Shard

Pariah

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Location:
Felix’ and Connor’s homes.

Interactions:
Felix and Connor.

Time:
Evening.

---

Inhaling a long breath, Connor was unable to resist a series of laughs echoing throughout his living room. Merely a moment needed to pass before the boy was tackled to the floor, with a massive canine aquinting him with a large, sloppy tongue. ”Cerberus!” Connor tried, his giggles soon fading beneath a happy bark. ”We’ll never get out unless you move your fluffy ass!” The Variant exclaimed. This was a pleasant variation from what he had gone through since that morning. Never before did he think that words would stick, quite like this. It actually bothered him, to be blamed for an atrocity. Only a day before, Connor was under the impression that nothing could pierce his ghostly skin, and that everything bounced off as if he had been carved from titanium. Perhaps he was wrong.

Pulling himself out from beneath Cerberus, Connor dusted his clothes off with a huff, ”thanks, Cerbie..,” came a faded whisper, ”you’re always there for me.., you big goof..,” the little ‘Monster’ smiled, his arms finding home around Cerberus’ neck in a tight, loving hug. ”Now let’s see if I can get you into a harness without bribing your fat ass,” Connor smirked, his claws moving to gently scratch the canine behind his large, fuzzy ears.

---

It had been a long couple of hours but Felix finally sat down at his desk to consult his diary, hoping against hope that he didn’t have many admin tasks scribbled down for the evening. His plans for a relaxing reflection had dissipated rapidly upon finding the interlopers in his apartment. What followed was a miserable takeout, a good deal of scrubbing tumeric stains and writing an extensive grocery list of pantry replacements. But he’d decided that buying new spices and condiments was a small price to pay for coming out of a burglary with nothing valuable stolen and no physical harm. What he hadn’t yet fully processed was the fact that two more people, other Variants no less, also now knew his secret. Even more bizarre was the fact that one of them had given him his phone number in what had initially seemed to be a flirtation.

The young teacher flicked open his diary and saw that he only had one item listed that demanded his attention this evening and groaned.

Understandably (given his evening so far), he had completely forgotten that he’d been asked to follow up with Connor’s mother after the event witnessed at lunchtime. All he needed to do was call her up, let her know what happened so she could be sure her son was alright and that he, and the school, would follow procedures and continue to support Connor in anyway they could. It was a standard enough conversation that he’d had before whenever one of his students had encountered bullying.

5minutes later, he’d logged onto the school system remotely and accessed the contact details for Claire Everest. He sat back in his chair as the dial tone rang, his eyes were distracted by the crumpled post-it stuck over today’s date in his diary.

---

An ever-repeated struggle in getting Cerberus to wear his harness left Connor out of breath, and out of shape. It was no surprise, naturally. The boy was about as physically inclined as a bedridden sickling. In a way, the comparison wasn’t too ludicrous. Connor’s abilities took a toll on his body, and leaving the teenager perpetually fatigued to a certain extent was simply something he could not escape. No matter the hours spent training, nor the copious amount of food he could ingest, he would remain the same for an eternity to come. A scrawny figure, whose skin glowed ever so dimly in response to darkness. He had yet to learn this fact, but it would come, in time. The one resource Connor had far too much of, and a pain he had not grown to understand. Not yet.

”Huh?” The Variant wiped his forehead, raven eyes turning towards a sudden intrusion of noise. Their telephone was ringing. He gently placed a hand atop its shape, and brought the archaic device to his pointed ear. Claire and Connor had considered getting rid of that thing. Few still retained their landline, and cellphones had long since overtaken the market. ”Hello?” The Variant spoke, a leash still dangling from clawed digits, and yet to be used.

It was uncommon to be contacted in this fashion, as the house phone had claimed the role of decoration, more so than anything. Despite this, Connor felt the unfamiliar sensation of a plastic device against his skin, waiting for a voice to trickle through those small, prickled dots in its shape.

---

Felix was momentarily disarmed hearing Connor’s voice at the end of the phone and not his mother’s. Of course! She worked at the hospital. A nurse he seemed to recall. She may still be at work - especially after last night’s events. But it was still worth an ask.

”Oh hi Connor, it’s Mr Pernass,” he replied, ”Is there any chance I could have a quick word with your mom?”

If the boy said no, well he’d just pop Mrs Everest an email and head to bed. His head had started to pound slightly and he was still itching at the non-existent cut on his palm.

---

A day full of unexpected events, with some less surprising tidbits sprinkled onto the hours now morphed into a quiet evening. This Tuesday was one Connor would remember, for better or worse. Did it all accumulate with Mr. Pernass’ voice flowing through a barely used landline? ”O-oh, hey, Mr. Pernass..,” the Variant spoke, his voice faltering for a brief moment, before he collected himself. Had he done something wrong? No, Connor never engaged in conflict, even though he sometimes wished for the nerves to do so. Then, why was his teacher calling, and much more, seeking the boy’s mother? ”She’s at work,” Connor informed, softly lowering himself to the armrest separating a larger sofa from the Variant’s frame. ”Is there.., anything I can help with?” The teen continued, his fingers absentmindedly combing their way through Cerberus’ fur, where the large canine approached, still eager to head outside.

---

He always hated when a student picked up the call instead of their parents. He remembered the feeling of panic himself all too well, even if the call were actually of a celebratory nature. ”Oh no that’s alright, I’ll try her at work.” he assured the teen.

He paused before his goodbye, to double check that that little shit Luke Hemmings hadn’t said or done anything else warranting concern. ”Are you ok this evening? Anything else happen this afternoon worth chatting about?”

---

Raising a brow, Connor considered what his teacher said. Yes, a lot of things had happened. He had been used as a scapegoat for murder, he helped Chris Redfield escape a hospital, he likely damaged the man’s relationship with a very distrought sister, and now he was going to walk his dog and pretend like nothing of note happened. Clenching his teeth, the boy felt a sense of frustration washing over him. It was unexpected, to say the least. Why on earth did he feel.., angry? ”I’m..,” Connor tried, his voice yet again cracking, ”yeah..,” the boy lied. He seldom ever did. In fact, he could not recall the last time he spoke a blatant lie. Connor wasn’t okay, but blaming what had transpired in the cafeteria for this turmoil would be disingenuous.

