ERode

Q - FLUX

Simple and clean doesn't suit monster hunts.

Name: Josephine
Codename: End
Color Scheme: ec008c 000000
Age: Mid-Twenties
Gender: Female
Personality:

• Exacting
• Obssessive
• Arrogant
• Dramatic
• Thrifty
• Determined

Biography

“diedieDIE!”

She never forgot the first shot she fired. Even at near-point blank range, she still failed to hit any vitals, and as the man gurgled, reaching out with his fat hands, she panicked and switched to auto, blowing eleven more finger-sized holes into his torso, blubbering all the while. And even when the corpse collapsed back onto the bed, white sheets staining dark red, she continued to pull the trigger, an endless clicking filling the smoky room.

“The bullets are included in the bill.”

She never forgot any other shots she fired either. Meticulously counting each and considering their prices, she charged each client, citing it as an important expense. A miser, perhaps, but she did her work well, and her appearance worked for her. No one expected a scrawny child to be a problem. No one thought that her oversized clothes hid grenades and firearms. And no one expected that she was the contract killer they hired. Anonymity kept her safe once the bullets ran out.

“I…am in control.”

But anonymity didn’t stop her fame from increasing, and as her kill count increased, so too did the difficulty of her jobs. What had gone from missions of revenge from men who had their wives stolen from them had gone to taking out drug dealers or enforcers. And bullets were no longer enough. Unwilling to back down from her profession, she sought out a Painstaker instead, learning the arcane arts from a wizened widow who never had a child. She didn’t mind being their surrogate daughter. Not if that gave her a discount.

“Motivation? Boredom.”

And once she had both science and magic in her hands, what had once been a challenge was slowly…becoming forgettable. Gone were the days where she had to scrape by in a dingy motel room, drinking instant tomato soup. Gone were the days where she had to count her bullets one by one, hoping that she had enough to get by if it turned into a firefight. Gone were all those worrisome days, and with that, gone was her stimulation.

At least, until it turned out that the target of one particular job was not a human, not a mage, but a monster.

A nightmare.

She survived, barely, and when her client came up afterwards, offering a position as a Cleaner, she accepted without a second thought.

It was like her first kill once again. All fear. All adrenaline. All-consuming.

Alive.

Magic Style:
Iron Revolution
Disassembly, Telekinesis, Reassembly
Josephine utilizes three different spells simultaneously, focusing more on speed rather than large effects in order to create a magic system that synergizes with her preferred form of combat. An ‘active’ disintegration field creates atomic dust, which is then shrouded around her by ‘passive’ telekinesis, and then ‘actively’ reassembled into the form of bullets with grains of iron sand within them in order to be recycled once more. In its most base application, she can give herself an unlimited amount of railgun ammunition, as long as her mind can keep up with the many spells in place.

Disable.bond(molecular) – The disassembly of matter into atomic dust via destruction of molecular bonds. Can be used to ‘cut’ through objects as well, at roughly the same speed as a plasma torch.

Move.object(variable) – Telekinesis, capable of moving objects at bullet speed. Passively keeps all atomic dust that Josephine created in 5 meter radius of her.

Generate.bullet(iron) – The reassembly of bullets with an iron sand core, specifically. Takes whatever atomic dust she has gathered and re-connects their molecular bonds.

Membership: New, 6 months but highly active.
Equipment:
Heavyware Railrifle X-16 – Silent, recoilless, and deadly. Can hold a clip of 70 bullets and has various features such as burst, semi-auto, single-shot, and full auto. An all-in-one gun that can be used for anything from close-range firefights to long-range sniping. State-of-the-art.

Heavyware Punisher EMT – Lethal and highly accurate. Can hold a clip of 15 and fire a variety of bullets. Advertised as a hand cannon that even a child can use. From HE to AP to Tracker Darts, it’s a sidearm commonly used by elite bodyguards.

Heavyware Valkyrie Suit – Lightweight and slim. Body armor that enhances both motor functions and reaction speed through biochemical processes and electric stimulation. Strong enough to deflect small firearms easily and take a few hits from heavy arms, but its main selling point is the fact that one can wear regular clothing over them. Installed with a jetpack and glider wings, allowing for superjumps and a semblance of flight.

Grenades – Many.

Relationships:
Character Impressions:
Theme Song:

Q - FLUX

Don't gotta be a psycho in order to be ruthlessly pragmatic. Especially not in a world that's literally set up to be 'grimdark'. XD

Q - FLUX

@Jeyma
"It's the victor who has justice."

Also, money's money, and those good people never helped her out, so she doesn't really care.

