[u]Cordelia Lynn Holmes[/u]

Say what you would about Nightlight, whom Lynn quietly suspected of having either a severe dependency on Valium or Molly, she at least had emotions. Lynn didn't think the Tin Man would show anything if you showed a bottle of WD-40 up his ass and cleared out his rust from the inside-out. Did he even have an asshole? A stomach and stuff? The questions about this place just kept piling up, and Lynn was generally content to let them accumulate. She was never one to really care too much about abstract concepts like metal assholes-the more pragmatic, immediate things in life interested her. And, if this guy was a doctor like he said, that meant he was probably loaded, because doctors are always getting good money and stuff. All she had to do was figure out where these papers were headed, acquire them, and get 'em back to Rust Limbaugh over here? Yeah, that sounded like a pretty easy way to get money to her. And, say, the good Doctor didn't feel like paying, well, she'd be sure to run these papers through a copy machine first and sell them to somebody who did care. Stem cells? Lynn didn't know what the fuck those were, which meant it was probably some advanced, top-level shit. Maybe like CIA projects or something. Who knows.

"No, I definitely catch your drift, Doc," Lynn said, the grin of someone who was about to fuck up their probation stretching across her face. "Tell you what. This place is a little too...witnessy for my liking. I'll find you later and we can hash out the details. Color me interested."

Then...capture the flag. Meh. Lynn nodded her head at Petey and meandered away with Alex, wisely thinking that staying too long around him would draw suspicion. She wasn't looking to build a rapport with this guy, just to take his money and go on her merry way. Lynn was, in that regard, in possession of a remarkable work ethic: provided you paid her and didn't fuck over any of her immediate friends, she got the job done and she got it done without complaining. There's a certain reliability in people like her, albeit a great many types of unreliability as well. Time would tell which type the Academy valued more-Lynn, rather cynically, was banking on the wetworks kind. 

Ah, damn. Alex's enthusiasm was contagious. Lynn, even though they were playing capture the flag like a bunch of little bitches, was pretty pumped to on Alex's team too. Strength in numbers and all. Plus Nightlight was chill. "Right on, Mary Poppins. You know, this..." she gestured vaguely at the arena as a whole, "is gay. But, if we're playing a game, we might as well kick some ass. That whole 'we're not judging you on who wins and who loses' thing? Bullshit. Alex, you're putting somebody in the hospital before this game is over." she scanned their team. Oh. Joy. Apparently, the Americans with Disabilities Act got applied to this place too. Well, time to size these fuckers up.

Hmm. Okay, this first fucker. He looked vaguely familiar in an asshole kinda way. Ah, yes. Suits. Well, teamwork be damned, she was getting in a good suckerpunch to Suits' vagina before this was all over. Lynn ruled him off the list of "People Who Can Contribute To The Team", merely by virtue of his being rich enough to afford suits, and presumably, the rich kids payed their manservants to play capture the flag for them when they were kids. 

Some blond, bitch-looking kid. Hair...gay. Face...gay. His suit...not gay, but still wimpy looking. Weird looking. Somebody called him Atticus, which was possibly the whitest name Lynn had ever heard given. Thus far, their team consist of Suits and The Little White Boy Who Couldn't. Fuckin' A.

Third...damn. Lynn almost did a cat-call. That little spandex suit was suiting her pretty well. Of course, the guys were flocking to her like moths to slutty flame, and Lynn figured odds were pretty good she had more STDs than a New Orleans gloryhole. Looks like that, acts like that? Wear a rubber, fellas. In order to remember the dangers of unsafe sex posed by this little heartbreaker, Lynn put her down as "Rubber". She, however, beat out Suits and White Boy for the spot of "Possibly Useful", in that they could probably use her to distract some people or whatever that were coming. Lynn wondered vaguely if her power had something to do with her killer body, this chick was fine.

Tin Man. Eh. She'd sized him up early. Probably useful, but so damned slow, and only one arm. Lynn figured they could leave him behind at the base to guard the flag and, presuming he didn't start making love to an electrical outlet or something, he'd probably be pretty useful. Lynn was skilled at micromanaging like that, recognizing her teammates' strengths and weaknesses. Perhaps, in another life, she would've made for a lovely HR rep.

Hmm. Some black girl. Looked like a runner. Not cause she was black (although Lynn wouldn't hesitate to say so if she thought that-Lynn was a great many things, politically correct not being one of them), but because she was all athletic and trim. Lotta scars on her legs though. Like she tried to run a 5k through a meatgrinder. Eh. Probably fast, looked to be in pretty good shape. Seriously, she was one scraped knee from being Oscar Pistorious. Start wearing jeans or something, Jesus.

Demon kid. Tail. He was perched on the roomie's shoulder, next to some prissy looking guy. Well, the three of them were obviously a thing-not like a sexual thing, like a family or whatever. Patches could handle herself, Lynn felt. Lynn had no desire to talk with her, but she had the sort of "don't fuck with me attitude" that Lynn could appreciate-the kind that you earn, no put-on antisocial teenage bullshit. Besides, she could get the other two (although what could the demon kid even do, he was so damn little. Lynn opted for leaving his ass at the base) to work with them, so her primary value lay there. Patches, Braveheart, so many different ways to go with that one. Then...brother, maybe? They had a vague resemblance to each other. She wondered how much inbreeding had to go on before you got metahuman powers.