There was no simple answer. He was angry because people were dead, he was sad because others were afraid of him, and he was frustrated because he was unable to maintain a stable string of emotions. They bounced back and forth like a rubber ball. The moment all of this faded into the background, he found himself smiling, but once thoughts of reality glaring him down returned, he felt a massive sting boring itself into his chest. ”I’m okay, Mr. Pernass,” Connor lied, again.

How far could a Variant be pushed before falling off the deep end? How long did it take before someone completely snapped? When did the intoxication of destruction overtake a fragile mind? Clenching his teeth, Connor found himself trembling. No, there was no easy answer, no way to pinpoint the source of his unidentifiable mixture of emotions. ”Thanks for checking in on me, Mr. Pernass..,” the teenager spoke, a sense of fatigue gripping every word, ”but I’m..,” Connor paused, his claws moving from Cerberus to the armrest he was sitting on, where they dug into the fabric. ”Okay..,” the boy finished. ”Have a nice evening, Mr. Pernass...”

---

Pariah

Location
New Haven State Hospital.

Interactions
Connor, and Sebastian.

Time
Evening.

---

Though the melancholy expression on Connor’s visage revealed a less than sublime experience, his treck through a hospital riddled with the unfortunate victims of a catastrophe put his situation into perspective. Indeed, the boy was cursed for his nature, but the stage he now found himself on spoke of actual suffering. No mean words, or false accusations, but rather, ripped limbs and torn spirits. Gripping the strap of his shoulder bag, Connor’s obsidian gaze traced itself across a lobby of murmurs, and tears. A Variant caused this, all of it. A Variant was the reason for so many eyes fixing themselves on the ‘Monster’ upon his entrance into a filled hospital.

Tensing, Connor’s sharp teeth clenched at the thought. It was just like back at school, as if he was in that cafeteria all over again. ”I’m here to..,” the boy tried, speaking to a receptionist with the occasional glance spared those accompanying him. ”Mom works here, Claire Everest,” he continued, ”I brought her dinner,” the teenaged Variant finished, raising a paper bag into view of the clerk.

“Do you know which floor she works on?” A question arose, clearly indicating that the receptionist was a new addition. Connor was not a person easily forgotten, his appearance and presence offering a more memorable repertoire than most.

”Yeah, the ER,” Connor informed.

“Alright, you know your way around, then,” the receptionist stated, her fingers dancing across a keyboard, “it’s pretty hectic right now, so you will have to excuse the stress.”

”Yeah..,” the Variant returned, a quiet mention before he started towards a constantly moving elevator. Little more than a single button-press brought him closer to the boy’s mother, but with every consecutive step, the aftermath of what had transpired in Midtown made itself very clear.

---

Stephanie sat in the nurse’s lounge to take a quick breather between patients. She had thought that transferring from the ICU to the ER would be a nice break from the constant pressure of managing patients in critical condition, but then the city fell apart and those hopes were dashed. She stared into space and tried to and tried to remain steady, absently smoothing the thin fabric of her scrub bottoms against her thighs.

The past two days had been the most tumultuous emotional roller coaster of her life. She was still trying to process the events of her brother being wheeled into the ER barely alive, and sitting with him on the recovery ward yesterday still felt like a dream. That gut-wrenching feeling of watching his motionless body get pushed passed her, while she screamed hysterically, returned to her full force as she replayed it in her mind. Stephanie knew that he had started working with a new department in the FBI, but he never talked about the specifics of his job. She figured he was just helping catch criminals, flashing a badge around in a suit and tie just like in the movies. And during the couple of times she had met his friends, telling them to take care of him had been more in teasing than out of real worry.

They were the scariest thing she had ever seen come through those ER doors, wearing all of that gear and armed to the teeth, and looking like they had just been through hell. Was that the reality Sebastian faced every day? She could not wrap her head around him being part of such a team. The memories she had of her brother were of a kind man with a good heart, not a dangerous killer. At the edge of her mind was the realization that in the many years he had been away, Stephanie could not remember a time that she actually knew what he was doing other than serving his country.

Trying to make sense of all of this, and thinking of what it meant for him after he was out of recovery, upset her all over again.

Stephanie had not noticed the entity appear in the door of the nurse’s lounge at first. However, she finally caught the shape out of the corner of her eye and involuntarily looked in that direction. The sight before her was confusing, but at first she didn’t know why. It was a boy, though as the seconds past it became obvious that it was no normal boy at all. He was pale, whiter than Stephanie had ever seen, and he was peering at her through black, pupil-less eyes that were unnaturally large. He was carrying a paper bag, but it was not gripped by human fingers but by black claws that resembled spikes.

Stephanie stood slowly, unable to look away from the boy’s unnatural eyes. She was the only one in the room, and she did not think that he could have possibly come to see her. She pulled her two long, light brown braids over one shoulder and fidgeted with them nervously.

“Hi,” she managed to stammer out. “Are you… lost? Or… can I help you?”

---

Those white walls accompanying a sterile interior had elevated themselves to a second home for the young Variant. He could still recall his earlier days, where he at times waited for his mother to end her shift, all the while killing time in the employee lounge. Six years had passed since that development, and many of the nurses had moved on to other venues throughout the years. The few who still recognized Connor’s presence afforded the boy tender smiles, in between hurried movements.
It was heavily contrasted, however, once the ‘Monster’ had stepped into a less hectic location. Though scarce in decoration, and with humble furniture, the employee lounge was designed to allow for safety, and a moment’s breath. Beyond a single door loomed a battlefield, a buffet for the Grim Reaper. ”Ah, hey,” Connor spoke, his obsidian orbs meeting a young woman who was clearly a new addition to the floor. At the very least, it seemed like the New Haven State Hospital was acquiring more staff, and it took little to realize that the healthcare system was critically underfunded. There was a time when Connor himself considered following in his mother’s footsteps, but a simple gaze across those clawed digits would quickly dispell the notion. He was not built for this, literally. The Variant would sooner cut someone, than aid them in their plight.