Q - FLUX

@Asuras
As a little kid, she basically followed someone else's orders in order to kill some fatty. Just given a gun, given a location, and various edgy shit happened before she point-blanked the dude. Dude that was supposed to pay her just cut off all connection with her instead, so she made do with whatever was in dead man's pockets.

After she recovered from the initial trauma (or maybe she never did), her mind began to equate killing people with money, so her first major purchase after 'food' was bullets for an empty gun. Shop owner (or street peddler?) would have thought she was just some low-level grunt working as a runner for some low-level gang, so probably overcharged her a ton. But she made the bullets pay for themselves and then some.

Was really just mugging with murderous intent until she worked out that she can double-dip. Steal dead people's shit AND get paid for capping them.

Essentially, it was something she got tossed into and never came out of. I just assumed that in the future, firearms are so easy to handle that even kids can use them.

Q - FLUX

Simple and clean doesn't suit monster hunts.

Name: Josephine
Codename: End
Color Scheme: ec008c 000000
Age: Mid-Twenties
Gender: Female
Personality:

• Exacting
• Obssessive
• Arrogant
• Dramatic
• Thrifty
• Determined

Biography

“diedieDIE!”

She never forgot the first shot she fired. Even at near-point blank range, she still failed to hit any vitals, and as the man gurgled, reaching out with his fat hands, she panicked and switched to auto, blowing eleven more finger-sized holes into his torso, blubbering all the while. And even when the corpse collapsed back onto the bed, white sheets staining dark red, she continued to pull the trigger, an endless clicking filling the smoky room.

“The bullets are included in the bill.”

She never forgot any other shots she fired either. Meticulously counting each and considering their prices, she charged each client, citing it as an important expense. A miser, perhaps, but she did her work well, and her appearance worked for her. No one expected a scrawny child to be a problem. No one thought that her oversized clothes hid grenades and firearms. And no one expected that she was the contract killer they hired. Anonymity kept her safe once the bullets ran out.

“I…am in control.”

But anonymity didn’t stop her fame from increasing, and as her kill count increased, so too did the difficulty of her jobs. What had gone from missions of revenge from men who had their wives stolen from them had gone to taking out drug dealers or enforcers. And bullets were no longer enough. Unwilling to back down from her profession, she sought out a Painstaker instead, learning the arcane arts from a wizened widow who never had a child. She didn’t mind being their surrogate daughter. Not if that gave her a discount.

“Motivation? Boredom.”

And once she had both science and magic in her hands, what had once been a challenge was slowly…becoming forgettable. Gone were the days where she had to scrape by in a dingy motel room, drinking instant tomato soup. Gone were the days where she had to count her bullets one by one, hoping that she had enough to get by if it turned into a firefight. Gone were all those worrisome days, and with that, gone was her stimulation.

At least, until it turned out that the target of one particular job was not a human, not a mage, but a monster.

A nightmare.

She survived, barely, and when her client came up afterwards, offering a position as a Cleaner, she accepted without a second thought.

It was like her first kill once again. All fear. All adrenaline. All-consuming.

Alive.

Magic Style:
Iron Revolution
Disassembly, Telekinesis, Reassembly
Josephine utilizes three different spells simultaneously, focusing more on speed rather than large effects in order to create a magic system that synergizes with her preferred form of combat. An ‘active’ disintegration field creates atomic dust, which is then shrouded around her by ‘passive’ telekinesis, and then ‘actively’ reassembled into the form of bullets with grains of iron sand within them in order to be recycled once more. In its most base application, she can give herself an unlimited amount of railgun ammunition, as long as her mind can keep up with the many spells in place.

Disable.bond(molecular) – The disassembly of matter into atomic dust via destruction of molecular bonds. Can be used to ‘cut’ through objects as well, at roughly the same speed as a plasma torch.

Move.object(variable) – Telekinesis, capable of moving objects at bullet speed. Passively keeps all atomic dust that Josephine created in 5 meter radius of her.

Generate.bullet(iron) – The reassembly of bullets with an iron sand core, specifically. Takes whatever atomic dust she has gathered and re-connects their molecular bonds.

Membership: New, 6 months but highly active.
Equipment:
Heavyware Railrifle X-16 – Silent, recoilless, and deadly. Can hold a clip of 70 bullets and has various features such as burst, semi-auto, single-shot, and full auto. An all-in-one gun that can be used for anything from close-range firefights to long-range sniping. State-of-the-art.

Heavyware Punisher EMT – Lethal and highly accurate. Can hold a clip of 15 and fire a variety of bullets. Advertised as a hand cannon that even a child can use. From HE to AP to Tracker Darts, it’s a sidearm commonly used by elite bodyguards.

