Hidden 5 mos ago Post by webboysurf
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"Ohhhhhh shit." Banjo thought to himself. Time froze for Banjo as his mind spun trying to figure out how to handle this fresh clusterfuck.

"Let's not panic... he just said it himself. He doesn't use it. He's not going to fool around and do anything stupid anytime soon. This is easy. You find him later, away from anyone else. No need to cause anyone any kind of panic, and you explain to him the 'rules' you came up with. The 'rules' for using it safely and not endangering anyone or... the world. I mean he can follow a simple set of rules, right?"

Banjo offered Rory a simple thumbs up and a strained smile, in support of Rory's willingness to share with the group, as he sat in more abject terror than he'd been in for quite some time.

He was pretty sure abject terror was generally an absolute for most people, and not a sliding scale. But Banjo did not grow up as most people.

Rory was the next one to open up about themselves. He seemed slightly nervous talking to the group, a feeling that Katja could very much relate with. The thought of having family in PRCU, even if they were in the collegiate, seemed nice to her. And from the way he spoke of them, Rory seemed to draw some semblance of strength at the thought of them being close by. Him mentioning he was experienced in wrestling almost made her eyes spark with joy. Finally someone who also practiced a martial art… Even if it was a completely different discipline from her own. His power seemed interesting too, the possible applications of which seemed endless to Katja. Barely able to contain her excitement at having met a fellow martial arts practitioner though, she spoke up to him after taking one last bite from her kebab, her mouth half full. ”It’s awesome you’re into martial arts too! I’m very much into kickboxing but have been interested in getting into MMA. Maybe you can teach me some moves?”

Rory’s eyes settled on Banjo for a moment, clocking a moment of… discomfort? Fear? It was hard to say… but the look on his face matched the feeling Rory had in his gut whenever he thought about what he could do. Though… quite frankly, Rory’s imagination probably wasn’t as vivid. Given the powers shared around the campfire as only a starting point, it is terrifying being around someone who can do anything given the right circumstances. But before Rory could spiral too far, his cheeks grew a little red as Katja spoke. The contrast between the reactions was jarring, but it was a welcome change. He flashed a small smile and a nod in response. ”I never really tried either… But I’d be happy to teach what I know. Maybe you could teach me some kickboxing in return?”

Things began to wind themselves down as the fire grew weak. The tents were much nicer than he expected, and Rory settled in for bed rather quickly as he stripped down to just his shorts. He spent a few minutes with his phone light looking through his notes on his team again. He needed to know what they all did… but as sleep crept over him, he welcomed the sweet embrace of sleep.

It was nice.

Maybe things were going to be ok.

Location: Dr. Morse's Office / The Funeral - P.R.C.U. Campus
The Homecoming Trials #2.07 : No Sleep

Mention(s) and Interaction(s): Banjo @Hound55, Katja @Zoldyck, Haleigh @Kuro, Trace @psych0pomp
Previously: Is this Kumbayah?

2 Days after “the incident”

”You aren’t sleeping?” Dr. Morse’s question was phrased more as a statement. Rory looked down at the ground, refusing to make eye contact. His leg was shaking like it always did.

”No. I can’t.”

”Can’t, or won’t?”

Rory grit his teeth as he leaned back in his chair. He was having trouble keeping his eyes open. Dr. Morse leaned forward in her own chair, setting the notebook and pencil on an ornate side table. ”You need to be honest with me. I can’t help you if-”

”Help? Help what?” Rory’s leg was shaking so violently at this point that he shot up out of his chair, quickly pacing back and forth along the length of the room. He didn’t make eye contact, as his eyes were nearly closed at this point. By his movements, he looked wide awake… but his face betrayed his sleep deprivation. ”Cass needed help, and we couldn’t do a single fucking thing. I… I…” The words were thick in his throat, caught somewhere in his windpipe and threatening to choke him.

”You couldn’t save him… None of us could.” Dr. Morse closed her eyes, relying on her powers this time. Rory noticed her wince, before trying to mask the disgust. She took a couple breaths as she opened her eyes. Dr. Morse didn’t look at Rory as she grabbed her notebook again to write down a couple notes. ”What you’re experiencing is something called Survivor’s Guilt, in response to a severe traumatic event. It’s… expected, after something like this.”

Rory’s pace slowed as his body began losing steam. He looked at Dr. Morse in the eyes as she motioned towards the chair opposite to her. He relented and sat down, elbows on his knees and head in his hands as he rubbed his eyes. ”I haven’t seen it in years.”

Dr. Morse closed her eyes again, before having to stifle a chuckle. ”I’m not talking about TV. You just survived a near death encounter… and someone you knew died in that encounter. I don’t have to read your mind to know you’re wondering why it wasn’t you.”

Rory didn’t respond.

Dr. Morse stood up, moving over to a set of cabinets and opening the first drawer, sorting through the folders for a moment before finding a small two-pocket folder with some handouts. She walked back to her seat, setting the folder to the side for a moment. ”We’re going to go over some exerci-... routines you can put in place to begin the process of dealing with the guilt and grief. But before we do that… I want you to understand that you aren’t the only one going through this, Rory.”

Rory gave a small nod.


”I… uhh… I didn’t really get to know him that well…”

Rory stood in front of the gathered crowd, hands gripping on to the podium like it was a life raft. He had been to enough of these that he should be comfortable. Three funerals in three years… it was beginning to feel like an annual tradition at this point. He had volunteered without much thought. But now that he had to look at Cassander’s family… it became clear how little Rory knew his teammate. He was dressed up nicer than he ever had in his life. No one knew how many times he had to re-tie the red neck tie and fix his hat in the mirror before the funeral. Rory’s appearance was the only thing he could control here. Rory cleared his throat, removing his hands from the podium to grab his notes and shove them into his pants pocket.

His cheeks were dry. He had run out of tears six months ago.

That thought killed Rory.

”He was funny. He was smart. He… he understood what it means to be here. I don’t know if he wanted to be here, or if he wanted to be part of our team… I think I would have been lucky to have gotten to know him. He seemed kind… strong. When push came to shove… he acted. He would have been a good H.I.T. agent…” Rory’s eyes turned to his teammates in the crowd. ”We… we’ve just got to make him proud.”

Rory kept his eulogy quick, opting not to focus on the body before he settled back in with the others. He still looked, for lack of a better word, sick. It was clear he still wasn’t sleeping well. He could barely keep his eyes open through the rest of the ceremony. He almost hadn’t noticed when everyone began filing away, back towards the Minotaurs. Rory was practically frozen stiff staring out at the horizon where the body had drifted. He finally turned and followed the crowd, moving at a somewhat brisk pace. He tuned out most of the conversations and murmurs around him, before a small sentence crept through the noise.

"I'm going to kill him."

Rory snapped his head in the direction of Haleigh and Trace.

"Cass. Banjo. Jim. Tad. He's going to pay for everything."

“Innit what Hyperion would want? Get angry? So, he can spout more stupidity about bein’ superior while we flop around like fish? Nah, I’m good. I ain’ bathin’ in blood for Cass. You can, though. You got the power to.” They held the hibiscus out to Haleigh. “Aren’t you more interested to find out why us? Why Tad? How did they know we were goin’ to be out in the middle of nowhere? This place has its secrets, too, and I’m not happy playin’ that they’re innocent in this, either.”

Rory strolled over in their direction, lifting his hands to readjust his coat absent-mindedly. ”Trace is right.” Those words felt weird coming out of his mouth. Rory didn’t make eye contact with the two of them, and kept his voice down to avoid drawing too much attention their way. ”For now, at least. Cass tried, and I can’t do another funeral. I… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Asking why. It doesn’t make any sense to me… but that’s not new.” Rory paused for a moment, out of habit. Negative self talk wasn’t going to help right now. ”I think we all deserve answers. No matter what it takes.”

- -|◄ FIRST---
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Hidden 5 mos ago 5 mos ago Post by Kuro
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Kuro "more reliable than god" - micki

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Location: Northern Cove - Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean
First Class #2.08 Purpose

Interaction(s): Trace @psych0pomp & Rory @webboysurf
Previously: Vengeance Will Be Mine

Haleigh glanced upwards to Trace, and then to Rory, who had just approached the two.

"Maybe that is what they want. Personally, I don't care if it is or isn't."

She reached for the flower, taking it in her hand. For a moment, Haleigh considered it, admiring the colors of each petal.

"Ever since I found out about my power, I had been afraid. Afraid of hurting others. Afraid of myself."

Her gaze turned to the now-burning raft in the sea.

"I could've used my powers. I could've protected Cass and everyone else. And yet, I just stood back and fucking watched."

Haleigh's thoughts shifted to home.

"You know, my father had a collection. Books. Writings. All sorts of stuff. Truth be told, I'm surprised he ever had the time to read between raising me and the RCMP." Haleigh responded, taking a deep breath. "Growing up, I would sometimes poke around his library out of bored curiosity. Now, there was one book that stood out from the rest. It had a quote—'bad men need nothing more to compass their ends, than that good men should look on and do nothing.' I didn't think much of it then, but now the meaning behind it has never been more clearer to me."

Looking back at Trace and Rory, Haleigh continued speaking.

"Don't get me wrong. I am not without my own concerns, much like you two are. Ever since that night, my mind has been racked with countless unanswered questions, and I intend to get to the bottom of them all. But I'm also tired of running from everything. I'm tired of feeling helpless. I'm not going to stand around like before and let them get away with this. You wanted to make Cass proud, Rory. Stopping Hyperion is how we accomplish that."

With that, Haleigh felt her piece had been said, and left Trace and Rory to contemplate her words. Maybe, just maybe, they had a point. Perhaps she was too headstrong in her lust for vengeance, and that there were more important things to worry about. But Jim was missing an arm, Banjo was in the ICU, and Cass was dead. She couldn't let the pain and suffering go so easily. Hyperion might have been a powerful hyperhuman in their own right, but they had fucked with the wrong person back then, a fact Haleigh wanted to make them very much aware of once she had a greater grasp of her own strength.

Good thing she was at a school that helped hyperhumans learn how to control their powers, huh?
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Hidden 5 mos ago 5 mos ago Post by PatientBean
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PatientBean Hi, I'm Barbie. What's up?

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Calli took a moment in the tent to put on clothes. It wouldn't do well to stifle rumors if she ran out after Banjo in nothing but her underwear. Later, she would think back to that split decision, even though it took her roughly a few minutes, and feel guilt. What if she had left sooner? What if she hadn't let Banjo walk out alone? Would things have been different?

Once outside, it was clear something was off. Almost like the air was charged with intensity. Perhaps that was the lingering effects of the storm, but Calli could feel the charge. It seemed the others had also, because she was not alone at the campsite. What she saw though altered herself.

She quickly noted the feelings were the loss of her powers. How long had she been dreaming of not having her powers anymore? To be normal? Ever since she found out about her powers she longed for them to disappear and now that her wish was granted she felt....empty. Like a significant part of herself was taken and she felt hollow. In a matter of moments that seemed to take forever, the threat was revealed.

Betrayal. She knew the feeling well. What were her father's actions if not a form of betrayal? She knew very little about the other students, but even so, weren't they here to do better? Instead, they fueled the hatred of Hyperhumans.

The hooded figure took time to address of few of their own. Haleigh, Rory. Calli felt herself grow angry at the hooded figure's comments. Calli looked around to see where Banjo was and quickly locked on to him. However, she was too late to do anything to stop Banjo from opening his mouth. "What are you doing you idiot?" she thought to herself. She felt herself get riled up as Hyperion chattered away, doing their best to get Banjo to join them. Calli would later also think back to this moment, knowing full well that Banjo would do no such thing, but also admitting she couldn't be 100% sure. And that moment of falter would undo her.

As quick as it was to see him it took Hyperion mere seconds to launch him in the air. "NO!" she screamed, starting to run forward before she felt arms around her, grappling her in her spot. She turned to look at who had the audacity to step in and saw some woman she did not recognize at first. "There's nothing you can do! You need to hold back." Calli recognized the woman as Jessica, the student mentor for another team. Even still, Calli's first thought was to deck the woman, instead, opting to get out of the hold. "Let go of me! I need to..." Calli turned and fought the woman off, but she was too late. The figure had targeted Cass, who had a gun, and impaled him. Calli stumbled forward, falling to the ground on her knees. She looked up to see Banjo falling. In that moment, she felt fear. Intense fear. She felt herself tune out everyone talking. She was sure Jessica was trying to speak to her, but Calli couldn't hear it. She felt her heart race and, ironically, grow colder. The edges of her vision began to darken. Her breathing grew heavy and pained. She knew the symptoms well, though in the past she got these attacks when her grades at school were being threatened or when she had to make public appearances for her father.

"Keep it together Calliope. Keep it together." Her thoughts were not connecting to her body. Eventually, a cocktail of fear, panic, and exhaustion took over and Calli felt herself slip, landing on the cold ground.

Location: Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean
First Class #2.09: Protection

Interaction(s):Team Blackjack
Previously: N/A

Calliope had woken up in the school's medical facility. She was out for a good couple of hours. The staff there recommended she remain there to check. Each medical personnel gave her a warm smile that didn't meet their eyes. Calli knew it wasn't some nightmare she had. Cass was dead. Banjo was killed or hurt. Tad was missing. And who knows what the other students were feeling. Calli closed her eyes, attempting to block out everything around her. She didn't want to smile back. She didn't want to heal up. She thought of nothing more than meeting that hooded figure and the students who betrayed the school and freezing their blood from within until their bones cracked. The machine she was connected to started beeping due to her elevated heart rate and one of the staff came over. Calli opened her eyes and calmed down. Now wasn't the time.

"Hello Ms. de Leon. My name is Dr. Fiona Arthur. How are you feeling today?"


Dr. Arthur wrote something down in her notebook. Probably that Calli was anything but fine. "That's good, but you know it is all right if you aren't feeling fine. Especially given the things you've seen. We all grieve in different ways."

"Tell me then doctor. Is planning homicide a way to grieve?"

