thedailyurich

[thedailyurich]

"Huh? Looks like a rat screwed a chihuahua and that's what came out... Seen worse."

"what is that!?"

[thedailyurich]

Ben took a sip from his coffee listening intently. His stylus behind hisear and his tablet on his lap. "It's definitely taking people some time to get adjusted. No debate there. But I don't get what all the fuss is about. Mutants are bad but if you weren't born that way it's fine? It's all a buncha bull."

“I get that the term mutant may seem weird at first. Homo superior definitely isn’t much better. People are just big into labels. But I promise, we’re not scary. Well, most of us aren’t.”

[thedailyurich]

"Make me sound pretentious? Well wouldn't want people to learn that right away, would we?" He replied wryly. She had spunk. This made his job all the more entertaining. This way he wouldn't have to force the conversation as much, he worked well with people like her.

A pang of guilt struck his gut as the green auroras faded into the night. It was beautiful while it lasted and his glance stole them from the world. With the green glow gone it was harder to watch her body language, harder to read her. That was a talent of Ben's. He could practically tell what his subjects were thinking during and interview just by watching them. People thought that you just had to be fancy with your words to make it as a journalist, but it took so much more. You needed to read your subjects. Know how each question made them react, if their phrasing revealed any potential hidden emotions or agendas, and you had to know just how far to push to get your answers. He'd be a good therapist if he only liked people.

"Well damn. You make pretty lights and save on the gas bill. Color me impressed." He mused fighting a small smile before taking a deep drag for the momentary warmth it provided. "Well I guess we're not most people then." He shot back just as quickly. "I didn't come here to be around most people. I don't like most people."

"What the hell is a cockle?" It caught her off guard. The question slipped out on its own accord, a chuckle almost accompanying the words. She actually did laugh as he finished his sentence, her head shaking. "Maybe don't use a word like cockle if you don't even know what it means. Makes you sound pretentious."

Not that she cared. He was a stranger, a potential threat. He was nothing and she needed to remain on edge. As his eyes flickered towards her glowing fists, a wave of self-consciousness washed over her. Growing up, her powers were meant to be repressed. Held in. She didn't want to be seen with them. Back then, she had wanted to fit in. Now, Lorna let the light die from her fists. She needed to conserve her energy to be safe. She took a step closer, eyes squinting to try to see in the semi-darkness.

"Not freezing is a secondary mutation," Lorna lied. There was no way she was getting into it with a stranger. She liked the sting. It kept her centered and focused. Getting comfortable opened the door to growing soft. Growing soft meant growing weak. That wouldn't be Lorna. Not anymore. "You come out here to ruin your lungs?" She shot back. "There's gotta be a better place. Maybe outside a bar? Most people aren't hanging out here at night."

[thedailyurich]

There she was. Polaris. Officer of the Brotherhood of Mutants and Daughter of Magneto. He knew she'd be here but not yet, not now. He came here just for her but he was shocked all the same at the sight of her. Her emerald hair billowing in the wind, the aurora's encompassing her hands. He thought he'd be scared by it or at least intimidated, but it was beautiful. The raw powers of nature that she controlled, it was hard to pull his eyes from her hands.

"Or it's the perfect time. Warms the cockles. Whatever the hell those are." He responded as he flicked his eyes up to meet hers, taking in another hot and soothing drag.

His thoughts churned like a sea at storm, his heart raise, and stomach fluttered with excitement. Here it was. His chance. His time to get a real hard hitting story again. Write something that can make a difference, make people believe in humanity. Stop it Urich. He was getting ahead of himself. There were still plenty of chances for him to screw this up or get murdered for saying the wrong thing.

"That makes two of us." Ben replied as he let out another cloud of smoke. "You come here to try to freeze to death or something?" He added just to fill the silence and continue the conversation as he gestured to her ill prepared outfit. While he tried to ignore the green swirling around her hands he couldn't keep from taking a quick glance.

Life was a bitch. At this point, it felt like no one knew that better than Lorna Dane. Traumatic childhood accident that had killed her mother and been her fault? Check. Mutant powers? Check. Terrorist homosapien hating father? Double check. The green hair was just the icing on the cake.

It had only been a few months since Lorna had found her way to the Brotherhood, since she had washed black dye from her hair for what she swore would be the last time. Mutant and proud, right? She was all but shouting it from the streets, all while wrestling with the inner doubt and self-hatred that had plagued her for her entire life. She didn't fit in back home, and she didn't fit in with the Brotherhood. Lorna was, as always, adrift.

Visiting the auto yard was becoming a habit. It was a chance to get away from the likes of Toad and the other Brotherhood members; they were loud and smelly and more than Lorna cared to deal with most of the time. She only stayed because of her father. Magneto, the man who didn't want her. Who had never wanted her. Despite that, Lorna craved his approval with a desperation that was downright embarrassing. Her father had known about her for years; he had been with her in the aftermath of the accident that had killed her mother and step-father. But he had left her. He had her memories changed and freaking left her to grow up confused. It was hard to not be resentful. More-so, it was hard to believe that he actually wanted her in the Brotherhood now.