Heavyware Valkyrie Suit – Lightweight and slim. Body armor that enhances both motor functions and reaction speed through biochemical processes and electric stimulation. Strong enough to deflect small firearms easily and take a few hits from heavy arms, but its main selling point is the fact that one can wear regular clothing over them. Installed with a jetpack and glider wings, allowing for superjumps and a semblance of flight.

Grenades – Many.

Relationships:
Character Impressions:
Theme Song:

Q - FLUX

I wish this forum had downvotes. Then I can downvote your laifu every time a week passes without a Click post.

Q - FLUX

>Posting Expectations: 2 posts on average per week.

Rest in fucking pieces, Psyker/Click/Zombs.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Another four students were missing when Brent came back, but he discarded that fact just as quickly as he noted it. Irrelevant information. Not related to Aaron’s disappearance. Guard presence didn’t increase, and he hadn’t noted any sort of commotion at all. Similarly, Frederic didn’t show anything at all on his face, only a smile and the same enthusiasm that Brent couldn’t tell was genuine or fake. So the disappearances were for something else.

Lillianna, Christmas, Sophia, and some other person. Two of them had been the healers within the group. One was recon. Another was unknown. Support-type powers then? Special classes for them?

He didn’t have long to dwell upon the disappearances though, because the subject of electives came up, all the amethyst-eyed youth did was smile and spare a random line about lunch towards Emma, before turning to more important things. The dark-haired x-girl was no longer smiling. Something probably happened during lunch, and this time around, Brent wasn’t interested in digging into that.

Bringing out a pen and spinning it a few times in his hand, the brunette gave himself a minute to read the list over, before going with his gut instinct, listing things off by whatever caught his attention first.

Electives

Art/Photography 4
Creative Writing 7
Woodworking 2
P.E. 8
Film Study 6
Music Theory 3
Home Ec 1
Computer Science 5

He wasn’t planning on stopping his early morning routines, after all, so really, he didn’t even need PE. Cooking was no doubt the most useful skill for him at the moment, so he could better monitor his nutrition and calorie intake. Woodworking just seemed like a more interesting skill than anything else prevalent, and perhaps it could be ‘upgraded’ into metalwork later on. And Music Theory? Well, that was a good chance to chill with Savannah, if nothing else, and Brent DID like music in general, if nothing else.

Everything else on the list though? With no real idea of where he stood on that particular spectrum, the arbiter just ranked them off at random.

With all that said and done, he settled for flicking out his smartphone once more, ready to look for some other task to entertain himself with during class, when Good Guy Fred dropped another information dump in the form of the first ‘game’ they would be playing in the afternoon.

“Flag and Seek,” he murmured, before he reflexively smiled. They were sending flesh-and-blood humans up against others that could punch holes into people on accident or turn into dragons or headbutt massive walls with no consequence? Sounded like a hell lot of stupid, expecting them to also make this non-lethal.

Sounded like a hell lot of fun too.

A game of flag collection and support-hunting, where usage of powers was permitted as long as they weren’t going to be used fatally. His hand rested against the gun holstered against his hip. Won’t be using that then. His teammates made him curious as well, however. Emma, Savannah, Ernie, and Gregory, huh? So that long-blonde haired dude was Gregory, while he was stuck with a small child and an unstable psycho as his teammates, plus a random dude.

Still fun!

On the opposing team with be Sophia (annoying, she could probably avoid capture with her recon power), Zoe (stronk girl is stronk), Allison (a ninja that really just popped up out of nowhere like…once?), Hazel (who?), and Lawrence. That last name, the sole male of the Victorious Secret, gave Brent the most pause, as he was apparently the one individual with significant firearms training. If he actually did pack a gun to this fight…well, that was going to be problematic on multiple levels.

No one could dodge bullets, after all, and he still hadn’t forgotten about the brutal amounts of pain a single shot had caused him during orientation day. Brent touched his right shoulder once more, before nodding to himself.

Optimize speed, mobility, and, if Lawrence brought his little friend to the match, take him out first.

Turned out he didn’t need his smartphone after all. Brent spent the rest of his class daydreaming about scenarios, situations, and options.

---

Brent was gone the moment classes ended, rushing off back to the dorms once more. If they were going first, he would have considered doing something like finding his teammates and discussing strategies during the break, but they were going afterwards, and he had to prioritize acquiring the tools he needed. Powering up the stairs once more and wondering if Alex was perpetually just stuck in that comfy seat in the lobby of Building A, the amethyst-eyed youth took off his shirt before he even entered his room, tossing it onto his bed before leaping out of his pants.