To her credit, Dr. Arthur did not display any shock to her question. "Do you plan on following through with your plan?"

Calliope knew therapists and other medical professionals were mandated reporters. She knew if she laid out everything she had been thinking about, it would be reported. Which was funny since she only planned on harming terrorists. Surely the authorities would turn a blind eye to that?

"Of course not."

"It's rational to be angry. You experienced something traumatic. The school recommends therapy following something like this. Did you know the boy well? Cassander?"

Calliope closed her eyes, picturing the first time she spoke to Cass. Then following it up with his face as he was impaled. Everything in between was a blur. Fuzzy. Like a TV screen when it's not on the right channel and it is nothing but static.

"Not well enough. And now I never will."

Dr. Arthur wrote something else down. "Though you did not know him well, he was a part of your team. I imagine you aren't alone in your feelings."

"With all due respect, fuck feelings."

"Feelings have a habit of coming, even when we don't want them. Tell me, how long have you had panic attacks?"

Calli figured this was coming. Of course the school knew about her attacks. Hell, it was how she got to come to the school in the first place. "For as long as I can remember."

Dr. Arthur wrote something down. "Ever since you were a child? Or later on?

"Child. I can handle them."

"Ms. de Leon, how come you aren't taking your medication?"

Calli tensed up. "How do you know about that?"

Dr. Arthur put her notebook down, now looking directly into Calli's eyes. "I know about a lot more than you might think. That's why I am here. I know about your family. I know about your upbringing. About what happened that got you here. I know the choice of taking medication was stolen from you. If you want, I can write you a prescript..."

Calli stood up, taking Dr. Arthur back. "I'm fine! I don't need pills! I can handle it! You don't know me, you know what's on whatever fucking report the school gave you has on me." Calli stormed towards the door. "Anger is normal. We can talk..."

"I am done talking."

Calli opened the door and slammed it shut. Dr. Arthur messaged her secretary, "Pencil Ms. de Leon for next week, same time."

Calliope had attempted to see Banjo at the hospital, but every time she walked up, she was met with the same nurse who looked like she had been on rotation for three weeks straight. "Honey, I don't know how many times I have to tell you. Family only."

Biting her tongue, Calli stopped trying. She made her way back to the school, where the funeral for Cass was quickly underway. There, along with her fellow students, they grieved for the loss of life. The others on her team were there. She could hear them talking. Haleigh especially. She could echo Haleigh's feelings. She too wanted nothing more than to find those that hurt them, hurt Banjo, killed Cass, and see them suffer.

Trace and Rory had spoken up, consoling Haleigh. Trace had a point. Why? That question wracked her own brain. "Hyperion is going to pay." Calli let her words hang there. She wanted to let this be about Cass' memory and not her own plans for vengeance. She got a notice that she was scheduled for therapy the following week. She felt her heart race again. She wrapped one hand around her wrist and took some deep breaths.




She quickly calmed down. See, Dr. Arthur. She was fine.

She had to be.....
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Hidden 5 mos ago Post by Skai
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Skai Bean Queen

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Life in New York was all about walking. Elle only took the subway if she didn't have the time, or if she was crossing into Brooklyn to see her parents. A hike out to the Southern Plateau of PRCU's island, all the students clad in their matching Athletic Training Uniforms, felt like nothing more than her morning commute to campus. Except Elle found herself walking at an easy pace, much slower than her usual New Yorker speed. Instead of metal buildings and the angry buzz of traffic surrounding her, Elle gazed at the trees and growing clouds above. She relished the smell of earth and salty air. She had gone out of the city a few times with her college friends, but she'd never done a hike like this before. Despite the group of new people to meet around her, Elle was too absorbed with her surroundings to really pay attention to what they were saying. She only listened when their trail guides spoke, or looked to her left or right to make sure she wouldn't bump into anyone.

By the time they reached their destination Elle had almost forgotten that they were to camp out here overnight. She'd never truly camped before, so this was certainly going to be an interesting experience. So many new experiences lately, and she had no doubt that there were plenty more to come. She was determined to see it through, whether she was sleeping on a mat or on the ground before a big event didn't matter. She quietly helped prepare a tent. Although it was more like looking to her building buddy every minute or so for guidance. It seemed simple enough, and yet she wondered if she could have done it on her own. By the time they were finished, Elle had quietly ingrained the lesson into her head. This could definitely come in handy one day.

She then moved over to the food station that had been set up. Pizza. An interesting meal after a workout, but Elle wasn't going to object. Soon she was preparing her pizza, choosing the infamous ham and pineapple for toppings. The student rep asked if anyone else was making Hawaiian and she nodded with a smile. Elle ignored anyone that scoffed about pineapple on pizza. She felt fine as she waited for her pizza to cook, but her eyes were soon starting to grow heavy as she finally moved to the fire. The exhaustion began to seep into her feet and legs as soon as she sat down. All she could offer anyone who spoke to her was a polite smile and her name in between chewing her pizza. She wanted to stay by the fire and get to know everyone. It would be vital to learn their abilities and gauge their personalities. Especially if they were to overcome the trials as a team. She had already decided that she would become the team's support. Her abilities weren't offensive, not unless it was a human that would face them, so if there were any obstacles that required force she would leave it to the teammates with physical abilities. Otherwise she would be ready to calm any anxious ones, or use her little trick to give them confidence.

Her teammates were already striking up conversations as Elle took her last bite. She happened to observe enough, just some names and how they held themselves around new people. Elle pushed herself onto her feet and wiped her hands of any residual flour and crumbs. She turned not to join the others, but for the tents. Instead of loosing sleep to learn their abilities, she'd leave it as a surprise with a fully rested mind and body. Today had been too long to fully process it all.

Elle gave her tent building buddy a wave of her hand to signal that she was turning in for the night and walked off. She picked a tent without a care in the world who would crawl in later on. A quiet spot furthest from the fire and closer to nature's music. She maneuvered her bra off without removing her shirt and stuffed it into her pack, then pulled on the PRCU hoodie before taking her spot for the night. With the distant chatter and the sound of nature a few steps away, sleep found her quickly.

Someone was pressing their hand to her shoulder, roughly shaking it as Elle began to return to the world. She immediately sat up, hair a mess and eyes squinting into the night. Her brows furrowed, utterly confused because the tent above her mere hours ago was gone and the rain was now falling onto her head. It began to soak her clothes and bed. There was no sound of crickets and breezes through leaves. This time she heard raised voices and concerned murmurs. The person that woke her was already moving towards the commotion when she turned to pull on her sneakers. As she slid them on, the wet socks squishing against the soles in an utterly uncomfortable way, she looked over to see the tent spikes had been yanked out of the ground. "What the he-" Elle quickly stopped speaking. Her attention snapped upwards towards what now appeared in her peripherals. Hooded figures, blocking the tree line, and slowly moving inwards.

Elle shot to her feet and turned towards the figures. The figures made no offensive movements. Elle began to back away from them, her hands curling into fists, but they only slowly inched forward. Elle's eyes darted around her as she realized they were pushing any strays inwards, towards the center of the camps. They weren't attacking... yet. Elle turned her back to the figures and let them follow her towards the gathered body, where all of the teams stood together and shivering in the cold rain. Elle slowly pulled her hood up over her soaking wet hair and found a spot on the outer edge. Her hair was sticking to the sides of her face, and now began to drip down onto her collarbone. She was already starting to shiver from the cold by the time her eyes found the people that held everyone's attention. Her body went stiff- not from the cold, but because of intimidation.

She could barely hear the two figures words from her spot, and yet their tones and movements told her that these people were powerful. Her eyes scanned the ones that surrounded them, and realized all of the figures that stood guard looked exactly like the one with the mask. She thought of the girl with duplicates, and wondered if this person could mimic abilities. She began to scan the crowd for her, wondering where that girl stood now.

The one with the mask seemed to will the crowd to part with the wave of their hand. They were singling people out. One by one, they preached an awful sermon to certain students. The crowd jolted with each flick of their wrist. The person next to her fell against her when the students were forcibly parted again. She took their arms and steadied them, but she kept her focus on the masked tormentor. They were pulling people into the air now. Elle's eyes darted about each time. Was there a pattern to this? How did they know so much about the students already? Personal, intimate details were being laid out for everyone to hear. Elle grimaced when they pulled one of her Firebird teammates into the air, the boys dinosaur plush dangling next to him.

“If you come home, I will unfold your future. It doesn’t lie here, in this military academy. This is built to appease those who are beneath you. To restrain and limit you, I give you a world with no limitations, I will unfold your future.” They declared.

Elle felt her stomach twisting inside her. Those words... and the arrogance. She could barely listen to it any longer. How much more torment awaited the trapped students. What was the endgame here? Would they pluck each student from where they stood until the last one remained?

Someone had called out from the crowd. The crowd parted again, this time almost knocking Elle completely off of her feet.

"...Stand with me instead, I assure you I want you by my side and there will be no more running.” She heard as she finally regained her footing.

So that's what this was. A call to join this group. A promise of limitless power. Elle wondered if they weren't lying. No one else had jumped into action. No one tried to fight back. The teachers were standing stiffly at the front of the crowd. Elle noticed with horror that the Blackjack Advisor was missing an arm.

Elle reached within her, a curious thought running through her mind. She attempted to spread her pheromones around her, just to calm the shaking students. She wouldn't dare attempt to influence the masked one's duplicates. It was a struggle to spread it further than the three closest to her. Her theory was correct. This monster, who wielded telekinesis, -

The boy who called the masked one squid game now flew through the air towards the front-

- duplication, and god knows what else, had somehow dampened her ability. They most likely held everyone's abilities on a leash despite how powerful some of them were. That thought alone was terrifying...

Quiet words were exchanged between the masked one and their new target, and then the boy was tossed like a rag doll into the air. Elle flinched and turned her head into her hood so she wouldn't have to see where or how he landed. Lightning struck overhead, illuminating the frightened faces nearest her. She couldn't calm them this time.

Two more flashes of light, this time from within the crowd. Elle forced herself to look with the hope that something had been done about this. Only to find that another boy had stepped out from the crowd of his own volition. What happened next... Elle couldn't look away this time. The boy didn't even get the chance to pull the trigger.

"We've made our point here."

The figure's laugh left a ringing in her ears.

Elle sniffed from where she stood by. Her face was a solemn mask. The black beret she'd never worn before had been pulled low over her forehead. Her eyes were puffy. She hadn't cried yet. No, she was still getting over a cold brought on from standing under pouring rain for over forty minutes. Those forty minutes had taken so much from the students around her. Their security, their classmates, and for some, their new friend.

Elle hadn't known Cassander Charon. Yet she knew his last moments. She knew the way his body had jerked as the masked figure shoved their hand through his chest. She wouldn't forget it. Not until she was long for this world and nearing her own end. If she even made it that far into her life.

She tried to avoid thoughts like those. The ones that made everything seem so fragile. They kept poking her at night, pulling her from the sleep that she so desperately needed to get over her cold. They'd yank her up on some invisible tether and she'd find herself dangling above her teammates. In front of her would be the masked figure, their mask streaked in the blood of the blonde boy that lay lifeless at their feet. Their hand would still be in that horrible shape as a muffled, genderless voice spoke words that didn't make sense.

Elle sniffed again and pulled a tissue from her pocket to wipe her nose.

She knew that a funeral like this was meant for bureau agents. Her agent friend back home briefly mentioned a similar one he'd attended half a year ago. To host a funeral like this for a student was a great honor. A nod to the bravery this young man demonstrated moments before his end. She tried to dismiss the nagging feeling at the pit of her gut. Should she have done something in those precious moments? No... she would have met the same end. A distraction may have given him a chance to fire that gun, but would a bullet even reach it's target?

She clenched her jaw as the raft was lit in flames. Hyperion. That was the masked figures name. She'd heard it whispered in the halls since that night. In fact, she remembered hearing about Hyperion's Children on the news one day. She did some research of her own, just to get any answers to the questions that kept her awake after the nightmares disrupted her sleep. The internet didn't have much to offer. A few days after the attack, as Elle lay ill in her bedroom, she sent a message to the agent. It had been short.

"Tell me anything you can about Hyperion's group. They just got a few more members. I'm sure you've heard already."

He hadn't gotten back to her, which only left her frustrated. The agent had been the one to suggest she come here. She knew that one day she would face hyperhumans like this. That didn't frighten her as she had agreed to come here. What did frighten her was that she hadn't been at this school for a week, and a rogue hyperhuman had already tore their way into it. She wasn't ready to face a threat yet.

Would she stand by next time, though?

Not a chance in hell.

Her fellow classmates echoed her thoughts as the crowd began to turn away from the distant burning raft. She heard a few of the students who had been singled out that night promising revenge. Elle stood nearby, still staring out at the waves and that distant light that was now fading into nothing. The only indication that she was listening to the others speak was the twitch of her mouth when the girl that lacked any color but the makeup on her face spoke up.

She had a point. Hyperion would likely squash any sign of retaliation. So, it was up to them to figure out how Hyperion was aware of their histories and locatio- A thought suddenly struck her. Enough to take her breath away, and then force her to sneeze into her tissue because of the sudden rush of air through her nose when she gulped it down.

What if... What if that boy, Tad, had given everyone up to Hyperion. It looked like he had gone with Hyperion willingly. If he hadn't, were there other spies in the group? Or was Hyperion once a PRCU student and had been through the same hike, stayed in the same tents like the ones they'd ripped from the ground that night.

Elle felt another sneeze preparing to ruin the grieving silence, and ruin her train of thought. She turned and quickly headed away from the classmates that had fueled her thoughts. She could get with them later, perhaps. When she was well enough to-

The sneeze was much more gentle this time. Damn it all. She could have stayed back to greet them, and to share that theory with them. Instead she was risking spreading this shit to anyone within a foot of her.

