%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |
Despite years of peaceful human-mutant relations, a new political party sparks conflict. |
| [Introduction] Fieldhart Academy It’s the year 2021. Since the heightened exposure of humans gifted with mutations due to the media frenzy of the late 1900’s and into the following decades, mutants have finally gained full and equal legal freedoms in many countries across the globe. In the United States, it is politically incorrect to call these citizens “mutants.” Instead, it is preferred that they be referred to as humans with special abilities. Though mutants are required to identify themselves and register by the age of 18, the records are handled only by other gifted humans working in government positions. Despite these leaps forward in law, full social acceptance still remains elusive for those gifted with more blatant or outward, and thus viewable, mutations. In response to the gradual acceptance of mutants, a new political party has formed that wishes to remedy or reverse this movement. The Exodus Party is helmed by Congresswoman Magdalene Sanders, 40, a military brat who later herself became a soldier. She wants to change the law, requiring that all young people be checked annually for possible mutations and be immediately registered upon discovery. She also wishes to make the list of humans with mutations public record for all to see. Some say Sanders’ ultimate goal is to find all mutants, tag them for tracking and confine them to living in camps isolated from the rest of humanity. Ironically, Sanders’ right hand man is a mutant himself. Troy Barnes, 37, who has also served in war, is a registered Telekinetic of great power. His role in the Exodus Party has fueled much speculation, admiration and distrust among both humans and mutants. It is rumored that Barnes’ involvement has a foul undercurrent involving a supposed hybrid of mutant-humans. Little has been uncovered regarding this matter. ----- As mutant-human relations have improved and in the wake of the success of other institutions like it, former FBI agent and registered shapeshifter Evelyn Fieldhart, 35, runs a home for gifted humans called the Fieldhart Academy. Evelyn’s institution is open to mutated humans of all ages and backgrounds. It offers living quarters, training for humans to learn to their control abilities, regular academic schooling and job opportunity resources. The Academy also works with mutant-friendly lawyers to help gifted humans combat any discriminatory or illegal actions taken against them. You are one of the students or employees at Fieldhart Academy. In the past, you have heard of other mutant institutions’ heroic missions to fight against mutant oppression by humans as well as human oppression by mutants. However, life has been fairly normal--as normal as it can get for mutants--at the Academy. But as Sanders’ movement gains support, Evelyn begins to realize the increasing importance of understanding Barnes’ motives and putting a stop to anything that could jeopardize the improving human-mutant relations in the United States. This is a delicate task as not everyone within the Academy’s halls hold the same opinions regarding humans or Troy Barnes. ----- Characters: Name: Evelyn Fieldhart or “Flux” Age: 35 Mutation/Info: Can manipulate the molecules of her body, transforming her appearance to look like other people. She cannot mimic the powers of other mutants, but she can mimic anyone’s voice. In her previous position in the FBI, Fieldhart was in charge of interrogation. She is also multi-lingual. Though she is aggressive in the interrogation room (or the dining room, where she must lecture her students and find out who blew up the north corridor wall), Evelyn has a soft spot for all of her students. In her natural form, she has iridescent white scales that cover her body and shimmering white hair. Author: Sarah Rae   Name: Harper Wyatt or “Mutt” Age: 34 Mutation/Info: Harper is a large muscled man with several abilities. He heals at an astonishing rate, has superhuman strength as well as superior vision and hearing. However, his “main act”--as he likes to call it--is that he can shift into a spry and stealthy wolf. Yep, he’s what the populace mistakenly calls a werewolf. He helps Evelyn, with whom he has a love-hate relationship (he lovingly calls her Evie; she hates him for it), run the Academy and is the trainer for many of the physical classes. Some of the students are still afraid of him. He deeply wishes to learn how to use his healing powers on others. Author: .Wolfie.  Name: James Gray or “Gray” Age: 24 Mutation/Info: Nicknamed after the gray matter in the brain, James is an intelligent and powerful Telepath. Though he has not mastered all of his abilities at his young age, he has been working toward better controlling his powers (as well as his judgment of how to use them appropriately, according to Evelyn). James can communicate telepathically and has the ability of empathy. He sometimes has trouble controlling his projection and has not sufficiently mastered either memory manipulation or illusion casting. James is sympathetic towards others’ feelings and is a friendly person in general, so he is the first to befriend the new student Christian. He teaches and trains incoming students. Author: Professor Q Name: Christian Hayes Age: 26 (he was changed at age 19 and appears to be that age) Mutation/Info: Christian comes from a troubled background in which those closest to him lied about his true identity. Evelyn rescued him from a home that followed the occult beliefs surrounding the mythic “vampire.” Like the legendary creature, Christian has superhuman speed and reflexes, superior strength and durability, and ages at a much slower rate than the average human. Evelyn assures him that vampires do not exist. He is merely a human with fascinating mutations. She cannot, however, explain why drinking blood--while not thought to be necessary--has seemed to improve his performance in the past. Christian is new to the Academy. He and James become fast friends, helping each other better control their abilities. Author: Aiken4LOTR Name: Ariadne Voss or “Impulse” Age: 17 Mutation/Info: Ariadne has the ability to control, generate and absorb electricity. She can turn electric items on and off, create electric force fields and shock others (literally) with her powers. She longs to practice law, so she assists the Academy lawyers who provide legal assistance to mutants when she is not attending classes or training. She is known for her mood swings and short temper. Her chronic frustration is thought to be linked to her gradually-forming relationship with Declan. Under current U.S. law, she is not yet legally required to register her identity and mutation. When she uses her powers, she generates rays of flashing green light from her hands. Author: mynt Name: Declan Moore or “Torrent” Age: 18 Mutation/Info: Declan can manipulate water molecules, giving him the ability to freeze, melt, evaporate and bend water or water-drenched items. He can also breathe underwater and is, of course, a superior swimmer. He’s the troublemaker of the group, giving Evelyn headaches, back-talking to Harper and flirting with Ariadne. His skin has a light blue tint, which darkens when he uses his powers. Declan did not have very good experiences with normal humans at his old school, so he dropped out at age 15. He came to the Academy to train and to also earn his high school diploma. He is not very trusting of regular humans. Author: Wenston  Feel free to flesh out your characters, but also remember the political current running through the story. If not in the early additions, the characters will eventually have to start talking about the Exodus Party and, specifically, Troy Barnes. Then the Fieldhart Academy team will need to take action. Addition turns will follow the order in which writers accepted their invites. If you wish to know when you turn is coming, just let me know. Please try to take no more than one week to add. Thanks and have fun! 
