[center]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/unQ2imY.png[/img]
[color=254f28][u][b]Location[/b][/u][/color]
💀 Warehouse District - High School.
💀 Warehouse District - Connor's Home.

[color=254f28][u][b]Interactions[/b][/u][/color]
💀 None.

[color=254f28][u][b]Time[/b][/u][/color]
💀 Afternoon - Evening.
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Five years, it had been quite a while. A realization which washed over the young Variant, or rather, self-proclaimed ‘Monster’, as those large, obsidian eyes lingered on a pair of headphones, held within pale hands. Clenching his teeth, Connor exhaled a small sigh and noted how warm air trickled past his ghostly porcelain skin. Thin, black claws traced a path across a plastic surface, the headphone’s blue paint somewhat dulled throughout many years of use. The boy had never forgotten, but some days managed to pass, from dawn til’ dusk without conjuring thoughts of a past now lost. What could one say in reference to a close friend who was ever-so-suddenly erased? Presumed dead, they said. Connor had no recollection of the, by now, young man’s family, or where they were. Memories had slowly faded, and with little to recall, he was at quite a disadvantage.[i][b][color=254f28]”I hope you’re okay, dude..,”[/color][/b][/i] words trickled past the boy’s mind, his small hands gently grasping a pair of old, worn headphones given to him by an old, lost friend.

Leaning back in his seat, Connor’s attention rose towards a teacher who had been explaining the use of iPads, which in itself was a rather ironic disposition, in being presented to a room full of technologically obsessed teenagers. “Alright, take good care of these,” came a tired voice from the opposite end of their classroom. Teaching was likely a hectic, thankless, and annoying job, which reflected itself on Mrs. Kyle’s face. Dealing with sixteen-year-olds did not sound like an appealing prospect for anyone, and even Connor was prepared to agree with that. 

As each desk was handed a tablet, the porcelain-skinned Variant put aside his headphones, and viewed its sleek surface with a tilt of his head. How many times was he going to face this issue? Again, the teenager sighed, but this time, he spoke up. [b][color=254f28]”Mrs. Kyle,”[/color][/b] came a ghostly voice, unique and, in regards to general opinions, disturbing. 

“Yes, Connor?” An answer traced its way back to the young ‘Monster’, confirming their exchange.

[b][color=254f28]”I can’t use this,”[/color][/b] the Variant explained, his thin brow somewhat raised. Placing a sleek, raven-colored claw on the surface of his brand new iPad, Connor dragged the inhuman digit across a still shiny, untouched surface. As one might have expected, the device scarcely reacted, and Connor’s lack of finger pads was a clear culprit in the endeavor. The display warranted laughter from every direction, which didn’t affect Connor in the slighest, but rather, his attention remained on their teacher who now displayed a less than comfortable expression.

“Oh..,” she cleared her throat. “I’ll see if we can get you a laptop instead..,” the woman tried. Every student had their needs, and some of them were quite special. In Connor’s case, his body was the root cause of many complications. He could not participate in physical education outside on sunny days, either. However, little did they know that exercise held no meaning for the boy. He could neither build fat, nor muscle, and remaining stuck in time was patiently waiting for its grand reveal. The teenaged figure staring back at Connor through the surface of a polished mirror would linger, for an eternity. 

[b][color=254f28]”Sorry for being a nuisance, Mrs. Kyle.”[/color][/b] The apology was sincere, but a small chuckle accompanied Connor’s words, as he handed back his gracious gift. 

“It is fine,” came a response, albeit somewhat exasperated. Though a somewhat awkward development, class eventually saw itself coming to an end, and Connor was finally released from its clutches. However, it brought a thought to mind, once more. How many Variants attended school? It was rather rare for a powered individual to exhibit physical mutations like Connor himself, which made it impossible to tell. As far as the white-toned ‘Monster’ knew, he was the only specimen. Had he ever met another Variant? It was unclear. None that he could recall. According to N.O.V.A’s database, the entire world exhibited approximately five million Variants, which in the context of billions painted it a miniscule number. Connor could go an entire lifetime, which in his case was a long stretch, without meeting another.

Closing his locker, the ‘Monster’ exhaled another small breath, before slipping his headphones over those pointed ‘elf-like’ ears. He had earned many nicknames throughout the years, all of which he found adequately amusing. Death Boy, Elf Boy, Alien, Ghost, and a personal favorite, Shark Boy. His teeth, pale skin, and black eyes did warrant the title, and it was one he often found himself laughing at. 

Striding down a soon thinning corridor of students, Connor’s attention remained on the floor as he walked, the boy’s focus aimed at a string of lyrics dancing their way into his ears. One would accurately draw the conclusion that music moved the boy’s limbs more so than he would admit. Silence was a daunting prospect, and thus, Connor dispelled it with a consistent stream of lyrics and instrumental bliss. Where some claimed that they could not write without listening to the inspiring touch of verbal art, Connor fell under the same concept. He would argue that everything looked grey without music, and that reflected itself upon his drawings. 

[b][color=254f28]”Ugh..,”[/color][/b] the teen grunted, stepping into an afternoon bombardment of sunlight. Pulling his hood into place, the situation grew somewhat more bearable, and Connor could proceed on a path to his home. He was hungry, and despite this Variant’s scrawny appearance, the boy ate as much as anyone else. In fact, he could very well eat more, if hunger dictated the notion. However, yet again, he was somewhat of a special case. The boy’s powers were relatively known to him, but many of the side-effects withheld themselves, still. However, Connor had not unleashed his powers in a very long time. Destruction was their only purpose, and when they were, ironically, capable of giving life, it was a perverse reflection of what existence truly meant. 

At the very least, he would be the star of any given Halloween party. Chuckling at such a ridiculous thought, the ghostly teen entertained his imagined scenario, and continued to pad along a sunlit street, clawed hands gently resting within his shirt pockets. There were times where Connor wanted to throw that hoodie off in a futile attempt to appreciate that massive, celestial body far beyond the sky. An act which had granted humanity life since ages eternal, but for Connor, it was a reminder, not a pursuit. 

He was a mockery of life. With powers drawing him Death’s Majesty, life was cruelly twisted in response. Indeed, the boy claimed to ‘own who he was’ which remained a truth. However, as Connor slowly freed his hand from the safety of his shirt pocket, the boy felt a stinging sensation boring itself into his pale flesh, all the while sparing his claws lacking such emotional receptors. Clenching his teeth, Connor soon returned the appendage to the comfort of shade, a sigh managing its way past his lips. [b][color=254f28]”At least I don’t burn..,”[/color][/b] came a quiet whisper.

Following his arrival at home, Connor proceeded along the same routines which had enveloped him for years. Drawing, painting, and finishing his homework, something which would occupy the Variant until evening eventually peered in through an open window. The sun set, and with it, Connor was quick to pull those curtains aside and enjoy the evening glow. He wouldn’t mind some takeout, and with his mother at work.., no one was there to nag him into cooking something ‘healthy’. A nurse to the end.