[center][IMG]http://i64.tinypic.com/a2973n.png[/IMG] [IMG]http://i65.tinypic.com/2mcgmfn.jpg[/IMG] [IMG]http://i68.tinypic.com/e8an9e.jpg[/IMG] π•Šπ•–π•‘π•₯. πŸ›, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / π•Œπ•Šπ”Έβ„π•€π•ƒβ„• 𝔼𝕒𝕀π•₯ / / β„‚π• π•Ÿπ•₯π•’π•šπ•Ÿπ•žπ•–π•Ÿπ•₯ β„‚π•™π•’π•žπ•“π•–π•£ πŸšπŸ› / / πŸ˜πŸ›πŸ›πŸ˜[/center] The first shot jerked Callan from her churlish inner gripings like a smack across the face-- only much louder. She found herself instinctively throwing her arms up and turning away, trying to register the bloodbath before her after the shots finally ceased. Her eyes first fell on the Director, following her arm and then her gun to the dead soldier on the floor. The moment her eyes touched the downed students, she snapped her attention back to Director Zhang. "[color=a2d9ce]Th-they were innocent,[/color]" she said, almost just as shocked that she said it out loud. What just happened... it was an accident, right? They wouldn't shoot students who were complying and following all the rules, would they? She was having trouble staying optimistic... or forming coherent thoughts at all for that matter. Her statement went unacknowledged and the following few minutes drifted by in a shadowy haze. She was taken back to that Monday afternoon. Bullets flew through the air with an unnatural slowness, trying to kill whatever that [i]thing[/i] was. It shivered with a terrifying rage, head constantly jerking in a disturbing fashion. Even though the weather was warm and sunny, it's breath burst from it's nostrils like hot steam. It pawed the ground furiously, leaving streaks of blood belonging to the the officer it had nearly slashed in half just a moment ago. "[color=a2d9ce]STOP IT! [i]STOP IT![/i][/color]" she had screamed, cowering behind the rubble. She spoke to the men who were shooting, begging them to kill the thing that had crawled out from her shadow. Stop the killing. Stop the destruction. This isn't what Dreamcatcher would have wanted. She was a white stripe, wasn't she? What was happening? Kill it. [color=a2d9ce][i]KILL IT![/i][/color] What was perhaps the most concerning part about all of this was how well she felt she was taking it. People just died a few feet from where she stood. Some of the kids around her looked sick-- like they might even pass out. But what she felt now... she didn't want to try and explain it. It didn't feel like the correct reaction. She hadn't expected something like this to happen and yet... she was okay-- and not just in the physical sense. She blinked away her distracted thoughts upon realizing her name had been mentioned. Suite 430? Marcus Howell and Siena Santana... she'd never considered the idea of having roommates-- much less a roommate that was a guy. Her eyes swept the room of students, willfully overlooking the ones on the ground-- which became increasingly more difficult to do after realizing the room called out before hers only had two students listed... the third was probably on the ground... possibly dead. I'm still okay, she mused worriedly. What was wrong with her? She gave up on trying to discern who among them might be Marcus and Siena and conceded to following the soldiers out of the room, staring at the breaks in the sidewalk as they passed under the soldiers' boots. Why did they seem so emotionless? Weren't they at all concerned about what had just happened? Before she could mentally stew on the issue any longer, Building A came into sight. It was nice-- but it did little to lift her spirits. Ten minutes ago a comfortable bed would have made everything instantly better. Now she just felt petty. [hr] [center][h1][color=33ec06] The Wheels on the Bus... [/color][/h1][/center] [center][color 33ec06] An Autobiography by Marcus Howell [/color][/center] [center][img]http://i65.tinypic.com/21o8tg4.png[/img][/center] Marcus had never heard a gunshot before. Sure, he'd heard them in movies and cartoons and TV shows all the time, but those were not real gunshots. REAL gunshots were terrifying, and stirred some primal sense of fear and dread when they rang out. He closed his eyes, hoping that if this is where it was all going to end for him, it would at least be fast. When he opened his eyes, he certainly wished he'd kept them closed. The sight almost made him sick, and the pit that was already in his stomach sank even lower than it was before. Later, when he'd processed everything, he'd realize that the Director was protecting them in a way. They were her new toys, after all, and nobody likes a broken toy. The ankle cuff hardly