|
“Hey, worthless, it’s your turn,” a deep voice grunted, followed by a swift kick to the young man’s side. Christian moaned, the unwelcome greeting pulling him from the overwhelming embrace of fatigue. His eyelids slowly fluttered open as he angled his chin up, peering into the stony eyes of his frustrated hunting partner. “Hurry up before I drink it all,” Reiser spat, kicking the younger man one more time for good measure. He raked his long nails through his brown matted locks before adjusting his gray coat and leading the way. Crouched against the wall, Christian shoved his hands beneath himself and pushed up from the yellowing tile floor. Shuffling forward, he grimaced as he stepped over the bodies littering the small kitchen. Two women were sprawled out in front of the stove; their dresses were ripped open, revealing the gashes and bite marks peppered across their now pale, bluish skin. A man with unwashed black hair lay between them, his dark trench coat blanketing the floor beneath him and his tattered wool-clad legs crossed at the ankles. His lips were curled into a grin with tendrils of blackened, dried blood covering his chin. He had an arm wrapped around each limp form, his dirt-covered nails leaving marks as he stroked their necks. Looking away, Christian followed Reiser into the living room, his boots thudding softly against the threadbare beige carpeting. Thin rays of dim, dusty sunlight peeked through the room’s fraying blue curtains, and the wooden floorboards creaked with each step. In this room, more bodies were draped across the armchairs and couches lining the walls. Some lay perfectly still, their eyes open and empty. The others remained motionless aside from the occasional licking of lips or stretching of limbs. Their eyes were dark and gleaming with the things for which Christian longed: satisfaction and strength. “Ahhh my dear boy, you’ve finally decided to join us,” another spoke. This time the voice was smooth and cool, gently wrapping itself around Christian’s ear as the man crept up from behind and breathed onto his neck. Christian knew he had made no such choice. He didn’t choose to be what he was, nor did he choose this punishment. But either way, it was finally over. “You have waited patiently while paying for your mistake,” Simeon continued, resting his left hand on Christian’s shoulder as he walked around to face him. His pale blue eyes stared into the young man’s dark green ones, before dropping down to see his weakened form. Christian’s T-shirt and jeans hung loosely from his too-thin frame, the lean muscles underneath sat deflated from neglect, and his lightly tanned skin was now nearly as white as the sisters lying in the kitchen. “This is not your true form,” he said simply, brushing his fingers against the cold skin. “We are not meant to be this way, this weak...ever. That is why you must feed. We must take a life to preserve our own. Don’t make me teach you this lesson again. Next time, I will not coddle you.” Christian nodded, falling to his knees. Simeon, standing in a black suit and crisp blue shirt, snapped his fingers. Reiser picked up one of the motionless bodies from a nearby sofa. He stepped forward and dropped her onto the floor in front of the young man. Christian recognized her red curls immediately and bit his lip to stifle a cry--she was still breathing. They kept her alive all this time...just for him. Simeon then uttered his final request, not that he knew it then. “Finish her.” As Christian leaned forward, parting his lips, he remembers only two things: a shimmering white woman and the smell of a wolf. ----- “That’s all he remembers,” James said, drawing back the fingers that had framed the new arrival’s face just moments before. Sitting back in the wooden chair, he carefully readjusted the sheets covering Christian’s still weak frame. “I think the trauma of what he went through makes it difficult to recall the details of his rescue. He wasn’t expecting it, but he did want it.” “So wait, he is a vampire?” Harper asked from the corner of his mouth, smoke puffing from the cigar hanging precariously from his lips. The man shook involuntarily, remembering the stench of blood flooding the apartment and the alarmingly cold skin of the young man he carried in his arms. “He was only cold because he was so very near death,” the young Telepath supplied. Harper shot him a glare. “Oops, sorry,” James sent back. “No, I’ve told you, he is as much a vampire as you are a werewolf,” Evelyn insisted, ignoring the two’s exchange as she leaned against the bedroom door frame. She tucked her straight white hair behind her ear as she explained, “He has mutations that have become commonly associated with that mythic creature. But he is not undead. Look at him, he’s clearly human.” “But why is he all pale and sick then?” Harper continued his query, his eyes shifting from watching the sleeping form in the bed to warningly eying the talented mutant seated at his bedside. “Aren’t vampires supposed to be immortal? Or strong? Or fast?” “They--that cult or whatever it was--they were starving him,” James answered, veering away from the werewolf to face his mentor and leader. “It seems it was a temporary punishment, but it was long enough to hurt him. He’ll need to be rehabilitated.” “Yes, of course,” the shapeshifter replied. “After he is returned to normal health, I’ll need you to help us determine his abilities.” “Wait,” the older man interrupted, “You don’t know what he can do? Why is he even here? He could be dangerous. And what will his rehabilitation entail, exactly? Drinking human blood?” A silence filled the room. It was true. They did not know much about this young man. James, who was still learning to strengthen and expand his abilities, could only glean so much information while the man was in this condition. And Evelyn, who was closely following national headlines, had clearly become preoccupied with finding any and all mutants who may be able to help the cause--even if it meant not having all the necessary information. “All we can do is help him,” Evelyn said firmly. The two conscious men in the room nodded their heads in agreement--one in complete approval, the other in slight reluctance. But they knew better than to disagree with her. “And Gray, when he wakes, introduce yourself. Show him around. Take him to meet the others.” And then, almost as if she could read his mind, she silently added, “Yes, take the vampire to meet the other students. It will be good for him to know he is not alone.” |
