[sylvanSpider]

Hell

On Earth, Axle had few tattoos. Those that he had were visible, of course, as were the piercings. Ink dotting his appendages, anyone who looked at him would have known that he belonged to a rather... alternative crowd, a product of the Satanic Panic with a pension to veer towards punk and metal. His blonde haired and blue-eyed Nordic face ensured that he had a place among the white middle or upper class; his tattoos ensured a distinct lack of employability and parental disappointment - but, that was then, when there was hope. He was a troubled youth who could yet be saved, brought in under the wings of the church, under the wings of rehab, under...something. That hope would forever remain unrealized as the drugs took over his life, more and more. The highs eventually plateaued, that sweet spot remaining unreached. He took more and more, eventually overdosing and taking the life of another who shared a similar story. His death and subsequent sacrifice lead him to yearn for more, always searching for that high that could never belong to him again.

But he didn't stop looking.

Adrenaline became the closet thing to a drug he could muster; and his first few months in Hell were characterized by the need for thrills. Roller coasters. Sex. Hardcore Heavy Metal. Axle wanted in on it all, relishing and savoring the evanescent feeling of elation gone too soon and in too small of an amount. Small thrills did nothing. They could never amount to that unreachable high he'd once achieved in life. So, he evolved.

He began with himself. Razor blades began to be added to his collection, though they never spilled angelic blood. Stitches became his one go-to, cutting himself open only to sew himself shut and reopen himself again. Recognizing the lack of results, he began to get tattoos, his canvas beginning to get filled until no patch of skin remained uninked. Piercings followed suit, and after that the scleras got filled in despite warnings from his guy. The process repeated itself until finally he'd had enough and he found himself standing on top of the living complex for the newly dead, doing a terrible job at convincing himself not to jump. He can still remember seeing the stars, how they were muted by the lights of the ironically named city of Purgatorio, how they seemed to wink at him when the voices told him to go for it. How the wind tussled his hair in sweet caresses beckoning him to his demise. His freedom from this self-made Hell. Another chance, another chance at another high is what he'd get when his soul was recycled.

But once dead, the dead cannot claim their life for their own – it must be taken by another.

This, of course, went above his head as images of his corpse and a new life filled his mind. That is, until a hand brushed his shoulder. You're an idiot. You know that right? A feminine voice. Low and rich, like molasses over corn bread. You can't kill yourself here. Axle rolled his blackened eyes, turning to look back over the city.

Then push me, he'd snapped.

Can't. The voice that now had a face answered, equally as terse.

Yeah? And why not? No one would know you did it.

The woman was silent for a moment until she finally said, I haven't decided if I like you yet. I can't kill anyone I like. Idiot.
->->
Axle laughed, drumming his fingers against the bar, “To look like this, you not only have to deal with pain. You have to enjoy it. Do you think that's something you could do?” The look on his face fell nothing short of a dare, complete with an eyebrow waggle to confirm. If Axle was a well-fed cat, Nancy was the mouse he liked to play with but was too fat to eat.

That's...amazing... Olivia answered, her face incredulous with the discovery of her own ability. At least, it looked amazing when signed. In practice, Olivia knew that she would be far behind and that the learning process would be slow and grueling. I hope to once I practice. How do you even go about practicing anyway? Her eyes followed his hands as they swept up the black-eyed man's phone, putting in first his number and then...hers? She blinked and looked up at him, her face once again incredulous, that feeling not going away when he told her she'd have her own hover bike. She'd never heard of one, let alone seen one, but it was pretty easy to figure out exactly what he was talking about. “Hover bike” was pretty self-explanatory.

“Wait,” Axle said, casting a glance to Olivia, “If we're gonna be a fuckin' team, we've gotta be able to fuckin' talk to each other, right?” Olivia, reading his lips, blushed and looked down. Axle maintained eye contact with Red, “Teach us to sign. None of us should be mute to any of us. If we can see her, I want to be able to understand her. You speak her language. I'll pay you to teach it to us,” he said, pointing between Nancy and himself.”[/b]