”I’m Connor,” the boy spoke, raising his hand to offer a faint wave. She appeared tired, and somewhat disheveled, this young woman who otherwise displayed a pretty visage. She had been through the grinder, more so than many of the other nurses, which was evident from a moment’s consideration. ”My mom works here,” Connor continued, ”Claire Everest, she’s.., been here for a while,” came a quiet chuckle, the boy’s ghostly voice trickling past his pale lips affording a mixture of his teenaged self, and something else entirely. ”I brought her dinner,” Connor revealed, his claws clicking against the fridge handle before he pulled it open to slip the hard-working woman’s food into its confines, before closing it shut. The act, in itself, exposed his familiarity with the locale. ”Maybe I should have brought some for you, too,” Connor joked, his shark-like teeth laid bare before a playful grin. ”You look pretty beat up, are you okay?”

---

Stephanie managed a nervous smile when Conner introduced himself. He mentioned that the senior-most ER nurse, Claire, was his mother, and by the way he seemed right at home in the nurse’s lounge Stephanie suspected that he visited often. The unearthly nature of his voice as he spoke was unsettling, and somewhere in the back of her mind the word ‘Variant’ seemed to give her pause, more out of curiosity than anything else. She remained outwardly neutral, though, so as not to offend him.

“Oh, I know Claire,” Stephanie told him. “I’ve been working with her for a week now.”
She watched Conner put his mother’s dinner in the refrigerator and smiled sweetly as he mentioned that he should have brought her some as well. “I appreciate the thought,” she offered.

But ‘beat up’? The comment had taken a moment to sink in. Stephanie shifted around self-consciously. She supposed she probably did look quite a mess. Her eyes were puffy and she wasn’t wearing any makeup. The weariness and emotional strain likely made her look as much like a zombie as she felt. At least she had the mental wherewithal to grab the appropriate sized scrub top today, unlike yesterday, when she had been trying frantically to stuff herself into an extra small and had a complete nervous breakdown when she couldn’t pull it over her. Claire had had to calm her down and hand her another top.

“Your mom is actually on another floor with my brother,” Stephanie told Conner. She clenched her jaw at the thought of Sebastian and everything that had happened, but she was determined to keep some semblance of a smile on her face. “She’s making sure all the charting was transferred. He got… hurt.”

Claire had told her to stay off the recovery ward while she was on shift. There were other people who needed help, after all, and she needed to stay focused on her job. Stephanie pulled her phone out of the back pocket of her scrubs and looked at the time (even though she was wearing a watch). She had a few minutes to spare and a perfectly acceptable excuse to go see him now.

“I can take you there, if you want,” Stephanie said smiling and hoping that she did not seem overly eager. “I’m sure she would love to see you, and you can tell her that dinner is waiting.”

---

Another family member confined to the walls of a crowded hospital. Connor’s heart sank into a pit in his stomach at the mention, and his unnatural eyes lowered themselves to the floor in regret. Not everyone had found themselves on the surface of a medical bed due to Subject Seven’s attack, but considering Stephanie’s composure and her obvious discomfort, acceptance of the situation had yet to sink in. As had been established, Connor had very few skills, and fewer abilities he could consider useful, but the young painter was perceptive. This nurse had been through a lot, and behind those black, unnerving orbs resting above Connor’s small nose, sympathy was abundant. A single Variant had caused the chaos which now echoed through the New Haven State Hospital, and several terrified expressions meeting him from unfortunate patients were not lost on the boy.

”I’m.., really sorry,” Connor began, his claws quietly fiddling with one another as the teenager attempted to think of what else he could say to perhaps ease the situation. Naturally, there was nothing he could manage which would even dent the misery spread throughout. Today, he had been blamed for this whole disaster, because as far as Connor could tell, he was the only visible Variant in the immediate area. Of course, there were others. One of them destroyed a massive part of Midtown. However, it appeared far more common for Variants to present themselves as completely human, where Connor would sooner fit into a fictional setting. ”Sure,” the boy forced a smile, his clawed digits moving towards the strap of his shoulder bag, which they proceeded to gently grip. ”I’d appreciate it, uhm.., if it’s no bother,” he tried. Bringing a Variant to someone who had, presumably, been hurt by recent events, could backfire drastically. However, this nurse didn’t seem to mind Connor’s nature. Indeed, his appearance came as an unexpected addition to anyone viewing him for the first time, which he held against no one. Though, so far, Stephanie, who remained unnamed, had been polite and courteous, despite obvious distress. If she was ever interested in what this specific Variant could do, New Haven State Hospital was where the teenager had been registered, and his information was clearly available, more so than in any other institution. Connor was aware that if she decided to have a look at his documents, the next time she saw him, her forced comfort would likely crumble. He could be the source of this chaos, just as much as Subject Seven, and he was certain that such a glaring fact would be held against him more than once.

”I’ll stick close to you,” Connor stated, before placing a hand on the doorknob, ”I don’t want to scare any of the others,” he finished with a small chuckle, but there was no jest in his statement.

---

The first thing Sebastian noticed when his visitors arrived was his sister’s smile brighten up the entire room as she came through the door. He met her gaze evenly, but only for a moment. With all of the sedative and pain medication finally out of his system, he was himself again. Sebastian was back in reality, where he didn’t deserve the way such a smile from her made him feel. He knew she had a million questions that she was too afraid to ask. He knew that even if she asked them, he wouldn’t want to tell her the answers. And so he averted his gaze from Stephanie’s beautiful face, and instead regarded the second thing he had noticed.

A Variant had come in with her. He took in every detail of the scene unfolding in the room with total scrutiny. It was a boy. He heard the nurse who had been working on the computer in his room call him Conner. It was her son. He had brought her dinner and had met Stephanie in the employee lounge of the ER, who had then brought him to see his mom.