"Hey, Elodie Miller! Jessica wanted me to tell you that-"

Elle held up her hand to halt the girl that now approached her. Alyssa, she recalled from some brief encounter before. "Sorry, I'm getting over a cold." She breathed in slowly from her mouth and lowered the tissue to her side. "What were you saying?" She only half listened to her words. Change into the school uniform... team swap... had she been told about the team swap? Color ceremony. Got it... The classmates from Team Eclipse, that went with Hyperion, had they been contacted before?

Elle nodded to let Alyssa know she'd gotten the news before the other girl moved on. She turned to continue back to her dorm. She was moving slowly, the sneezes seemed to have drained her of most of her energy. Maybe her theories were just grasping onto straws that weren't really there. It could be the cold giving her one hell of a delusion. She could be right, but how would she prove it?

Maybe she'd take a Minotaur back to her dorm, just to give her a moment of rest.

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Hidden 4 mos ago Post by psych0pomp
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psych0pomp DOUBT EVERYTHING / except me... i'm cool

Member Seen 2 mos ago

Coop woke up to darkness, and that darkness was wet. He pulled himself up, his head throbbed, his arms ached, and his eyes felt like they were filled with needles. He placed his hand on his brow to try to shield his vision from the water and winced as pain rocketed through his temple and down his spine. He touched his head some more, unsure what was going on, but the pain forced his fingers to stop probing. The weird indentation in his skin, along with slugs crawling along his head, was enough to know that something was wrong. Wait. His hand shot up to grab the slugs off of his face only to yelp in pain. It was his hair. He'd yanked on his hair. His very wet hair. A few breaths later, he tried to swat the water away from his face again. Nothing seemed to help, and it was too dark to tell where it came from.

A discordant thrum of voices and screams graced his ears but they pelted off of the sides and tumbled away from him. He tried to grab at the words, but they were too slippery. His fingers ended up in the mud underneath them. He became aware of how wet his pants were. He hoped he was in a puddle. Slowly he stood, wobbling all the while. His body seemed heavier on one side which sent him careening into a tree. Another violent knock rocked his system. It was enough pain to cut through the muted confusion. He pushed himself fully erect and looked around. There were figures around. None of their faces looked familiar. Wait. Was that Julia? Where was he? LA wasn’t known to have these rainstorms. He approached her, placing his hand on her shoulder. His hand was wet, but it was a different wet than her shoulder. She whipped around and looked at him. Words left her lips, and her face wasn’t that of Julia’s anymore. Then there was screaming. People’s attention turned towards something else.

Coop said something. What was it? He didn’t know. But it was enough for him to inhale some of the wet. It was salty and tangy. He smacked his lips, trying to figure it out. It wasn't viscous enough to be BBQ sauce. He rubbed his hand over his lips, but wherever the water was coming from washed the sauce away from his hand in an instant. Coop needed to find whoever was doing this and make them stop.

He stumbled forward, bumping into what felt like people. Yet, they didn’t really react to it. To be fair, there was a lot of bumping. A flash of light and he jerked away from it. It hurt so much. The insides of his brain felt as if they’d been forcefully restarted. He took a step forward, his foot caught on a rock, and he tumbled to the ground. He actually tumbled for a while until he found someone else on the ground, he reached out towards them—needing help getting up. Yet, when he grabbed the hand in front of him, it slid forward without any weight. That’s when Coop realized it wasn’t attached to anyone or anything. The sawed-off end looked like pulled pork. Was that why he was covered in barbeque sauce? Yet, the more he looked at it, the more he realized it was an arm—someone had lost an arm. It’d been removed from their body. And the barbeque sauce was blood. Not only the arm's blood but maybe his blood too? He immediately threw up.

Location: Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - Southern Plateau, Dundas Island
First Class: # 2.11: Press 'F' to Pay Respects

Interaction(s): Calliope @PatientBean
Previously: Welcome to Boundary Town, Pop. 0

Coop was told by—someone—that he’d taken a nasty hit to the head and had gotten a concussion. In all the insanity, the others didn’t notice. The girl he accidentally called Julia had found him shortly after he’d wandered away. He'd passed out in his own puke. He was very lucky to be alive with minimal swelling. There was a nasty laceration across his temple, but it was healing quickly enough. Apparently, it’d been caused by his proximity to the top of a tent being ripped off. One of the supports had caught him in the head, and the sheer force of it knocked him unconscious. He was asked what he was doing outside his tent at that time, but Coop didn’t remember. Maybe he was heading to the bathroom. That wasn’t such a stretch?

His stay at the infirmary wasn’t long, especially not as long as one of the other students. Someone that had been tossed into the air by the figure called Hyperion. The one that caused this entire mess. Coop had heard that name. It was a boogeyman that was used by all sides of the media to stoke the flames of the hyper-human and human conflict. Hey. Just because he enjoyed the more lucrative side of social media, didn’t mean that he ignored any and all news. If anything, he had his ear closer to the pulse of it all. Yet, it all paled in comparison to learning that one of the other students passed away. Coop didn’t know him, not that that mattered. Coop barely knew the other students on the Firebird team.

He hung off to the side of the funeral, using the attention that was elsewhere to type out a quick tweet. “Still camping in Canada, and it’s gorgeous here. You know their beaches are colder than Cali’s?” Followed by, “Saw a Viking funeral today. The guy who died was apparently a hero. Don’t worry, fam, he passed in his sleep at a super old age.” Coop wasn’t there to compromise the school, but he couldn’t not talk about the on-fire corpse that had sailed off into the water. It was cool as shit. He’d wanted to end it with a selfie, but he still had butterfly bandages keeping the cut on his head together, along with mottled yellows, greens, and purples across that side of his face from the impact. Coop was smart enough to know that would alert someone.

He made his way back to the campus, not really wanting to linger by the shore. The smoke would probably make its way over there quickly enough, and he didn't really want to inhale “person smoke.” He spotted a small gathering of people to the side, a girl in a wheelchair, a walking/talking statue, and one handsome-looking bro. His eyes then focused past them to someone that looked familiar—very familiar. It wasn’t Julia. No. That’d been the concussion talking. It was Calliope de Leon. Her dad knew his dad, and they’d unfortunately been crammed next to each other on more than one occasion at the kid’s table. It’d been a few years since he’d seen her, and damn—she’d gotten hot. Coop’s forehead winged in pain. Right. Right. Everyone was grieving. No time to admire an old friend. But… it was a fine time to say, “hello.” If he remembered correctly, her being here would have definitely pissed off her dad. They had that in common—at least.

“Calli!” Coop yelled and held up an arm. He jogged over to her, each time his heel collided with the ground, he could feel it in his temple. It hurt, but it was negligible. “Calliope de’Leon, what the hell are you doing here?” As he reached her proximity, he held his arms out like he was ready to hug her, but he didn’t want to do so without her consent on the matter. It was a weird time for everyone. Previously agreed-upon social cues were up in the air. And maybe Coop was a little tactless, but he wasn't without his charm.

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Hidden 4 mos ago Post by PatientBean
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PatientBean Hi, I'm Barbie. What's up?

Member Seen 17 min ago

Location: Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean
The Homecoming Trials #2.12: Drop The Act

Interaction(s): N/A
Previously: N/A

It should have been a fun night.

Instead, the night left invisible scars. On some more than others.

Harlowe didn't know anyone on the other team. She didn't know who the boy was who was killed. Who the boy was who was flung up and severely injured. She didn't know the man who disappeared or any of those who betrayed the school. She didn't know who Hyperion was until that night.

And yet, she felt those scars all the same. She was brought to this school to help her be amongst others like herself, to learn what she needed to so that she could have a future. And tonight threatened that.

Harlowe was sure she was going to be pulled out immediately. Surely if a terrorist attacks the school you are staying in you aren't kept there. But no one showed up for her. Instead, it was recommended she get counseling for what she witnessed. Harlowe dismissed it almost immediately. The other team needed it more than her. Yeah, she was sorry someone died and another got hurt, but she figured a school like this, it was par for the course. Harlowe wasn't dumb. This wasn't just some school that happened to have Hyperhumans as its main cohort. Paint whatever colors you wanted over it, it was a school that was training them for something more. She was sure of it.

She wondered if the others felt the same. Those on her team were kind of all there. She spoke to Coop and Yuri, sure, but she didn't know the others well and any chance to form those relationships was destroyed.

So Harlowe sat in the quad, journal in her lap. She had begun taking notes on her suspicions for the school. They had to know more than they were letting on. Word didn't get out and it would take some serious power to prevent that. And if students did tell others, why weren't there riots or parents pulling their kids out? What stopped the other students from texting what happened to the news?

Could this get her in trouble? Sure. It wasn't like she wasn't used to that before. New school, same bullshit.
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Hidden 4 mos ago 4 mos ago Post by Theyra
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Member Seen 0-24 hrs ago

Location: Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - Southern Plateau, Dundas Island
First Class #2.13 Shaken Up

Interaction(s): N/A(Open to interaction)

This place was supposed to be safe. That was the thought that was going through his head while he was attending Cass's funeral. Hyperion, of all people, was at the school. How did he get in? Plus, what he did to Cass for defying. Cass was brave for what he did regardless if it got him killed. Not many people would do that, and those pricks that joined Hyperion's side. Ruling as Gods, what was that nonsense? Hyperhumans are not gods, and Hyperhumans bleed the same as normal humans and can be killed as easily.

Anger started to swell in him, but Efraim remembered where he was and did his best to calm himself. He is at a funeral, and one for someone he did not know. Efraim wished he did after seeing how brave that guy was. Too late now as he watched Cass's coffin get launched off to sea caught on fire. A Viking funeral was something Efraim never expected to witness, and it felt somehow right to him. Cass being buried and honored this way.

After the funeral, Efraim lingered for a bit. Staring at the calm ocean before walking away. Why did he not do anything? Efraim questioned himself. He did nothing as Hyperion killed Cass and watched as those pricks joined him. Hyperion killed one of their own, and they still joined him. Anger once again started to grow in him as he walked.

Yes, he has to attend therapy because of what happened, but how can he feel okay? A terrorist got into the school, killed, and left without anyone stopping him. If he got in the first time, what is stopping him from doing it a second time? Is this school actually safe, or not?

But more importantly, he did nothing, and bone started to grow on his hands. In anger and frustration, Efraim punched the closest thing to him, which happened to be a tree. Breathing deeply as he looked at his fist and kept his fist on the tree, Efraim still felt frustrated and turned around and started to lean against the tree. He has been here a week, and this is how life here is turning out. Pizza and murder. Some school life so far, and Efraim would stay in his spot with bone armor still on his hands. Thinking about things, and well, he got time for that now.
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Hidden 4 mos ago 4 mos ago Post by Nemaisare
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They’d been sent to hunker down beneath the building storm in shelters made of straining, collapsible frames with plays of light and shadow figures in the corners of his eyes across plastic windows. Soft whispers rustled through cloth over wrinkled bedding asking if he was asleep, awake, excited, scared, crying? Do you know what time it is?! Muffled laughter made up the enclosing shell keeping out the cold wind curling around him, underscoring the steady drumming patter of rain already blurring the line between then and now. He wasn’t sure if the wet he could feel was the morning’s condensation lining the tent last time or creeping in through a new leak in the corner. Had to test it a few times and ask his tentmate—Ariel? They looked over when he said it—if it was leaking. Wasn’t even raining yet…

He stayed quiet after that, going through the motions, working through the tent’s history for awhile. But once they were both tucked away and ready for sleep, when the influx of new discoveries slipping through his head had slowed enough to let him drift back to the last few hours, Lucas sat up and asked them about names. The ones he’d picked up and the ones he hadn’t. There were three he was particularly interested in. The beehive, whom he hadn’t heard name herself. Whether or not Sierra was the name of all the girls that looked the same. And who Dominik was. He got his answers. He also learned more about pro wrestling than he’d asked for, though he didn’t mind it much. And that he hadn’t introduced himself. Once that conversation wore out its words though, it was late, the storm was almost upon them and the howling winds naturally filled in the shadowy spaces the night had set between them.

Sleep seemed a long way off then, with the skirling scream rising all the higher as the tent shook faintly around them, but haunting as the sound was, it drowned out all the rest. And when the rain came, scattering across his skin and pounding on his bones, he was numb. Between one blink and the next, the memories became real. Though what woke him was the delayed snap and tear of fabric and frame separated to let in the rain. Left him breathless and gasping and so confused that the sudden soaking hardly registered. He was simply stranded, tangled in a blanket, and tumbled off his cot in a slowly growing puddle that splashed briefly when he finally flailed upright, but then flowed in a steady stream over his feet to join with the new shelter Ariel had built for themselves.

There hadn’t been time to truly register what they were doing or why the roof was gone or what he was hearing over the storm after he’d untangled himself and worked his way upright before he’d seen the brown splotch of a small dinosaur tumbled to the ground beside him and reached to save it only to watch it fly away just beyond his reach, and stay there, no matter how much he struggled to close the distance.

The threatening figure so full of furious pride that even the blurred remnants of his power could pull it free of their clothes became nothing more than a hand playing keep-away like the schoolyard bully. The might on display nothing but a tool withholding cheap stuffing, worn, wet fabric, and a voice he’d never hear again.

Watching it fall made his heart drop before the rest of him did. No time to try righting himself in the air or even notice how far off the ground he was. Just landed with a breathless grunt and scrambled back to his knees, desperate. He couldn’t lose it. He couldn’t.

Distantly, the silence registered as a collective moment of held breath. Words were being spoken. Shouts were pulled free of fear-closed throats and so many shirts were full of fast-beating hearts wrapped in sodden terror. His brain felt muddy. But he wasn’t using it to think so all that mattered was finally catching sight of the little stegosaurus and cradling it in both hands to his chest. All that came into view when he finally raised his head were so many pale faces spread around the still figure who’d made it all happen.

And then they were gone, and in their place was a single slumped form. It was dark enough he could have doubted his eyes… Just a mound of dirt or someone’s lost bag… But he couldn’t avoid the certainty of one more pale face staring sightless through the grass even as his view was cut off by the adults closing in with desperate hope or grim practicality.