Sweatpants. Body armor over a naked top. Leather gloves, fingerless. His brand new machete. Rollerblades, for mobility. What else?

Brent clicked his tongue. Maybe he should have asked for infrared instead of night vision. And a tazer as well. He didn’t like his lack of long-ranged options, after all, not if he had to choose between what was basically a toy and a handcannon…but a nerf gun wasn’t ever going to get a function that, say, ‘caused pain’. So the Desert Eagle remained where it was. If things got ‘desperate’, he’ll pull it out, but Brent didn’t expect to.

It was just a game. He should be fine with just this.

Looking like another outlandish psychopath (perhaps a murderous roller derby player), he sidestepped his way down the stairs…and then went up. Down up down up, he spent a good fifteen minutes of his break just practicing the whole staircasing thing, greeting dorm buds on the way, working up a good sweat.

He would have liked more time to practice, more time to attain more skills, more time for everything, but on the other hand?

“Just a game.”

---

If nothing else, he wasn’t the only person dressed up strangely. Zoe, after all, seemed to have opted to wear the least amount of clothing possible, and Brent grinned at that. Contact-based power then? Set her skin on fire and all that? Fun stuff, probably.

Free snacks were equally nice, but he refrained for the time being, taking a small carton of apple juice instead. It’d be terrible if he somehow got stomach cramps during the upcoming Flag and Seek, wouldn’t it?

The smile faded, as he recalled a less than pleasant experience.

Yeah it totally would.

But it was just a game.

So he didn't need to take it so seriously, right?

"Right."

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Tryhard + Leprechaun
Sept 7, Lunchtime

After class had ended, Savannah had rushed to the cafeteria. She hadn't had a chance to eat that morning due to a rude awakening, and was awfully hungry. Sitting through a class for a couple of hours hadn't helped either. Unlike her classmates, who had thought that the material was easy, Savannah was in the 8th grade. The stuff that they were learning- she hadn't learned that yet. So she actually had to pay attention. And what made it hard to pay attention was several animals yowling and barking, not to mention the students not paying attention.

And the origami guy. That was distracting.

When she got to the buffet, she got a bean and cheese burrito, and a cup of iced tea and headed to a seat.

Meat meat meat meat meat. With tongs, Brent grabbed thick slices of beef and stacked them on top of white rice, before spooning himself a large portion of seasonal vegetables. On the tray too was a large bowl of chicken noodle soup, accompanied by a whole handful of saltine crackers. Two tall glasses of milk precariously balanced on the edge, but, not showing any sort of anxiety about an inoppurtune trip, the amethyst-eyed youth looked around, searching for a good place to sit. Angel wasn't there, no doubt concerned about the whereabouts of her Norwegian puppy. Callan, Emma, Siena, and Marcus all looked to be busy with the new guy, while Sophia...well, where was Sophia?

Upon scanning further though, he caught a shock of blond hair on a milk-despising little girl's head, and grinned.

Walking over and placing his own full tray opposite of her, Brent sat down in front of Savannah. "Heyo, still on a diet from all those McDs?"

"I'm eating a bean and cheese burrito. Does it look like I'm still on a diet?" Savannah said, taking a bite of the aforementioned burrito. Damn, this was good. She looked inside of the burrito, and viewed a tortilla full to the bursting with beans and cheese. Nothing else. Just beans, cheese, and a flour tortilla.

"You're eating one," he smiled, "So yeah, pretty diet-y. Only 390 or so calories, after all, and there's no meat at all in it. Cheese is a good substitute for milk though."

As he spoke, Brent began to tear open the packets of crackers one by one, dropping them into his soup.

Savannah scowled at hearing the milk mentioned again. He really wasn't giving up, was he? "Y'know, there isn't even that much cheese in this at all. It's mostly beans. And plus-" she said, cutting herself off to take a bite- "Aren't beans protein too?"

"Yup, beans are indeed protein, and you don't have to worry about fats when eating them, which makes them pretty good for the whole dieting thing," Brent replied. "I would mention that beans don't have the amino acids you need...but the cheese makes up for that."

WIth a fork, he pulled a fat slice of beef into his own mouth before chomping down, an expression of childlike bliss blossoming on his face as he let out a satisfied sigh. "Can't beat meat in terms of taste though. And hey, meat doesn't make you gassy either."

"Hey, you know what they say." Savannah said, taking a sip of her tea. "Beans, beans, the wonderful fruit, the more you eat, the more you toot." Savannah said this with a small smile.

