Realistic or Modern Culmination Then Ruin

[Syrenrei]

Before answering his question, Katriane nodded at the request for beer and walked over to a stainless steel fridge that was entirely too large for one person. Once she opened the french doors it was a little more understandable why she would utilize so much space- containers full of various groceries clearly marked or intended for animals including several disturbingly massive containers of raw meat. Withdrawing two bottles with one hand and small opaque Tupperware in the other, she returned to the kitchen's island where Subject Two stood. It was a dark stout that she had retrieved and offered wordlessly as she evaluated his features. "I am guessing you can run the mile in under six minutes, so I imagine you're in pretty good shape," she replied dryly- obviously a commentary on his physique. No one was going to sink thousands upon thousands of dollars into someone that wasn't already fit, she reasoned. Morbidly obese bed-ridden midgets weren't going to be a worthwhile investment. "Your face looks fine, better than mine most days. We can clean you up more after you have a beer- I have a wonderful away of beige, beige, and beige band-aids for you to chose from. Oh, I forgot- I also have slightly-more-taupe-than beige." Obviously the bloke was more machine than he realized but she didn't look forward to bearing the 'bad news' and dealing with the aftermath. Hopefully they had left him the ability to get a little buzzed; even Katriane took horrible news slightly better when she was a touch inebriated.


She took the towel and tossed it in the sink before abandoning her beverage to answer the door. Robin's announcement had been amusing enough to pierce the veil of cynicism briefly and elicit a smile. "You know, a real pizza delivery man just knocks on the door. Announcing yourself like that makes me feel like I'm about to become part of a bad porno. Oh, take off your shoes at the door. It's hard enough to keep things clean with the ones I let inside." The blonde breezed past to snap open the container in her hand (which had been the opaque Tupperware from the fridge) and display its contents to the hawk. The avian snapped down with its beak and snatched a large cut of bloody meat that was hidden within before spreading its wings and departing with 'dinner.' Katriane presumably followed Robin back into her house, sans his boots. Roosevelt glanced at the door, eyed Robin, and let out another lazy groaning yawn.


Now that they were seeing her in the comfort of her home, her movements were even more casual and relaxed. She had announced herself as a superhero titled 'Dreamless' but there was a certain lackadaisical attitude that permeated her actions and words. Personal space was generally and ignored and disregarded, her eyes drifted off occasionally as if caught in distant conversations or thoughts, and her snarky remarks were made with a flat, slightly disinterested voice. It was difficult to tell if she was merely comfortable with the two strangers or had no sense of self-preservation. "I'd offer you both a chance to make a free phone call, but I haven't a phone. I find them... frustrating at times. You're welcome to my computer so long as I don't end up with half a dozen questionable downloads. Don't suppose you're hungry? I could have used a real pizza."


No questions about the forest invaders or their origin stories. They could divulge if they wished to but she was a little more consumed about her lack of a meal recently. Her mind swarmed briefly, causing a singular dizzy stagger, before she was sauntering to the kitchen for her beer with stability. Considerable telepathy had been orchestrated over the course of the day and she doubted that Madam was summoning her to play a game of cards. Well, a strong drink wouldn't hurt preparing her for speaking to the leader of the League; in fact, Dr. Katriane was prescribing it to Patient Katriane. The only solution to a metric ton of bizarre problems was liquor and the knowledge things could only go downhill from here.

 

[Ozmic]

[Redacted] - Alias: Subject Two


A Home in the Middle of Nowhere

​

Eyeing the fridge, Two almost said something - wondering if there was someone else that lived here - when he remembered all the animals around. He wondered just how many she fed, but before the thought could get far she was handing him the beer. "Thanks," he said automatically, then raised a brow at the quip about physique. A beat passed wordlessly as he thought about it and, finally, he answered. "I really don't know. I can guess that I was pretty fit before... well, all of this madness." The male looked down at his left hand, the beerless one, and flexed it curiously. "I'm sure with the new 'blessings' I've been given, I might be able to run it a bit faster," he finished, voice hinting at just a bit of sarcasm.


As she spoke about his well-being, Two leaned back and took three long swallows of the stout. To him, it may as well have been the nectar of the gods. Stifling a light belch, he exhaled gratefully and gave another nod. "Bandages are bandages. As long as it keeps me from falling apart, it's usable," he joked with a slight smile, taking another drink as she went to answer the door and letting the fuzzy buzz of the beer wash over him. It was calming, really, and not unpleasant. He knew, however, that once he stopped to think hard about all this he'd probably be in a much less calm state of mind. Or a panic... whichever came first.


Zoning out a little, Two listened to the conversation between the two from the other room, raising a brow at the comment made about how Robin had 'announced' his arrival. The male gave a dry chuckle and emptied his beer in another large swallow, letting his eyes drift partially closed and trying to ignore the protest of his stomach for sustenance. As if on cue, Kat finished a sentence with mention of pizza and his gut gave another hunger pang of want. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't starving. And unless you really wanted to get something delivered all the way out here, I could try my hand and making something," he offered with a shrug. "Think of it as repaying you for all of that out there. Plus, if there's one think I do remember from er... before, it's how to cook."


He smiled appreciatively, but couldn't shake the feeling that if she'd not intervened, things could have gone much less well for himself AND for his new acquaintance. Glancing at Robin for a moment, the large male studied him curiously, making a mental note to apologize for running off without him, and then asking just what his role in all this was and why the hell he was so interested in the cyborg's well being...

 

[Sol]

"A bad por--well that is an...interesting? Way to put it I suppose, but uhh I'm still a cherry so yeah, step away from the goods and all, I'm saving up for someone special or something. Anyway, angry bird over there wouldn't stop screeching, I was just about to go back to my flat and get some upgrades for myself, maybe change the voice box in me to give me a permanent British accent, I already sorta memorized their vocabulary."


That comment took him off guard though. He was guilty of watching that gentlemanly content though who in their right mind wouldn't, right? His defense mechanism of talking too much kicked in smoother than a baby's behind and there he was talking about how he'd like to have a British accent. In fact, was the UK still around or did a hundred years change its name and territories? So many questions, yet no answers at all. He still had yet to come to grips with the fact that he is definitely way out of his generation, even the cyber guy seemed kinda young while Robin was more alienated than anything.


He should be Cable though, if he ever got into that league of heroes, Cable, the man out of time! Except Robin wasn't externally cybernetic and Two would probably fit the bill more. Just then, a great idea came into his head along with a smile, the guy didn't have a name and so the name shall be Cable. He silently thanked Stan Lee for creating Marvel and Marvel for creating Cable. Robin made it a point to see if any of his childhood icons could survive 120 or so years. Two would be Cable and that was that, even if the cyber man would not agree with him in the slightest.


Robin followed Katriane into her cabin. It wasn't anything special and he doubted that this was the same Cabin he "died" in a hundred years back. That cabin had electricity and a computer, this looked like the really old rustic types. The one's where teens his age let their hormones run wild while Jason Vorhees and co run just as wild too. In fact, his friends may have been passionately making out when all seven of them died that day, well six since they brought Robin back. He expected a pang of sorrow to echo in him but it didn't happen, he was alive and they were dead and honestly he wish he died with them back then, not be left alone in the future. Still someone had to carry on their hopes and dreams, Robin was the only one left.


"Nice place, perfect serial killer movie setting."


When all this is said and done though, he would have to find a movie to star in, create a rock band, model for a magazine, develop some ground breaking program, become a chef on par with those on the lifestyle channel like Bobby Flay, and finally search for Miranda's grave and confess his feelings, a hundred years too late but still better than nothing. Adam's, Francine's, Samantha's, Gerard's, Kyle's, Miranda's and his own wishes and dreams were what he aimed to do when Kellam, Winston and Martens were done with him. He had a song play in the built in music suite of his implants, it was one song of the songs all seven of them liked. He'd hear the song in his head and that would probably tune out the external chatter but it didn't seem like the two were paying him any mind. Besides, it's not like he had much breath to speak anyway, his response already made his throat hurt and his lungs still burned.