Then, Mary Poppins. Smart, chill, and Lynn had a feeling she was a hell of a lot tougher than you'd expect. Besides, their partnership took precedence over the team-Lynn was gonna be watching her back and making sure nobody fucked with her. Lynn had lost a lot fights, but not a single one had ended with the other party walking away healthy. She might not have the strength to match some of these guys, but they'd be crying in the nurse's office for damned sure afterwards.

What the fuck? They had Quasimodo on their team. Jesus. One person missing an eye, this bitch who can't walk right, Oscar Pistorius, and of course, Suits, who suffered from a medical condition known as "Having an Ass for a Face". If there was a God, He wanted Lynn to lose this capture the flag game. And she had The Thing from those old movies growing out of her, it looked like. Okay, she and Tin Man were on guard duty, because nobody was getting within arms length of that chick. How did she shower? Or sit down? There was no way she could run fast. God. Lynn had some irrational hatred for this chick's uselessness. She really fucked up the superpower lottery.

Now this dude, this dude they could use. He was tall, built, and getting pretty feelsy with Oscar. Ah, they were an item, okay, that clicked. But she didn't seem to be really that into it...Lynn studied her for a minute. She was no relationship counselor, but Lynn was as savvy as they come when it came to sizing up people's body language. Okay, they needed to blitz the other team with this guy before she dumped his ass. Hm. Hm. Well, if he was dating Oscar, that made him Reeva. Also he was giant motherfucking scorpion, which was pretty metal all things considered. Lynn was pretty sure she'd seen a dude hanging with Oscar beforehand, one who wasn't a scorpion, so maybe he could change or whatever? That was better than the Panda guy. Lynn was pretty sure he was a panda ALL the time, and there was still some freakshow chick boning him. Bleh. Weren't pandas all afraid of fucking anyways? Lynn forced herself to ignore the bedroom dilemmas of an interspecies couple and focus on the more immediate issues, which were the cadre of cosmic rejects she'd been handed as teammates.

Next. Ginger, kinda nerdy looking. Librarian material. Ginny Weasley might be able to Rain Man them a solid strategy or something, but she didn't carry herself with the weight of a fighter. Not like Patches or Reeva, or herself (for all Lynn's shortcomings in terms of height and weight, she undoubtedly had that presence, the cold confidence of a warrior). Hm. Probably not totally useless, especially if she had a cool power-(Lynn thought she overheard something about clothes, but wasn't really listening)-but not top tier. The Weasleys never were. Wait, she was more like Hermione, wasn't she? Shit. Hmm.

Oh dear God. This girl looked like one of those prissy, rich-people dogs that had fur that was like six feet long. Her hair was grey. Who had grey hair? They had the Hunchback of Notre Dame and the octogenarian Fairy Godmother on their team, apparently. If any other nursery rhymes wanted to come join, now was the time. Also, red eyes that you could barely see through those ash-colored bangs. Okay, so she was prematurely grey and demon possessed. Maybe she and the kid with the tail were related or something.

Another scrawny white girl. [i]Maybe we should form a club.[/i] Well, she looked like nothing special, wasn't really carrying herself with too much confidence. But, hey, maybe she had some trump card up her sleeve. Aislin was too hippy of a name for Lynn to bother remembering, so she was sticking with "Average White Girl".

Another bitch with bangs. Gah. Well, Lynn could sorta-barely see a scar underneath him, so that at least explained it. Still, didn't like too much. Nothing really remarkable jumped out at her, not like the parasite chick. Eh. Bangs II: Bad Hair Boogaloo.

Well, fuck. They'd lost.

"Alright, Lynn muttered to Alex, "The good news is that the other team is worse than we are, because that's the only reason the admins would give us such a handicap. Here's what I'm thinking: we go talk shop with the two or three people that look like they can do something, then go and try and get the flag. If we get out, fuck it, I really don't care about this game anyways. If we don't, then game over and we can go do some cool stuff or whatever. Two of us'll stick together, though. I'm gonna try and avoid throwing down with anybody on the other team, just because I don't want the school nurse to have to sew somebody's dick back into place on the first day of school. You got any objections, lemme know." Lynn stuck her hands in her pockets, and found nothing there. No pockets anymore. Right. Stupid suit. Feeling ridiculous in the damned spandex, she moved over to where her roommate and her posse was standing.

"'Sup," Lynn muttered, not really bothering with introductions, which were dumb and annoying. "Look-" Lynn paused. Gabby? Gab...Gabe. Gabe. It was Gabe. "Gabe, don't know how vested you are in this, but if we've got to play this bul-" she bit her tongue, remembering Jaska was there. "...this game, we, uh, might as well win." She lowered her voice a bit, not wanting the entire team's egos to be broken by the epiphany of Lynn's opinion of them. "I'm thinking us," she said, indicating herself, Alex, the three of them, "And those two," she nudged her head at Oscar and Reeva, "Are probably are best ones. I say we stick the Iron Giant and Kafka on defending this place, send everybody else up the middle as a distraction, and then we split around the sides. Then, like, bring it back or whatever." Lynn tugged at the neck of her suit, which was annoyingly tight. Everything was annoyingly tight, actually. "I want to get out of this f-" [i]don't say fucking don't say fucking[/i]"fffffreaking thing, so if you have any better ideas, I'm down."