| Evelyn strode from the recently remodeled infirmary room, grimacing as she thought of the bills stacked within the paperwork awaiting her in her office. James would do as she told him to, but she had no doubts Harper would be right behind her. The thought made her pace quicken, as if she thought she might have a chance at outdistancing the man. At her office, she was cornered. Harper reached her as she fit her key in the door, taking long, quick strides and making it seems as effortless as a casual stroll. He leaned a shoulder against her door jam. "Are you sure about the kid, Evie?" Evelyn pushed past him into her office. The clean desk stood out against the cluttered shelves. Without asking for an invitation, Harper moved a stack of newspapers from one chair onto the stack of faxes on another. Automatically, the catalog in Evelyn's brain shifted so she wouldn't forget where either stack was when she needed it. "Every student we take in is a risk," she said, collecting a stack of papers from the shelf near the window and sitting at her desk. "None of the other students we've taken in were caught up in something quite like this." "I doubt he'll be the last troubled one we take in." She shuffled through the papers in front of her, slipping her black-framed reading glasses on as she did so. "What worries me is why Sanders was following the group." "If James is telling the truth, the boy knows nothing and we killed anyone else that might have been able to tell us anything." "And burned the evidence," Evelyn added with a frown. They both fell silent. Perhaps burning the building hadn't been required, but it had seemed like the right thing to do at the time. A rash action, one of the few Evelyn could count in her lifetime. "So what now, Evie?" Harper asked, leaning back and crossing his arms. For some reason, the pose looked ridiculous on someone as large as him. She slammed her hand against the papers on her desk. "If I knew that, I would be doing it right now," she snapped. "As far as I can tell, we're at another dead end." She sighed. "Damn." "So we need whatever that boy does or doesn't remember," Harper said, biting a new cigar between his teeth. At Evelyn's stern glance, he tucked the offending object back into his shirt pocket and grinned at her. "I am hoping meeting with the others might relax him enough to unblock some of his memories," she admitted. "We need what that boy knows, if he knows anything at all." "That's quite a gamble, Evie." "Don't call me Evie," was her only response. |
James Gray was a powerful mutant. Or that was what the others had always told him, at least. That he would be powerful if he only learned to control the various and as yet unexplored aspects of his own abilities. Telepaths of his caliber had led mutant revolutions, presided over mutant academies, found themselves the recipient of respect and even adulation. But they, as so many had told him, all had full control over their abilities, while he was just a student himself. He did teach and counsel all the incoming students at Evelyn's little school--empathy being one of the few things he had managed to master over the years--but he was little more than first among equals. Harper still bullied him and Evelyn still lectured as if he were just another student. But even they had to admit that, should he ever truly understand every aspect of himself and his own mind, he had the potential to outclass them all. "So, who's the stiff?" James felt the mistrust and resentment even before the voice broke into the silence of the room. Without even looking up from his book, he smiled and greeted Declan. "He is a new arrival. Harper and Evelyn brought him in last night." The water manipulator leaned up against the doorjamb of the sick room, skin tinted just the lightest shade of blue, which the young man did absolutely nothing to cover or hide. "I figured that much, Gray. What can he do?" Now James did close his book and look up, crossing his legs and allowing his hands to rest on his lap. He was handsome in a nondescript way, especially so when compared to the exotic beauties to be found within the mutant community, with slightly waving brown hair and eyes of bright sapphire. Well formed, if a bit on the slender side, his best feature was easily the smile the lit up his entire face and softened what were otherwise slightly too angular features. That smile was now directed at one of the younger students at Fieldhart. "We're not sure, Declan. I'm waiting for him to wake up so I can talk to him." Declan snorted. "Read his mind, more like." The smile disappeared and James shook his head. "I can't do that and you know it." "Sure you could." Declan sauntered into the room and plopped himself down in the chair opposite James'. Christian continued to sleep between them, but James wondered just what exactly the boy could hear in the subconscious world of dreams. "You can read memories, Gray. I'm sure he remembers what exactly he can do." James nodded. "You are correct, Declan. However, until such a time as Ms. Fieldhart gives me the permission to ascertain what exactly his abilities are. I am waiting for him to wake up so I can offer him counseling, just like I have offered everyone who has come here. Like I offered you when you arrived." "Fine, Jimmy, if you don't want to share, don't. We'll find out what he can do soon enough." Declan crossed his arms and gestured toward Christian. "Looks like the regs roughed him up. We at least get the bastards?" Sighing, James picked his book back up. "If it makes you feel better Declan, yes. We rescued him and it ended in the destruction of the cult that held him captive. Now go. I know you have lessons at this time of day and I seriously doubt Harper will react well to your being late yet again." Declan looked ready to reply, so James roughly pressed the compulsion into his mind. It wasn't a skill that James had mastered, so it was less than graceful, but Declan jerked up and marched out of the room leaving James alone with Christian. "Hurry up and wake, will you? I'm going to have to answer questions like this for everyone if you don't start doing it yourself, kid." |