<<<<song<<<<
Those two do sorta look good together, maybe, if one had a magnifying glass, which Robin had installed in his eye. He could sorta see it but it was blurry from where he was. Although, to them he may have looked like an idiot sorta kinda bobbing with the drumbeat of the song.


shitpostisshit

 

[Erica]

Zak Muir


Nietzsche Pub & Grill on the east side of the river

​

The hot wings sitting in front of Zak had faded into unpalatable stickiness by the time his client arrived. He was nursing his Newcastle Ale when the short man in his early twenties entered the bar. The man’s dark skin and silky charcoal-colored hair stood out, but what really made people take notice was his brown suit over a faded yellow shirt. While slightly worn, the quality stood out amongst the workers that frequented Nietzsche’s.


Zak looked up as the newcomer approached the table. The man’s almond-shaped eyes, too small for his face, resembled two drops of oil. He had a large nose and thin lips hidden under a layer of stubble. Clutching a grey and blue softball cap in his hands, he glanced around the room nervously. “Are you... Zak?”


With a roll of his eyes. “Yeah. That’s me.” Zak waved to the seat across from him.


The man looked down at the cap in his hands. “Sorry.” He belatedly offered a hand. “I’m Don.” Zak hesitated for a moment, looking at those dark eyes and wondering if this man was Aberrant as well, then shook the other man’s hand briefly in his gloved one before Don took a seat. The interest generated by Don’s entrance subsided while Zak took another drink of his ale. “Leanne said you could help me.”


Setting his drink down, Zak pointed at the hat. “That's hers?” It wasn't really a question. He needed something personal connected to whatever - or whoever - someone wanted information on. Don nodded and put the hat on the table carefully, handling it like it might break. Zak didn’t move to touch it yet. Instead, he pushed the wings further away from the cap and looked at the distraught man across from him. “Tell me about her.”


Don visibly swallowed, then leaned forward to speak quietly. “It’s my sister, Alana.” His gaze grew distant as his dark eyes dropped to the hat. “Alana Coyne,” he added, “She’s only thirteen. Our mom remarried late in life." He cleared his throat and continued, "She disappeared two days ago from her softball match.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. After a few taps on the screen, he turned the face toward Zak. A young girl smiled out of the screen, braces catching the flash of the camera but not diminishing her smile.


Zak frowned. He spoke more gently, thinking of his sister, Kirsten. If anything ever happened to her, how desperate would he be to find answers? “Any theories as to what happened?”


Don glanced at the screen of his phone before setting it down on the table next to the hat. “The cops say she probably ran away. But Alana wouldn’t do that. She ...” he glanced over his shoulder before adding more quietly, “I think she’s like ... you.” His mouth twisted into a grimace, and Zak could see the self-hatred there. If Don was Aberrant, he hated himself for it or at least didn’t think himself like others. He might even be Unclassified, which would make this an even more dangerous proposition.


Zak folded his arms over his chest. “And if she is?” He met Don’s nearly black eyes with skepticism.


“I’m just saying... maybe someone targeted her for that reason,” Don said defensively. “Look, man. I just want to find my little sister. If she ran away, if someone took her, if she’s... whatever. I just want to bring her home.” He motioned to the cap. “Leanne said you could help. Said you needed something of Alana’s. So I’m here, with her goddamn softball cap, asking for you to do... whatever you do.” He grabbed his phone and pocketed it. “Are you gonna help me or not?”


For a long moment, Zak looked over Don. His anger could be borne of frustration, or he could be hiding something. Zak suspected it was the latter, but either way, the little girl was real enough. And she was missing. He nodded his head. “Yeah, but you have to understand: I can’t promise anything. I’ll do what I can, but sometimes the messages are ... Anyway. Yeah, I’ll help.”


He removed his gloves and reached for the cap.

 

[Syrenrei]

"Serial killer setting? Mittens might have a proclivity towards murder, but only of things smaller than herself. You are..." Katriane took a brief once-over of the overly concerned virgin and sighed, "most definitely larger than Mittens. I can't imagine you'd be gentle on her digestive system either," she added. "It'd also be a terrible waste to kill someone I just went through so much effort to save." Massaging her temple briefly she considered the best way to approach her two dinner guests. The injured cyborg wanted to cook and the slightly aloof supposedly not homosexual techie was already making an escape plan for back home. Oh, and her forest was still not cleansed of some morally depraved corporate mercenaries. And Madam had summoned her, which she had delayed by telling Lark she had a date. Katherine would be curious and probing about the deception because her sister knew that there would be a nuance of truth hidden in it. As she considered everything that had been thrust upon her in the last half hour she returned to the kitchen with conviction, retrieved another beer bottle from the partition on the door, and downed it all in one go.


If she was going to be royally screwed over sideways by a series of unfortunate events there was no reason to be completely sober. Unfortunately, this "self medication" was utilized far too frequently after playing Dr. Doolittle with schnauzers that didn't breed and had 'droopy faces.' Or discovering another hero with a fatal flaw that caused raging disappointment and a little nausea. Or helping someone deliver sensitive news of importance discreetly via the World-Wide-Dreamless-Web only to realize it was about another innocent person biting the dust. As a consequence of her rampant cynicism, it was incredibly difficult to obtain that buzz she so desired. Additionally, she had too much common sense to indulge more than a few beers a day as killing herself via liver damage would make it incredibly hypocritical for her to criticize Katherine's self-harm.


Collapsing into an empty chair with the drained bottle, she tried very minimally not to be the worst host either man had encountered. "Let's eat then and Robin over there can help me play doctor on Two," she instructed without any real dedication to her plan. "I went shopping yesterday so everything is stocked- you can use anything you find." Her 'pets' were not nearly as particular about their meat choices as people were and so she was flexible on whatever protein Two was most comfortable preparing. Inside were eggs, milk, butter, fresh fruit and vegetables, and other mundane sundries- but also the copious containers of meat as he had spotted earlier. Pork, beef, chicken, turkey, and in various cuts and portions to give a variety a butcher could be proud of. The only obvious omission was venison- but Katriane actually knew some of the resident deer and felt slightly guilty keeping their slaughtered innards in storage.


"A British accent? To be more convincing you should also assume a pretentious name. That is unless you fancy being a special agent or something of the sort- just try not to make too big a ruckus. The League already has me busy enough and I don't want to meet you in a dark alley with... whatever it is you do." Her words were directly mostly at Robin to keep a conversation flowing while Two commenced cooking. A light-hearted parley might help Two from traversing a darker path of self-doubt and loathing. Katriane had enough of it for all of them together and she didn't want to see either man falling prey to the same.

 

[Ozmic]

[Redacted] - Alias: Subject Two


A Home in the Middle of Nowhere - Living Area, then Kitchen




​

Two's eyes went back and forth between the others, watching them as they shared in conversation. Robin seemed to be caught off guard by the lightly lewd jest from earlier and seemed to start rambling. The male stifled a laugh and continued to watch, not really saying much as he wracked his brain, trying to find a recipe that wouldn't take much time, but that was delicious none-the-less. He could hardly think, however, as his stomach roared in protest to the very thought of sustenance.


When his 'name' was mentioned, the male jolted upright slightly and seemed to snap out of his own head. "Sorry, got lost in thought. But yeah, food and then you two can stitch me up all nice and proper." There was a joking tone to his voice, but was his face worse off than he'd been led to believe? He shook away the worry that came with the idea and simply nodded to Kat's words, anxious to see just what a well-stocked kitchen held. He was no stranger in any kitchen, but he was used to his own pantry and fridge being thinly filled. If he'd had to move quickly, he wasn't about to waste groceries.