registered; hell; he'd barely heard his name when rooms had been assigned. It was as if he was in a fog that his brain wouldn't let him get rid of, but he slowly came back to his senses. He had no idea who the other two names belonged to, but he didn't spend much effort trying to figure it out; there'd be enough time for introductions after they got shoved in their cells. For now, Marcus was focusing on getting his racing mind to slow down, and his panicked heart to calm itself: people died all the time, people got killed all the time, it was a sad fact of reality that they had to deal with now that DC had blown up the world. His breath slowed back to normal pace, and he shuffled along with the others. The scene was left behind them, fortunately, and Marcus didn't bother looking back at it. He kept his eyes straight ahead, trying not focus on the guard prodding them along with a loaded gun. He was tempted to make a remark to the man, but he simply couldn't find the energy to, and he certainly didn't want to be dragged unconscious into the room. So, he bit his tongue; there'd be enough time to chastise the guards later. Along the way, Marcus found himself surveying the situation; he was rooming with two girls, which would normally seem like a teenage boy's dream. For him, it meant that he'd have to not be obnoxious, less they murderize him for being the odd one out. After what seemed like an eternity of walking along, they finally reached their room. Or at least, Marcus had to assume it was their room; he hadn't listened to the number or location, but they were being unceremoniously shoved into it. It wasn't exactly hard to put the pieces together. [hr] [center][img]https://www.dropbox.com/s/uxjkwjqkrn00cph/Siena%20Banner.jpg?raw=1[/img][/center] At sixteen years of age, Siena had never had the burden of fully fearing for her life. Even while on the truck, there had been some lingering optimism that everything would work out for the better. The illusion of safety vanished in the instant the first gunshot had gone off. A mixture of fear and adrenaline pumped through her heart, sharpening the senses and opening the floodgates for the [i]other[/i] emotions that she'd been struggling to keep in check. Attempts to silence the roaring tide with narration proved futile as fear, anger, and a disturbing sense of satisfaction fought for the front lines. It wasn't until the second wave of gunfire that the dark horse won the race. Shock. It numbed her as she stared at the carnage. Some were still conscious, still in enough pain to show it. Blood was never quite as red and tangy in reality than it was in media. The smell of smoke and gunpowder was, thankfully, strong enough to drown out the blood now pooling on the ground. She continued to stare the fallen even while the soldiers arrived with the new cuffs. [i]Numb.[/i] The feeling of the cuffs on her wrists and ankles being removed didn't fully register, and Siena kept her hands in place, though her fingers longed for the touch of old paper against her skin. Anything to push the surge of sickening fear onto someone [i]stronger[/i] than she was. The shock blanketed her thoughts with a sense of fuzziness, and the girl swore someone had poured thick cream directly into her thoughts. Everything felt slower, and though she could hear the director, the words came in distorted and muted. Surprisingly, the haze muted everything internally too. Even when she was pulled from the main group--[i]'[color=ff57ff]Stop trying to look at the bodies. Stop[/color]'[/i]--Siena could hardly register her movements. Dull, throbbing pulses echoed in the back of her head, the noise drowning almost everything else out. It did little more than give Siena a rhythm to her movements and something better to focus on than what was likely to become lingering emotional trauma. Fortunately, the pulse gradually faded into a hushed rhythm, the volume receding with the whirlwind of emotions that had threatened to engulf the mage. Her breathing had long since regulated itself by the time the brunette found her mental anchor. Sort of. It was really just the shock slowly ebbing away. [hr] [center]π•Šπ•–π•‘π•₯π•–π•žπ•“π•–π•£ πŸ›π•£π••, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / π•Œπ•Šπ”Έβ„π•€π•ƒβ„• 𝔼𝕒𝕀π•₯ / / π•Šπ•¦π•šπ•₯𝕖 πŸœπŸ›πŸ˜. π”Ήπ•¦π•šπ•π••π•šπ•Ÿπ•˜ 𝔸. / / 𝟘𝟜𝟘𝟘[/center] Entering the room, Cal gave her new roomates a cursory glance before making a beeline for her duffel bag. If there was one thing that always provided comfort it was in that bag-- even when she wasn't really in need of said