| Declan was out the door and halfway across the yard before he realized what James had done. He stopped in the middle of the yard and scoffed turning around and debating about going back in there and giving him a piece of his mind. He was always trying to tell the guy he should use his powers more, but he didn’t mean on him. If Declan had his way, they’d all use their powers more. He wondered what the new kid could do, besides just lay there and look roughed up. He wondered if it was something cool or if it was something lame, like super sensitive hearing or the ability to grow extra long toenails. He’d met a guy like that once and he thought that was just God’s way at laughing at the guy. Declan thought every day that he had the coolest power in the world. He’d hated it at first. In school, he used to get made fun of and got in fights constantly because he couldn’t hide his skin. His mother had tried to make him wear makeup, but he’d refused, because real men didn’t wear makeup. So he’d put up with the bullying and the fighting, and he’d even put up with the name calling. What had gotten to him the most was that the teachers and the principle never stood up for him. They always made him out to be the bad guy, even when he didn’t start the fights. It wasn’t fair. So he’d left. The Academy, for as much flak as he gave it, was actually a decent place. It taught him how to use his powers, and he was a pretty quick learner when it came to that. He had some ideas for new ways to use and manipulate things, but he was hesitant about trying it, because it could be dangerous, to both him and whatever he was trying it on. Scratching at his blonde hair, Declan stretched his arms up over his head and looked towards the building in front of him. Harper was probably wondering where he was and he really didn’t want to go to lessons today, but it needed to be done. He just felt like Harper was holding him back, not letting him tap into the raw potential he had with his powers. He could manipulate water. Didn’t Harper understand that the earth was like, seventy five percent water or something? “Stupid James,” Declan muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets and dragging his feet as he made his way inside. Couldn’t they understand that he was and always would be a rebel? That meant skipping lessons every now and then. They should respect his lifestyle. That’s why he had an ear pierced and his hair was spiky and if Harper would let him, he’d get his eyebrow pierced too. He always wanted to do that and he wondered if Ariadne would do it for him. She’d probably tell him no and to grow up, but then maybe he could convince her by giving her the puppy dog eyes, because those always seemed to work. “Moore,” came Harper’s voice and Declan stopped midstep and as he started up the stairs. Harper was standing at the top, with his arms crossed over his chest. He was looking down at him. “You’re late.” Declan raised an eyebrow at him, crossing his arms over his chest in turn and mimicking his stance. “I’m sticking it to the man,” he told him. Harper snorted and waved him to follow him. “Stick it to the man some other day, we’ve got lessons today.” |
| Ariadne had lost her glove. She ‘d turned her room into a danger zone searching for it and had still come up empty handed, much to her chagrin. More importantly, she also managed to short-circuit her alarm clock, her stereo, and her very expensive PDA. She was going to have a good time explaining to her daddy why she needed a new one of those already. These things did not make for a happy mood. If she couldn’t find her glove she was going to have a very rough day. Or rather, anyone (or anything as her PDA would attest) who touched her bare hand was. The gloves, while annoying and tacky, kept her power from killing or severely damaging anyone she touched. The rest of her skin didn’t seem to conduct a charge like her hands could and, much to her frustration, she couldn’t control it well. Ariadne needed that glove if she was going to make it through her lessons. That she was already late for (her PDA had managed to tell her this much before its tragic death). “Verdammte Scheiße.” She grumbled and shoved her now useless clock onto the floor. Why not? It was broken and her room was already trashed. She kicked it for good measure in case it didn’t get the message. She cursed again, her German tongue giving the room a lashing it probably didn’t deserve. It was habit for her to sink into her native language when she was upset, a trend that was more frequent then she cared to admit. While Ari was fluent in English too, there was something dispassionate about it that never seemed to flow as well to her. Or maybe it was because when she cursed in German no one knew what she was saying anyway (except for Evelyn). But it was probably just homesickness for her homeland. Her daddy had sent her from Germany because unlike the United States, her native country was not a safe place for mutants. The German government was eager to put their country’s mutants into the military for covert training as weapons. But Klaus Voss was not about to let anyone use his only daughter for war and death, especially after a mishap when her powers began to manifest and caused her to take the life of boy that bullied her in school. So her daddy had sent her somewhere he thought she’d be safe. If Troy Barnes and Magdalene Sanders had their way she’d probably find herself on a plane somewhere else. She missed Germany and her family, but there were good things about California and Fieldhart too and one came in the shape of the totally adorable Declan Moore. With his blue skin and blonde hair and piercing eyes and... Oooh! He was so yummy and lickable, not that she’d ever lick him because respectable ladies didn’t do those kinds of things. Not even the kinds that wore too much eyeliner and mascara and wore mostly black clothing. As cute as he was though, he was also frustrating and annoying and irresponsible and immature and sometimes she thought he was a jerk but he was cute and was the only boy that wasn’t intimidated by her temper or powers. She knew they would never be able to have a normal relationship, like the ones in the books and movies, considering she couldn’t even touch him, not really. He was even some kind of water mutant so she might just end up killing them both if she ever tried. It didn’t help matters that he was so nonchalant and carefree and always urged her to try and touch him without her glove. He trusted her, he would say. Boys. But she did have simple and chaste fantasies about him taking her bare hand in his without twitching like he stuck a fork in the light socket. Just the thought of him brushing her skin gave her a blush and a fit of girlish giggles that nearly distracted her from the dire glove hunt. She wondered if he would be a good kisser and if her lip rings would conduct electricity and shock his mouth. Ari tongued one of the hoops in her lip at the thought. It hadn’t shocked the piercer when she’d had it done, but that had been before her powers had fully manifested. If she shocked Declan he wouldn’t want to kiss her again, would he? He’d say something stupid and hurt her feelings and that would just make her mad then she’d really have to hurt him. With a dramatic sigh she flopped onto her bed, no longer feeling the desperate urge to search for her glove. Now she just felt the unbearable defeat only teenage girls can feel when they think something about them would chase away their crush. She buried her face in her pillow. She was glad Declan wasn’t there to see her like this, he would have something smart to say like how she wasn’t as tough as everyone