Smiling a little at the thought, he headed toward the kitchen and called back with an afterthought. "Does that mean helping myself to another of these beers?" he asked with a chuckle, spirits rising just slightly as he put his mind elsewhere - on the craft of cooking. Opening the fridge, he quickly grabbed out three hefty hanger steaks and set them on the counter, moving this way and that as he explored the kitchen.


When all was said and done, the counter before him lay covered in a few choice ingredients. Olive oil, Worcestershire and soy sauce, some large garlic cloves, Dijon mustard, coarse pepper and salt. He worked quickly, chopping the garlic and mixing the marinade into a bowl and finishing it off with half of one of the dark beers from earlier. Pouring it into a large plastic bag, he submerged the cuts of beef and let them sit as he prepared a skillet and finished both the half a beer from the marinade and another, occasionally peeking out to the others to share in a bit of conversation.


He smiled as he drank, watching the others. He hoped the food was enough to thank the woman for her hospitality and assistance, but then again it WAS her food he was cooking. Chuckling at this and shaking his head, he raised a brow as Kat mentioned The League and frowned at a sudden realization. He was Unclassified now, past the time he could train into heroics or villainy. He sighed and went back to put the steaks on the skillet, wondering if it would be for the best in his future to simply hide his new gifts - or curses - from anyone and everyone.


As the steaks sizzled over medium-high heat, he watched them, trying to ignore any stray thoughts of the future and keep in a jovial mood. The smell of the food was an inviting distraction and, before he knew it, the steaks were sitting on a carving board. He sliced them thinly, arranging the slices onto three plates and spooning over the left-over juices from the pan onto them. Quickly moving to put things back, he washed the dishes quickly and carefully, then toweled off his hands and headed toward the others balancing plates.

Spoiler

"Dinner is served," he said with a half-smile, his eyes lightly bloodshot from the beers and his mood seeming lighthearted, despite the ravenous growl in his gut and fuzziness in his head distracting him. "Anywhere we're moving to, or shall I plant myself somewhere here?" he started with another small chuckle. "Because, sitting down or not, I might start eating soon. Dunno about both'a you, but I feel like I'm starving."

 

[Sol]

Robin definitely did not expect these turn of events but he wasn't about to chicken out midway, not that he could to begin with. There were a bunch of violent people who may have already added him to their hit-list on top of being in the middle of the hundred acre woods. Even if he wanted to, there was nowhere to run, much like a serial killer movie. Hopefully he'd be in the shoes of the virgin girl who buries the hatchet in the skull of the killer, though the fact that he wasn't a girl complicated things.


Katriane was busy enough having a fun time toying with him. He couldn't exactly fault her as he may have just set up himself up for it, he just had to roll with the punches until she decided to stop. Meanwhile, Two went to the kitchen and started cooking up dinner. There was something so very wrong with this situation. Shouldn't Two be the one with the dirty joke and Katriane in the kitchen or did the gender biases change in the space of a hundred years? He sank into himself, pondering the implications of such things. It outdated the whole "WOMAN, MAKE ME A SANDWICH!" deal and possibly replaced it with "MAN, MAKE ME A STEAK!" or something along those lines. He'd have to start revolutionizing that meme if they still exist in this day and age. The feminist movement was scary indeed.


"Let's not go there. I can talk big but I can never back up any claims. Anyway, do you have tools here that we could use to patch up, Two?"


He posed to the question to Katriane. Robin wasn't about to continue the line of thought they were in and swapped the subject as quick as he could. Even if the timing was horrible and out of place. Still, knowing whether or not they'd have something to use to patch up Two could open up or limit the options Robin had in terms of getting Two, at the very least, semi-functional. The best he could do without such tools would be optimization but that in itself was hard thing considering the nearly incomplete job. Perhaps this man sprang his escape prematurely and thus was in this state. Still, if he could get Two to Martens, the man would have a complete installation of his cybernetic parts. It must suck to be a half-baked T-800.


That half-baked T-800 did at least know how to make a steak. It even smelled delicious and not just remotely edible, his stomach grumbled after a simple whiff of the dish. Robin hadn't exactly eaten that day and this looked like a very good wait, hopefully it tastes good too. Two asked if where they should be eating and Robin felt it appropriate to add his voice to the idea of eating right now.


"I second that motion. So can I wolf this down or do I have to savor it?"


shitpostisshit

 

[Syrenrei]

Katriane glanced at Two again, this time saving him the discomfort of drawing incredibly close. It seemed that the two men had personal space issues that they hadn't been broken of. How quaint. She had found that as her crippling pessimism flourished she became less aware of little societal norms (or at least cared about them substantially less). It meant in some ways that they still had hope for their futures and blending in- whether it be making friends, forging romantic relationships, or simply connecting with a network of human beings larger than themselves. Heroic as she may be, Katriane had only apprehension for these things and as a result didn't endeavor to connect with peers and certainly didn't have hopes for the other sex. Sometimes it was an afterthought, usually as she was gazing at her sister absentmindedly. 'Oh, you know, Katherine is a lovely woman. I wonder why she's single? She could stop this nonsense, settle down... oh right, I'm a woman too. I kind of look like that. Huh.'


You knew you had too limited of contact with the world at large when you stared missing the big things.


"I have a wonderful array of beige, beige, and beige band-aids, maybe some gauze, and the basics of a first aid kit," Katriane shrugged in response to the first question that Robin casually lobbed in her direction. "I am not sure what less conventional stuff you might need, but we can do a little exploration after we eat. I think the greatest danger Two is facing right now is the amount of liquor I have stashed around my house. Getting both of you drunk is probably the nicest thing I can do for either of you. Fair warning, I'm not driving you home, so if you can't walk or get a ride, you're going to have to share a guest bed." She was hesitant to describe the cybernetic glimmers visible on the damaged parts of Two's face directly, deftly deflecting the conversation into another direction and being as vague as possible. Sooner or later the man would have to come to grips with how much machine had been integrated with his fleshy bits and she would prefer Robin bear the brunt of delivering that bad news. Katriane cast a wary glance towards Two's back as he moved around her kitchen with dedicated focus for a few moments.


"Go ahead and eat," she said with a gesture towards a small table she had towards the opposite side of the kitchen than the cabinetry. It was of solid wood (as were the chairs), carved and polished with the grain lines still visible beneath a light stain. They were fortunately sturdy enough to support whatever bulk all the mechanical bits added to Two should he decide to sit. Unfortunately there were only two chairs as Katriane was completely unused to guests other than the occasional drop by from her sister. Usually those involved a day-long attempt to convert the woman back into the vibrant image of her past. Katherine had not yet forgotten the bright smiles that she had worn, the stalwart belief that good conquers evil, and the joy that each day had once brought her.


With a shrug Katriane grabbed herself another beer and putting her plate on the island that was closest to the table and its pair of chairs. Counting mentally to three, she placed her palms squarely on the surface and jumped, lifting herself up to sit on the polished marble comfortably like a child. It would be ridiculous and being a bad host to ask either of them to do the same given they were both larger than her. Crossing her ankles, she popped open her bottle, took a long swig, and proceeded to demolish her plate with an appalling lack of ladylike table manners. It was probably in the best interest of the males they were not subjected to a closer view of her abysmal etiquette.

 

[Erica]

Zak Muir


Nietzsche Pub & Grill on the east side of the river

​

Zak’s bare fingers touched the child’s grey and blue softball cap, tentatively brushing over the symbol of a hawk on the front before he gripped it in earnest. He closed his eyes in an attempt to avoid flinching: the visions often came suddenly, like a bright light in a dark room.


Nothing happened.