comfort. She plopped down onto the floor beside her bed and pulled the duffel into her lap eagerly. After fishing her hand around inside for a moment, she leaned up against the side of her bed with a relieved sigh as her hand closed around a travel size packet of beef jerky. With how things had been going that day, she'd half expected it not to be there. Before pulling it out, she picked up her head to give her roommates a bit more consideration. She couldn't remember Marcus' last name. She tried not to stare too hard at the scars on his face, not wanting to come off as rude. He seemed slightly shorter than she was and a whole lot thinner. They both were. His light golden brown hair was dishelved, as were his clothes, but Cal just chalked that up to the fact that it was four in the morning. She recognized him as he boy that had been cracking jokes back in the transport truck. She could appreciate his optimism, though maybe it was less optimism and more his way of coping with shitty situations. Next there was Siena Santana. She only remembered her name because it rolled off the tongue and sounded like something out of a storybook. She had long, pretty brown hair tied up with a gold rimmed ribbon. Definitely a lot skinner than she was-- and just as tall, she noted out of habit. Whether it was a basketball thing or a big-girl thing, she'd never given it much thought. It was just part of how she handled first impressions. She was starving, but as she sized up her new roommates, she was reminded of what had just happened. Wait... did she actually forget? She looked down at the jerky inside her bag. She wanted to feel sick. She wanted to be so disturbed that she'd cry... but she was just hungry. And tired. And kind of wanted to finish that episode of The Office from earlier. [hr] "[color=33ec06]Hey wait a second![/color]" he shouted down the hallway to the guard, continuing once he got a half-stare from the escort. "[color=33ec06]This isn't chestnut at all! I was very clear about that![/color]" Ignoring the guard's presumable eye rolling and angry glare, he ducked back into the room, taking a look around. A bed and a desk for everyone, and a bathroom to share. It even had a kitchen for them to share; hell, it almost reminded him of home, but that wasn't exactly as comfortable a feeling as one would initially think. An imperceptible glint on one of the desks caught Marcus's attention, and he made his way quickly over to it. He grabbed the small chain off the desk and put it around his neck, the dog tags on the end jangling softly as they rested against his chest. He let out a sigh and donned a pained smile, looking at the two others in the room. The most outstanding one was the girl with the blue-green hair. Maybe turquoise? Teal? He wasn't good at differentiating a million shades of blue-green, but that fortunately was not the point here. Whatever color it was, it was very effective at making her stand out among the crowd of three they had formed. She was athletic, same height as he was, give or take an inch, but he wasn't going to pull out a tape measure for the first impressions. She leaned up against her bed, seemingly as keen on surveying the situation as much as he was. The other girl was also the same height, but her hair lacked the vibrancy of the previous one. Despite this, her hair was pulled back with a very shiny ribbon. She seemed unremarkable, the kind of girl that would be able to get everything she wanted with a wink or a smile. Or this is what Marcus would think if he got caught up on looks alone, which he didn't, so he tried to maintain a neutral opinion for now. "[color=33ec06]God, what a day, huh?[/color]" he said, eyes darting to both of his new roommates, and a forced grin crossing his face. [hr] It was the sound of a familiar voice calling out that dragged Siena back into reality with a harsh snap. She'd missed the words themselves, but with the night's events starting to carve themselves into her memory with startling clarity, Siena could recognize the timbre as the one that had attempted to brighten the mood during the initial transportation. Despite all odds, the girl couldn't help but feel the faintest twinge of approval. However, it was the sight of a few (evidently quite a few more than her roommates--[i]was it because she had surrendered herself? They had so little[/i]) duffel bags that grounded her. "[color=ff57ff]O-Oh...