In his mind, Sebastian rapidly rifled through dozens of Variant profiles that he had memorized, the SRHRT ‘hot list’ of those Variants that needed to be taken down on sight and with extreme prejudice. Short, ghostly white, claws for hands, unnaturally large and black eyes- none of it matched the description of any Variant on the list. He considered that N.O.V.A. may have him categorized in their database, but he didn’t care what they thought.

His intuitive nature took over when the technical evaluation was done, and he realized that the boy, Conner, was clearly not a threat. In fact, he seemed more afraid of the people there than they were of him. Sebastian noticed the way the other staff looked at him. He noticed that it made Conner uncomfortable.

This was something they had in common at that very moment.

He looked at Stephanie again, but she had stepped over to the other side of the room and was in the middle of a conversation with the nurse who had been checking his chart, Claire, the Variant boy’s mom. It sounded like his sister was being admonished for coming to his room again. He shook his head. He couldn’t keep inconveniencing everyone like this.

Not only that, but there was work to be done, injuries be damned.

He looked Conner again, who was waiting politely for his mother to finish her conversation. Sebastian decided that it was refreshing to make contact with a Variant that didn’t involve him having to shoot at it. There was true evil in the world, both Variant and human. However, there was also true innocence among them all. This was the other side of the story that he always reminded his team never to never forget.

“Hey,” he called discretely to the boy to start a plan in motion. He gestured with his head for him to come nearer. He did, though he was very precautious.

“Conner, right?” Sebastian said quietly. “You know, I noticed that you’re not a real big fan of this place. I’m not either, if I’m honest. To crowded. And the people? Can’t stand them. Present company excluded, of course.” He nodded toward his sister and Conner’s mother.

He didn’t have much experience talking with young people, but he was trying to be relatable and get Conner to relax a little, so he turned the next part into a little game for them.

“So here’s the deal,” he said directing Conner’s gaze toward his hand. Sebastian was holding all of the wires from his telemetry device, which he had disconnected, and the catheter from his IV, which he had removed himself.

“What do you say, you want to help me bust out of here?” he asked with a friendly wink.

---

”Hey,” Connor offered, his clawed hand rising in a friendly wave, the boy revealing a small grin in unison. Someone who wasn’t afraid of him? That made a handful, at this point, but it was always a refreshing addition. Sebastian was the man’s name, and his athletic, clearly battle-hardened frame confessed to an active life-style. Throughout Connor’s young existence, he had learned a miniscule amount about bodily damage, and basic life support from his mother. Nothing to actually consider a useful skill, but enough to pinpoint a vague assessment of a man’s injuries. Sebastian hadn’t fallen down the stairs. That much was obvious. ”It was.., nicer..,” Connor answered, ”before Midtown was attacked,” he proceeded with a short sigh, the teenager’s unearthly voice trickling past a blanket of quiet noise filling Sebastian’s room.

Managing a slight grin, Connor’s sharp teeth revealed themselves along with the silent chuckle soon following, ”I kinda’ expected you to bail, the first chance you got, Chris Redfield,” the teenager finished. He enjoyed video games as much as the next kid, and this man gave off very specific vibes.

Connor turned his attention towards his mother and Stephanie who both left the room following a short exchange. Not enough nurses, far too many patients. Most would feel sorry for them, and Connor most definitely did. He couldn’t recall the last time his mother was home long enough for a movie night, or game session. With a slight breath, Connor was unable to hide that growing smirk on his face. Warm-hearted, polite, and laid-back, indeed, but he was still a teenager, and it would be foolish to write out mischief from the Variant’s repertoire of desires. ”Fine..,” the boy feigned exasperation, a dainty, clawed hand extended to help Sebastian from his bed. ”But if we get caught..,” Connor stated, mimicking the man’s playful wink, ”I’m your hostage.”

---

“You kidding me?” Sebastian said taking the boy’s clawed hand carefully when the two nurses had left. “I’m going to tell them the whole thing was your idea.”

He wasn’t sure why Conner had called him Chris, but it was of little consequence. With Conner’s help Sebastian got to his feet. He almost toppled forward on his unsteady legs, but he forced himself to stay on his feet. He gritted his teeth with an audible grunt of pain and his hand went to his side where the bandages were holding him together. But Sebastian had suffered similar wounds in environments much less hospitable than a recovery ward, and lived.

And he wasn’t about to stop now.

“Let’s move,” he said, and it felt good to hear himself give the command; he was still in the game.

They made their way to the door. Sebastian leaned out to clear both sides of the hallway as if he were about to lead a stacked team down a corridor full of hostile combatants. Nobody paid him much mind. Nurses didn’t care about any patients except their own.

They both walked out together and made their way to the nurse’s station.

“Mr. Albright, you shouldn’t be-“ the charge nurse started to say.

“Give me an AMA form and my patient bag, please,” he interrupted her as politely as he could, expertly concealing any amount of pain he felt from showing on his face or in his voice.

“I don’t think-“

“Just do it,” he interrupted again not so politely, and the look in his eyes withered away from the woman any further resistance she may have wanted to give him.

As she got up to comply, however, there came a frantic voice from behind them.

“Sebastian, what are you doing!?”

It was Stephanie. She rushed the nurse’s station, dividing her attention between her brother and the charge nurse. “What do you mean AMA, have you – do NOT give him that- have you done this before or something?”

“Get the form,” he told the nurse who was looking at them wide-eyed and confused. Then, to his sister: “Hospital’s aren’t really my thing. Got work to do.”

“Work!? You have a few stitches between you and bleeding out, you can’t possibly-!”

“I’m not staying,” he told Stephanie harshly. “This?” He held his hands away from his body to let her see the bandaged surgical site. “This is what I do. There’s a lot of people here who get to live normal lives, and feel sorry for themselves when they get the sniffles or stub a toe. You should probably go see if any of them need a glass of water or a nice warm blankie while they lay in bed wasting taxpayer money.”

The look on Stephanie’s face and the tears that rolled down it broke Sebastian’s heart, and he knew that he had just pushed away the only thing he still cared about. But he couldn’t let himself remain her burden. What was done was done.

“Fine,” she whispered, and disappeared down the hall crying into her hands.