One more breath out never drawn back in.

Location:Northern Cove
First Class #2.14:Spilling Over

Interaction(s): Efraim @Theyra
Previously: Bees

3 Days After Hyperion’s Attack

Don’t you get tired of living like this, Lucas. I know you’re tired of living in the past. Echoes of things will be alright, okay? These things just happened to be how it goes, right? It doesn’t end on a good note here. But—

With careful fingers, Lucas reached out and straightened the two rows of fabric plates running down the little plush’s back, interwoven voices instantly jumping clear of each other.

—don’t you get tired of living in the past? Seeing echoes of things that already happened?
—I know you’re tired of living like this, Lucas. I’m sorry. Don’t mean to put it all on you but things will be alright, okay?

What was one more voice in the background noise of his father’s growing wheeze and slow rasp? It shouldn’t have mattered. The soaking didn’t, or wouldn’t, if he left the toy sitting in the sun often enough. But he couldn’t erase anything.

He’d tried, sometimes. Best he could do was ignore them a while or cover them up with other memories. Or walk away. Walk away like it never happened. Pick up something else. Leave those sounds behind.

Frowning to himself while lying on the lawn and feeling the sun soaking into everything, Lucas had his chin hooked over one arm as he kept straightening those small cloth plates into the semblance of the stiff armor they were meant to be, copying the rougher fingers he could feel pinching them straight with idle care. He’d left walls behind because walls were full from the start and when they squished down with the weight of the roof under so much strained silence, he didn’t want to deal with it. So, he’d brought the toy out with him to consider its newest memories for as long as that took. Now, they were facing each other, him and the small plush toy, and he wasn’t really thinking because there was nothing to think about.

This new voice had ruined it. Carried memories with it he didn’t want to remember, made his dreams wet and murky and breathless if he left the toy in its usual pride of place on his bedside table. But he couldn’t throw it away. Couldn’t put it somewhere else. Couldn’t pretend he’d lost it. Couldn’t leave it behind. So, there really was nothing to think about because it was a problem that did not have a satisfactory solution. It did, however, ignite a familiar feeling in his chest. Something he was used to turning on anyone asking him to do what he didn’t want to do, what he was too tired to do, what he’d done a hundred times before, what he’d tried telling them didn’t work and wouldn’t work and couldn’t help no matter how many times they insisted…

It wasn’t a matter of rebellion this time though. Or of being too tired and aching to bother. Wasn’t a matter of misunderstandings and not understanding sliding under the radar into frustration.

Hyperion simply existed now. A memory no one wanted. Rumours ran through every building. The stain of fear couldn’t be washed out like dirt. In the moments of quiet that manifested in a corner, in the hall, at one empty seat, he’d found tense waiting for something to break. The school hadn’t been perfect before, though he hadn’t had much time during his one day of exploring to understand the general atmosphere, but it was ruined now, too.

Lucas didn’t like that. He resented that voice speaking for him as though it knew what he wanted. Breaking into the last gift his dad had given him and pretending it was worth more than anyone else. If they’d wanted to help, they’d gone about it all wrong. If they wanted the fear…

“Yeah, okay, I don’t know about tired, but I don’t need to listen anymore.”

Huffing out a breath to blow the hair out of his eyes, Lucas pushed himself off the ground, snagging the dinosaur as he went. He was done. And he was hungry.


Standing quietly and watching strangers honour another stranger wasn’t exactly how Lucas wanted to spend his time. Standing quietly all dressed up amidst similarly dressed strangers bidding farewell to a burning corpse wasn’t how he wanted to spend his time either. Funerals were full up of other people’s griefs. Their angers and shames and guilts and reliefs. Full up of fidgets and trembling and hitched breath broken sobs. No one cried pretty. Tears spotting thighs or soaking into handkerchiefs and tissues was annoying enough. But when snot got involved…

He'd just walked away.

Sat down far enough off that he could watch the proceedings without distraction and promptly lost himself in the warmth of an iron pressing clean folds into the kilt he was wearing. It had seemed like a good idea when he’d picked it instead of pants. Something different and fun. Hadn’t expected he’d be standing on the edge of the ocean, legs bared to the breeze, and halfway to shivering. Schools didn’t have funerals. Most definitely not Viking funerals. Wasn’t what schools were for. But as he sat there letting handfuls of sand tumble between his fingers and watching a small boat drift out on the tide before flaring into smoke and fire, he supposed this school did.

Despite sharing the same house with the dead guy for all of a day and having the last week to learn more about him, Cassander Charon’s presence in his head was limited to toes tapping a footboard and minimal conversation. He’d spent most of his time either sleeping or outside the Intake House and finding him anywhere else was too hard to manage. Five days was hardly any time at all for leaving an impression. He had though, beyond the walls, dying on the first day. Standing up for something. Asking for it. Lucas didn’t know which was more accurate. But he was dead before he should have been, when he shouldn’t have been, facing a threat that shouldn’t have existed, most people agreed on that.

And even if he was only a stranger, Lucas had already said his goodbyes his own way when he’d found the leftovers of his presence haunting the halls. He was here because tradition made funerals significant, wasn’t leaving because the ones who were grieving didn’t need to see that, but he wasn’t interested in sharing the load. So, when the larger group began breaking up, he stood up, dusting his hands and kilt free of sand grains, and started walking along the shore.

Cassander wasn’t the only one missing from the Intake House after that night. It had taken him almost the whole week to glean the full story out of bits and pieces. Not because no one was willing to tell him, but simply because he hadn’t thought to ask. One was dead. Lucas knew where he was. Another was badly hurt and somewhere in the infirmary. And the rest had left with Cassander’s killer. Everyone left over was stuck in their own heads with their own thoughts and the whole building was full of ghosts. The only loud noises came of anger or accidents. Avoiding that brittle gloom had left him spending his days nowhere in particular after a while. That meant stalling now. Walking along the water’s edge was better than going back to the Minotaurs. Better than being back in a space where the silence was suffocating under too much unspent emotions. He knew without having to ask that he wasn’t the only one jolting awake in the middle of the night and lying there breathless, staring at the ceiling long after the dream had faded.

After a while, however, his stalling tactic turned out less than great. Every step grating sand across the soles until he grimaced and sought grass. Wasn’t paying attention to where he was going, but he did glance up when he felt new records simmering in the back of his mind. “Oh… Uh…” Who was he again? “Efraim?” Probably right. But… Twisting his fingers until the knuckles twinged, he eyed the trunk of the tree and then huffed out the frustration tightening his chest. “I’m not helping if it fights back. Okay? You okay?”

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Hidden 4 mos ago 4 mos ago Post by Tackytaff
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Member Seen 12 days ago

Location: Pacific Royal Collegiate & University, - Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean
First Class #2.15: Fine

Previously: N/A


Makenna's phone nearly blinded her with the familiar home-screen. Herself and Carson, smiling and dressed to the nines; proudly posing, arms extended to flaunt the shining ring on her hand. Some other student had woken with enough of a start to disturb her trance for what felt like the fifth time that night. With an over-dramatic sigh, she fell back down onto her pillow. She'd always been grateful for her own absence of nightmares; but ever since the trails... Well, at least the others had something to wake from.

A week since she'd been able to rest; the comfort of the installed tent mattress and soothing rain splattering outside, only to be ripped awake and thrown out into the harsh winds. If only the cold had been the worst of it.

She shut off her phone again and willed herself to close her eyes and sleep, to no avail. Tired as she was, her heart-rate increased, and her slow deep breaths turned shallow and rapid as the feeling of an immense weight began pressing on her chest.

It wasn't real, she knew- a figment of a memory: her own voice being choked out mid-scream.

Unable to bear it any further, she opened her eyes and waited for them to adjust to the darkness once more. Another night was spent tracing the invisible panels in the ceiling as Makenna did her best to regulate her thoughts and emotions.


Barely two notes of an alarm played before Makenna had shut off the device and was out of bed. Careful to reduce the amount of noise she made in the shared room; she picked through her belongings for the essentials before slipping into the bathroom. As painfully exhausted as she was, daytime was a hundred time better than night. Getting assigned to infirmary duty was unfortunate timing; but at least it was something to occupy her mind and time. The silent darkness of night had become oppressive - the absence of activity leaving her mind nothing to do but wander and inevitably replay the events of the camping trip cut short.

Lacking any real nurse training, Makenna was relegated to glorified maintenance duties: Restocking gauze and swabs, transporting monitors and clipboards to wherever they were needed. She was strictly prohibited to enter the rooms of her injured team-mates. Not that she had much anything to say to them if she had the chance, but the brief glimpses she caught through windows; bodies of mostly bandages, with the only bits of flesh exposed unrecognizably dark and swollen, were more than enough to deter her.


The vibration of the phone in her pocket made Makenna jump. She'd silenced most of her notifications for the past few days. Carson had been the one flooding her inbox for once, and yet she couldn't bring herself to so much as read his messages. Hyperion and the boy she'd never know were all she could think about, and she wasn't so stupid as to believe her communications weren't monitored. She'd been watching the news, or lack there of. Who knew the repercussions of letting out what happened. Once they were done with the funeral, it would be as though Cassander Charon never existed.

"...You there Kenna?" Carson's voice came through.

She'd answered the call without saying anything. "Mhm, here. Sorry, just been a bit distracted"

"Oh, thank god," He actually sounded relieved. "You've been ignoring my messages and I was getting worried."

Rational, balanced Makenna would have held onto the fact it had taken him an entire week to be worried enough to call- But she was neither; only sleep-deprived, stressed, and stupidly grateful there was someone out there who would miss her. She held the phone at arm's length as she muffled a sob in a handful of tissue.

"God Carson, I'm so..." What could she say? "It's so good to hear your voice." She finally managed to choke out before another hiccup of tears came; beginning an outpouring of liquid from her eyes and nose.

"What the hell has been going on, Ken? You sound awful."

"Nothing - nothing." She muttered before placing the phone on the bed in front of her to use both hands to staunch the flow of snot and tears. "I've just been so fucking lonely." The confession was so honest it shocked her into silence again. Exhaustion really had turned her stupid.

The silence was reciprocated on the other line for a few painful seconds. "Is there anything I can do? Anything you need?"

Makenna sighed and looked down to her left hand, ring glinting between balls of used tissue.
"I need you here" She finally breathed. "I'm so tired of all this dancing in circles Carson. "All I want is to see you"

"The semester just started, Ken, and there are interviews for the paper-" She'd been determined not to interrupt his excuse, but couldn't help a sharp intake of breath that gave them both pause. "I'll look at my schedule and call you tomorrow."

The last thing she wanted was for him to hang up, but she'd behaved pitifully enough for one phone call without resorting to begging him not to go. "I love you"

"You too" Was his short reply before promptly hanging up.

She held the phone to her ear as the dial tone played. Eventually, she stood to scrub the evidence of the outburst from her face; she could hardly go into her psych appointment puffy-eyed and red-faced.


It was too early to be expecting a response, never mind confirmation; but the entire funeral service, Makenna had been only be able to think about Carson and what a visit from him might entail. So much between them remained uncertain and unsaid. She worried pushing him too hard too fast would force him to the wrong decision; but in a moment of weakness, that was exactly what she'd done. She pocketed her phone again, and surveyed the courtyard for her classmates.

Multiple teams were there, the intended 'opponents' of the trials. As though competing in dodgeball would ever have been enough to prepare them for something like Hyperion. Trevor stuck out as a familiar face, as did the grouping of Rory, Trace, and Haleigh.

"Lovely service" She murmured on approach to the latter bunch, plastered smile friendly enough to appear oblivious to their prior conversation. "Sad as it is none of us really got to know him," She added, right hand moving to twist the ring on her left before nodding towards Rory. "Your speech was very touching anyway."

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Hidden 4 mos ago 4 mos ago Post by Hound55
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Hound55 Create-A-Hero RPG GM, Blue Bringer of BWAHAHA!

Member Seen 5 hrs ago

Adie's small stature hid her well within most of the crowd. Her drone recorded everything, hovering within the cover of a tent with a shorn off roof.

They were snatching up kids. Making their sales pitch.

Adie reached out into the humm.

"Come on, dammit... gimme something to work with here..."

She reached out as far as she could... and had a handful of minotaurs, her drone, and a bunch of kids cell phones. The distant hedge also seemed to be buzzing with the humm as well, but it had some form of security which would take some time to crack, and everything the humm influenced seemed to be directed inwards.

Then the masked leader lifted another closer and brought him straight to their face. They were talking, but Adie blocked it all out, twitching slightly, with all focus on the humm.

Her teeth clenched. "Rrrr... you've given me nothing to work with..!" "Maybe, I could pull a car in for cover, but how long would that..."

A sudden gasp and scream distracted her from the humm. The boy was airborne. Pandemonium. Another boy saw an opening to attack the masked man, threw some kind of distracting pyrotechnic, and then performed a remarkably acrobatic roll to a firearm, which he fired upon the masked man.

To minimal effect.

The masked man's hand came to a single point and skewered the boy. His body slumped to the ground. More gasps and screams.

Adie's breath quickened. She was frustrated. She felt useless. "Nothing? Not a Goddamn thing to work with in this whole fucking open field?!"

The masked man, his accomplice and their new followers left, with minimal effort or concern from reprisal.

She tapped into the humm and sent minotaurs to the crumpled students and another to the faculty members where one was missing an arm.

"WAIT!" She called out to the students gathered by the one who fell from the sky. "Don't move that one without a stretcher! Check the car for one! Might have neck or spinal damage!"

Location: Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean
First Class: # 2.16 Devices Not Detected

Interaction(s): Nil
Previously: Roomies and Being Recognised

"Jonas! You left me ass out in the breeze!" Adrianna leapt from the minotaur as it continued on towards the infirmary.

Surrounded by members of H.E.L.P.'s Enforcement Division, Jonas was mid conversation with a H.E.R.O. Unit when he turned to dismiss Adrianna.