[/color]" The word came with a tremble. So she [i]was[/i] unsettled. Finding that she couldn't trust herself with words, Siena quickly made her way to the comfort of her things, opening each and rummaging wildly through folds of fabric and her so-called essentials for a single target: her e-reader. With words to occupy her, there was a chance that prior events would leave her in peace for long enough to get some rest. As fortune would have it, her hands were quick to find the coveted e-reader. Feeling the familiar texture of the fluffy case (custom made, if she remembered correctly), recognition flashed across Siena's face. Drawing the object from her bag, Siena positioned it so she could hug it against her chest with one arm while feeling a sense of security settle like a blanket over her. It felt odd, knowing that the safety she felt was solely because the electronic nestled in its plush protection offered another world that was just as cruel as reality, but it was comfort that she had to cling to. [i]Everything was supposed to be okay.[/i] A few quiet breaths later, the brunette finally turned her gaze to her (hopefully) roommates. They were, as luck would have it, not giants that could crush her by tripping--that was an immediate boon. Her eyes, though drawn by a vibrant splash of color, instinctively fell to the boy. Her parents would have thrown a fit, knowing that Siena was rooming with someone of the opposite gender. "It's absolutely improper for a young lady," they had once claimed when she asked, with the most innocent of intentions, to have a friend stay in her room for a night. He was...less imposing than she thought he'd be. Close to her height, lightly scarred, and lacking in the sense of overwhelming intimidation that Siena usually felt towards people bold enough to bring humor to the most dreadful of situations. At least he [i]seemed[/i] friendly enough. Hm...he might actually be a good base for a character if she thought about it hard enough. Siena let the thoughts linger and sprout, failing to realize that she had yet to leave the vicinity of her belongings. Cal followed the girl with her eyes as she frantically searched through her many duffel bags for what appeared to be a kindle or e-reader or whatever they were called. Someone was clearly quite well to do. As she dragged her attention away from her and towards Marcus, she scoffed out a half smile. Her eyes flitted to the dog tags before she answered. "[color=a2d9ce]You can say that again.[/color]" Her voice was deep and rich with a slight melody to it. She rolled her eyes and shook her head disbelievingly before glancing back to the numerous duffel bags surrounding her roommate's bed. "[color=a2d9ce]Siena, right?[/color]" she queried, already knowing the answer as the girl hugged the e-reader to her chest. She didn't seem to be taking things very well.... No, she was probably taking them exactly as they needed to be taken, actually. "[color=a2d9ce]Not much of a light packer, huh?[/color]" she nodded to her things. She didn't really want to pass around the talking stick about what had just happened-- mostly because she didn't want to admit how much it didn't bother her. She withdrew her hand from her duffel, choosing to leave the jerky inside. Who in their right mind would be able to eat at a time like this? Instead she pulled out a fresh pair of socks. [i]'[color=ff57ff]Earth to Siena, someone is talking about you...![/color]'[/i] Reality came crashing in like a brick, even as Siena blinked away her surprise before glancing at the girl that had spoken to her. The most striking feature was her hair--a vibrant shock of blue that was entirely visually appealing to Siena's eye, at least--though it was her build that quickly drew Siena's attention. It was rare for the mage to see girls that were athletically defined, especially given her previous company of plastic Barbie doll elites...and she liked it. There was something comforting about the darker girl that Siena couldn't quite explain. Forcing her thoughts aside, Siena remembered a fraction of a second too late that she wanted to respond to the question. Or her name. Or--[i]'[color=ff57ff]Oh, good lord, Siena.[/color]'[/i] "[color=ff57ff]O-O...Oh, um, yes? I-I mean...[/color]" Cursing how the words fumbled out in an awkwardly high pitch in her rush to answer, Siena gave a sheepish smile that likely bordered on a grimace. "[color=ff57ff]My...uh. My parents probably didn't want me to forget anything?[/color]" Was that because they were afraid of her? Siena left that statement out. Instead, she brought her fingers to the ends of her hair and started pulling again. Sweet, sweet release. "[color=33ec06]I'm Marcus, though I imagine that wasn't too hard to figure out.