“Just sign me out, or whatever you people do,” Sebastian told the charge nurse. “I’m out of here.”

He turned to Conner. “Shall we?” he said and began dragging himself toward the elevator still dressed in his hospital pajama bottoms.

---

The tough guy was also an asshole. That wasn’t unique, nor completely unexpected, though Connor knew better than to get in between Stephanie and her brother. There was clearly far more beneath the surface, and Connor would require time, and insight for that to be revealed. After all, people were like paintings, and every brush stroke was a purpose, a desire.., or a regret. Lowering his obsidian gaze to the floor, the teenager, maintained his silence. Even if a stranger’s interjection was welcomed, this was most certainly not the place for that. Equally so, he wouldn’t have been taken seriously, especially not by Sebastian.

Did Connor agree? In a way, yes. Some people didn’t have the luxury of feeling sorry for themselves, because a moment’s doubt could very well lead to another’s demise. However, the way this was handled could be compared to furious strokes across an already torn canvas.

The teenager followed along, seeing how elevator doors slid to a close after they were encased by the metal box. Naturally, only one floor would suffice, the entrance. ”Soldier,” Connor guessed, and correctly so. ”No-Bullshit attitude, nerves of steel..,” the boy spoke as they waited for those doors to open, once more. ”Duty above your health..,” Connor continued, his claws gently clicking against the metallic wall of which he leaned against, ”you’re a soldier,” the teen stated, an assessment, more so than a question. Sebastian’s body surely helped in the assumption. ”I’ll have outlived my usefulness as a resource in about.., ” the Variant paused, considering a thought, ”five minutes,” he mused. ”What’ll happen, then?” Tilting his head, Connor studied the older, battle-scarred male. Indeed, the teen was unlike most. He was quirky like few, and the Variant’s ability to simply go with the flow was evident. He didn’t seem troubled, or stressed, but rather curious. Recent events had caused discomfort, without a doubt, but his core state of being was yet to be damaged. ”Am I the annoying kid, pestering the hero, right now..?” Connor asked, a question aimed mostly at himself as a dainty claw rose to gently tap his chin. ”Damn. I don’t want to be a cliche,” he sighed.

Whatever Sebastian was considering would leave him in far worse shape, that much was obvious. He could barely stand, and those stitches resting beneath bandages begging to be displaced would likely tear, and he’d find himself in the middle of conflict again, before the day’s end. That’s how these things went in the movies, and sometimes, fiction reflected reality in perfect detail. ”Ah, right, I didn’t scare you,” Connor noted, tracking back towards his previous statements, ”another point to the ‘Soldier’ persona,” came a playful, sharp-toothed grin. ”N.O.V.A? Mh.., no,” he shook his head, eyes narrowed, ”they’re all mysterious and agent-y,” a word he had made up, but it certainly worked. ”Army? It’s the army, right?” Connor finally decided, just as those elevator doors opened to allow for a long awaited exit.

---

The elevator doors closed. Sebastian hated himself for how he had talked to his beloved sister. But he knew he would hate himself even more if she got close and hated what she found there. It was an act of mercy for both of them, by his estimation. Maybe when the world was a safer place, maybe when he was a better person, she would understand and forgive him. As much progress as he had made in turning his world perspective around, Sebastian realized that he still didn’t know who the hell he was.

Conner had said a bunch of stuff, he just realized, and began reconstructing the words in his mind that he had been too lost in thought to hear the first time. His comments about having a no-bullshit attitude and nerves of steel struck a dull chord of humor somewhere inside him. He certainly would not have described himself like that. He was just a guy trying to do the right thing.

“You’re not annoying me,” he started out with. “Thanks for being my accomplice. You’re not a resource, you’re now an ally. There’s a big difference. Maybe you understand that.”

He sighed. “What you saw back there, with my sister; it’s complicated. I know it probably makes me look like a bad guy.”

He looked at the boy, hoping that Conner could possibly understand the remorse he felt for talking to Stephanie in such a way, that he didn’t truly believe the patients in that hospital were a waste of time or money. He had dedicated his life to protecting them and every other citizen. The words were meant to serve a purpose, and they had succeeded. Other than his sister Sebastian did not care one bit what anyone thought of him, but for some reason being on the receiving end of Conner’s judgment was unbearable. He represented everything he existed to protect. The feeling he had was something to the effect of, if he had failed in Conner’s eyes, he had failed completely.

But it was what it was.

“Good eye, though” Sebastian said taking a deep (and painful) breath and trying hard to sound nonchalant. “I’m definitely not N.O.V.A.” He wasn’t about recount his service history in an elevator, however. It was just too long and difficult of a story.

“I was in the Army, once,” he said simply. “In another life. FBI, now. Part of a special team that deals with Variant trouble makers. But, if I’m honest, most of the problems we’ve had have been with good ‘ol fashioned humans.”

His eyes flashed darkly as the events leading up to his hospitalization, and subsequently him meeting Conner, replayed in his mind. She had been a little younger than Conner, he guessed. It occurred to him with no lingering doubt that he would have done the same thing if it had been Conner in that office instead.

The elevator doors opened on the ground floor and they walked through the lobby, drawing all manner of looks from the people they passed, until they were outside.

“Tell you what,” Sebastian told him as they stood in the chilly air. “If you want to help an old soldier out, now that we’re allies, do me a favor. When you come to see your mom here, check up on Stephanie for me. I’m the last person she’s going to want to hear from for awhile. And if you ever need anything, you can call me. I’ll come running.”

He tried to smile, but it just wouldn’t come out.

He looked at his bare torso and feet. “Oh, and one more thing; can I use your phone?”

---

An ally. It most certainly sounded better than ‘resource’, even though the statement was somewhat odd. Connor had never thought of that statement in reference to himself, or anyone. Ally, it was rather official, and reserved for situations of conflict. However, there was something else which quickly confiscated the boy’s attention. ‘Variant Troublemakers’. At the mention, Connor paused, his posture visibly faltering, if only for a brief moment. If Connor ever took leave of his sanity, someone like Sebastian would come for him. Someone battle-hardened and with a finger ready on the trigger. Yes, it was supposed to be like that. Variants were far too unpredictable and blatantly dangerous. The world needed order, and such critical organization was hindered by emotional turmoil. Though the boy wanted to answer, there was little he could offer in regards to the statement, while walking a half-naked man out of a hospital. It was an interesting discussion, however, one Connor had considered many times, in the past.