While Zak dreaded touching random objects due to the chance of an unsolicited vision, it didn’t happen often, especially after his training. The rare occasions when they did come without warning felt like violations to his mind, though, so he wore gloves when he could. Besides, falling suddenly into a trance not only left him vulnerable and marked him as an Aberrant: it also made him look like an ass.


Breathing in slowly through his nose, he accepted that he would need to purposefully trigger a vision. He thought of the little girl from the photo. Alana. This was her cap; she might have even worn it the day she disappeared. His body tensed as images flooded his mind.


The start of a sunset illuminated trash and graffiti littering the dugout, casting the rusted metal and worn wooden benches in sepia tones. Alana stood in her uniform next to a slender woman with coffee-colored skin wearing slacks and a blouse. If the similarities in their features weren’t enough, the way the girl clutched the woman’s hand declared they were related. The woman looked to be in her mid-twenties to early thirties: old enough to be Alana’s mother but not Don’s.


In Nietzsche’s, Zak’s eyes remained closed, his face slack. The man across from him leaned forward. “Whaddya see?” he asked quietly. Zak did not respond.


The woman looked worried, but the little girl squeezed her hand in reassurance. “It’ll be fine, Momma,” she stated with the assurance of the newly gifted. “I can do it.”


When the woman squatted down to hug her child, Zak could see tears in her eyes, along with the dark purple bruise decorating the woman’s cheek and jaw. After spotting that, he looked more closely. The hug was stiff, and she was wearing long sleeves while Alana was in shorts. He heard Alana say, “Trust me. I’m strong enough.”


Inwardly, Zak felt rage well up within him. Experience told him that outwardly, he was vulnerable but calm, which meant he had an opportunity. He attempted to shift the vision, to guide it earlier in Alana’s life, maybe when the cap was new. It didn’t take much. However his power worked, it focused on moments of import and strong emotions. He saw Don, tall and terrifying, drunk with dark eyes and a prehensile tongue, slurring his insults as he hit the woman. He railed about the woman sleeping around. “She can’t be mine. That’s not a simple power. Tell me who you f*****!” All this he saw through a child’s blurred vision, just before he went after her.


The scene shifted quickly to the inside of a closet, and Zak could feel himself returning to his body. Inside the pub, he clenched the cap tighter, attempting to will another shift.


Alana stood at the train station with her mother, a single bag beside them and tickets in hand. He looked for something to indicate the date, but they stood on a busy platform. No newspapers in sight, and the date on their tickets wasn’t visible. The mother leaned down to kiss the top of Alana’s head before placing a hand at the base of the girl’s neck and guiding her onto a train. A board in the distance listed the departures by track. They were on track 8, and he might have been able to spot their destination, but he didn’t try. It didn’t matter: they were or would be free.


Zak jolted back to consciousness inside the pub to see Don studying him closely. Was that fear he saw on the man’s face, or just eagerness? How long had he been out? The room seemed hazy and it was hard to concentrate. He blinked a few times.


Don looked at the cap in Zak’s hands, then back to the other man’s eyes. “Well?”


Zak’s brown eyes narrowed before he stood up, taking the cap with him and attempting to hide his unsteadiness. Don’s black eyes followed him with suspicion. “I told you it might not work,” Zak said as casually as he could. Some of his anger leaked into his tone, but it couldn’t be helped. “I saw her at the game, but...” he shrugged and forced his tone to be sympathetic, despite wanting to slug the other man. “Listen, it takes a lot out of me, but if I can keep this,” he held up the cap, “I’ll try again later.” He forced himself to meet Don’s eyes evenly. It required more concentration that he would have liked.


Don’s suspicion remained, but it slowly melted away into disappointment. “Yeah, okay. Thanks for trying... I guess.” He looked truly crestfallen. If Zak hadn’t seen what he had, he might even buy the act.


Zak wasn’t going to let Don try to find Alana some other way. He wouldn’t start a fight here - not today, not with his head spinning - but he would figure out a way to track down Alana and get her help. Tracking Don would be needed, too, to ensure he didn’t find someone else to help rescue his “sister”. While dealing with the man himself was tempting, Zak would ensure Don was deemed an Unclassified threat if necessary. “Do you have a card? So I can reach you if I find something?”


Don looked at him quizzically, then shrugged. “Yeah. Sure.” He dug into the pocket of his jacket and handed over a card from a car dealership with Don’s name printed neatly in the bottom.


Zak glanced at it only briefly and pocketed it with a soft, “Thanks. I'll be in touch,” before donning his gloves again, tucking the cap beneath his arm and heading out, leaving Don in the booth with his misery.


Note: Edits made to correct stupid typos/errors missed in proofing

 

[Ozmic]

[Redacted] - Alias: Subject Two


A Home in the Middle of Nowhere

​

Two could hardly contain his appetite. Never one to pat himself on the back, the man found it hard not to savor the smell of the dish he'd created. Beside the fact, with all that had happened today, it felt that the food before him was his first meal in years, he yearned so much for it. Swallowing dryly, he hardly heard the mention of band-aids and gauze or first aid. He did, however, catch a word of liquor and getting drunk and couldn't help a smirk, glaceing toward Katriane again. Her next words were refreshing, however, as she mentioned eating and tugged herself utop the marble island, tearing into her meal.


This was all the invitation the male needed and he began his own, eating quickly but savoring the meal as much he could. It had turned out pretty damned well, if he could - just this one time - give himself some extra credit for his culinary skill. Eating wordlessly, he only stopped once to go grab another of the beers and take a few swallows, letting the comforting buzz wash over him again. As he finished eating, he couldn't help but wonder just what the others had planned for him and this 'examination' of sorts that would follow.


Worry crept into his mind and pierced through the haze of alcohol for a moment, gripping him as he swallowed another piece of beef roughly. There was a sudden wave of nausea and panic... but it passed and he swallowed another pull from the bottle and gave a sigh.


Looking down at his empty plate he blinked and chuckled. "I guess I, er," he started, almost a bit embarrassed at the notion he was about to convey. "Was hungrier than I thought." He finished the thought with another light laugh, setting the plate down for a moment. "I suppose all the running had a bit of a hand in that though - and sorry for leaving you behind, Robin. I can't say I'm too used to making that pace yet."


He went quiet again after that, thinking about earlier and now all at once, thoughts not racing but calm and analytic. What all could he do with the new him? And, more importantly, how could he learn to get a bit more control over his actions in situations of panic and stress? The control he showed in the kitchen was one thing - at lease there and around these two he seemed remotely stable. But earlier with those mercenaries? The stray thought of if he'd killed any of them danced around the other questions he had and, without realizing it, his face had gone somber as he stared ahead at the floor.

 

[Auren]

Madam was standing next to her desk as she was placing a file back onto it. Her Right Hand had just alerted her of the absence of the two women she had requested to speak with only an hour or so before. She gazed at the clock, and her eyes narrowed at the time.


"Then, we shall go ahead with the simulation and send the children to bed," she said curtly. Her Right Hand bowed and and left the room. Madam walked around her desk, and finally sat down in her large, black leather seat. She shuffled through the other piles of papers, pulling out the twin hero's files. She glanced over them again, her eyes quickly re-reading information she already knew as if she was looking for something new. Yet nothing new came to her. She breathed deeply from her nostrils before picking up the phone herself and dialing them. The first that she called, Katriane, did not pick up. Upon the beep on the voicemail, Madam spoke.


"Miss Katriane, I do believe I have sent for you once. Be here immediately," she said and hung up. Then she called the other hero and waited for her to answer.

- - - -

​

The Right Hand was a tall man with lean, yet slightly bulging muscles hidden under a very well-ironed suit. He walked into the cafeteria with a clip board in hand and stood at the end of the room. His narrow eyes glazed over the students before he cleared his throat rather loudly. The upper classmen quieted instantly, and the lower classmen slowly followed.