thought or something else that would make her want to shock the blue off him. Which brought her back to her glove because the meddlesome Declan wasn’t there and wasn’t asking for a zap. She lifted her head and peered at her trashed room through a veil of her black dyed hair. It had to be in the room somewhere. She dropped her head again and sighed into her pillow. She didn’t want to search through that mess only to make it worse. She was already dreading the clean up that she knew had to happen soon. But she had to go to her lesson. She wasn’t some kind of lay about that skipped classes to get into to trouble! Ari popped up and tried to remember where she would have left her glove. Maybe if she tried really hard she could make it through her lesson without it and no one would have to get electrocuted. But if she got angry there was no telling what would happen. She might just be too tempted. In a last ditch effort she yanked the bedclothes from her mattress. And then she watched her black glove fall to the floor from its refuge from beneath the pillow she had been on a moment before. And the string of curses spewing from her lips could probably be heard in Arizona. |
| Harper Wyatt stood at the edge of the room, his head ducked as he dug a cigar out of his metal case. The end of it got snipped off and discarded before he light it with a metal lighter and then the remains got tucked into the inside pocket of his olive green jacket. The thing was just as battered and worn as he was and anyone who saw him on the street would probably think he was a bum, not a teacher. Then again, he didn’t really think of himself as a teacher either. Maybe a drill sergeant. He liked that better. The cigar wasn’t the best quality, but then it didn’t need to be. He sucked in thick plumes of smoke, letting it settle in his lungs before he blew it out between his lips. He settled it between gritted teeth, giving him the constant appearance that he was either grinning or snarling at something. It wasn’t entirely inaccurate. He crossed his arms over his chest, watching the students under his care. At the moment he had them running at a steady clip around the training room. It was a glorified, modified gym, with punching bags and targets set up in the center. This was where they covered the basics. There were other rooms for covering individual powers. Harper was one of the ones who could pass for human without a second glance. He was tall and broad, with dark hair and a constant five o’clock shadow that no amount of shaving got rid of. On a good day he looked scruffy and unkempt, but never like a mutant. Never like a man who could turn into a wolf or punch through a brick wall without breaking a sweat. He was the brawn to Evelyn’s brain and he thought they had a pretty good partnership going on. She might disagree while telling him to get the hell out of her office and stop smoking those damn things in here, but he thought they had a good thing going. Plus, she was hot as hell. “I don’t see you running, Moore,” he called. Declan sauntered along while his classmates ran by him, Angel and Sigmund going around him at top speed. Harper thought they were too afraid not to try their hardest in his class, but he didn’t correct it. It didn’t escape his notice that some of the students were terrified of him, answering every question with a stuttered “sir” on the end. Declan wasn’t one of them. He had an attitude on him and every time Harper pushed him, he pushed back just as hard. Harper would never tell the kid, but he admired that kind of spirit. “Don’t see you running either, Wyatt,” Declan shot back, his eyebrow lifted in a challenge. He didn’t change pace, turning backwards so that he could watch his teacher while he trotted backwards. One of the younger kids, Martin, shot him a nervous glance before darting around him, aware that Harper had started walking to keep pace with his wayward student. “They don’t pay me to run,” he said. “They pay me to make you run. And that’s Mr. Wyatt to you, kid.” “Sorry, Mr. Wyatt,” he said, the words a blatant lie. “Just thought you’d want to take this opportunity to lead by example.” Harper barked out a laugh and took the cigar from his lips. He flicked ash off onto the floor and his sharp hearing caught the door opening behind him. “I don’t,” he said. “Get running or you can join me this afternoon for detention.” Declan rolled his eyes. “Always the detention fallback,” he said, but he started running. Harper smirked and then he glanced over his shoulder towards the doors. Voss was hurrying across the floor towards him, gloves covering her hands. There was a barely perceptible dimming of the lights when she entered, and it would have passed unnoticed by anyone who didn’t know what she was. “Sorry sir,” she said quickly. “I was…” “Don’t care,” Harper interrupted. “Get running.” Her face faltered and he saw anger and annoyance replace the apologetic look that had been there a moment before. It just made him grin and he jammed the cigar back between his teeth again, turning his back to her. A lot of the students liked to complain and grumble when he made them do this. They came here to learn how to use their powers, and he was all for teaching them that. But if they didn’t have control over their own bodies, how were they going to control their mutation? Then again, he was one to talk. It wasn’t something he would admit, but in the back of his mind there was always a constant annoyance. He could heal insanely fast. It was an ability that had been put to the test more than once, in circumstances he tried not to think about, but it was limited to his own body. If someone else got hurt he was just as useless as anyone else standing by. He couldn’t use his powers on them. Couldn’t do anything except watch. According to James it was a block of his own making, that he was too stubborn and self-reliant to open himself up like that. Something about him building a wall around himself. He hadn’t asked much more because he didn’t want him digging around in his brain. The last thing he needed was the kid looking into his memories when it was something he didn’t particularly want to do. It drew his thoughts to the kid they’d brought in, and whether or not he was connected with Sanders and Barnes. He couldn’t help but feel anxious about that. One of these days, things were going to come to a head. Sanders was pushing harder and harder to get mutants tagged and bagged and Harper couldn’t help but worry that she was going to get what she wanted. People always feared what they didn’t understand. He wondered if he was a vampire and the thought almost made him laugh. A werewolf and a vampire in the same building. Priceless. He heard the door open behind him and he knew by the distinctive smell of her perfume that it was Evelyn. He glanced over his shoulder at her, blowing smoke out between his lips and giving her his most charming grin. It was usually the one that annoyed her the most, but still, hot as hell. She rolled her eyes, casting a disgusted look at the cigar in his hand but she didn’t say anything about it. She just jerked her head at the door and the words were simple but direct. “He’s awake.” Harper nodded his head and put the cigar out with his fingertips. “Keep running,” he yelled, though he doubted they’d listen. |