But enough of the daddy issues.

Lorna sought sanctuary both from others and herself. The tough act was a survival strategy. A hard exterior brushed off the jabs and comments while Lorna tried to hide how utterly new she was to being a mutant publicly. She stole away for moments of privacy so she could find time to breath again. Being surrounded by metal and car parts felt surprisingly peaceful. Just feeling the magnetic hum that surrounded her in the auto yard was enough to keep her coming back to god forsaken Queens time and time again. After close, it was always empty. Lots of metal to manipulate, no humans around. It may as well have been heaven.

No humans, that is, except for tonight. She had been busying herself trying to lift cars and test the limits of her mutation when she decided to look for something heavier to move. Her walk around the auto yard was when she first noticed him. One human, sitting all alone smoking a cigarette. Weird. Weren't humans weird though? Lorna had grown up among them, felt their wrath and their unwarranted hatred. One second they were casually smoking a cigarette and the next they were yelling anti-mutant slurs. It was enough to instantly put Lorna on edge.

She hadn't realized how long she had been staring until he looked over and they made eye contact. At least, she assumed they did. It was dim in the lot, and the green glow around her fists didn't illuminate much other than the fact that she wasn't human.

"Little cold for a cigarette, isn't it?" She asked, voice projecting to cover the space between them. It was cold in general. Her jacket had been left at the Brotherhood headquarters. Lorna — ever the masochist — enjoyed punishing herself in small amounts. It had been like that her entire life. Pausing, she sighed. "Look, I don't want any trouble."

Surprising, maybe, coming from someone with her affiliation, but true all the same.

[thedailyurich]

What was your debut article written on and do you still think it's good?

"Not my best work but a pretty good article, paid for it with a concussion though. It was a piece on a street gang that was using some higher end tech. Y'know the type. Made from materials from all these heroes, villains, and aliens leave lying around after fights. They were just a bunch of punks but the article gave enough info to get one of them tracked down and arrested. They didn't like that and found me after dark to take a cheap shot at me. Maybe would have died too if it weren't for their toy blowing up grabbing the attention of some street cops. That's when I realized what I do has real consequences but can really make a difference."

[thedailyurich]

Would you compromise your morals to get a story?

"I hope not. If I give up my morals for a story I'm just like those asshole paparazzi and tabloid writers. I want to write something real, meaningful, and impactful. I didn't become a journalist just to fuel my own ego - even if that's a side effect - I became one because I wanted to make a change with my words. To inspire and inform. Give the knowledge to the people and send the truth through all the noise to try and make the world a better place. If I compromise my morals doing that all that I accomplish will have a dark blot around it."

[thedailyurich]

Thoughts on J. Jonah Jameson?

"J. Jonah Jameson. The man the myth the douchebag. We've got a complicated relationship. Do I like him? No. Do I respect him? Mostly. I owe him for my break. He's the one that took a chance on me and put my article in the paper when I was a freelancer dropout. Granted, I all but shoved it up his ass so he couldn't ignore, but regardless, I have an appreciation for him for doing that. He's done a lot with the Bugle and for all the weird opinions he has on Spider-Man and other Vigilantes he's helped the Bugle do some good. Provided a place to talk about issues that really matter and speak on equality. He doesn't give a shit what other people think and that makes for as honest of a News Paper you can get. Even if the opinion pieces on Spider-Man are borderline libel. They should just kiss and make up already."

[thedailyurich]

@magnetbby

It was one of those bitter windy nights. The kind of night where that cold biting wind came off from the harbor, making your nose so cold it stung. He hated it. The coffee he bought as an over priced hand warmer had already gone tepid. He couldn't keep himself from wondering if it was worth it as he reached for his pack of cigarettes. Not just because it was cold, he'd swim in that sludge he called the Harbor in a blizzard if it meant a good story. It was the moral implications that made him hesitate. Yeah, he did this because he wanted to get the truth out there. Make sure that the morons that just by into all the fear mongering get a swift kick in the ass to make them remember the world isn't in black and white; even if his news paper was.

He tapped his carton on his hand loosening his greatest vice before sliding one between his lips. As he felt around for his matches - no lighter today, couldn't risk bringing any more metal here if this went wrong - he kept reminding him that he wasn't stalking that woman, Polaris, but was just engaging in investigative journalism, but that didn't make him feel much better about tailing a girl around for the past week. Probably looked like a pervert.

His thoughts briefly cleared as a dim glow over took him and his corner of the the auto yard with a crackle and a hiss as he let his match, using his hand to save it from the wind. He held the smoldering cgarette between his teeth as he he shook out his watch and dropped it on the ground; he'd pick it up when it cooled off.

He took a long deep drag as the warmth filled his lungs making him feel remotely thawed; he almost didn't want to let it out, but oxygen won in the end. "What are you doing, Urich?" He sighed to himself as he was surrounded in a halo of smoke.