Once he had their attention, he rolled his broad shoulders. "The simulation will begin within the hour. Throw away any and all remains of your lunch immediately. When you are done, line up in front," he motioned to the area to his right. "You will receive the list of your teams, and I shall lead you to the simulation room." His voice was loud, but very monotone. With that, many students began to move as he asked, but slowly, as if they were afraid one wrong noise would anger the man before them.


@PicaPirate @Shura11 @TimeSplitter @SachiGrl @Killigrew @Syrenrei


( OOC: @Ayl, you still in? I know you were talking about dropping rps earlier. )

 

[Sol]

That was all the encouragement he needed. Katriane had allowed them to eat like unfed men in her home and she couldn't care in the slightest. Which meant that she didn't care. Period. This sort of freedom was rare back before the calamity and even after the calamity. He had a societal image to uphold and he had to make sure he was in line with that image and preconception. However, here in the wilds he was free to do things the way he would do them.


Any shred of "social graces" was thrown out the window and fed to the wolves as he grabbed his steak in both hands and bit down on the chunk of expertly cooked beef. His hands were stained with the sauces of the steak but that just made things finger licking good, even though that was supposed to apply to certain franchise of fried chicken. But may, Colonel Sanders would want it to be an all food encompassing motto and belief. Everything had to be finger licking good. In any case, the beef was juicy at least, possibly made medium raw, just the way his mother used to make.


A little pang of nostalgia and loss rang through him. He missed his parents and his siblings and yet he knew he would never see them again. They were already immortalized into the family business which has since grown to cover a wide range of fields of study. It was mainly pharmaceuticals but they have made several advances in other fields to bolster their reputation as a medicine company in the hundred year sleep he was in. Speaking of nostalgia, Robin would have liked if another 900 years were added to the equation so he could be something like Philip Fry, maybe find some menial robot with a smoking and drinking disorder, become best friends and possibly be hired by an interplanetary delivery firm. However, he woke up 900 years too early and found himself in a world that is supposedly inhabited by Super Heroes and Super Villains. Not that bad either.


He was halfway done with his steak when Two had already finished his steak, possibly due to the fact that that man was no longer human and yet Robin felt so much envy toward him. If he wasn't completely human, he could also eat and eat to his heart's content without getting fat. Instead they only made his brain bio-robotic. Then Not-so-Arnold-Schwarzenegger began to apologize to him for leaving him behind.


"No harm done. I supposed would have need of the work out anyway to get my body used to being alive again. However, I should be thanking you for this food. Chin up, your wife would be a lucky woman and your children would at least be served by a couple of 5 star chefs who love them very much. I should know, I...lived a five star life back before all this happened. Now, well, time marched on."


Robin was frankly mildly insulted by the T-800's face. They were supposed to be feasting on quality beef and he didn't seem to enjoy it at all, perhaps even terminators have confidence issues. Still though, a compliment to the chef every now and then goes a long way in any kind of dining. He's done it before and right now was no different. Unless compliments phased out just as much as chivalry did back a hundred years ago. Hopefully, being the nice guy actually nets you someone in this day and age, but he doubted it. Any girl would quickly identify him as a lamp at first glace.

 

[Syrenrei]

Watching the two men eat made Katriane feel as if she had the social graces of a wealthy socialite in comparison. With a raised brow she watched them out of the corner of her eye as they inhaled the meat like carnivorous savages. Not vegetarians she took it. Did they breathe or bite the beef or was it simply swallowed en masse as they inhaled? It took several long minutes for her to complete her meal even with a lack of etiquette and shoveling in large pieces. She slipped off the counter nimbly and took her cleaned plate over to the sink, turning it upside down and placing her cutlery beside it. The beer was drained of the last remnants of beverage, rinsed, and placed in a recycling bin underneath the counter. Katriane then stood and rapped her fingers on the polished surface and considered courses of action.


Madam would not sit quietly and await her tardy arrival to the school without taking action. By now she had almost certainly rung that cell phone that Katriane only utilized when she was out of her "telepathy mojo" as she put it. Right Hand may have passed along her message/excuse of a 'date' but the heroes had little care for the personal lives of others. She would prefer not to be summoned by force and with yelling, although it was an inevitability given how she was loitering in her house with obvious procrastination. If she was lucky Katherine would arrive and grab her arm, pulling her towards her car with that ridiculously goofy grin, encouraging her with a nauseating optimism. If she was more unfortunate, she would be retrieved by overly enthusiastic and heavy-handed enforcer. Oh, who was she was kidding? It'd be the latter.


"I have to report to my benevolent overlord," she sighed with resignation. "But if you are both willing, I can create a telepathic network between us in my absence. I don't exactly get a lot of visitors so you can stay as long as you like- but don't feed the bear. Roosevelt occasionally will beg for something in the fridge or pantry but he can fend for himself in the forest." As she conversed they heard the soft padding and movement of yet another animal approaching the kitchen through the living room. As they casually discussed how to proceed a cougar sauntered into the room and glanced at its occupants, circling around Katriane before sitting next to her as if it was a docile house cat. Except of course it was not. "Ah, this here is Mittens. She accompanies on outings when I don the figurative Dreamless cape since I fight like, well, a girl. Before I go I think you mentioned needing some tools, Robin?"


She cast a wary gaze in the direction of Two as he sat there with a glazed over expression. The beer hadn't had the giddy effect she had hoped for- mostly because her luck was absolute shit- and now he was sinking into the stupor over-thinking. If he was anything like her drunken self soon he'd be lamenting how the cinema had degraded over the last twenty years, children were entitled little twats, and over-processed ice cream should be more clearly labeled so it was not so fraudulently advertised. Katriane wanted to help, but her social graces had slid away as surely as her sunny disposition had years ago. "Two, I am going to say something important and I want you to listen very carefully. I am a telepath and completely incapable of communicating with a machine. Once a week I come very close to throwing my computer against a wall quite honestly. But no matter what you think and feel while Robin works his magic, I can feel your presence and it's not one that can be emulated by any program. You're still in there, kiddo. Just maybe with less acid reflux than some of us. And nicer eyebrows."

 

[PicaPirate]

Joseph Judd (JoJo) - Cafeteria

110 s dilation time

Joseph rose from where he sat just outside and walked to where they were requested to line up.


He struggled to get anywhere with his meditation because clearing his thoughts became rather difficult as he was so deep in thought about Katherinne, or whatever her name was again. Joseph remembered by face, not name, so her rather eloquent name was difficult to remember.


His thoughts were mostly lost trying to figure how he could interact with Kat. He still felt like she was hiding something, like an inner her. For her personality inside to be how it was in the outside display...something just didn't seem right with it. For some inexplicable reason it bugged him. And no, this isn't what they call love.


He began walking calmly and gracefully, as previously explained to do with his training, towards where they lined up. There appeared to be quite the air of apprehension in the air, which would choke most with sort of tension or fear. What was binding them so that they were like this?


The man who requested them looked simply like a strong well trained man. Evidently, either he just didn't know of whatever ability made them so ominous or he was simply used to seeing people like this. After all, Joseph was similarly built.


Joseph from here on in was waiting patiently in line to hear further instruction. His ears weren't exactly perked up, not having pointed ears, however he was keeping close attention to hearing around him. He found with his training to become flowing with nature and time, so that he could alter Time itself. Therefore isolating his hearing to only speech wasn't too much of an issue.