Delicate threads of gold rippled through the gray space, their calming warmth blooming as each tendril gingerly weaved through the tangled threads of memory. Soft fingers pressed against his temples, luring forth the faces and events stored away in the folds. And then, in flashes, the images came. Reds curls. Bright blue eyes. A light smattering of freckles across a button nose and pale cheeks. A handmade blue dress with yellow sunflowers printed on the lacy frock. Sweet laughter as they met. A too trusting embrace from her small form. “Emily,” Christian whispered, his eyelids fluttering open for a few mere seconds before slipping shut. He lay in the infirmary, an IV stuck in his arm and a concerned circle of visitors at his bedside. James sat near with his brows furrowed in concentration, his fingers carefully splayed across the side of the young man’s head. Evelyn and Harper stand back a few steps, watching silently as they wait for answers. Rope twisted around her little wrists and ankles. Her hair matted from going unwashed for days. The sparkle in her eyes gone from being trapped in the dark. Her giggles and mirth turned to whimpers and fear. Red splattered across her dress, staining the yellow petals as others are killed right before her dimming eyes. Just then, the images fade as a hand reaches out and clutches onto the crisp, white cotton of James’ button-up. “Please stop,” Christian, his voice a low murmur, begged. “I don’t want to remember what happened next.” And then silently, he confessed, “I don’t understand why you want me to.” James gently places his hand atop the one clinging to him. He turns away from Christian’s soft, wearied features--green eyes framed by long lashes, disheveled brown hair and a tawny complexion slowly gaining back its color--to look at his leader. Evelyn stepped forward, taking a deep breath. “Christian, that is your name?” Earning a small nod in response, she continued. “My name is Evelyn Fieldhart. If you remember, we rescued you from a very unpleasant situation.” She nearly grimaced at the gross understatement of her words, but she did not wish to frighten the boy. “You are safe here. This is a school and a home--a safe haven--for people like you, for people like us. But you were staying with a troubled group of mutants before us, and it is important that we learn what they were up to.” At this moment, Christian wished he had the telepath’s power. He wanted to know if these people were sincere. Why did they save him? Why didn’t they save her?” And what did this woman mean? Did they all have abilities? “Yes,” James said, grateful when the young man finally released his firm grip. His chest actually hurt from the contact. It seems that the patient’s strength was returning. Though, he had a feeling Evelyn wouldn’t approve of his method of treatment. “You already know my power, I showed you when you woke up. Evelyn and Harper here,” he continued, gesturing to his colleagues as he spoke, “they rescued you. As for the girl, I’m sorry, but they didn’t know she was there. May I ask, who was she?” “I’m not sure,” Christian answered honestly. “Her name was Emily. She was 8 years old. They told me to meet her. I didn’t know why. But then, I was told to take her. To bring her back to the house..to--” “But you didn’t,” Harper, to everyone’s surprise, interjected. “You knew what they wanted you to do to her--to kill her, to suck her dry--so you let her go. You tried to keep her safe against Count Vanilla’s orders. That’s why you were punished and came to us in such weak condition.” Confusion struck Christian, but before he could ask, the large man continued. “Oh sorry. Count Vanilla--that’s what I called your leader. The vamp with the pale hair and poncy duds. The question is why did he pick Emily?” “Exactly,” Evelyn confirmed. “Something tells me she is important. Christian, do you mind if James shows me what Emily looked like?” With another reluctant nod, James held his fingers up--to his own temple this time--and shared the young man’s memory with Evelyn. When the telepath lowered his fingers, Evelyn stepped back, her mouth open in shock. “I know her. I’ve seen her picture in the papers. She’d been reported missing. That was Emily, Emily Sanders. Congresswoman’s Magdalena Sanders’ youngest daughter.” “Well, fuck.” Harper blurted, though he guessed they all were probably thinking the same thing. “This is some serious shit. They were targeting Sanders. Those were definitely mutants.” “I wouldn’t be too sure,” James replied cautiously, eyes flitting nervously to Christian. He had heard rumors that Troy Barnes was linked to efforts to turn humans into mutants, forming a new hybrid that would force humans to either accept the genetically gifted or kill off their own kind. “Before he woke up, I tried skimming Christian’s mind for any small snapshot or recollection. I was trying to avoid that, but we needed answers. From what I saw, I have a theory. But I’ll need more from him to be sure.” “Yes, but not now,” Evelyn ordered. “Let him take a shower. Get him some clean clothes and food. Then, show him around, so he can walk around and get some air. It’s quite suffocating in here,” she said, scanning the white, sterile room. “Then later, you can begin sessions with him to help develop your theory.” “Wait, just like that you trust him?” Harper inquired with disbelief. “What if he’s wrong? Evie, you don’t even know what he’s thinking!” “Yes, but James has access to more information than we do,” Evelyn replied. “I trust that with his immense ability and intelligence, he will sort it out. And when he does, he will report back to me.” Her words made James duck his head and flush slightly in embarrassment. “That’s swell for Brainiac here, but what about me?” Christian demanded, raising his voice for the first time in the group’s presence. Evelyn took a moment to consider her response while the corner of Harper’s mouth quirked up at the boy’s proffered nickname. Instead, James answered. “Christian, we think you should stay long enough to heal, but you can leave after that, if you’d like. But to be honest, I think it would really help us if you let me access your memories. Congresswoman Sanders’ plans are dangerous for people like us. We could use your