[/color]" he said, his grin settling into a slightly more authentic version of itself. His voice, unlike that of the blue haired girl, was slightly less smooth. He spoke in a tenor, the kind of voice you'd expect from a car-salesman, but with less yelling involved. If one listened closely, they might be able to find that he had a slight Boston accent to it, but it was only noticeable to those actively listening to him talk, which didn't tend to be often. "[color=33ec06]I'm assuming that would make you Callan, then![/color]" he said, his eyes moving from the girl and laying themselves at the foot of 'his' bed. Or at least, the bed he presumed was his. A single bag lay there, folded in on itself, showing that there clearly wasn't much to be found in there. In all honesty, he hadn't expected to have a bag at all, but some basics would at least be nice. It would be something to unpack in the morning. For now, he was happy to flop over onto the bed. It was uncomfortably different that his home bed, but it [i]was[/i] horizontal; which meant that it fit all the criteria her was looking for at whatever god-forsaken time it was right now. "[color=a2d9ce]Yep,[/color]" Cal replied simply as she too crawled up onto her bed, kicking off her old socks and shoes in the process. They landed with a clattering thud on the floor. The bed was huge step up from the one she'd had in her holding cell. It was soft. Really soft. This was the kind of bed she could envision herself falling asleep instantly on. As a bed enthusiast, that was saying something. "[color=33ec06]Seems like the good Director has decided we make an excellent team. Guess we're gonna be besties! Whether we like it or not![/color]" The last part, although sounding slightly negative, was as optimistic as the rest of the sentence, which he hoped to convey with the pitiful arm flap he made from the resting position he was in. He certainly hoped to get along with these two; it would make life much easier, and first impressions led him to believe that it wouldn't be a very difficult thing to accomplish. He had noticed the papers on the desk when he'd grabbed the tags, but for now, he was content to ignore them. Just another one of the numerous things he'd have to figure out tomorrow. Or, later today, as it were. "[color=a2d9ce]Yeah,[/color]" Cal shrugged in response to Marcus' chipper observation. Her roomates seemed alright so far. She'd never had roommates before, but she couldn't imagine she'd be a very hard critic. If anything, [i]she[/i] was probably the terrible roommate. As she pulled on her fresh socks, she thought of the dirty ones she'd left on the floor with her shoes. [color=a2d9ce][i]It's been a long day,[/i][/color] she concluded as she went on to tie her hair up, [color=a2d9ce][i]I'm not picking them up.[/i][/color] "[color=a2d9ce]Can't believe we already have homework,[/color]" she said as she untucked the sheet of her bed, sitting up on her knees as she gently yanked-- not wanting to tear them. She pulled the covers up to her chin in one swift movement, curling into a ball of blanket, "[color=a2d9ce]Fuck that shit.[/color]" "[color=33ec06]I second that notion![/color]" came Marcus's reply, as he sat up on his bed. From the exchange so far, her roommates seemed friendly enough. No random angry attacks or vicious outbursts despite the late hour and the probably exhaustion as of yet, which was a good sign as far as Siena was concerned. Seeing that her newfound companions were content to have a conversation, she ran her fingers along the furry surface of her e-reader's cover. She should probably have said something about needing to read to calm down, or at least apologize for being less-than-hospitable, but Siena soon found herself furrowing her brow lightly in confusion as she heard the word "homework". Homework? On what? The only topic so far that might have needed some testing was "How not to get shot", and apparently, they weren't good at that. Curiosity got the better of her, and Siena gravitated towards her desk, peering at the sheets and spreading them over the surface of her desk. A few equations and some articles of reading were the first things that caught the brunette's attention. Easy ones. Feeling a weight of disappointment hit her squarely in the stomach at the lack of challenging information, Siena sighed and dragged herself towards the bed, settling on the edge so she could unlace the Spartan sandles that she'd evidently thought were a good idea for the day. She wasn't impressing anyone with those. After a few moments of aggressively yanking at the laces, Siena finally had it in her to crawl under her blankets and opened her e-reader...only to find a small sticky note on the screen, scrawled in her father's messy script. [indent][i]Brush your teeth first![/i][/indent] A pang of longing wedged itself into Siena's heart at the thought of her parents. Taking a deep breath to clear her head, she tried to tear her thoughts away from home briefly. "[color=ff57ff]Good night, guys. Um...if you need something in the morning, I have extra t...toothbrushes.