Immature, really, but Brent grinned regardless. For all her angry small child attitude, Savannah did have a nice smile. "Never actually heard stuff like that in my own school. Everyone was more interested in doing rhyming couplets that insulted their teachers."

With one gulp, he downed a glass of milk. "Stuff like 'Mr. Mare's such a bear/Underwear? No, it's just hair.'"

"Damn. They must have been English nerds." Savannah said, biting a chunk off her burrito. "To be fair, I didn't learn it at school either. My classmates didn't even rhyme. They just cursed and made bad jokes." Savannah made a face.

"Wow, I thought rap music made poetry 'hip' and 'neat' again."

Savannah scowled. "Apparently not."

Brent chuckled. Must be at the age where she thought everyone else was stupid. Taking the soup bowl in his hands, Brent carefully sipped on it, until his tongue became accustomed to the heat and he downed a whole mouthful. Another long, satisfied sigh passed through his lips, before he turned his attention back to the little lady. Absentmindedly folding a napkin into a rose, he asked, "By the way, how're you finding the classes, Savannah?"
"Actually, they're pretty hard. What do you think of them?" Savannah asked. She took a chunk of the burrito and shoved it into her mouth.

"I'm, like, 18," Brent replied, "so it'd be pretty pathetic if I couldn't do algebra in my sleep. Pretty sure you learn that sorta stuff in elementary though. Wonder why they're starting with that stuff..."

"You kidding me? I've never even learned algebra. I'm pretty sure they start that stuff in like the 8th grade." Savannah replied.

"Mmm, might be a difference in schools. By the time I got to Grade 12, all I had were AP courses to take."

"Oh wow, AP?" Savannah said. "You must be really smart."

"Naw, pretty sure that was average," Brent laughed. "There were these crazy kids who skipped like, two grades and then got into university early. There were musicians and athletes on a national level as well. The school I was at just churned those types out. Super duper insane shit."

Really, compared to them, he was still falling behind, huh?
"Oh, wow. That's so cool. I could never do that." Savannah said with a big-eyed look.

"Well, they did get a headstart probably. The whole multiple tutors plus starting at an early age multipled by intense parental pressure thing." He shrugged then, stuffing four slices of beef in his mouth. After chewing and swallowing, Brent said, "You could totally do that though. If you have something you're passionate about, well...your parents aren't here, and you don't have to worrying about basic necessities, so outside of your classes, why not devote yourself to something you like?"

"Talent isn't necessary if you're willing to go all out, after all!"

Savannah chewed a bit, and then swallowed. "You see, I'm what people call a dumbass. I don't exactly have the-" Savannah searched for a phrase to use for a few moments. "mental capacity to do that."

"Ah, here's a fun fact though!" Brent snapped his fingers, summoning random sex ed trivia from a couple years ago. "Puberty lasts from two to five years, and for girls, starts from 9 to 14, depending on the individual. Now, what's one of puberty's most important functions?"

A rhetorical question, really, because he didn't wait for Savannah to answer.

"Brain development! Of course people would think you're a dumbass when your brain hasn't even fully matured yet. The important thing is to not let those losers drag you down because of that. Though genetics may have some hand in it, your brain could be compared to a muscle in that as long as you use it a lot, your intelligence will increase incrementally."

Pushing up glasses that do not exist, Brent grinned. "That's why school makes you learn things that you'll never use again. It's not the knowledge that's actually important, it's the exercise your brain receives while attaining that knowledge."

"Little known fact: my parents always said I was dropped on the head as a baby, but I managed to get fairly good just by bashing my head through obstacles until my brain became a wrecking ball."

Savannah just gawked. "I didn't know that. Th-thanks for telling me?" she said. The whole monologue had been unnecessary, just a reason for him to keep talking. But she apparently wasn't a dumbass. At least not yet. That was... relieving? She really didn't care.

"You're welcome," he beamed. He noticed, of course, her disinterest and mild confusion, but Brent also didn't particularly care. Savannah was likable in the way kids were all sorta adorable, but she wasn't particularly great at anything else. "Whatcha like doing anyways? Got a hobby that isn't video games?"

Savannah nodded excitedly, suddenly interested in the conversation again. Finally, a topic that she actually cared about! Her foot danced around, and her fingers bounced against the table. "I play the violin! Actually, I just got a new one from the school, so I'm really happy about that. It's a Cremona, it's actually good for my size, even though I'm really small and all." she said, gushing over the topic. If there was one thing that could catch her attention, it was any conversation about classical music.

"Oh, right, you got that, eh?" Brent nodded along, watching the blonde's fingers dance on the table. Her left hand sure was agile. "How long have you been practicing? And huh...is a Cremona supposed to be a high-end brand or something? Only violins I know about in detail are the Strads."

