<a class="postlink" href="http://dreamuniverse.files.wordpress.com/2009/12/recca_hanabishi_by_ephiony.jpg">http://dreamuniverse.files.wordpress.com/2009/12/recca_hanabishi_by_ephiony.jpg</a><br/><br/>Harley exhaled.<br/><br/>It had always been rough trying to keep that ruddy hair under control, but under this hot desert sun it was almost impossible. Admittedly it could have been worse; the whole of Europe could have been transformed into a giant jungle instead of a lifeless desert, but apparently desert had been history's preferred option in this case.<br/><br/>Well, regardless of any of that it had been beneficial for a few groups. Cacti and reptiles had certainly seen their lot improve a little bit, but there had been some benefits for those who were members of higher life orders as well.<br/><br/>Including...well, those who had certainly abilities that made them useful these days, even if they were still hated by many.<br/><br/>For now, though, Harley was content to continue his trek through the shifting sands that had swallowed up what was once gentle countryside. He was far, far too young to have ever seen what a hedgerow actually had looked like, but what he did know was that there was far more food and water back then to go around.<br/><br/>That meant that none of the gangs that bother people today were an issue. Well, sure there was crime in any century, but that's not what Harley thought about. In spite of whatever he was thinking about, though, he was soon dragged straight out of them.<br/><br/>Towns jutted out of the desert sands at different points, seeming to have grown organically as opposed to having been planned. Perhaps that was well enough, as there wasn't enough order these days to support large infrastructures anyway. There was an old saying that you shouldn't get involved in other people's problems, but Harley always had this bad habit of doing just that.<br/><br/>Adjusting his hair one last time after having brought up a mildly tattooed arm across those aforementioned locks, he started toward the town that he saw as he was coming over the sandy ridge. Once he did so, he paused and saw the telltale signs of trouble.<br/><br/>Predictably, a group riding on what looked to be mutated horses with armor rustling through the center of town was causing the inhabitants of the aforementioned village grief. Though Harley should probably have waited to figure out more about the situation, he figured that they must have been looking to take over the village's precious water supply.<br/><br/>After all, in a world like this water had become a rare commodity to be fought over. So had food become a commodity too, but water even more so. If someone had wanted to grow food in the first place, after all, they had needed water to do so. That made the substance all the more precious.<br/><br/>Having figured he was still out of eye shot for the time being, as he was not willing to be discovered as a Syker, Harley threw his fist in front of himself and shouted.<br/><br/>"SCOURGE OF THE DESERT...TRANSFORM!"<br/><br/>With a blinding flash of light plates of armor built around his body and long powerful boots made their way up his legs. His torso was shielded with an almost mechanical piece of equipment that also covered his arms. Completing the appearance was a helmet that completely concealed his head, along with large shields for the eyes that prevented those curious from learning of his identity should they so wish.<br/><br/>With a forceful leap he appeared from outside the back of his rock straight into the middle of the aforementioned township. Glaring at his newfound opposition from behind those eye shields, he spoke from behind a vocabulator that gave the sound of a clear voice that could never have been confused for Harley's regular one and therefore preserved his identity.<br/><br/><a class="postlink" href="http://safebooru.org//images/146/5a3327ff54149c4be723acf43434ecc660b17aad.jpg?145332">http://safebooru.org//images/146/5a3327ff54149c4be723acf43434ecc660b17aad.jpg?145332</a><br/><br/>That being said his transformation, as mechanical as it appeared, was not the result of technology, as most people understood it. Rather, he was a Syker and able to do so through his special power of psychokinesis.<br/><br/>"Halt you criminals! Cease your attack!" Apparently as well as having a clearer voice, he also spoke like something other than a street punk when he was acting as his counterpart.<br/><br/>"I am Dust Devil, scourge of the desert!" The theatrics received a laugh and prompted a few lackluster discharges from the bandit's six-shooters.<br/><br/>This didn't last long however as Dust Devil raised his concealed arms and the bullets stopped coming toward him, soon reversing direction and gathering velocity along with a great deal of the desert sand around him.<br/><br/>Flinging their attacks right back at them tenfold, Dust Devil took a step back as those who would have otherwise assaulted their village now were turning tail and running.<br/><br/>"How the mighty fall! Go and never bother the peaceful inhabitants of this city again!"<br/><br/>With that he offered a forward punch, ostensibly at the air but once more the threat of tiny particulates from the sand around him was far worse than anything he could muster considering that they moved with the attack as well.