[/color]" She almost made it through the sentence before her voice wavered again, this time sounding more normal than her earlier rushed responses. Siena spoke softly, just as she was trained to. Curling deeper into the blankets provided, the girl pulled the covers just high enough to hide the faint glow of her e-reader beneath the sheets, prepared to dive into a realm of both waking and dreaming fantasy. "[color=33ec06]I might take you up on that offer, Siena.[/color]" Marcus said, preparing his own bed. His shoes, a completely average pair of sneakers, were placed underneath the foot of his bed, and he crawled under the covers. "[color=33ec06]Good night.[/color]" "[color=a2d9ce]'Night.[/color]" Her eyes didn't close. She glanced between the two breathing lumps that were her roommates, all too fine to call it a night for their conversation, but she was still hungry. She had a lot she wanted to think about, too. After a few minutes of laying there, deciding what to do, she quietly pushed the covers away, grabbed the bag of jerky and tip toed into the living room. Sprawled on the couch, her teeth sank into the first piece. It's salty sweet flavoring permiated her mouth. She didn't have to move her head at all to tear the bite away-- just one of the weird effects her power had on her day to day life. She missed the pulling and twisting before the meat gave. Maybe they sell tougher jerky somewhere.... Before her mind could wonder any further down that string of thought, she remembered what she was supposed to be thinking about. This school. The shooting. Director Zhang had killed that soldier for his mistake. After their treatment up until that point, she wouldn't have thought something like that would happen. But was it a sign of the Director valuing their lives as subnaturals or having little tolerance for mistakes? Did their value amount to anything other than military weaponry? ...did it matter? The bag was empty. Cal tossed it on the coffee table and stood up, brushing a few small crumbs from her sweatshirt. [color=a2d9ce][i]No,[/i][/color] she made up her mind, [color=a2d9ce][i]It doesn't matter. I won't let those students die in vain.[/i][/color] She clenched her fists-- feeling like it was the appropriate thing to do in the middle of her mental hype speech. [color=a2d9ce][i]I'm gonna kill every monster I can get my hands on. I'm gonna protect everybody. I'm gonna show everyone that subnaturals can be heroes-- just like the Precursors.[/i][/color] With a resolute snort, she marched back to bed and was fast asleep the moment her head hit the pillow. Marcus lay there in bed, eyes closed but mind racing. After everything that had happened today, there was no way he was gonna get a good night's sleep, no matter how badly his exhausted body wanted it. His thoughts went to the massacre in the receiving room; somewhere in is mind, he was thankful he wasn't one of the injured or dead. Or rather, he was glad it had been somebody else that had taken the bullet. Did that make him selfish? He wasn't exactly sure. Those people hadn't even taken the shots voluntarily; he certainly wouldn't have taken them voluntarily if he'd had the choice. He was alive, and other people were not. For this he was uncomfortably grateful. His mind went back to Sparrow and Prism, the two Precursors everyone had seen on the way over. They were ordinary people who became heroes because DC randomly chose them. He'd also been randomly chosen, along with everyone else in that transport. He was in the same position that they had been years ago; a scared child with some fancy little power. Who knows what it would turn into if he managed to survive? His own abilities could evolve like theirs had, giving him powers that he could not even comprehend. He could have the potential to save the world and become the hero of the human race without him even being aware of it! Right now, thinking about how glad he was that he was not dead, he didn't feel much like a hero. It was going to be a long night.