Savannah nodded. "Yeah, Cremonas are pretty high-end. They cost a bunch, but they're not nearly as high-end as the Strads. I, um uh, I started when I was like eight."

"Six years, hm..." Brent nodded at that. He had no real idea what six years of practice could bring out, but it was definitely longer than the amount of time he spent pursuing any particular 'hobby'. "I'd love to hear you play some time. Got any specialty songs, Sav?"

Savannah shook her head. "No, not really. I'm really into Lindsey Stirling right now, though. I can play a couple of her songs."
Lindsey Stirling? He could have sworn that she died from a three-headed giant turtle dropping from a kilometer above onto her concert hall. Well, fame was attained post-mortem anyways, so whatever. "That's cool. Got them memorized?"

Savannah shook her head quickly. "God no. It's so hard to memorize them- I've only memorized really short songs. Like Mary had a Little Lamb and Hot Cross Buns. You know- that short stuff."

...after six years? Brent smiled, overwriting his disappointment with a reflexive motion."So stuff like muscle memory doesn't apply to music, huh? I guess it isn't really a sport or a martial art."

He dwelled upon that for a moment, making edits to his assumptions and the knowledge he attained in the past. Was music a more cerebral task after all, that required active thought? Or was Savannah just a 'dumbass' that couldn't even remember things with her body? It was a bit of a pity, that the only examples he had were high-level, talented musicians and a 14 year old kid, but, well, he'll just have to broaden the sample pool more in the future. Another task to focus on during class.

"Got any plans on requesting a violin instructor? Or are you going to go the self-taught route?"

"Oh, no no no." Savannah replied, shaking her head quickly. "I can memorize parts of a song- just not the whole thing. It's actually really weird. Do you ever listen to a really popular Taylor Swift song and just memorize one or two lines?" she saked. But it wasn't really a question. Mostly because she didn't wait for him to answer. "It's sort of like that- but muscle memory instead of your head."

At Brent's second question, Savannah shook her head yet again. "No. I've taught myself for a while- and I'm sure that no one will want a subnatural student, right?" she added a weak grin at the end of this. It was a shame really- she couldn't learn properly.

Taylor Swift? The country star that was beheaded by a headless centaur during the Emmy Awards? He did in fact only recall a couple of lines from one of her songs, but that was really only due to said lines being from the chorus. Still, if she had taught herself the whole time, it did make a little more sense, her lack of progress. Six years trying to figure something out by herself because circumstances conspired against her desire to get proper training. Six years spent fighting a lonely battle, trying to perfect an art without the assistance of knowledgeable musician. He may be embellishing it a little bit, but...

"You're probably right about that," he shrugged, "But online teachers exist too, these days. With proper camera positioning and a believable excuse, you can probably get someone to teach you while concealing your subnatural existence. Or put it on your request form. Daisy seems to be more or less happy to deal with non-violent requests, after all!"

Yeah, he might be getting his tank any time soon, but surely there's one competent violin instructor out there who was more interested in music than in race.

Savannah snorted. "Yeah, you could be right. But how do I explain when I flip out? Or in the event where a guard comes in and aims his gun at my head? You can't explain everything, Brent. Especially not the weird stuff that goes on here."

"Weird stuff, huh?" Memories of the basement of the hospital popped up in his mind once more, before it was then replaced by images of life outside USARILN. Monster attacks. Activist organizations. Police bashing down doors. "Weird stuff happens everywhere, but I see your point."

He thought for a moment, wondering if it was possible to help someone learn a new ability if he didn't have that ability himself.

"Well, if the request form gets you nothing, I don't mind helping you out with pitch and all that. Not like I really have anything better to do when I'm so far ahead in school. I didn't devote six years to violin-ing, but hey, a second set of ears is always useful for improvement, right?"

He was trying too hard, but on the other hand, Brent didn't care. It was like Emma all over again. His curiousity was ignited.

Savannah hesitated a bit, biting her lip. "Nah, no thanks. Wouldn't wanna take up your time or anything like that."

"Taking up all the free time that I'm dying to get rid of? Alright." Brent laughed, before he bit down on his fork. Looking at his plate, he realized that somewhere along the way, it had been emptied completely. "Well, I'm going to go for round two. Want me to get you anything?"
"No thanks. I'm pretty full. That burrito was huge." Savannah answered his question.

"Really now?" There was a tinge of disbelief in his tone as he scooted off, disappearing off into the crowds.