Time was not left wanting before Sebastian and his accomplice felt an evening sun gently blanketing their frames. One of them clearly found it less comfortable than the other. ”Here,” the boy stated, handing his phone to a battle-hardened soldier he never before expected to come across. A single call introduced the upcoming waiting game, where Sebastian’s friend eventually arrived in a car to spirit the wounded soldier away.

”Sebastian,” a ghostly voice trickled through the evening air, obsidian eyes meeting the soldier’s, as he entered the car. ”I’ll check up on your sister when I visit mom,” he began, a short pause lingering before the teen continued, ”but I don’t think you’ll ever convince yourself..,” the Variant stated, his expression unwavering. ”You’ll always be the first person she wants to hear from,” a tender smile crossed the boy’s slender lips, ”because you’re her brother, and you always will be.” It was a powerful statement, one which Connor was unsure accompanied appreciation. However, with a soft wave in the direction of Sebastian’s ride, the boy started on a straight path home.

Welcome To The Family: An anime inspired modern fantasy

@Lunarlord34

I currently have a character in the other RP I am participating in, and I thought that his powers would be fun to translate into Magic, rather than a mutation which is the setting in that RP.

I'd export my character from that RP to this one, and get another feel for the whole concept. Naturally, the character would need to be edited properly to fit.

Welcome To The Family: An anime inspired modern fantasy

When I get home, I may tinker on a character for this. I have one in mind.

Pariah

Location
💀 Havenworth High.

Interactions
💀 None.

Time
💀 Lunchtime.

---

Dragging his pencil across a previously blank page in rapid succession, Connor was breathing life into the image he had started drawing soon after arriving at school. As per expectation, other students were far more wary of the teenaged Variant than before. Stares had intensified, and avoiding the ‘Monster’ was a commodity. Connor did not blame the other students, for their acts were founded in emotion, and a desire to exclude an obvious enemy, as far as their conviction went. A flow of tears which made itself known throughout the day indicated that more than one other attendant at Havenworth High had family in Midtown, blood relatives now either faded into memory, or struggling for their lives at the state hospital.

Moving his slender hand towards the burger in front of him, resting on the same tray Connor had seen every weekday, his sharp teeth dug into its shape with ease. Consistency was something often lost on the Variant, or little ‘Monster’ as he had christened himself. His inhuman teeth allowed for meat to offer little more resistance than bread. Admitting towards the displeasure of such was uncommon, but present. “Hey, freak!” A voice, loud and tentatively obnoxious trickled into Connor’s pointed ears, soon after he returned the burger to where it had previously sat.

It would be foolish to claim that this scene didn’t warrant attention from the rest of the school cafeteria, but as a pair of obsidian eyes rose to meet the angry gaze of Luke Hemmings, the resident school ‘bully’, Connor understood that this interaction had few varying outcomes.

”Yes, Luke?” The Variant returned, closing his sketchbook and slipped the leather-bound item into his shoulder bag. A continuation of his newest project would need to wait. That much had grown abundantly obvious.

“Remind me again why they let you in here?” Came a question that brought a clear question-mark to the Variant it had been aimed at. Connor had expected Luke to spout profanities, but nothing quite like this.

”What do you mean?” The ‘Monster’ asked in return, raising a thin, barely visible brow.

“Oh fuck you, Connor! You know exactly what I mean!” Luke shouted. There was pain in his voice, more so than anger. Pain, and hatred. Though Connor would admit that very few things affected him, this had proven to be one of those rare exceptions. He found himself clenching his teeth, those large, black eyes lowering to the wooden table where he was sitting. “They keep letting you freaks hang around humans, and when something happens, we’re the ones who get hurt!” It was a statement founded in regret, and misery. However, Luke was not completely wrong, though calling it ‘correct’ would have been an overstatement.

”I didn’t attack Midtown, Luke,” Connor frowned, his eyes moving to meet the saddened glare. It was making itself known that Connor appeared unsure, throughout the interaction, his thoughts set on what he had seen on that television screen. A myriad of people had died because one Variant decided to give in to madness.

“Does it fucking matter!?” Another loud exclamation made its way past Luke’s quivering lips. Never before had he appeared this vulnerable, and devastated. “What happens when you decide to go apeshit, huh? Are you going to kill us all!?”

”Wh-what? Come on, dude..,” Connor tried, stuttering in his statement. He had expected this, but he was far from prepared to face a scolding of this level.

“You can’t even say one fucking word without it sounding like you want to off us all,” Luke spat, pointing out the Variant’s ghostly voice. “Two of my cousins were killed in Midtown yesterday!” The revelation warranted tension now traveling through Connor’s frame. He had no counter to that. “How the fuck can we spend several hours here every day, knowing that if you decide to snap, we’re all dead!?”

It would be a lie to say that using his powers wasn’t intoxicating. Connor knew, better than anyone in that cafeteria, how utterly fantastic it felt to unleash his abilities. It was almost a drug, something which made him want more. It felt like breathing for the very first time. He could still recall it, the exhilaration flowing through him as Necrotic Force danced free. It was a horrifying thought, and giving in to madness was not as outrageously impossible as most Variants wanted to convince themselves of.

Without another word, Connor stood and started on a straight path out of the cafeteria. How could he convince anyone of his innocence when his very existence was the accusation? This wasn’t simply others judging him. He was being blamed for a massive atrocity, and it was only a matter of time before someone decided to take the next step.

Pariah

Location
💀 Warehouse District - Connor’s Home.

Interactions
💀 None.

Time
💀 Early Morning.

