern for Suvik. While he was not a rich man by no real measure, he did have a strong habit of making purchases with other peoples money. People he had meet on those nights when he slinked out of the Station and into New York to "replenish" his stores of energy that his mutation relied on.

It used to be dangerous for a serial minded guy like Suvik to use the bank accounts of those he visited, but God Bless the Internet, New York, and the ability to order anything online and have it delivered. His process was simple. Sit at a yuppy hipster Starbucks. Scope out a couple with more money than sense. Follow home, ask where was the best place to get organic yams, and that was the end of that.

Suvik stood at the island counter in the kitchen. Half preparing the Devilish peppers, and half wondering why the hell he always felt the urge to cook enough for the rest of the Brotherhood. Such an odd sensation, the urge to try and fit in with the others. He had carried on with that behavior for a very long time. As a young boy fleeing from Sri Lanka, embedded with a band of mercenaries as their cook, and then as one of them. Now in New York, as a member of the Brotherhood, answering the call to arms for the Mutant race. Not really for the mutant race, at least not entirely. Maybe as much for the bloodletting as it was for the righteous Freedom fighting of it all. He was a mercenary by trade after all. He went where the fighting was most interesting.

Laying a pepper out onto the cutting board. Suvik pulled a knife from the knife stand and drew it across the pepper, cutting it in two. His movement with the knife was no where near how a chef would draw a knife across a pepper, instead he pulled the knife slow and methodical like a surgeon would. Or a homicidal psychopath, whichever. It was all semantics really. Scooting one half to the side, Suvik manipulated the other half to sit in front of him and again began to slowly and methodically pull the knife across the half, cutting the pepper into strips. A grin setting on his face as he worked, breathing in the scents that had filled the room and wondering just how long it would be before someone wondered in to see what he was up to.

Jun 2 2017, 12:14 AM
It was over. Things should be back to normal by now. The uneasiness should be gone by now. Yet every creaking board in Station M elicited quick turn of the head. Every unexpected thump from Mort jumping about, or Alexei padding around raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Being reminded of ones own limited humanity was a hell of a thing. It had a way of twisting things out of alignment. Luckily he had resurrected, though that was not enough to sweep away the unease. An unease that was only compounding.

For a few days Suvik had been prowling about the Station. Most people would be pacing, but no one could describe what Suvik had been doing as pacing. There was a deep sense of quite frustration in his movements as he milled around like someone bored and in need of something to do but entirely uncertain of what that something was.

Finally Suvik had had enough of his unease and decided that he had to do something to get rid of what was plaguing him. Grabbing his helmet, Suvik had hit the garage and barreled out of the Station on his motorcycle and headed towards the city. His eyes zero focued on his personal mission as he weaved through the city and finally came to the place where it all started. The Warehouse District and the fight clubs.

Parking the bike, Suvik once again prowled as he crossed the street and entered the Warehouse. Taking a moment to survey the area and think through what he had missed. Why he had not seen it coming. Such an elaborate trap. In hindsight it seemed so glaringly obvious. Even though it obviously was not glaringly obvious. There was no way he could have known, any of them could have known. But someone did know. Some one had sent him to that spot for his winnings. Winnings that he never got. With some luck. Maybe he would recognize someone that worked in this warehouse. Perhaps the person that tipped him off on the fights. Lucky for Suvik. Not so lucky for anyone that he recognized.

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