 

[Ozmic]

[Redacted] - Alias: Subject Two


A Home in the Middle of Nowhere

​

As Two sat trying to fight the quickly unraveling thoughts about his situation, he noticed Robin looking to him and speaking. Snapping out've his daze, he brightened a little as the other spoke, albeit only for a moment. "Well, you're welcome for the food. Can't say I've got anyone to cook for these days but me, so it's nice to hear a good word or two, man." He laughed, a little sourly, then continued after a passing beat. "I er... almost had a wife before all of 'this' started. Bad luck, huh? We split right before I decided to play the 'hero' and get blown up. Talk about a shit day... makes me kinda' glad I don't remember some stuff."


His words may have been depressing, but his eyes shown a bit brighter after he'd spoken. Sometimes, it wasn't half bad opening up to people - then again, the beers he'd been drinking were loosing his tongue just a bit and he wanted to stop himself before he got to rambling. He could just picture it; starting with the few parts of his past he remembered, talking about being on the run, and then going right into lamenting about his current situation again. Vocally this time.


When Kat spoke up, he turned to face her, a bit of concern on his face about her 'benevolent overlord'. He was an Unregistered now, after all, and he'd used his powers. He doubted anything would happen, but he could only hope that his actions wouldn't be reported and acted against. The male hadn't ever seen first-hand what happened to those that weren't supposed to use their abilities, but he'd heard the rumors like everyone else. Who knew what was true and what wasn't?


Dragging himself out've his thoughts, Two nodded to the female's words about the animals the the 'link' she was talking about. "Yeah, that 'link' doesn't sound like a bad idea. Might be smart to keep connected like that and... huh." He stopped, raising a brow at the cougar that had padded into the room and sat next to their host. "Erm... Mittens?" he asked, giving a bit of a chuckle. He really should have been surprised or shocked, but between the beer and all that had been going on, he found himself adjusting rather well.


Looking up to Kat again, he blinked, finding her staring into his eyes. She watched him for a second with a weary gaze and finally spoke. He listened in silence and, once she was finished, stayed silent for a second to take everything in. "You're right, you're right," he stated plainly, giving an almost relieved sigh, shaking his head at how foolish he'd been acting. This was a change, but like anything else, he was still HIM and would just have to buckle down and deal. Least he wasn't all machine.


He stopped for a second though and raised a brow at the woman. "Wait a sec... kiddo?" he asked, the first real grin of his lighting up his face and eyes. "Ma'am, if you're a day older than I am, I'll eat the pan I cooked those steaks on." The cyborg chuckled and shook his head again. "Joking aside, thanks. I really needed that, Katriane."





Turning to Robin again, he stood up. "Well, Doc, ready to see what the hell the damage is?" he asked with a nervous sort of preparedness. "Just let me know what you want me to do to get prepped for this. I'm new to this whole 'augment' thing, so just gonna' apologize in advance if I panic a bit or ask a bunch of silly shit."

 

[Shura]

Senna Davi

Cafeteria


Senna grabbed her meal and went to one of the empty tabled in the back corner of the cafeteria eating quietly to her self watching the other students laugh and catch up with one another. No one really neared her table allowing her in peace, which didn't bother her much. Part of her knew she should try to be more social, she had made some friends the year before but didn't exactly get close to any one. She finished her meal quickly compared to everyone else and tossed her trash away before making her way back to the table and wait, wondering what this "demonstration" was going to be about.


She didn't have to wait very long as a large man entered the cafeteria and the volume in the room immediately started to lower. The man made his announcements and students wasted no time following the instructions. Senna was glad not to be caught up in the rush to throw away her trashed and was able to get to the designated meet up area before it got terribly crowded.

 

[XLegs]

"Oi! You made it, buddy!" a a voice said far too cheerfully and loudly.


Connor flinched and looked over his shoulder to the mouth of the alley way.


"Shut up man, what we're doing here isn't exactly legal. I'd really prefer not getting caught already," Connor said, staring harshly at his old friend. His name was Mitch, and the two had been somewhat close in high school. They had always been something of an unlikely pair, Connor being a sports guy and Mitch being more into computers and the like.


Mitch gave a weird giggle before replying. "I guess you're right. I've been doin' this s**t for a while now though, and I haven't even had any close calls."


Connor gave him a sidelong glance. "Whatever, let's just get this done, please. I don't want to be outside any longer than necessary."


Another annoying giggle. "F**k man, you weren't kidding, you've really become a full-blown hermit," he continued to laugh as he pulled out an envelope from his jacket. "Here you go, bud, everything's in here. You are now officially Mr. Connor Jones."


Connor took the package gratefully as Mitch continued to talk.


"And - just like I said - Allen Shaw no longer exists. I took care of that over the last month. In fact, I started working on it the day you messaged me." He smiled, clearly proud of himself.


"Thanks a million, Mitch. But I'm curious - how do you erase a person's entire existence?"





He laughed again. "I have my ways. You wouldn't believe me if I told you."





"Wouldn't the police or government or whatever notice someone completely disappearing?"


"Man, you ask way too many f**kin' questions. But yeah, I s'pose it'd be possible. Hasn't happened to anyone of my clients so far though. Let's hope you're not the first, eh?"





Connor simply gave a small grunt in response.


"Alrighty, if you're done interrogating me, I'll be accepting my payment and taking off."





Connor reached into his pocket and pulled out a large roll of money, which was promptly snapped up by Mitch.


He counted it quickly, then, looking satisfied, said "If you ever need anything else friend, send me a message."





The two went their separate ways. As Connor made his way home, he was painfully aware of how much money he had just given Mitch, but convinced himself it was worth it. He could start over now, and maybe someday he'd forget the faces of the people he had killed.


Though somehow he knew that that would never happen.

 

[Jays]

Caine, A Random Rooftop


"Why am I doing this again, Jean?"


"You can't get out of this, Jason. I told you, it's a direct order from Madam. Stop trying to stall and just get it over with, will you?" The annoyed voice came from the ear bud.


"That's not what I meant. This is not a job for a Trickster, especially one like me. I am a non-violent man. Where are all the Champions and Tyrants at, this is their damn job." Caine said, his voice bored.


"Oh please, as if I would believe that. I was your instructor at the Academy. You can fool some unlucky and innocent women who falls into your web of lies, but not me. Non-violent. Bah! Beside, don't you want to hit something other than a punching bag once in a while? It's good exercise."


A small amused smile lifted the corner of his mouth.


"You got me, you got me. I guess it wouldn't be too hard anyway, I have so much energy stored I just wanna burst, need some place to release. You still haven't answered my question."


"Haven't I? Do you have visual on the target? It's supposed to be the time."


"No you haven't. Target spotted, right on time. Did you really say he was going to a guitar class?" Through the binoculars, he could see the Unclassified. Boy, he was even bigger than the pictures in his files. The 17-years old kid was a huge one, standing at 7 feet tall and built like a bull, with muscle on top of his muscle. A guitar would look like a old lady purse in this guy's arms.


"Guitar class, yes. You are to engage 1.3 miles from this point you're currently at. And all the higher class are out of town except a few, and they already had works assigned. And I heard that Katherine Alexandrie is back in town, but Madam has other plans for her."


A genuine smile spreaded ascross his face as Caine moved, running across rooftop and keeping up with his target below.


"So little Katy is back in town, aye? I can't miss this. Where is she going to be, Jean?"


"Get your head in the job, Jason. I can't tell you, it's classified beyond my clearance level."


"Oh, come on. Above your clearance level? Now who is bullshitting. I know you have all those contacts inside who slip you "gossips"..." He made the quotation mark in the air even though the person on the other end could not have possibly seen it "...about anything even mildly interesting that is going on."


"Oh? If you know so much, why don't you go gather those "gossip"..." He had a sneaking suspicion that Jean was making the gesture of quotation mark in the air "...yourself?"


"Ok, ok, I get it. I am close to blind before your infinite wisdom." He jumped of the building, infused some kinetic energy into his leg and smashed into the pavement in front of the startled boy. "Will you do me a favor then? Just this once? Pleeeease!!! Hold on a moment."