help.” Mentally kicking himself, Christian tried to think of any available excuse to bail. His previous experience living with “mutants” hadn’t been ideal. But he didn’t really have anywhere to go. And these people couldn’t be any worse than the group he lived with before. Perhaps, they could work together to avenge Emily’s death. No innocent child deserved to die for the political standings or actions of their parent. He wanted answers--not just about Emily but about himself as James had promised him silently, I can tell you what you are.” “Fine,” he said, addressing James. “I’ll stay long enough to get better, and you can...you know, access my memories. But I can’t promise anything after that. Not yet. Besides, I don’t know many people who would willingly give their blood to save someone like me--” “What?!” Evelyn yelled, rounding in on the telepath--clearly James hadn’t told her yet. “I told you he is not a vampire. Those behaviors were learned through that group’s outdated and dangerous cult beliefs. He has a mutation, but we don’t know if he actually needs blood.” “Yes, I do,” James said. “I ran some tests. He has an extreme case of iron deficiency anemia. He needs to consume extraordinary amounts of iron.” “So, just give him some red meat,” Harper lazily suggested. “No--it’s not that simple,” James insisted, standing up and shoving his chair back. Turning to face the others, he decided to show his cards much sooner than he anticipated. “I was going to wait until I could confirm this, but I think Christian’s ‘vampiric’ mutation is the result of one of Barne’s experiments. He took a human with a chronic condition and manipulated it into something else. I don’t know how. I’m not exactly sure why.” “Ok fine, he’s not a vampire,” Harper supplied. “But really? Are you trying to tell us that Christian is actually a human?” “Well, more like a human-mutant hybrid,” James replied. “But yes, I think so.” |
| "We do this for our safety. The Exodus Party has only the well-being of citizens of the United States of America as our goal. We do not seek to cast down mutants or put ourselves over them. We do not seek to condemn them as guilty and imprison them without a fair trial, as our opponents claim. We wish to give everyone a safe place to live, including those with these mutations. Let us allow these mutants to gather in their own places and live together with those who might understand them better." "Senator, what about the guards you seek to set over these so-called camps?" "Protection. Protection for them, to keep those that might seek to harm them. Also for our protection. Let's be honest here, some of these mutants have amazing fire power. We only seek to be sure they do not come against those weaker than themselves, not to imprison them before they have done anything wrong." "Senator Sanders, what about the rumors that you have been experimenting on some mutants that sought this safety you offer?" "I have commented on that many times before and my answer remains the same. We seek to help mutants, not harm them. If you wish to find a longer quote for my denial, sir, you may look in the archives," Sanders replied shortly. "Now-" The TV's screen flashed as green sparks hit it and fell dark. Evelyn looked toward Ariadne. The younger girl flushed, a silent acknowledgement of Evelyn's equally silent disapproval of her uncontrolled moment, and the lights returned to their steady white light. "Well, shall we discuss?" Evelyn asked, clapping her hands to bring the attention of the small group to her. There were only four of them, all of the older teens. Ariadne, Declan, Angel, and Sigmund. "What's there to discuss? She didn't say anything new," Ariadne said, slumping in her chair. "Protection for them," Angel scoffed, then looked embarrassed that she'd spoken without being directly asked. "Perhaps she believes what she's saying," Sigmund offered in his slow way. "She never changes what she's saying, after all. Usually people who lie alter their stories." He glanced at Declan. "Or they have the lie so well memorized, they never change what they're saying," Evelyn pointed out. The wide-shouldered young man fell silent, considering her words. Though slower than the others in forming his thoughts, indeed, often his comments came after they'd already changed topics, he was rather insightful. She turned toward Declan. "What are your thoughts?" "I think we should just get rid of her," Declan said with a shrug, leaning back in his chair and setting his feet on the table. Evelyn crossed her arms and looked at his feet. Declan flashed her a grin and waited a moment longer to drop them back to the floor. Evelyn leaned forward. "What if we, hypothetically, had proof that the senator might have been involved in mutant experimentation?" she asked. She waved her hand as if in thought. "Say, for example, we had a little girl who had been experimented on? Her memories are fuzzy, but she does have memories. What would you do?" The four teens fell silent as they considered. "On top of the assignments we discussed earlier, I want you to consider this idea," she instructed. "Discuss it if you wish, but only in private, I don't want you alarming anyone else with false ideas. Especially the younger kids," she added, looking at Declan. "We will discuss it next week when we meet again." With that said, she sat and began organizing the papers they had given her upon first arriving, their homework assignments from the past week. They each quickly left the dining hall. Right behind them came that day's kitchen staff, another class of four students, each armed with armfuls of plates and silverware. They worked around Evelyn as she considered the four files in front of her. Though not her oldest class or anything that might otherwise make them special to her, Evelyn found herself unusually fond of this group. They were smart and their personalities worked well off of each other in class, allowing for some debates that might have several adults scratching their heads, which was why she'd given them that particular assignment. Ariadne with her interest in law, Angel with her interest in philosophy and logic, Sigmund's insightful comments (he'd make a fine assistant to James in time, Evelyn suspected), and even Declan would forget himself and actually participate without a shred of sarcasm. Declan, despite having dropped out and failed classes before showing up on her doorstep, was brilliant, just unapplied. So far, he had showed little interest in anything specific, but he had worked when told the assignment was required if he wished to graduate. Gathering her things, Evelyn left so the kitchen staff could finish their task without her in the way. She thought of checking in on James and Christian but decided against it. She needed to trust James in this. He would come to her if he learned anything. She would track him down tomorrow, but not today. |