"Miss Dahl, I really don't have the time right now..." The normally unflappable Chancellor looked rushed. "I need a full sweep of the grounds, Hyperion and Miss Miracle abducted several students, they could still be on this island. The remaining students need to be evacuated from the Plateau and returned to the campus. Have security perform a full lockdown, no one goes out and no one else is gettin-"

"No. I'm sure you don't. And I'm betting it's part of the same thing."

He stopped and his jaw clenched tightly for a second. Then relaxed again. So quickly you could scarcely be sure it happened at all.

"Not here and not now. I'll meet you in my office when I am done coordinating efforts to catch the son of a bitch who violated the sanctity of my sanctuary. Thusly, I am quite busy right now, and do not have the time to hear individual concerns."

"Now, what was so important you had to accost me publicly? I presume this was about the incident of--" He was understandably defensive. He'd undoubtedly been fielding questions about this all day, and it doubtless had this negative effect on his mood.

"Whoa, Jonas! Not a reporter. That's not what this is."

"Really, you're not here to tell me that the school left one of many students vulnerable to--"

"Climb. Down. Off. The Cross. Jonas. This is about what the school could do to prevent this from happening again, and what, incidentally, may well have prevented this..." She'd already used incident- "...happenstance?"

"What point exactly are you driving at?"

"Verstile electronic infrastructure with the potential for defensive capabilites. In the 'deadzone' vulnerabilities. In particular that massive Plateau. Between myself and Isabella you have access to two of the preeminent technopaths on Earth. By not providing us with the resources to maximise our abilities, Jonas, not only are you endangering students by failing to provide adequate protection from threat, but you're preventing me from maximising my hyperhuman potential as a student."

Jonas soured. "Your Hyperhuman potential as student?" Jonas removed his glasses, massaging the bridge of his nose briefly before replacing them on his face with a sharp inhale.

"The only potential you should be optimizing your learning outcomes and career prospects. I have no intention of allowing you to turn this island into your own private panic room or war room."

"But I could've--"

"I have been accommodating enough. In your own words, you said you wanted to be treated as just another regular student, yes? You are not behaving--"

"But Jonas--

"Miss Dahl, while I've appreciated your investment in the past, you are no longer in that position and so long as you continue as a student at this institute you will respect my authority and act accordingly. Should you wish to reevaluate your station here at Pacific Royal we can have a different discussion."

Cold washed over the conversation, as Adie noticed a palpable shift in the man. How exactly, she couldn't put her finger on. If nothing else it made her think, and not just throw up emotional rebuttal. That was going to get her nowhere, and honestly, was beneath her. A different tack.

"Alright. Fair enough. You are correct. I apologise for my behaviour. I may have... been taking some liberties due to our past relationship. But I am here as a student."

She continued.

"As a student, the discretionary decisions for the construction of infrastructure of any kind are ENTIRELY out of my purview, and solely yours. When I was investing, I had my faith in you to make sound decisions, as I still do now. I had a suggestion, and delivered it in a less than reasonable fashion, and certainly crossed lines. I am a student."

Adie got to her feet. She turned.

"Just checking. The students of the university... They still have access to the resources of the Laboratories and Tech Wing leading up to term as well, yes? Well, I've got to go now, Professor Lehrer. As a student I've been inspired. I'm feeling this great NEED to start right away. And you know what they say about necessity... it's the mother of what comes next..."

"Stop right there." Jonas ordered, "Before you do something rash, as a student, who can be expelled and removed from these premises. How about you instead, as a student, go and see Professor Christianson." Pausing, Jonas stood and opened the door for Adrianna.

"I know you're used to being in charge, however being a student at Pacific Royal means that there are already people in place with talents for taking care of these issues. While I don't enjoy the idea of turning the Plateau into some technological horror, I do agree with the sentiment of further improving the defenses of the school and her campus. Professor Christianson is already working on this and could perhaps use a second perspective."

Adie considered the offer, and accepted. She wasted no time beating a path to the door of the Dean of Computer Sciences' door.

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Hidden 4 mos ago Post by Zoldyck
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Katja was quick to fall asleep after her talk with Trace. Falling asleep had never been an issue for her. The problem was getting a good night’s rest.

It didn’t take long for her dreams to start again after she went into a deep slumber. It was the same as always. She would be there with her family, running through their own house as an angry crowd crashed through the front door. That safe, familiar environment of her own house, suddenly becoming like a maze of terror. Her father would yell to get upstairs, to the safe room. But before they could reach it, their path would be cut off by more of the rioters who had climbed in through the balcony. The family got cornered when they ran into the nearest room, her room. As her father tried to hold the door, her sister would tell Katja to go to her regular hiding spot, the one in the closet, and be real quiet. The door would give just as she sat down. The first one through the door was a big Zulu man, who slashed her father’s throat in an instant with a machete. Drowning in his own blood, he sought for Katja, hoping she’d made it to her hiding spot in time. Their eyes would lock as the violence continued unabated. As her mother tried to reach him, another man stepped from behind the Zulu. It was the family’s neighbor who was a fellow Afrikaner. He charged her with a brick, shoving her onto Katja’s bed before caving her skull in. Katja’s sister, who pleaded for her life, would be hit several times in the back by a Coloured man with a steel pipe, shattering her spine. Less than a generation ago these men wouldn’t have been able to share the same room due to a hatred based on pseudo-science. Now they were united in their hatred based on actual science.

While the attackers cried out in jubilant victory, Katja’s gaze would remain fixed on her father’s eyes, the light in them slowly fading away as unspeakable things were being done to the corpse of her mother. Out of nowhere, the closet would be torn open. A big man, who Katja didn’t recognize, stood in the opening. In his hand was a gun which was pointed straight at her. This would be it, she thought, this would be the end.

And then the shot rang out.

Katja shot up from her sleeping pad with an audible gasp, completely covered in cold sweat. Panting heavily, she reflexively ran her hands over her face to check where she had been shot, letting out a shaky sigh of relief at the realization that it was just another of her nightmares. However, something was different this time around. The man with the gun was new. And she couldn’t really understand why. That is until another gunshot rang out.

Trace now shot up as well. While both had the same burning question on the tip of their tongues, neither could ask it. The top of the tent suddenly flew away before either could say something. A shiver went up along Katja’s back as she got exposed to the cold night rain and the sweeping winds of the storm. At least, she thought it was because of that. Not too far from their tent did she see a gathering of people. As she made her way to them Katja soon realized that something was wrong, as Jim was clasping his… Stump? What the hell had happened?

It was only then that Katja noticed the strangers amongst the group. One of whom was clearly a woman, the other had a mask covering their face which made it hard to determine who or what they were. Were they even human? It didn’t take long until Katja got her answer as the masked figure then made themselves known.

They were Hyperion.

Katja looked on in amazement at what many believed to be the most dangerous Hype in the world. A terrorist according to the mundane authorities and even to H.E.L.P. But to Katja? She honestly didn’t know. As they unexpectedly multiplied themselves they began to address the students, some of them personally, about the injustice that was done to them, the oppression they suffered at the hands of those unblessed by the Hype-gene. Those, according to Hyperion, who were lesser than them.

Hyperion’s words had a profound impact on Katja. She found herself agreeing with their words, as pompous as they may be. She didn’t know how to feel about that, agreeing with someone who killed countless men and women. On the one hand there was the obvious repulsion at seeing someone like that in the flesh. But on the other hand, they promised vengeance. And for as long as Katja could remember, that was what she wanted most. Vengeance for her family, who were killed just for being different.

Her train of thought was broken by someone standing up to Hyperion. Of course, out of all those present, it was none other than Banjo who did. He and Hyperion shared some words before the former was cast into the air, the latter obviously none too pleased about the Australian’s reply.

Suddenly Cassander created a distraction before engaging Hyperion with a firearm he picked off of the ground. As he rushed past her, Katja felt like she had to do something, anything to help her teammate, or at the very least prevent him from getting harmed. Instead, she stood frozen, somehow unable to move as she, and all the others with her, witnessed Cassander Charon’s demise at the hand of Hyperion.

She looked on with disbelief as the young boy who she had talked to mere hours ago breathed out for the last time, a massive hole in his chest spilling whatever intestines hadn’t been instantly disintegrated by the force of Hyperion’s attack.

Hyperion turned around, barely giving Cassander even an afterthought, as if he had just swatted a fly out of the air. They and the woman he was with were about to leave when Ryan from Eclipse spoke up, asking to join them. Her siding with them seemed to open the floodgates as several more from Eclipse volunteered, marching alongside their student representative to join Hyperion’s side. With the first one breaking away from the P.R.C.U. and H.E.L.P’s doctrine, it seemed to be a lot easier for the next one to do the same.

Katja felt it too.

She realized that she had to, that she would join alongside Hyperion and finally get justice for all the Hypes who were being oppressed in this world for being born different. Get vengeance for her family. She was being granted a golden opportunity to finally rid herself of the shackles put on her by Mundane society. Something she had dreamt of since that fateful day all those years ago. She had to join Hyperion.

She had to.

But she didn’t.

She couldn’t move. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she wanted to. She just couldn’t move. Standing there, with the rain pouring down on the campsite, all Katja could do was stare. Like the little girl hidden away in her closet, staring at her father’s eyes in his dying moments, so too could she only stare in Cassander’s eyes as the light slowly faded away.

Location: Camp Blackjack, Southern Plateau - P.R.C.U. Campus - Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean
The Homecoming Trials #2.17 Dusk Hour

Interaction(s): Team Blackjack
Previously: N/A

| 6 Days After Hyperion's Attack
Jab. Jab. Right hook.

Katja hadn’t gone to any of the therapists, even though Jim all but mandated it to her. She argued that the best therapy she could find would be here in the gym. The punching bag was her therapist. The punching bag never judged, no matter how much hurt she threw at it. It allowed her to vent her frustrations in a way she’d never be able to by just talking. It provided a sort of clarity of mind as she went through the motions, performing the different combinations for hours at a time.

Jab. Jab. Low kick.

She’d spent so much time here in the last week that blisters had formed on her hands, the skin on her knuckles giving way to the excessive amount of force unleashed on her target. The loyal punching bag wouldn’t complain though. It was always there for her.

Left Hook into backhand. Recover.

Katja glared over her guard, studying her points of impact as she caught her breath. The break in action allowed her mind to wander, no longer preoccupied with thinking about different combinations and breathing techniques. Instead, her mind went back to that fateful night six days ago. Hyperion’s words, Banjo being thrown in the air, Cassander’s dying breath… She almost felt the rain again.


It was at calm times like these, when she wasn’t doing anything, that her mind began replaying everything. That regret would start to seep in. That this voice would talk to her again. Her voice.

You had your chance that you’ve always dreamt of. A shot at striking back at the scum that took everything from you. Yet when push came to shove you did nothing, like that scared little girl from all those years ago!

She let that voice talk to her. It was right after all. She did want to join Hyperion. His words truly resonated with her. I had been the one thing that had always on her mind. To finally create a place for Hypes to live unburdened by the Mundane of the world. And in doing so get retaliation for those she and others like her had lost.

Perhaps there would be another chance, she thought as she readied herself for another bout with the punching bag, another shot at joining Hyperion.

Jab. Jab. Direct pun-


In her shock Katja reflexively activated her ability, the punch sending the punching bag flying as its support cable snapped under the immense force. It careened into one of the free weight racks several feet away, luckily hitting none of the other gym goers in the process.

She stared in wide eyed disbelief at the wreckage she caused, panting heavily as her hairs stood on her neck and cold sweat ran down her back. One of the gym crew ran up to her, yelling something that she couldn’t make out. Katja turned around to face him, an apology on her lips. But no words would come out of her mouth. Instead, she felt her stomach turn. Turning away from the man, she fell to her knees as she emptied her guts over the gym floor.

|The present
Katja stood at attendance in her dress uniform at Cassander's funeral, her chin raised to the sky as she bit her lip in an attempt to keep her emotions under control. The dark bags around her eyes clearly gave away that she’d had trouble sleeping, even more so than usually was the case. She avoided looking over at the body draped in the Canis colors. She just couldn’t bring herself to. Even the mere thought of him would take her back to seeing the life drain from his eyes.

Instead Katja observed her fellow team members. Some of them showed extreme grief, others seemed to be steeled by determination to get payback. Katja tried to show as little emotion as possible, trying to portray a sort of stoic appearance to the outside world. Inwardly however she was wracked by feelings of guilt. It tore her apart. Guilt over both betraying whatever she believed in before this all happened, but also guilt at feeling like she betrayed Cassander and her team by even contemplating to align with Hyperion. The more she thought about it, the more nauseous she became.

As the funeral ceremony came to a close and the Color ceremony only being an hour away, Katja walked in the direction that the rest of her team was going. She hung back a little however, deciding to listen in on the conversation of some of them instead of joining in herself. Hearing Haleigh and Calliope talk about avenging Cassander got Katja to silently thank herself that she hadn’t confronted Calliope about her father, as that would’ve definitely put a target on her own back. With her teammates now actively planning revenge, Katja became convinced that she had to put on a mask and not let her feelings be known to the team. At least, for now.

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Hidden 4 mos ago 4 mos ago Post by Roman
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Roman King of Dirt

Member Seen 28 min ago

"How are you feeling today, Luce?"

Luce sat quietly, coldly, staring Dr. Mercia in the face as the psychiatrist looked back, poised over the edge of a clipboard, pen in hand and sympathetic smile waning as the tension in the room built. Luce had been silent since she'd entered the room for her weekly session; this was not unusual. Gila was used to having to prompt Luce. But the silence this morning felt thicker, heavier on their shoulders, and somehow grimy and unfriendly. It had changed, not born from Luce's previous meekness and anxiety; instead, this silence was the result of the sheer animosity that radiated from Luce in red-hot waves, an invisible but very-much present-and-felt barrier between patient and therapist. Gila Mercia knew all of this, and knew that the relationship between them had been fundamentally altered, and would likely never be repaired. And yet, she couldn't simply give up on Luce; she had a medical duty to her patients, and more pointedly a moral duty to the people who had suffered from this fresh trauma. Some of them were beyond help, she thought darkly - those who remained deserved to put themselves back together.