He covered the microphone and turned his attention briefly on the boy.


"I am here to eliminate you, Unclassified Number 05142 Albert Meran Stevenson. Surrender and I won't make it hurt." He turned his attention back to the conversation on the communation line. "So, what do you say? A favor. I will be very, VERY grateful."


"Just this once? Who are you kidding? Do you know how many times you have said that very same thing?"


"Eh.....a few times?" He dodged a clumsy fist from the Albert boy, which smashed into the wall of an alleyway and the wall imploded to create a 2 feet wide hole.


"A few times? You practically said that once every Friday, always "this is the last time, I swear." He had the feeling of quotation marks being made again.


"Alright, alright, may be I asked you for favors a lot in the past. But I'm sure you write down every favor into a black notebook somewhere. What is this boy's ability again?" He deflected a few more blows before throwing a tiny burst of kinetic force into the boy's chest, making him stumble backward.


"Didn't you read the file I sent you? Of course you didn't. Albert can implode anything he touches. And it's true I have a black list of favors, but what use is it when "someone"..." Goddamn quotation marks. "...doesn't return any of them?"


"Nifty power. And I did return favors." He infused his legs with kinetic power, leaping to avoid the boy's tackle and send another bigger burst of energy that sent the boy crashing into a wall, cracking it. "Who fixed that lightbulb in front of your porch? Who cleaned up the mess your neighbor made in your backyard garden? Who found your dog Gabriella and brought him back?"


"Ok, ok, let's make this clear. You broke that bulb messing with your power, you messed up my neighbor's garden first, and your damn girlfriend stole Gabriella!"


"You can't blame me for that last one! We broke up a loooong time ago. And she didn't exactly steal it, she.....borrowed it for a few days. Oi! Stop that, will you?" He smacked away more of the boy's attack and countered, his hand shot out grabbed the boy's face in his palm, whose eyes widened in panic. One more burst of energy and the alley was quiet. "All of that aside, I really need this favor. Please? I'm asking really nicely here."


"Fine, fine." A sigh came from the other end. "I don't know why I keep giving in to your request, god save me. Katherine is supposed to be at the Academy in a short while."


"Perfect! Thank you Jean, you are truely the best. I won't forget this one, ever!"


"So you say, every time."


"Oh and, by the way, send a clean up team will you? It's a mess in here." Caine eyed the bloody wall and corpse distastefully and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his hands clean.


"Already on their way. I can hear the splatter over on this end. Are you sure his entrail are close together? I might have to pay the clean up crew extra."


"Relax, he's in one piece. Mostly. Ok, I'm going now."


He cut the link and removed the ear bud, putting it in his pocket. The grin on his face from 5 minutes before had yet to fade away. Little Katy, here I come.


@Killigrew

 

[Prizzy Kriyze]

Gaspard John Iscariot

Somewhere on the academy grounds

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

​

John stood up from his favorite bench. It had always been his favorite bench. He'd probably spent more time than anyone else on this bench in particular. It was a good bench. Nobody ever used it, so it wasn't full of nasty things, like gum, and therefore John liked it very much. Of course, not even his favorite bench could surpress his growing panic. He started walking in circles with his hands folded behind his back. He had waited quite a long time now, but nothing happened. He even wore his fancier and less useful knife set. They hung by his side, and hit each other for every step he took, producing a metallic noise. He was caught up in thought, and when he heard the metallic noise, he immediately spun that way and loudly exclaimed "Ssshh!", which was very awkward as soon as he realized that he was the one causing it. Luckily, nobody was around to see him 'Ssshh!'ing himself.


Where was she? Weren't they supposed to be here for the first day? John scratched his head. It didn't help that he never paid attention. He wasn't even sure if they had to be here for the first day, he just assumed that was the case. It didn't help that Kath never did what she was supposed to, either. Okay, fine, she did. Occasionally. But John was too upset to think in that manner. He wasn't good with kids, and therefore didn't want to enter the academy alone. Last time he did that, he 'accidently' tossed one out of a window. It wasn't his fault. The child clearly stated that he could fly, and that it was a much cooler power than telekinesis. John just wanted to prove him right. He sat back down on the bench and twiddled his thumbs.


"At least you're always here for me." He said silently. When he realized what he said, he abruptly stopped twiddling his thumbs and raised his hands to massage his temples, while letting out a disbelieving grunt.


"I'm talking to a bench.."

 

[Sol]

Robin stayed quiet as the couple had their moment. It was strange, one seemed to be fully tuned to nature and yet the other was half synthetic, yet they understood each other. He envied them a little, he felt so disconnected from this entire world, yet this was the path he was set on. The path his parents and siblings chose for him. He'd have to walk it alone. It was impossible for him to find someone he could connect with in this day and age without compromising his old self.


Despite his age, he was still young. Which meant that he could easily remedy his isolation, he could adapt to the new life but he didn't want to let go of the old one. His old one carried the hopes and dreams of those who have long passed away. He would merge it or break trying, but that was an issue he could save for later when this was over.


"Yes, I need tools. I doubt I could do even some basic operations with just my hands..."


Robin cast a sidelong glance at Two.


"..Though I suppose I could try to do it."


Obviously that could never inspire confidence in the semi-organic T-800. Robin needed to be sure of his abilities so he can assure Two about his abilities as well. He had never done a field diagnostic before and Martens never taught him how, yet to gain this man's trust would mean having to dive in blind. What was the worst that could happen? The electrical signals jumble up and Two kill him? It was bad, to be honest, but Robin doubted that it would happen.


"You know what? I'm also gonna apologize right now. I want to lie but I can't. This would be the first time I'll be doing something like this..in ever. So I will try to be gentle and hopefully I don't mess up the signals and end up with a fist sized hole in my gut eh?"


A sheepish grin and very sweaty hands. What could go wrong right?


He knelt down beside Two and laid his hand on Two's arm trying to get a grip of the metal underneath the synthetic dermal material. A roadmap of circuits and electrical currents was in his mind's eye. The electricity seemed to be routed this way and that, there open slots but it didn't seem like anything was attached to it, it was possible they wanted to stick a bigger hand on him. For now, he tried to command the electrical signals to redirect themselves to Two's arm servomotors and spread to more vital parts of his body. It was jumbled mess and the electrical flow didn't seem to obey him. Again Robin thought to just use his hands and pry the man open but then the voltage of the electricity was very high, he could easily fry himself.


"I could try to do it now with my hands, wait for the toolbox and pray it has what I need or I could bring you to my corporation and have someone who knows what they are doing do it, your choice. I don't mind getting electrocuted every now and then."

 

[Syrenrei]

When Robin made mention of needing tools and getting handsy with Two, Katriane shrugged and took this as an opportunity to provide more of her feeble assistance. Mittens was left to enjoy their company as she briefly departed out the door they had entered through and returned just as Robin made a commentary about getting electrocuted. She held up what was more akin to a small crate with a handle than a mere toolbox. The woman was no connoisseur of mechanical and technological innovations, but she hated calling anyone to her residence unless absolutely necessary. Just about any time an advertisement promised a gadget or innovation that proclaimed it provided a fix 'you can do yourself!' she would head online and make the purchase. In her mind it would save her from the inconvenience of rip-off artists sauntering into the cabin with britches almost to their knees, a noticeable gut, and teeth rotted halfway to obliteration. That being said, she did not have the aptitude or patience to follow their 'so easy a child can do it' instructions. By Step 3 she'd become inconsolably bitter, lamenting her limited capacity in such affairs, and resign herself to the knowledge the end result would not be as remarkable as promised. Every time Katriane swore to never again fall for such an obvious ruse. Dozens of unblemished, unused products later she also resigned herself to the knowledge she'd always be lured with what little hope still remained deep within her.


