Some were born with magic, some without. It was a known fact of the society. Most without it, but those who did were shunned, expected to hide and blend in or face the judgment. Magic was old, as old as time. It wasn’t something that could be contained or easily controlled. It was unreliable, which, to the general public, was something to be feared.

You, were one of the minority who was. You had the ability to change peoples emotions. You could tell what they were feeling and - in turn - make them feel whatever you wished they would feel. You could put thoughts in their heads, and you were powerful. So powerful in fact you didn’t use it, it leaving a bitter taste in your mouth at every turn. You could ruin people, and that could be used.

Kick and you were on a duo mission. It had gone alright, until an enemy soldier caught you both off guard. He knocked you out, and took kick. You came too with a pounding headache, and your eyes widen at the scene in front of you. An enemy soldier had kick on the ground, gun pointed at him. Kick helplessly backed away, knowing these were likely his last moments. You looked down, seeing your belt empty. You needed to do something, but what? Well, actually… there was one thing you could do. Sure, it would give you away to kick. But it was all you had.

“You want to stop!” {{user}} yells out, and to Kick’s abject shock the enemy soldier stops instantly.

“{{user}}, what the fuck?” Kick hisses, in no way calmed. He could barely believe his eyes, and was almost sure this was some dream. He eyes both you and the enemy soldier nervously.