"Fine." Luce offered back, short and terse like Gila was used to but with venom that hadn't been there in their last session. Their session before the plateau incident. Dr. Mercia's hand flitted across her clipboard as she made quick notes. 'Angry'. 'Hostile'. 'Guarded'. On reflection, it was all very obvious. What was the point? Posterity? Record-keeping?
"Have you been taking your medication?" Gila asked, feeling like she was merely going through the motions - but the motions had reasons to be gone through. Normalcy was a rock in stormy seas; she needed to offer Luce what she could.
"The Xanax? Sure."
"And have you found they've been helping?"
Luce smiled an unsettling smile. "Not at all."

Gila decided to change tack. "Have you been sleeping?" She asked, knowing the answer and again scribbling on her clipboard. 'Medication insufficient'. 'Sleep difficult'.
Sleep was difficult for everyone.
"In pieces." Luce answered. "Usually not by choice."
Many students had been seen micro-napping in cafeterias, classrooms, libraries. A biological result of sleep deprivation brought on by PTSD-driven night terrors. Luce had had issues with sleep even prior to the incident.
"Have you returned to the greenhouse?"
"Once. The panes had shattered. Plants didn't survive the storm." Luce broke her rancorous stare to glance briefly at her hands, taped and band-aided to cover paper-thin scratches and scars where she'd shredded her fingers scrabbling in glass-filled soil trying to replant and save even a handful of seedlings. She'd failed. Just another failure to add to the list. She folded her hands in her lap, and returned to staring bitterly at Dr. Mercia.

There was a pause between them. Shocking Gila, Luce was the first to break it.

"Is this really the best you can fucking do?" She asked, her tone accusatory and dangerous.
"I'm sorry?" Gila responded, unable to catch herself before the shock of Luce's words and tone wore off, a knee-jerk reply to something she'd never expect from Luce.
"Feelings? Pills? Sleep? The fucking greenhouse? Is this really the best you can do?"

Dr. Mercia floundered, blind-sided by this unexpected salvo. She set the clipboard down, her mind racing to find the words to retake control of the session.
"It's important to maintain a routine, a baseline - it helps return a sense of control and normality-"
Luce sneered. "What the fuck is 'normality'? Are you serious? Cassander is dead. Dead. To the hands of a terrorist who controls storms, multiplies, makes people fly with a thought. What's fucking normal about any of this?!"
Luce had risen from her seat as the anger took hold, her voice raising to never-before-used levels. She was frightening herself, though she'd never admit it; to Gila's credit, the doctor remained calm and seated. Luce breathed, and returned to her seat, her face fading into an emotionless mask.
"This place is full of fucking liars."

That was something Gila could pivot on, a focal point for the session.
"What lies do you feel are being spread, Luce?"
"About this academy being fucking SAFE!" She suddenly shouted, and from beyond the office door the usual hustle-bustle of passing students and faculty momentarily paused before resuming, slightly more subdued than previously.
"I understand you feel vulnerable - the incident was unprecedented, unpredictable. No one saw it coming."
"No one even fucking thought about it. You all thought the school was untouchable. Promised to keep us safe. You can't even keep yourselves safe, let alone your students. Rude fucking awakening, wasn't it? Good thing no teachers got killed, right?"

Luce's face was turning red, and her hands were trembling. Dr. Mercia recognized the signs of rage, and this anger was threatening to spill over and derail everything, at which point Luce would be inconsolable and any progress completely undone.
"I understand. The academy has stood many long years, and takes its security very seriously. The incident was on a level beyond realistic projectio-"
"I want to see Dr. Lehrer."

Gila gently shook her head. "The Chancellor is extremely busy, evaluating what happened and taking measures to make sure it never happens again. He will have time for everyone, but not now."
"Let me see Jonas, right fucking now."
Gila shut Luce down. "No. You're highly-agitated, spiraling into rage, and you will take that emotion and turn it into fuel for something you will regret. You need to sit down, let go of anger, and then when you're calm, Dr. Lehrer will be happy to diarise a session. He could even join one of ours-"
"You're a patsy. Jonas' fucking lapdog. Think toeing his line will get you in with the clique? I know you're not a hype. Must sting. Must be alienating. You're just a tourist here, aren't you?"

Gila bit her tongue.
"I think we should end today's session there."
She stood, putting away the clipboard in a drawer in her desk and walking to the locked medical cabinet in the corner of the room, pulling out two new bottles and a prescription pad.
"I understand you're angry. Anger is natural when mourning. But you need to be calm and constructive and co-operate with these sessions, or they won't be of any use to you."
She sighed, looking her patient in the eye with a weary sadness that deflated Luce's fury. "I don't want you to end up hurting yourself." Gila said softly.
"Don't worry about that, doctor. I don't." Luce answered. Gila pushed the two bottles across the desk toward her. Luce glanced at the labels: Fluoxetine. Clonazepam.
"If you experience prolonged nausea, vomiting, fever, diarrhea, or elevated heart rate, call me. If you see or hear anything that isn't there, come to my office immediately. Either myself or one of the medical staff will help you." Gila handed the bottles to Luce, who studied the warnings splashed across the label. "These should help stabilize your mood to a better baseline and ease feelings of panic. Two of each a day after waking, with food and water. No more than two a day, okay?"

Luce popped the lid on both bottles and swallowed a mouthful of each before Gila could react, smirking as she replaced both caps. The expression was uncharacteristic, and pulled Luce's face in ways that looked off and uncanny.
"I feel better already." Luce lied. "And I don't really need to worry about OD'ing, do I?"

Location: Northern Cove - Dundas Islands
First Class #2.18: Staring, The Abyss, and How I Became Haunted

Interaction(s): @Kuro, @psych0pomp, @webboysurf, @PatientBean
Previously: Corporate Retreat

Luce stood at the shore of the beach in an icy silence that had become her new familiar. The boat holding Cass' body slowly drifted away from the lapping tides of the coast, and as Luce watched the flames grow brighter and fiercer, licking at Cass' pallid skin and beginning the slow process of cremation, she pictured herself in his place. She felt selfish doing so, twisting the tragedy of the loss into her own personal self-loathing party, but it was almost reflexive. She'd done the same at her brothers' joint funeral, considering - wishing - herself in their position, a trade of places, giving all involved parties what they each deserved. Instead, Luce lived, again, another body in the ground beneath her twice-dead feet.

Storm, rain, whipping wind. Surrounded. Luce's face was warm, and she couldn't see quite right. No pain, though, but Luce had long-since learnt not to trust pain, or the absence of it. She raised a hand to her face. Something was jutting out some 2 inches from her cheek, and Luce followed it up her face, over her eye, and found the end of it halfway up her forehead. She frowned, drawing her hand back from whatever shard was now embedded in her skull, and only then noticed the shattered bone jutting out from her forearm. She flexed her fingers without impediment on the same arm, wiggling them in front of her face as her vision swam and re-sharpened, her system already compensating for the loss of her eye using other senses. She'd tried to stand, but stumbled, off-balance - quickly attributed to a snapped ankle. No bother. The protruding tibia functioned perfectly well as a homegrown peg-leg.

Absent-mindedly, Luce traced her finger down the fresh scar that ran from her forehead to her cheek-bone. The eye was fine, having healed as easily as her broken bones and torn skin. Three new scars. One new ghost. Luce wondered how many more of either she would accrue before finally being able to join Cass, or James, or Owen. Luce wondered if she'd ever be able to join them. She'd failed twice already.

She shook her head. It didn't matter how long she stared at Cass' corpse; she couldn't will herself into feeling grief instead of the yawning nothingness that ached inside her. Tears staunchly refused to flow, in contrast to much of those in attendance; Luce knew she looked insensitive, or apathetic, but she longed to be in their place, weeping for the tragedy of Cassander Charon, ripped away before his time for nothing more than trying to make a difference. A difference she had abjectly rejected attempting herself, once again despite forces that deigned to make her uniquely capable of weathering such an attempt. And there it was; once again, circling the drain, trapped in a loop of self-loathing. She couldn't stand here and stare any longer. There was no point to it. She turned on her heel, briskly walking away from the shore and back toward campus, not really sure where she was going; she just had to leave the ghosts and their arraigning glares behind her, at least for now. She'd likely see them again this evening, tossing and turning in her bed, failing to sleep, a third figure joining the established double-act.

She pushed through crowds, keeping her head down and avoiding attention, staring at feet clad in dress slacks and over-polished shoes. It was by sheer chance that she looked up and saw perhaps the only faces in the audience that held a semblance of recognition to her.

"I'm going to kill them." Haleigh uttered to the Blackjack member that stood beside her. She wasn't sure who it had been exactly. "Cass. Banjo. Jim. Tad. They're going to pay for everything."

“Innit what Hyperion would want? Get angry? So, he can spout more stupidity about bein’ superior while we flop around like fish? Nah, I’m good. I ain’ bathin’ in blood for Cass. You can, though. You got the power to.” They held the hibiscus out to Haleigh. “Aren’t you more interested to find out why us? Why Tad? How did they know we were goin’ to be out in the middle of nowhere? This place has its secrets, too, and I’m not happy playin’ that they’re innocent in this, either.”

Rory strolled over in their direction, lifting his hands to readjust his coat absent-mindedly. ”Trace is right.” Those words felt weird coming out of his mouth. Rory didn’t make eye contact with the two of them, and kept his voice down to avoid drawing too much attention their way. ”For now, at least. Cass tried, and I can’t do another funeral. I… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Asking why. It doesn’t make any sense to me… but that’s not new.” Rory paused for a moment, out of habit. Negative self talk wasn’t going to help right now. ”I think we all deserve answers. No matter what it takes.”

Trace and Rory had spoken up, consoling Haleigh. Trace had a point. Why? That question wracked her own brain. "Hyperion is going to pay." Calli let her words hang there. She wanted to let this be about Cass' memory and not her own plans for vengeance. She got a notice that she was scheduled for therapy the following week. She felt her heart race again. She wrapped one hand around her wrist and took some deep breaths.

"I'm with Haleigh and Calli. But I'm not doing it for Cass' memory. I'd do it to say I did something, instead of all the nothing currently going."
Anger was bubbling up in her again, and she let it; it was exciting to feel anything, no matter how toxic. She didn't have the energy to repress it anymore today.
"All this pushing on like everything's fucking normal is insulting. It's insulting to Cass, it's insulting to Tad, and it's insulting to us - how stupid do they think we are? The veil's fucking lifted now, we're not safe, we never were. Go back to normal? What the fuck is normal about this place?!"
She was red in the face, but on a roll, and it just kept spilling out of her. Maybe this was the elusive mourning the faculty kept talking about; Luce didn't care. It felt good. She rounded on Trace and Rory.
"That 'keep-the-peace' attitude is bullshit. You want to just sit around and wait for Hyperion to come back? All that talk about betters and lessers, and you think the best way to prove they're wrong is by doing nothing? The 'why' is obvious, isn't it? Isn't it?! Because they could! Because P.R.C.U. is a sham, and they had their heads shoved up their asses, and they thought they were untouchable, and they thought nothing could threaten them right up until Hyperion did. And their vanity got Cass killed."
A tear rolled down her cheek, tracing the line of the scar until it hung off her chin.
"Hyperion and P.R.C.U. - both as culpable as the other. Both need to be taken down. This place needs a new leader, minimum, a chancellor who'll take security and the lives of those he promises to protect seriously. Worst-case the whole institution needs scrapping and rebuilding. We stand here, watching a peer and a friend get cremated at sea, and they expect us to file out and head to 'team swap' and 'house offers', like we're just coming back from recess?"
Luce wiped her face, aware she was out of control, aware she was embarrassing herself, aware aware aware but too far gone to stop it. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted Mackenna approaching, and found the concept of putting up with her particular brand of faux-cheery veneer to be simply too exhausting to handle.
"There's one team, one house, one side now - 'Kill Hyperion'. If you're not on it, you're on their side instead. And I am not on their side."
She took a deep, shuddering breath, steadying herself before turning to leave.
"If anyone else gives a shit about not letting Hyperion turn their 'new world order' bullshit into a living reality - you can find me in the ICU. I have to go beg forgiveness from the only living non-coward on campus. You should all think about doing the same."
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Hidden 4 mos ago Post by Mao Mao
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Mao Mao Sheriff of Pure Hearts (They/Them)

Member Seen 0-24 hrs ago

Everything seemed to have happened in an instant without any warning. The rain falling in the middle of the night, the masked individual preaching about a better world for all hyperhumans, Banjo foolishly standing up against them and getting tossed away towards the stars. Cass's brutal death. And once the dust settled, no words or actions could've properly conveyed the sheer confusion Iñigo was experiencing. There wasn't enough time to process everything once help finally arrived. He, and everyone else on the grounds, were ushered away to campus for safety. But was there anywhere safe from the roaring storm outside? Iñigo spent the night figuring out an answer.

Location: Northern Cove, PRCU - Western Canada
The Homecoming Trials #2.18: Rude Awakening

Interaction(s): Team 21 - Blackjack
Previously: A Slight Correction

Seven days ago, a masked individual (now known as Hyperion) shattered the illusion of security with a simple thunderstorm. They were ruthless and cunning enough to kill someone and then persuade a group to join their cause. It was... impressive. Iñigo spent the days weighing the words spoken on that night. Their words conveyed frustration toward a world that actively restrained those slightly different from everyone else. He understood it; hell, he was a victim of its oppressive nature for five months. Not to mention how it even ruined his whole life. So yeah, Iñigo might have been slightly sympathetic to Hyperion. Not that he was planning on expressing it to everyone on campus, of course. Unless he was yearning to re-experience life inside a detention center again.

Which wasn't on his bucket list, to be clear.