| "We have to find her, Troy!" Magdalene slammed her hand down on her desk and plopped down into her chair, bright red curls falling to cover her face. It was intentional, Troy knew, to hide her tears; Maggie never wanted anyone to see her crying. It was a sign of weakness, she always said, and weakness in her line of work was the kiss of death. "We have to find my daughter," she whispered through her tears, throat thick with grief. Troy reached out with his mind and swept away her hair, drying her tears with a brush of telekinetic force, all the while aware of just how easily he could break her neck with just a single, sharp yank. Humans were such fragile creatures, he mused, yet even he had to admire the strength of this woman. She had lost her daughter to kidnappers and yet she continued to fight for what she believed was human-mutant rights. Troy wasn't sold on the civil rights aspect of finding and tagging mutants, but he certainly agreed with the necessity. He wanted to know where the mutants were to be found and what their powers were. That particular aspect of Maggie's political agenda just happened to suit Troy Barnes just fine, provided of course that he was able to use it to his own ends. "We will find her, Maggie," he replied, voice deep and tinged with just enough confidence to seem competent. "I promise you, we will find your daughter." That was probably a lie, but Troy had no problem with lies. Emily Sanders had been an integral part of his plans, and that damned vampire cult had managed to lose her. It wasn't so much that the girl was gone--he could always find another human to experiment on, another senator to manipulate--but that even Troy couldn't seem to track down Simeon or his group. They (and their mansion) appeared to have been blown off of the face of the earth. And the little girl with them. No matter. Troy could easily find a way to pin this on mutants and further one of his plans, at least. It would certainly give credence to the idea that the human-mutant dynamic was a dangerous one and not to be treated lightly. The kidnapping and murder of a senator's daughter--of Magdalene Sanders' daughter--would do wonderful things for his dream of mutant internment camps. A place where every mutant in the world could be cataloged, registered, and, most of all, angry. Essentially, right were he wanted them. But to pin it on the mutants, he would have to find one that was involved. Magdalene had a telepath on the payroll, and a mind-reader would see through a lie in an instant. No, Troy needed someone who was there. No doubt someone had escaped--probably the one responsible for the whole fiery mess--and he would be able to see it done. He'd likely lose his life for the crime, but a single mutant loss (however reprehensible) against the rest of the mutant community was a loss he was willing to take. "Don't worry Magdalene. I will find your daughter. And the people responsible will pay." ***** “Here’s the mess. Hardly anyone eats in here, though, ‘cause Evelyn—Ms. Fieldhart—put the TV in the lounge and most everyone wants something to do while they eat.” James pointed into a large room with rows upon rows of empty schoolhouse-style lunch tables. “Mostly, Harper—you know, the big scary guy who likes to intimidate people—uses this room as part of sadistic P.E. exercises. You know, like climbing rope and creating evil obstacle courses.” Christian gazed into the room and laughed, the first time he’d done so since arriving at the Academy. He was healing rapidly now that James had found a way to get a ready source of blood. While human blood—he’d supplied a pint of his own—worked best, pig and cow blood worked just as well, so a trip to the local butcher had fixed that up. Luckily, he didn’t seem to require the blood to survive because James really couldn’t figure out how well that would go over with the others. Bloody meat seemed to serve well enough, as did anything with a high source of iron. “Sounds fun,” the boy said, eye sparkling. “Now, the kitchens are right over there,” James pointed a couple of doors down the hall on the right, “and the lounge is just around the corner, so you can see why people might prefer to eat in there. We all mostly eat based on our schedule, so it fits everyone comfortably. I imagine that assemblies would be held in the mess, but we haven’t had one of those in the time I’ve been here. Evelyn prefers to meet with everyone one-on-one. Better for communication that way, she says.” Taking a left at the corner, James hurried Christian to the lounge. “Evelyn sounds like a pretty nice lady,” Christian ventured, almost unsure. “And this is a really nice place.” “It was a summer house for some billionaire businessman, from what I’ve heard. Evelyn bought it from his grandchildren, fixed up the place, and made it into a school. All of the students here are mutants. My abilities, as you know, are telepathy and empathy, though Evelyn seems to think I could branch out into other areas of mind control. I’m still learning, really.” James smiled and shrugged. “So Evelyn helps me learn and I help the students who come from difficult situations, like yourself.” “There are other people like me here?” Christian seemed a good sort of person, James thought, if a bit cautious. His time among the “vampires” had only reinforced a mind troubled by questions and half-truths. He understood so little about himself and remembered only garbled bits of his own life. It was so jumbled, James was having problems breaking through the barrier and learning a damn thing about the boy, though what he did see seemed to confirm James’ suspicions. Christian could barely remember it himself, but he’d been born perfectly human, though horribly anemic. He’d had a home and a family, including a little sister who’d loved him dearly. The boy didn’t realize it, but it was unconscious memories of that sister that had led him to protect Emily Sanders. And the crux of it, the reason for his theories, was the fact that, as a child, Christian had had no abilities. Only after the garbled memories and flashes of experiments did the mutant he knew come to stand before him. “None with your particular abilities, no, but many who came from horrible places and situations. Evelyn Fieldhart took them in, Christian, and gave them a place to live and learn free from suspicion. She can do the same for you. I promise it.” Troy Barnes had made a grave mistake losing one of his experiments. Christian could very well be the proof Evelyn needed to bring him—and with him, the Exodus Movement—crashing down to the ground. And James was charged with making him stay. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