He never did return to that table.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

When Brent stepped out of the gym’s shower room, warm water still streaking down his sculpted body, he had not expected to be ambushed by four faceless soldiers, rifles pointed at his naked form. Really? They were afraid of him even when his power specifically required him to actually have a weapon on him to be useful? His amethyst eyes flickered at each of those masked individuals, shooting all his ‘wow, how impressive’ towards them, before Brent ultimately shrugged.

“Alright, so, is this like…”

“Shut it, subnatural,” one of the men barked (hopefully they were all men), “Get dressed and come with us.”

“…about all those utensils I borrowed from the cafeteria?”

Only silence. One of them gestured with their gun towards his neatly folded clothes.

“Cool. Guess it isn’t about that.”

Toweling himself off, the amethyst-eyed youth did a few stretches while he was at it. Early morning training was something that was done every single day, after all, and a post-shower stretch was always rather comfortable. Behind him, the guards remained resolute in the face of this manservice. Whatever, it wasn’t his intent to begin with. Pulling up his denim pants and then pulling a long-sleeved blue shirt over his head, he vigorously dried his head further. Breakfast would have followed afterwards, but Brent wasn’t deaf. He could hear one of the soldiers begin to tap their foot.

Hanging his towel around his neck, Brent said, with a smile, “Well now, lead the way.”

His stomach grumbled a couple minutes afterwards. Unsurprisingly, none of the guards offered him a CalorieMate for his troubles.

---

For all his lack of social grace, and for all his inability to care about much of anything, Brent hadn’t missed the change in the number of guards present. They may have slowly built up their numbers during the night, but that didn’t mean that the change wasn’t massive when one slept in the morning with no guards present and woke up to 50 of them patrolling the area. Something had definitely happened, but that ‘something’ wasn’t in the dorms.

After all, if any of the subnaturals in the building had gone mad, they wouldn’t need so many guards when they could just electrocute them. So that meant that there was an exterior threat. A monstrous threat? But if guns were normally going to be effective against Dreamcatcher’s monsters, it wouldn’t have been THAT much of an issue then, right?

So what was going on? Extremist anti-subnatural groups? Rogue subnaturals planning on liberating their own kind? Various thoughts and theories danced in Brent’s head, all the way until he was brought into Lecture Building Z, up the stairs, and finally, into what looked to be a…classroom?

A classroom filled with all the kids he saw in the aftermath of the battle against Menagerie’s monster-goons. From Angel to Sav to Emma to Siena to emo-sick-boy to Christmas (only knew da name because he was a healer) to Sophia to holy-shit-he-knew-a-lot-of-girls-for-some-reason, Brent smiled and nodded at each of them. As far as he was aware, the Director just decided to put all the new kids into one class, except for…

Huh. Aaron the Norwegian was missing.

Brent blinked, and without hesitation, he revised his theory, amending it with that conversation he had caught. Aaron must have escaped, with help from people on the outside. Assistance from one of the criminal organization of subnaturals then? Made sense. That’s why the guards were there. To shoot up untagged subnaturals and all that. Unpleasant, but at the same time…

Nice job, A-man. Enjoy your freedom.

With that, Brent turned his attention to the more immediate problem. What was his optimal seating position? There were four guards present, essentially one for every corner of the room. A large window was open to the side, no doubt bulletproof. So the only escape paths were the doors. He’d like to be aligned with them then. So either front row or back row. From the front, he can more easily catch the attention of their shrinking violet of a teacher, but from the back, he can do whatever he wants without getting into trouble as often. However, said teacher’s temperament was really rather pathetic. He’d most likely be able to do whatever he wanted to do regardless. So front row then.

Closer to the window, so it’d be easier to spot an incoming threat from the outside. In the case of interior threats, that’d also mean there was at least some distance from him and the door. Perhaps he should be sitting in the second row, actually…but no. The first row was a place that commanded respect and made it obvious that he was a try-hard. The first rowers were the smart ones, and being first was winning. So it was…first row, one seat away from the window. Coincidentally right beside Emma.

A problem?

Brent smiled at the x-marked girl. “Morning Emma. Been keeping up with that cardio?”

He didn’t expect a response, nor did he have time to dwell on it once introductions and explanations were to be had. Fred Francisco, April Riveria, Experimental Group B. Group A was Shane’s gang. Was their group just as large as this one, or smaller than them? Think about that later. Daisy and requests. Filled up rather fast. Looked like you could actually request pets and basic things that could just have been purchased online.

He nodded slightly to himself. Something to keep in mind later. His allowance was running dry already. May be high time to start requesting clothes, if they could get that sort of stuff that quickly. His current request came up first though, and no doubt, the acquisition of weapons and protection was definitely more important than mere clothes.