At least the funeral was lovely. Iñigo stood in silence alongside his fellow teammates out of respect more than anything. By the time the eulogies concluded and the small boat was set aflame, he glanced at the rest of the Blackjacks converging for some sort of comfort in the courtyard. It was evident that everyone was still upset, grieving in their own way. Of course, some desired immediate retaliation on Hyperion for killing one of their own. While others wanted answers before vengeance, which would soon become a very unpopular sentiment among the team. Iñigo was not going to intrude upon someone's grief for a fallen comrade nor cast judgment on their remarks. He was taught better. But admittedly, he wasn't ready for Luce's anguished outburst toward everyone.

Iñigo listened from afar, empathetic to her pain and anger at everything. He remained quiet the whole time Luce spoke and then watched as she walked away from the group, shaking uncontrollably from her intense emotions. Iñigo considered going after her but chose against it, realizing she needed to be alone. He didn't know what to do afterward, still digesting the words spoken aloud mere moments ago. And yet, he felt the urge to say something before it was all too late. So that's what he did, directed at everyone in the team. "She is coping with... everything that happened on that night in her own way. Just like everyone else here. We need to be there for her and each other during this difficult time. But to do that, I think all of us should take a breather to collect ourselves."

- -|◄ FIRST---
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Hidden 4 mos ago 4 mos ago Post by Lawful Newtral
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Lawful Newtral Genius of the Sky

Member Seen 1 day ago

"Hello, I am a beehive." Jo responded, her Scandivanian accent was laced heavily in her words. Thankfully she had been well taught in English up to this point. She raised a hand in between her and the itchy boy, outstretching a finger. A lone bee crawled from under her sleeve up to the tip of her finger. "So I am house to many, many bees inside me." She pointed at herself and then to her bee with her other hand. She smiled, seemingly happy with that reality. "They are all me but not really all me. More like family." She admitted, laying a finger on that very bee she had to give it a soft pet.

Ariel's normally dry and self-deprecating sense of humor had a weakness, and that weakness was absurdity. No amount of witty insults and cerebral jokes could make them laugh as hard as an out of pocket sentence blurted without warning, and huddled closed to Team Firebird with a mouthful of pizza, nothing was as out of pocket as 'I am a beehive'.

Like a puddle in the middle of Death Valley, Ariel's calm and composed visage faded into the wind as they broke into an aria of soft giggling. A bad time to giggle, what with all the pizza and hot sauce in their mouth, and abrupt choking soon followed the hilarity. They couldn't care less, the only thing on their mind right now was those four words repeated again and again. That Scandinavian girl was a beehive! A beehive! Funniest shit they ever heard.

The choking soon went away and Ariel could laugh and giggle and snort in earnest. It was far from the most dignified sound, but their laughter was playground lively, naive and freshly squeezed. A part of them wanted to stop. Laughing like this was childish, people could think weak of them for this and take advantage of them. Other, much larger parts of them disagreed and so they kept laughing. Ariel hadn't laughed like this in a long, long time. It took them back to the day they discovered the surreal humor of early 2000's YouTube and Nico Nico Douga, staying up late at night browsing to play Russian Roulette on the computer from video to video. Were they about to laugh their brains out, or were they going to get jumpscared to hell and back?

Those were better days. Ariel missed those days, but somehow they knew that Future Ariel would come to miss days like this more. The humble beginnings of Team Firebird, the en masse breaking of the ice. Everyone was introducing themselves, getting to know each other, walking through each other's powers while enjoying pizza and a warm fire. These are happy days, too, Ariel thought as they tried in vain to maintain their composure in the midst of all her giggling. They could get used to this. They should get used to this, they deserved this. Even if they were a quiet and reserved kid, having other people close to her felt...right. Living with other people felt right, it was right.

Location: Funeral Grounds - Northern Cove, Dundas Island
First Class #2.19: Nothing's Okay

Interaction(s): Jonna Harlson @Pirouette
Previously: First Blood (Definitely Not the Last)

The funeral ended and Jo silently slipped free of Ariel's grasp, but she did not leave right away. Instead she lingered further away from the water until Ariel had retreated from the ceremony as well. Jo wasn't really good at communicating with people and didn't know what to say, but she did feel like she had to say something. "Sorry for you. Cass was your friend, ya?"

So focused on the funeral, Ariel did not get a proper look at the wrist they were holding. Tilting their head, they saw their hand clinging close to Jonna's skin. A smile broke out of their face, a pursed valley of melancholy. The blonde girl's face reminded them of the four words that had driven them to hysterics that night. The night where...everything...happened. As quickly as it came, the smile went the way of a puddle in Death Valley. Everywhere they looked, they saw splatters of gore left in Hyperion's wake, hideous scars left in the eyes of their friends that spoke of fear, sorrow, anger, hatred, doubt. Everything Ariel swore to leave behind in the screaming geothermal pools of Truth or Consequences. And yet here they come, haunting them once more. A deep breath and a shake of their head kept things at bay. And another deep breath. And then another. Ariel cursed their wandering mind and returned their focus to the Northern Cove, a trembling hand free from the beehive's wrist.

Truly, the less remembered of that night, the better.

With a solid footing on the present, Ariel turned their attention to Jonna, the smile returning as they beheld her. Still a sad smile, but it was a smile they didn't have to shake off in sorrow.

"Cass was our friend," Ariel replied. "I didn't get to know him that well, different teams and all. It's just...really really sad, you know? One of our own lost his life because of some power-hungry lunatics? One of our own may never walk again because of the same power-hungry lunatics?"

Ariel wanted to say more, partly to let out their feelings in more eloquent words than being 'really really sad'. But their feelings were complicated and it was difficult to let them out without sounding like either a selfish pretentious cabrón or a gradeschooler. Still, where else would those feelings go if they stayed where they were? They struggled to remember what the campus therapist advised on this, but it was 'something something reach out something something you are not alone'. Ariel let go of the deep breath they didn't know they were holding in. Time to put that advice to the test.

"And like...I'm scared about what comes next." Slowly, these words crawled out of Ariel's mouth. Words chosen carefully, tightly, not wanting overwhelm themself. Or Jonna, for that matter. "There is simply no way this...'Hyperion' stops at that. It's just not how those kind of people roll. They'll do something crazy dangerous again. Lives will be at risk again. I hope we'll be ready by then." Just barely keeping themself together, Ariel once again relied on Jo's wrist to keep their feet grounded in the now. Only after the fact did she realize how rough their hand must be and eased their grip, muttering an apology under their breath.

"I'm sorry for dumping all that on you," Ariel then said, in clearer breath. Relaxing the tense posture they didn't know they had been holding, their hands began to fidget. On their hair, on their face, on their uniform fabric, on the trans flag pin on their uniform, anything to distract themself again."Hard to think straight in a funeral, you know? Nothing's okay and that's just...not okay, for me. Maybe other people can handle better, but I can't."

"...Call me out if I'm wrong, but this is not okay for you either, is it?"

- -|◄ FIRST---
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Hidden 4 mos ago Post by Kuro
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Kuro "more reliable than god" - micki

Member Seen 0-24 hrs ago

Dr. Edwards' office was pitch black, save for the bright shine of a monitor that reflected in his glasses. Since the plateau incident, he had been pulling double-duty, working well into the night each day. The students under his wing needed guidance more than ever, Edwards felt, and he wanted to do everything in his power to assist them with counsel.

Reaching for a tape recorder, Dr. Edwards pushed the record button and began speaking.

"Case file no. 0862452656. Patient name: Haleigh R. Crawford."

He took a sip of his late night coffee.

"Miss Crawford has been..." Dr. Edwards paused momentarily, trying to find the right word. "A difficult case, to say the least. Since she first came to my office, our discussions had bared little fruit. She was frightful, as most new hyperhumans tend to be, of her own powers. Of what she could do. A freak, I believe, was her choice of word to call what she had become."

Clicking on a file, Dr. Edwards watched as images and article clippings flashed onto the screen. Ruins of a hospital. Vancouver riots. The pleading of a worried father to news cameras.

"I do not blame her for thinking so. She had survived two near-death experiences in a short period of time, and now has to contend with the heavy weight that has been placed on her shoulders. But it is that heavy weight that has become like impenetrable armor for Miss Crawford. Each meeting inevitably leads to her withdrawn, refusing to yield workable ground. Any sort of progress for Miss Crawford has been hard to come by."

Dr. Edwards sighed.

"Yet what happened out on the Southern Plateau, I feel, has irrevocably changed her outlook. Miss Crawford feels responsible for what had happened that night, not unlike others that were also there. She believes that if she had used her ability, rather than conceding to her fears, then Mr. Charon would still be alive today."

Another sip of coffee.

"I am a doctor, not a fighter. I do not know what would've become of Miss Crawford if she had done so. But what I do know is that this anger of hers has been internalized, and directed towards Hyperion. A breakthrough, of course, yet not particularly a positive one. Wanting justice for Mr. Charon, Mr. Olyphant and the others isn't unreasonable, but I fear Miss Crawford has conflicted justice with vengeance, and I worry it may have unintended consequences in her future."

He looked at the clock in the bottom right of the screen. 2:13 AM. Better close up shop.

"I recommend continued observation of Miss Crawford, per H.E.L.P. guidelines. She may have come around on her hyperhuman ability, but considering her focus on Hyperion, Miss Crawford might be more dangerous than she realizes."

Pushing the record button once more, the tape stopped recording further audio. Leaning back in his chair, Dr. Edwards stared out a window, carefully observing the moon high in the sky as he began to reminisce over a lost friend that he had not the heart to inform Haleigh of. Not yet, at least.

If only you could see her now, Adelyn. You should've been here for her.

Location: Northern Cove - Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean
First Class #2.20 The Calm Before The Storm

Interaction(s): Funeral Group
Previously: Purpose

"She's right, you know." Haleigh abruptly responded. "You can try fooling yourself that she isn't, but Luce is right."

Since her speech to Trace and Rory, Haleigh had been silent, instead choosing to listen to each and every Blackjack member that had approached them afterwards. When Luce spoke up, however, Haleigh knew her point couldn't have been said any better. She understood what needed to be done.

"Whose to say Hyperion won't show up again? How many more of us need to die before they decide that enough is enough? There are more important things to focus on than this game of charades Pacific Royal intends to play."

The others might have not realized it, but Haleigh was certain that Blackjack and all the other students attending P.R.C.U. were now faced with a ticking time bomb ever since the Plateau incident. Despite all the safety measures the school had, Hyperion still managed to waltz in without detection. The terrorist had even managed to leave scot-free after injuring multiple staff and students alike, as well killing one. Why should they continue on like things were normal? Houses and team swaps didn't matter. The only thing that truly mattered was doing what was right with the hand Hyperion had dealt them.

"Take a breather all you want. Collect your thoughts all you want." Haleigh replied to Iñigo, who suggested they recollect first before anything else. "But sooner or later, you'll have to make a decision. It'll come crawling back to you. Haunt you, even. The only thing you can do about it is wish you had made your choice sooner."

Turning her wheelchair around, Haleigh began to follow after Luce. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

As she pushed past the crowd that had formed, Haleigh momentarily glanced towards Katja, who had stood far behind the rest of Blackjack. Truth be told, Haleigh had no idea what might've been floating around in her head. She hadn't talked to Katja since the incident, though admittedly that had been the same case for the rest of Blackjack. Regardless, Katja would have to make it clear where she stood eventually. Time would force everyone to decide no matter if they were ready to or not.
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Hidden 4 mos ago Post by Tackytaff
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Member Seen 12 days ago

Location: Pacific Royal Collegiate & University, - Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean
First Class #2.21: Fine (II)

Previously: N/A

Makenna folded her arms and glowered at her surrounding classmates. So much for turning the conversation to less volatile topics. She gave a few moments for the others to speak and reign in her own emotions before letting out a long sigh and eye-roll following Luce's departure.

"All well and good for the immortal girl to go chasing death." Makenna said as Luce walked away, only for Haleighto push herself after her. "Or the one too powerful to even stand near us." She did nothing to hide her eye-rolling condescension now; exhaustion had extinguished her usual ability to mask her nastier emotions.

"I don't know what the rest of you saw last week. But to me it looked like a bunch of scared, unprepared kids way out of their league, and one of us was killed for it."

With that, she too stood up to leave. If they all wanted to get into trouble with both Hyperion and the school that was their problem, but she wasn't putting herself at risk further by witnessing it. Distantly, she was aware of the vibrating message notification in her pocket.

"I, for one, will do everything in my power to prepare and not be the next body we send floating down. Hope the rest of you can manage the same" She pointed to the horizon where Cassander's flaming boat had disappeared some time ago, before turning to leave the group in search of her dorms.

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Hidden 4 mos ago Post by psych0pomp
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psych0pomp DOUBT EVERYTHING / except me... i'm cool

Member Seen 2 mos ago

Location: Northern Cove - Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean
First Class #2.22: When Democracy is Totalitarian

Interaction(s): Blackjack Team; Specifically: Haleigh @Kuro, Luce @Roman, Rory @webboysurf, and Makenna @Tackytaff

They were all like bees, gathering, buzzing, becoming louder and more threatening with each escalation. A hive mind of anger and violence. They took a step away from the building vitriol. Their eyes caught on each figure as they spoke, each taking the easy way out with their hurt. They pushed their ultimatums on them and Rory with the ease of someone shoving their rubbish into a bin. It was easy to paint any enemy’s face on a friend when the enemy was so far away and so overwhelming.

Trace glanced at Rory. They grabbed his forearm as a bit of a brace to the slander that was spoken to them. The buzzing became louder. The hivemind agreed and agreed and agreed. Dissent was frowned upon—democracy was dead.

“You bloody lot act like we all didn’t lose somethin’ in all that. Don’t spit philosophy at me. I didn’t grow up rich and white. I know what fuckin’ strugglin’ is about.” Usually, they’d follow such a sentiment with humor, but it’d bled out of them like the color of their skin. “I’m just sayin’ meetin’ blood with blood is what Hyperion would want. You got to be smartah than that. Good to know the lot of you are moronic wankers.”