---

The sizzling of fried eggs was accompanied by a small yawn from the creature half-heartedly holding onto a spatula, occasionally intruding with the development of a soon finished breakfast. ”Mom got home really late yesterday,” Connor spoke, his attention on Cerberus whose grey gaze was transfixed on the sizzling meal belonging to someone else, entirely. Though an adorable, and fearsome to some, canine, one required the ability to ignore those large, puppy dog eyes pleading for more than they required. Such was the way of a domesticated beast. They had grown complacent. In regards to Cerberus, the alternative was a deterrent. If Connor and his mother Claire had not decided to take the beast in, he would have passed on a street corner long ago, forgotten and faded into obscurity. A true death, indeed, where not even memories persisted.

Sliding the eggs from their previously cozy warmth, to a plate complete with slices of cucumber and tomato, Connor moved the pan he had been using and made sure to turn the heat off. He had forgotten once before, and it was a mistake had learned from, dearly. ”Let’s see what’s on the news,” came another yawn from the Variant, his petite frame dispelling the distance between the kitchen and a comfortable sofa, his bare, clawed feet clicking against the floor with every step.

As was a common, repeated scene, Connor sat with his canine companion, the fuzzy beast’s presence a warm, loving addition to any time of day. It helped, being dressed in little more than a tank-top and boxers, however, as Cerberus’ fur acted as blanket against Connor’s exposed, pale shape. ”Just more debates,” the Variant sighed, biting into a forkful of eggs and cucumber. It would be foolish to dismiss these shared conversations, as their resolution could very well shape the state of America. After what happened, an already fragile truce between Variants and humans had grown exponentially weaker. ”At least human-looking Monsters will be able to get through this easily, enough,” the boy stated, biting into another bout of eggs and vegetables. It shifted his thoughts towards his teacher, Felix Pernass. He seemed quite melancholy through parts of their interaction, and while Connor resented the notion of assumptions, it would be reasonable to regard a less than stellar past. Variants were treated with distrust or hatred in many parts of the states, and considering Mr. Pernass’ apprehension of being exposed as a ‘Monster’, the conclusion was easy enough to draw.

Finishing his meal, Connor exhaled a long sigh in response to events unfolding upon the surface of their television screen. The day would likely result in constant talk about what had transpired last night. He wasn’t looking forward to school, but there was little else he could do, than get dressed and head out. ”I love you, Cerberus,” Connor spoke, placing a kiss on the Wolf Dog’s snout, following his preparation with pants, a sweater, and socks. His shoulder bag soon found home across his chest, and the converse shoes on his feet dotted the final sequence in this morning ritual. ”Don’t wake mom, alright? She’s had a rough night,” the Variant stated, scratching his beloved friend behind a large, pointed ear. ”See you later, buddy, be good,” Connor resolved, opening the door in a path to school. Not a day he was looking forward to, but one he needed to face.

Pariah

Location
💀 Warehouse District - Connor’s Home.

Interactions
💀 None.

Time
💀 Late Evening.

---

A worried call from Connor’s mother was what welcomed him into their house. Her absence remained, but the disembodied voice trickling into the boy’s ear made sure to confirm his well-being, and location. ”I just got home after walking Cerbie,” Connor explained, slipping out of his shoes, ”why, what happened?” The boy continued, a dainty hand reaching for the television controller, as he had been instructed.

“A Variant attacked midtown, we’re getting packed full of patients. Stay inside, Connor, don’t go out anymore, tonight,” Claire Everest stated, the pale creature’s mother, and concerned parent. They had lived by themselves for as long as Connor could remember, and memories of his father were all but vacant. Indeed, upon approaching the issue, it was quickly dismissed, and the little ‘Monster’ was left with unanswered questions for a past shrouded in mystery. As far as he knew, he never even had the second part of a typical, parental set. There was only one aspect of the situation which shone through every time the teenager attempted to coax his mother into an explanation, and that was her distaste for the man.

”I didn’t plan on going out, anymore,” a black claw pressed down on the controller in Connor’s hand. It mattered little which news channel he tuned into, as every anchor behind a camera covered the same story.

“Good,” Claire returned, “I have to go, sweetheart.., I’ll likely have to work overtime tonight,” she sighed. After a catastrophe like they had witnessed, the worst one in modern times, overtime was the least of anyone’s concern.

”Okay, mom,” Connor offered, his obsidian gaze fixed on the television screen. Constant coverage of Midtown was being streamed through the polished surface, chaos and mayhem stretching across a large part of the city. Buildings had been toppled, the streets were torn asunder, and vehicles were haphazardly tossed about. ”I’ll see you when you get home..,” the teen finished, his voice slowly fading, along with the development displayed before him.

Dropping to the sofa, Connor slipped out of his sweater, that scrawny frame coming into full view of Cerberus, before the large canine joined his master on the comfortable foundation of soft, sturdy cushions. ”Holy fuck, that’s horrible..,” the Variant clenched his teeth, slender arms resting on Cerberus’ shape where the Wolf Dog laid his head on Connor’s lap. From footage of devastation, the camera’s focus soon shifted to a gathering of people sitting at a debate table.

“Let’s be honest,” came a statement from a woman Connor could recall. She was an anti-Variant journalist, constantly writing pieces damning ‘Monsters’ of the world. “This came as a surprise to no one. We’re letting these Variants march around freely, without supervision, and then we get shocked when this happens?” She moved a hand towards the large screen behind them, indicating the destruction caused by what had been dubbed ‘Subject 7’.

“You can’t use this as fuel to hate monger, Mary,” a man replied, the frown on his face confirming a dissatisfied response. “The thing that attacked didn’t even look sentient. You’re using deaths caused by an actual monster to attack Variants who are just as human as you and I.”

“It’s difficult not to see Mary’s point on this, James,” came a third voice, another woman who often found herself in a position debating the Variant issue. “We have Variants in our schools, too. What happens if they have a ‘bad day’,” she gestured with her fingers, “will that be enough for us to act? You don’t know if this.., shadow thing was sentient, or not.”

“They can be dangerous, let’s not kid ourselves,” James added, “but holding a biological part of their being against them is just intellectually dishonest,” he continued. “Any human who wants to cause damage can do so just as easily. I think the entire history of mankind is proof enough, for that, Nina.”