“Well, you know,” Brent grinned as he held the heavy gun in his hand, “All boys like their guns and their trains. But yeah, didn’t expect to get everything anyways. I can probably just develop my own sci-fi rail gun pistol thing. Just better to have a super advanced base to leap even further into the future, you know?”

It was a little disappointing that his flamethrower and motorbike were noped as well, but, alas, that was just how life went. No doubt Daisy didn’t see the value in having a pyromaniac on a motorcycle, but eh.

“So, basically…if I get motorbiking lessons, a motorbike is A OK then? Gotcha, Daisy.” He nodded, thoroughly satisfied despite all the things on the list that were rejected. “And yeah, sorry about a bunch of the stuff. They weren’t medieval torture instruments or snuff films, but I guess I did get super greedy there.”

Did he intend on stopping with his selfishness though?

Brent looked inwards, and didn’t really know, but if nothing else, Daisy provided two more names. Lawrence and Nicholas. So those were the gun people, huh? He should ask around later. And afternoon combat training as well! Ah, so many new, fresh things to think about, so many new adjustments to make to his schedule! So fricken wonderful!

New chances to get new skills, as well as see how he fared against his fellow subnaturals. Actual classes so he could keep ahead of his studies. A chance to see a whole bunch of people in class and get to know them. Group projects?! That smile remained on his face. Perhaps it ate up his own time, but regardless, it was wholly likeable, this Experimental Group B thing.

Unfortunately, the lowest common denominator meant that they were being taught stuff that Savannah and Sophia had to learn. Algebra? Scalars? Sentence structures? Outside of answering the occasional rhetorical question from one of the teachers, Brent kept himself busy with examining his new weapons instead. The machete wasn’t a sword by any means, but it was designed to cut through wood, which was harder than flesh. Good enough? Good enough, but he’d have to learn how to properly cut to begin with. The box of ammunition was hefty, and the Desert Eagle definitely heavier than an overclocked Nerf Gun, but that was more or less fine too. He could get used to the weight, though he didn’t have an opportunity to try shooting it at all.

Not unless he wanted to get blown into smithereens, after all.

The night vision goggles didn’t take too long to figure out either, and ultimately, a vest was just a vest. He would have liked something that was more ‘full bodied’, but alas, that was a request for another day. Really, it was downloading new apps on his Galaxy S10 that took most of his time, but even after that, Brent was running out of things to do. He could hardly do pushups or handstands or practice shooting or stuff in a classroom, after all, and despite his interest in staying ahead of his classes, he didn’t want to be THAT far ahead. So…what could he do?

Origami, that’s what.

For the remainder of his morning classes, Brent swallowed his hunger, googled origami guides, and by the time Fred Francisco popped his head in once more, there was a veritable zoo of origami animals on Brent’s desk, all made of lined paper ripped from his notebooks. A whole array that he smiled, took a picture of in order to immortalize, and then viciously squashed them.

Ah, how cathartic.

In the end, only one origami animal survived the purge. A paper tiger that he kept on the desk, to ward off any other filthy desk-takers. He put on his vest, night-vision goggles, and gas mask, before holstering his gun and pocketing his new phone. In one hand, he held the machete. In another, he held the box of ammunition. And, with destinations in mind and lunch to be devoured, Brent ran off, looking like a tacky serial killer from a B-movie.

“Sup Angelic!” He called out, dashing past the raven-haired rocker.

“Heyo Zoe!” He grinned, pivoting around the fiery lifter like a running back.

“Hi there, name’s Brent. Who’re you?” He asked, jogging in spot for all of five seconds in front of the girl with long bangs covering her eyes, before running off again.

“Yo, Kusari! Have a great lunch!” He waved as he spotted the white-haired wall head towards the cafeteria.

“Chilling, Alex?” He said, grinning at the mopheaded boy.

“Good noon to you, ladies.” He saluted, rushing up the steps.

Maybe he was feeling a bit chipper today after all. It was sorta annoying, not getting breakfast eaten, but now lunch would be great AND he had combat training to look forward to AND he had some real weapons on him now AND he got some nice origami shenanigans going on! In thirty seconds, he dumped all his new gear except for his loaded Desert Eagle onto his bed, before rushing out once more.

Lunch lunch lunch lunch lunch became the rhythm of his dash, and Brent practically slid into the gap as the cafeteria’s automatic doors opened up. A flashy flair of his ID and a wink at good ol’ Jason was all that he needed to get in, and from there…

A deep breath.

A show of gratitude.

And then…

…the feast of legends began.