"Here you go," she said as she dropped the case with a noticeable thud. The clunk of metallic gadgets and tools striking each other inside the contained was a loud cacophony that made her wince. Patting Mittens on the head, she considered the best way to establishing a telepathic connection and abruptly realized she was still Katriane and not Dreamless. The Academy and Madam were more concerned with her superhero persona and powers than they were with her personal life. Katherine had almost certainly been summoned and would have the expectation of them both wearing their suits. Hell, she couldn't remember the last time the twins were not treated as a "package team" by those that knew them both. Katriane preferred it that way. No matter how bleak and tortured their future was, Katherine stood proudly as a beacon of light immune to the shadows of despair. Who would not want to be irrevocably joined to such an individual?


"I need to change," she muttered, this time disappearing up the staircase. Her blouse and ripped shorts were tossed to the side as she fetched a pair of dark-wash jeans and a T-shirt to take with her on the off-chance she wasn't required 'as a professional.' Retreating into her closet she pushed aside the garments of her past coloured in vibrancy and energy that had been lost in pessimism. Once she had been social, dressing to impress, attending parties, and glittering with Katherine as jewels in the gaze of their peers. Now they were but haunting reminders of times swept away by the tides of reality. Wrenching her costume from a hanger, she did a hop back out of the walk-in closet and into the entirely-too-snug black pants. Katriane had gone through a phase of trying to be a 'sexy superhero' and it had persevered even when her attitude failed her... and now she was too lazy and jaded to alter the concept. At least the ebony hue was befitting her disposition. Wiggling into a tight bodice and knee-high boots with a platform heel, she felt fleeting embarrassment before descending the stairs. Why did superheroes insist on leotards and such revealing clothing? Had they not considered that age would add some unseemly bumps and rolls? Fortunately she had no such issues as of yet but she was certain it was imminent if she kept indulging in ice cream for lunch every day.


"All right, kiddos," she started with a bemused smirk in Two's direction, "it's time for networking." Dreamless was at the top of the steps, 'normal' attire in her hands, and as she approached them they felt exactly what had been promised. A cautious, patient sensation pressed at their minds. unable to enter without their consent and approval. Once such was granted (whether subconsciously or not) they felt the blossom of a connection that was beyond words. "Once you're in you simply need to think of telling or showing me- or each other- want you want to share. It can be words, images, or more ambiguous thoughts. I will give a fair warning that if you are thinking about someone you are connected to you might unintentionally project." It was a simple enough concept yet it was difficult to master. Katriane found very few were good at maneuvering the system without extensive practice. Feelings and memories were more often than not overshared and so she hoped, however furtively, that Two would not explode in agony in her head as she arrived at the Academy. Madam would be even more displeased than normal.

 

[Killigrew]

Katherine


Ruin City, Academy


Katherine was late.


There was much to distract her. Because her little two-seater car took the long way, through the ghetto, Kath found all manner of crime to draw her out of the driver's seat and into the fray. The travel route resulted in a number of misadventures. She'd burst into a gang fight and either whipped into shape the murderous fellows or chased off the cowardly misfits. Gas stations were under frequent duress, so she'd spent a full hour on a self-assigned stake-out to prevent a robbery. A man stole a woman's purse, so she had to pull over for that, too. The list goes on. There was plenty of harmony to bring about, and Kath was more than willing to be its messenger.


Unfortunately, making her unofficial job the priority meant her official one was placed on the backburner.


And three hours after the phone call to her apartment, the bedraggled Kath arrived on campus. Three bullet holes cracked her windshield, and there were some hastily bandaged cuts on her forehead and wrists. She pulled low the sleeves of her sweatshirt, and hastily patted down her hair.


"Oh, whatever," She muttered, climbing out and kicking the door closed behind her.


She strolled for the Academy's entrance and caught a familiar face on the way. Her young sidekick was agonizing over his bench, and talking to himself. Nothing amiss there.


"Hey, Gaspard," She greeted, and kept walking.

 

[Prizzy Kriyze]

Gaspard John Iscariot


Still somewhere on the academy grounds

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​

A familiar car rolled up, and John calmed down slightly. The bullet holes in the windshield weren't anything new, and there always seemed to be some sort of characteristic damage to that car. His champion friend stepped out through the pile of poop, and kicked it's door shut. Sometimes he wondered whether it was her or criminals who did more damage to her car. He didn't like her title though. They had sparred a lot of times, and they were almost always stuck in ties, and the amounts of times each one had won was also pretty much the same. This, not counting the times they fought without abilities. John had the unfair advantage of being very physically fit, since it directly had an impact on how well he could use his ability. He was quite disappointed that he wasn't a champion. Afterwards, like this, he wouldn't pick champion if he had the choice, working with Katherine was fun, but back then.. He wanted to be a champion as well. And he still was kinda down about it, since people often patronized him for not having an as-cool-title as Kath.


As Kath got out of her car John noticed bandages on her wrists, and on her forehead. She kept getting into unnecessary trouble constantly. She walked past him like nobody's business, and just gave him a short "Hey, Gaspard." Before continuing on. Typical. Effing. Katherine. John stayed in his seat, unwilling to leave his favorite bench behind to have a disagreement with his partner. He popped up from the couch and follow quickly behind Katherine. "Alright, so you're this many hours late, and that's all you've got to say? Come on, you know I have a very fragile relationship with kids." John trailed behind her, awaiting the retaliation. "Except for Corey. Corey was cool. But Corey was hit by a firetruck, like eight times. So no more Corey."


"... And I kinda need your help in telling me whether or not we actually have to be here, because I have a bad memory."

 

[Killigrew]

Katherine


Academy Grounds


Kath tilted her head, her pace not lagging even slightly as Gaspard took up the space beside her. "You didn't get the phone call from the Right Hand?" She glanced over at him. "Is your phone on? Perhaps you missed it."


Or maybe he just wasn't invited. It was a pity that the Hero's League hadn't taken notice of Gaspard's dedication and talent. He should be able to fight by her side as a hero, rather than chafe in the shadows a sidekick. Kath would prefer Gaspard had the luxury of the freedom that came with a raise in rank. But he could only do his best in the place he was now.


Moreover, Kath had eventually concluded, rank meant nothing in the face of true justice. Even the lowest ranked fellow could bring about change in the world; even unclassifieds were capable of changing things for the good. She saw no real cause for discouragement in any placement of being.


"Well, tag along anyway, Gassie. They'll kick you out if they don't want you around." Kath made for the elevator without a backwards glance, expecting he tag along, and punched in the password for Madam's office upon her arrival. The transport room set into a rapid lift, and the arrival was prompt, as it ought to be.

 

[Prizzy Kriyze]

Gaspard John Iscariot


Outside the Academy => Inside the academy?

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​

"You didn't get the phone call from the Right Hand? Is your phone on? Perhaps you missed it." Oh. Maybe he shouldn't mention how he got drunk and did some practice throwing with his knives, and accidently threw his phone. It had been one of his lowest moments, and was very awkward. "... Yeeaaahh, I ehh... I lost it, so I don't know." Bullseye. She'll never suspect that you are lying to cover for your dumb mistakes. Calls from the right hand though? That wasn't an usual thing, but maybe he was supposed to come here.


"Well, tag along anyway, Gassie. They'll kick you out if they don't want you around." John froze in place, and cringed. "If Gaspard is too long for your taste, call me John, goddamnit." He noticed her going for the elevators, and quickly sprinted after her and got into the elevator just in time. This was going to be really awkward if he wasn't supposed to be here, and as the elevator rose, he started getting cold feet. He checked himself out in the polished metal, corrected his hair, and straightened his lapels. He hated getting dressed up for occasions, but this was the first day.


As the elevator stopped, he took a deep breath, and stepped out.