“Are you willing to compare a human with a gun..,” Nina rebutted, before turning her attention to the screen revealing Midtown in its aftermath, “to that?” She raised a brow, “many of these Variants are actual nukes, James. At the very least, we need to escalate some form of control.”

“And what do you suggest?” The male journalist asked, looking to the two women who opposed him on the issue of Variant security. “Concentration camps? Separate schools for Variants? Are they all going to start wearing ankle monitors?”

Mary, who had been quiet between for a short spell, decided to speak up. “Whatever’s necessary to prevent this,” she yet again indicated the screen. “There are five million Variants on the planet. Five million, among billions of people, and yet.., they could destroy the whole world. That should tell you something about the powers we’re dealing with.” The woman now raised her voice, “those buildings that were destroyed weren’t empty, James. They’re still searching through the ruins after survivor.., and the kill count keeps rising.”

Exhaling a deep breath, Connor rubbed his forehead. This was escalating quickly, and the moment his mother called about what had taken place in Midtown, he knew immediately that the ramifications would be far-reaching. This wasn’t going to pass within the next week’s news. This was a disaster, both for Variants, and for humanity.

Pariah

Location
💀 Warehouse District - Connor’s Home.
💀 Warehouse District - Streets.

Interactions
💀 None.

Time
💀 Evening.

---

A sloppy, red tongue traced itself past Connor’s face, causing the boy to emit a giggle in response. He gently combed a set of clawed digits through the thick mat of fur which eagerly revelled in attention. ”How about we go out, Cerberus?” The Variant asked, his fingers moving towards those large, pointed ears where tender scratching caused the Wolf Dog to nearly fall over from affectionate bliss. He was quite a large creature, which at times had been displayed in wrestling matches against the scrawny teenager now petting the beast. One was not required to delve deep, before an obvious answer surfaced, which indicated that Cerberus, a fitting name for such a large specimen, easily stood victorious against his petite owner, and best friend. It was a rather common display, where Connor and Cerberus fought like boys so often did, an act found in primitive desires, and yet, filled with laughter, and joy.

”Hah, no, Cerberus! Out! Not tackle!” Connor tried, nearly pushed to the floor by a massive snout pressing itself against his chest. ”Okay, okay!” The Variant smirked, patting his clawed hand against Cerberus’ side, the warmth of bright, grey fur contrasting against Connor’s chalk-white skin. They were quite unique, this duo of oddities. However, it was anything but an uncommon scenario, seeing Cerberus struggle against his harness. Once it was on, business passed as usual, but getting him into it was comparable to slipping a child into clothes. A feat in itself.

”I swear, Cerby..,” Connor breathed, the boy now having fallen to his knees in a desperate attempt to slip that harness onto his massive companion. An onlooker would likely have panicked, their attention on a fearsome canine as he stood above a clearly miniscule individual. ”I will haunt your dreams,” the Variant huffed, his statement perfectly melded into Connor’s ghostly voice. However, the response he was afforded was a large tongue leaving a wet path across his face, yet again. ”Ugh..,” The Variant sighed, scrambling to his feet. ”Do you want a waffle?” Came a question, which prompted the Wolf Dog to turn his head in curiosity. He clearly knew that word. ”Harness..,” Connor raised the green-colored contraption in his right hand, ”waffle,” he finished.
Hearing a bark, the boy groaned slightly. He needed to get Cerberus into that harness, or else the canine wasn’t allowed outside. Indeed, he was a Wolf Dog, and not even ordinary domestic pets were allowed outside without a leash. That went double for something as potentially dangerous as Cerberus. However, it wouldn’t take long to measure Connor’s lacking strength in response to the dog’s. If Cerberus wanted to, he could escape the boy’s grip, with or without a leash.

”Wait up, you nut!” Connor exclaimed, his finger tapping Cerberus on the snout. The dog was an eager kind, if playful. Hearing that sizzling sound of a waffle in the iron was enough to make an already restless beast anxious in anticipation. However, what worked, was finally being able to slip Cerberus’ harness on while the Wolf Dog’s attention remained on the waffle iron. ”There..,” the Variant huffed, ”I need to teach you to get into that thing without bribing you with waffles every time we leave the house..,” he finished, an obsidian gaze lingering on the beast who occasionally alternated his attention between Connor and the heavenly scent of food. It did not take long for whining to trickle through, and the young ‘Monster’ reached for what had been so desperately desired.

”Relax, you big baby,” Connor grinned, ”get your bowl.” It was a statement which caused the Wolf Dog to once more tilt his head, a pair of large, grey eyes staring into the black orbs standing above them. ”Your bowl,” Connor repeated, ”get your bowl, and you get the waffle.”

Turning to his hind paws, Cerberus wasted no time in jumping away, his legs carrying him to Connor’s bedroom which the canine considered his den, and returned with a silicone bowl between his chops. Without a second thought, Cerberus dropped it to the floor, followed by a bark. It took a mere second after Connor lowered that delicious waffle into the Wolf Dog’s bowl before it was devoured without remorse. ”Geez, you act like I don’t feed you..,” the Variant chuckled, combing his fingers through Cerberus’ thick, gray fur. With the moment upon them, finally, Connor attached Cerberus’ leash, a bright green length with several cartoon paw prints across its shape, to the harness with a similar theme. After a small tug, the now happy Wolf Dog followed along as they stepped into the dimming evening light.

Now, Connor could indulge in what the boy had been longing for, and walk his dog, in the process. They often warranted more than a few whispers and heads turning their way, though whether it was the massive canine or his small, Variant companion was hard to say. However, none could deny that together, they made quite a noteworthy couple.

Pariah

@Ruiner

I made the text bold. Hopefully, it's easier to read, now.

Pariah

Location
💀 Warehouse District - High School.
💀 Warehouse District - Connor's Home.

Interactions
💀 None.

Time
💀 Afternoon - Evening.

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

”Sorry for being a nuisance, Mrs. Kyle.” The apology was sincere, but a small chuckle accompanied Connor’s words, as he handed back his gracious gift.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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