They spit on the ground. “Bloody fuckin’ Americans fixin’ all their problems with violence.” They released Rory’s arm. “It’s a sad fuckin’ day when I agree with Makenna and Rory here. But here I am.” They paused. “No, fuck you all, I’m not here. Not anymore. Not with the lot of you.”

They turned on their heels and left, Luce and Haleigh having left just prior to that. Honestly, the group could take what Trace said any way they wanted. They didn’t act like they wanted to hear what Trace had to say. If they weren’t ready to immediately die against Hyperion, then they were a coward that sided with the monstrosity. That wasn’t how that worked. Trace wanted to fight back but wanted to participate in their own little battle. One that they wouldn’t immediately perish during.

Trace hadn’t been paying attention when they stormed off. They’d just picked a direction and stomped into it. They were happy to be away from the buzzing. Lo and behold they were at the fountain. It’d be a nice place to sit, and the shade hit it just right. But the figures that eerily appeared within the waters were like ghosts. Trace was tired of ghosts. They were also tired of walking. So, they sat down, one hand holding the flower while the other tugged at the collar of the jacket. “I’m not a coward. I’m just not ready to die havin’ accomplished nothin’. We’re too bloody fuckin’ young for that. Cass was too young.”

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Hidden 4 mos ago 4 mos ago Post by Wei Wuxian
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Wei Wuxian Frozen Love

Member Seen 1 mo ago

Location: PRCU Rec Center - Dundas Island, Pacific Ocean
First Class:#2:23: I am NOT a Victim

Interaction(s): Open to Interaction
Previously: Flirting with Danger!!!





The words of his old trainer played over and over in his head as his fist collided with the punching bag. With each strike, the bag retreated from his touch, as if feeling the pain from the heavy blows. His mind flooded with the events several nights ago. He thought he was safe here. He thought this place would allow him to see more of who he could be, safely. He remembered his old tutor who helped him uncover many things about his abilities before he came to PRCU. He never wanted to feel powerless. He never wanted to feel trapped. Yet that night he had. In the moment, he could do nothing but watch, and it angered him.

After witnessing the power of Hyperion, he was in awe. The being was able to completely obliterate their protection without breaking a sweat and this knowledge sent a tremor in his soul that he’d never forget. He remembered watching it all unfold as one by one those who opposed Hyperion were cut down. It all made sense now. When he’d first arrived at the campgrounds and tried to commune with the weather, it didn’t respond. It was as if something more powerful was controlling it, it felt artificial. He should have known then that something wasn’t right, and when the great Hyperion appeared in a surge of lightning, he stood in awe, wondering how it must feel to wield so much power. Every ounce of his being trembled as he listened to the words Hyperion spoke to various individuals amongst them. As if trying to recruit them, and for a moment Yuri was intrigued. Yuri felt an odd sense of curiosity. That dissipated when Hyperion’s pointed arm ended Cass.

He didn’t know either of the individuals harmed. He wished he had gotten to know them. Who knew how Banjo felt healing in the hospital wing alone? Did he have friends to visit? The funeral would have felt different if he knew Cass on a personal level, but he didn’t and he struggled with trying to understand how to feel. Should he be sad for someone he didn’t know? Should he seek vengeance for someone who took a stand for them? What were they here for?


His mind playfully dangled on a dangerous idea of the reason why they were enrolled at PRCU. The weapon that was used in the battle. A weapon to neutralize their abilities, if only for a short time. Something that humans would use against them. Hyperion’s words repeated again. They could be Gods, but they were not Gods, they shouldn’t be able to rule over humans just because of their abilities, or should they?


One thing was certain. He needed to know more. He needed to know more, and he would find out. It would take time but he would find out. Yuri focused one last kick on the bag and it flung around before stabalizing. Sweat dripped from his forehead, glistening on his neck and bare arms. His shirt clung to him as he stood still.

I am not a victim. I am not a victim."

He paused for a moment and looked at the punching bag envisioning Hyperion's masked face.

"Game on.

- -|◄ FIRST---

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Hidden 4 mos ago Post by webboysurf
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webboysurf Live, Laugh, Love

Member Online

Location: Somewhere - P.R.C.U. Campus
The Homecoming Trials #2.24 : Empty Words

Mention(s) and Interaction(s): Haleigh @Kuro, Luce @Roman, Trace @psych0pomp, Inigo @Mao Mao, Makenna @Tackytaff
Previously: No Sleep

Rory kept his hands planted in his pocket, fist balled around his crumpled eulogy. One by one, his teammates gathered. There was a somewhat even split in opinion on the next move, though the voices for vengeance were loudest. Haleigh had addressed him directly. Words caught in his throat. He wanted to defend himself… or agree. He wasn’t sure. His hand squeezed tighter around the empty words he refused to speak. The letters were shaky and cut deep into the notebook paper. They too called for action and justice. They were a self-serving rallying cry, the kind of speech a team captain would give at half-time. They were words that came from a deep-seated sorrow that rendered cuts across his bleeding heart.

They were just empty words meant for his benefit, not Cass’. They wouldn’t have helped his family. His sister was a few years younger than Mary.

He wasn’t going to let her, or Will even, bury another Tyler because he let himself go with the tide.

Rory shook his head at Haleigh’s words, muttering out a soft ”No” in refutation of her conclusion. He almost didn’t notice that Trace had grabbed onto his arm. He froze up for a moment at the realization, before letting himself relax slightly. It was a positive sign, if nothing else. He gave small nods of appreciation to Inigo and Makenna as they approached. He couldn’t quite find any words to say to anyone though. He was far too exhausted to think clearly, or put together any semblance of a speech. Most surprising of all was Luce, who had seemed so uncertain and fearful the night everything broke down. But now, she seemed like a completely different person. He wasn’t sure what was more unnerving: the arrogant voice that kept him up at night, or the incendiary rage that burned like oil in Luce’s throat. He understood the feelings… but he couldn’t find himself agreeing with the conclusion. Killing Hyperion… it was too easy. Too simple. Hyperion needed to be stopped, but something in Rory’s gut felt weary of the choice of words and goal. It was something to mull over, but he wasn’t fond of Luce’s ultimatum.

Trace let go of his arm… and spited him one last time before walking away. He felt his heart sink, his hand catching in his pocket as he tried to reach out for a moment. He stopped himself. Trace clearly insisted on being alone… but right now didn’t feel like the time to push the issue. He’d catch up with them later. Rory gave a weak, weary smile to Inigo and Makenna. ”I think everyone needs time to grieve in their own way… I’ll see you guys at the ceremony. I’ll be at the Intake House until then if you need me.” With that, Rory made his way back towards the dorms.

It was time he got some rest.

He needed to be at his best for his team.

Or what was going to be left of it.

- -|◄ FIRST---
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Hidden 4 mos ago Post by JunkMail
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JunkMail Shitpost Supreme

Member Seen 10 days ago

Sierra Hilton

The incident at the campground was as terrible as it was unexpected. Sierra, for all of her skills and constant over-preparation, couldn't outrun a speeding bullet, or jump a skyscraper in a single bound. While she was many, she was undeniably human.

When the attack began, her first instinct had been to take cover. With this many super-powered people around, fireballs and explosions would undoubtedly follow suit. She wasn't looking to be turned inside out by someone's mind, and if statistics were anything to go by, friendly fire was going to be just as big of a threat as the assailants. When she felt the first of her collective suddenly sever from her consciousness, she realized then that she would have to run.

Most of her made it out, some dragging others. Some were saved. Some weren't. When Sierra looked at her hands now, all she could think about was the ringing her her ears and the blood and dirt that caked her hands afterwards. In the grand scheme of things, there was still a few of her on the mainland, and some of her at the school. There was almost no real threat to her. Her lives were many- meaningless even, on their own. Her peers only had one. She should have multiplied- ran into the battle to drag out the injured. So what if a few of her took a round? That would've been one more round that her classmates wouldn't have had to take.

Should've been, even.

But she didn't. Her survival instinct, or cowardice, took control.

Nobody blamed her- probably in part because she was so new and so many people didn't know what she was capable of, but she blamed herself. So here she was, few friends, no house to call her own. A few bullshit classes that she could do in her sleep these days, and nothing but time to wallow in her thoughts on what had transpired. She found herself at the library a lot. A few other copies of her went off to do their own thing- as she always willed, but they were just following orders and going through the motions, too. It was hard. It all felt so... exhausting.

At least her books had happy endings.

"I came to Pacific Royal because I needed help getting my abilities under control. They've helped me do that, and with the H.E.A.T. program, who knows? I can run into fires without getting hurt. I've interned at a few fire-rescue operations as part of my schooling. I'll never forget my first rescue- that little girl... she called me a super hero."

Her finger hovered above the right click on her mouse, and then hit the restart. She listed to the young man's words. Again. Again. Again. This young man had the ability to turn to stone and was using it to be a fire fighter. This interview was old now, having come out in the year of our lord, 2017, but there were dozens like it, in which PRCU interviewed previous students who were either at the tail end of or had completed their tenure at the school. This place did a lot of good. Both for her people and for the world. Yet here she was- running away from the call to action like a coward.

Sierra was about to click it again when the felt the floor beneath her shake some in time with footsteps, and then heard the groan of the chair next to her. She glanced over- then up. Her vision was obscured by an impossibly large fellow- whom had folded himself up rather comically to sit on the chair and be able to reach the computer. He was so big that his head, even while sitting, towered above her standing height by a good two feet. His frame blocked the view of anything behind him. Behind him, a long scaled tail thicker than her entire torso draped along the floor- curling around their seats like some sort of black and white anaconda. He was also out of uniform? Adjourned in a navy blue hoodie with the PRCU logo and grey sweat pants. His hood was up= but as she leaned forward to get a better look at her neighbor, there was an indistinguishable snout that peered out from under the hood. His eyes, each the size of baseballs, were focused on the screen. She must've been staring for too long, because when he blinked, they were looking at her.

She squeaked, and sat back in her chair, eyes forward. He had caught her red handed. She tried to focus on what was in front of her but the interviews seemed far less interesting now. She contemplated changing to a new video, but an enormous hand, well over a foot in diameter, waved in front of her screen. The claws- god, they had to be over four inches long. She meagerly turned her head, expecting that this was her end-

"Everything okay?"

His voice was so deep that she could feel it. She looked at him and he looked at her, his other hand having plucked out a comically tiny airpod that must've been hidden behind his hood. Surprisingly, his voice wasn't unfriendly. Just... neutral. She looked down at the keyboard and tried to find the words to answer. This was a person, and she was ogling him like an animal at the zoo.

"You smell stressed. I'm not bothering you, am I? I can sit somewhere else."

"No=no, you're fine. I'm just lost in thought." she answered, almost too quickly. Wait, smelled stressed? Just how did he know that?

"You're new, aren't you. Part of the recent class. Went camping right?"

Sierra didn't answer, her fingers instead gripping the table so hard that her knuckles turned white. She felt the weight of an enormous hand rest on her shoulder. She turned to look at the weight and briefly marveled at how gentle he was despite his size. He was warm, too. Despite looking reptilian, he was warm blooded. How did he know she was new?

"Yes. To all of that. How'd you know?"

"Everyone smells different." he said, moving his hand away from her shoulder. "I recognize everyone in this school by their smell. Well, almost everyone. I'm sorry that happened to you, that must've been awful."

"It was."

They fell silent now, neither quite knowing what to do or say to one another. It was his turn to seem uncomfortable now- realizing that he had touched a nerve. Way to ask a terror attack victim about the terror attack. Maybe he should start shooting off fireworks in a neighborhood with a lot of veterans. She was still looking at the table and he was lost. He was always bad with talking to people.

"Hey," he said, managing to her her attention. He offered her his hand. "My name is Henry."

She looked at his meteor-palms and then at him, and offered her own- a hand smaller than even one of his fingers, and shook as best she could. "Sierra. It's nice to meet you, Henry. What year are you?"

"American college sophomore equivalent. Hard to keep track of how this school does it." he said, crossing his arms. "House Ursus." he looked between her and the computer, and pulled his hoodie down to reveal a muscular, serpentine neck that was just as scaly as the rest of him was. He was certainly impossible to attribute to a person, and frankly looked only roughly human. Sierra wondered what that meant for him. He spoke up before she could go down that rabbit hole much more. "Big dreams?" he said, motioning to the graduate interview on her screen.

She laughed, a dry sad cackle. "A while ago I'd say yes. Now I'm not so sure."

He hummed, sensing the subject's sensitivity and changing the subject. "Know anything about Kafka?"

She perked up. Kafka was, in her opinion, the greatest short story author in history. Did his scent reveal the future or something? "Plenty, The Lady With The Little Dog is my favorite. Why?"

"I'm writing about him. HU 302, Studies in Literature. I've chosen 'The Metamorphosis'. I need some help."

"That's his most famous work. A bit basic, yeah?"

"Well, it's less about the piece itself and how it can be re-evaluated by a modern audience. The professor wants my thoughts on it. You can probably see why." Henry said, motioning to all of him with an awkward smile. Sierra stifled a laugh. "Didn't your professor just call you a roach? What do you even need my help with if it's so personal?"

Henry smiled back at her. All teeth, but she didn't feel scared of him anymore. He motioned for her to look at the table, and then placed his enormous hand on his keyboard. It clicked them- while he could 'type', these keyboards were made for people an order of magnitude smaller than him. He just needed a scribe. "Say no more. Scooch." she said, pushing the hulk of a man playfully. Henry swatted at her hands and eased himself over a foot or so, probably to avoid stressing the chair he was in any more than necessary. "Alright, from the top, Goji."

"You know, that could be an insult."

"Is being called humanities' savior really all that bad?"

"Of course not. I'm just half Japanese."

It didn't make what happened better. There was still tons and tons of emotional unpacking to do. Between her family and what happened at the campsite. But talking to someone about anything else made it feel easier now. Less overwhelming.

Less lonely.
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