Please dot in.
Kestral, you find yourselves at the gates of Claremont Academy of Higher Learning. While not an actual gated community, as an accepted student you've discovered that the school employes a powerful psychic who's main activities are relaxing at the local tea and coffee shops and emits a city-wide suggestion to ward off stray eyes and thoughts to the publically placed University. The other half of information handling staff is a super who monitors the Netscape for any mentions and data that could be potentially harmful were it to spread. This is how Claremont Academy can stay so public but yet secret at the same time.
However, none of that really matters to the current situation at hand.You're expected to stay at this University for the next four years, a far cry from the usually drifting and grifting you're used to. But you wanted this. This is for you. Not for Killer Shark. Not for whoever your parents may have been. This is a decision you made.
At least it's a nice day, a light breeze against the autumn colored trees sends some adrift in the air. As you walk to the auditorium where the welcoming ceremony will be held, you notice that you're turning heads.
It was as impressive as you heard it would be. Maybe, a bit too impressive as you can feel your heart racing a tad stronger than usual.
The Morrow Library was four stories tall, and if rumors to be believed, stretched into segmented pocket dimensions for the rare and dangerous tomes kept on campus. You've been taking in the atmosphere and sheer volume of knowledge here for a few minutes before noticing what you suspect to be the head librarian. He wouldn't be so intimidating if he wasn't levitating off the ground and looking right at you, several books hovering around him, flipping the pages as he glanced at them.
You have maybe fifteen minutes before the opening ceremony.
"Now Jason, if it gets a bit hard you can always call us for some help, whether you need some cooked meals or a bit of extra pocket money." The voice of Jason's father had the concern of a parent who was trying his best to support. Young enough not to be greying yet, Stephen Marko was doing his best to be a good father. His wife, Elena Marko, smiled as she gripped her son's shoulder.
"And if you have any questions about your body, you can call me."
"That's right! You can always call your mother. Me too if you have questions about....um...girls and the like."
Elena chuckled and gave her husband a reassuring pat on his back.
"It gets easier dear, I promise."
3:45pm. Right on schedule.
The soft *thunk* as your feet his the wooden floors of the auditorium building echo, and while some students near your age seem very surprised at your entrance, other older looking students only glance and dismiss it. It would have been no issue to break the magical protections on the school, but the staff felt the need to inscribe your essence into the barrier so as to allow you unimpeded entrance into the grounds. If a mage at the school had reached essence inscribement, perhaps the barrier would have been a bit trickier than anticipated...
Regardless, you've arrived for your first day at University and while some students are already here and eager to be sorted into squads, you found yourself in that odd predicament everyone has come to. Which section to sit in?
Would it be too much to summon the Tome this early?
Kjersti Schmidt, Derek Johnson, and Alejandra Hernandez arrive at the large tree in the school's courtyard. No words were exchanged, none were needed to plan this. Each step that brought them closer felt right and natural, and each knew that the other two were aware of this as well.
It was odd though, their identification cards had all three of their names listed, and each of the acceptance letters had also listed them as a trio as well, as if their enrollment was contingent on all three attending.
Oooooh~
Not bad, not bad. One of the first things Allison's teachers had done was impress upon her the importance of accepting things in context. The home of the Overseers was difficult to adequately describe, and existed in no small part to contain and render harmless some rather dangerous things. When reality was refracted a thousand ways, wood and stone... had their limits. That was why her teachers had been very firm about teaching her to appreciate all things, not just the most fantastic. After all, it was a lot harder to want to protect the world if you thought it was boring instead of interesting.
So... here she was. Heading into college for the first time. She wasn't so worried about the standard curriculum, but the hero classes were likely to be something else entirely. The Source was powerful, but it was far from omnipotent, and she'd yet to reach her full level of ability. In fact, a fair number of the people in the course were probably going to be able to, quote, "toss her around like a ragdoll", unquote, if she didn't keep her wits about her. She'd probably need to work on that somehow, maybe find a way to put the Manuscript's power into her body so she could keep up with others.
For now, though? This was the first time she'd really been out on her own, and Allison was looking forward to seeing what happened. "Well, being a Hero isn't for cowards." she said, taking a spot a few rows up from the auditorium. She didn't mind staying right up front - she was good with crowds, given the number of people back home - but politeness suggested the first few rows (those closest to the doors and floor) be reserved for those with physical disabilities. Those were unfortunately common among the gifted, and while boldness was good, there was no need to be rude.
It was as impressive as you heard it would be. Maybe, a bit too impressive as you can feel your heart racing a tad stronger than usual.The Morrow Library was four stories tall, and if rumors to be believed, stretched into segmented pocket dimensions for the rare and dangerous tomes kept on campus. You've been taking in the atmosphere and sheer volume of knowledge here for a few minutes before noticing what you suspect to be the head librarian. He wouldn't be so intimidating if he wasn't levitating off the ground and looking right at you, several books hovering around him, flipping the pages as he glanced at them.
You have maybe fifteen minutes before the opening ceremony.
Elsi can feel the knowledge, even scans a few books as she walks along, but the ones in the student area are ones she's scanned before. However, the one that is slowly flipping pages to the librarian's right (well, his left, her right) is a new one.
Elsi is wearing a long red coat made of leather, from a fancy boutique in Seattle. She'd not brought anything with her other than a pair of jeans, underwear, a white blouse, and sneakers that she'd bought in London the day before she left. Nothing that might identify her. She'd arrived a week early, and gone shopping in Seattle, eaten at the Needle, bought fried fish at Pike's Place Market, found the rare bookstore of a couple she'd been trading e-mails with and buying books from for years (as far as they knew she was BOOKWORM0385, an alias that she'd used online that had no connection to her real self, MI-6 had set up a cover for that alias as a young girl in her teens, Elsie Heart, and that was the cover she used now, it had plenty of backstopping, such as the account at the book store), gone on a tour of the Bowing plant, visited Mt Ranier, and caught a Seahawks vs Cowboys game (although pickle her for a cod if she could figure out what rules these Yanks played by, it seemed like random running around on the field to her, certainly nothing like real football). Under the long overcoat style jacket, she wears a black blouse, a bright red and black belt, a pair of Furstenberg jeans, and a pair of Frye boots with laces.
"Well, interestin, 'n 'eear ah thowt ah wor t' onny 'un 'a' could doa summa' li' 'a'?" She says, her Yorkshire accent fairly strong. "Opisanie Sviashchennago Koronovaniia Ikh Imperatorskikh Velichestv Gosudaria Imperatora Aleksandra Tret'iago i Gosudaryni Imperatritsy Marii Feodorovny vseia Rossii." She says in perfect un-accented Russian. "Is 'a' t' 'un 'a' sowd a' christi's for seventy three thousan', twoa 'undred 'n fifty pounds eur few months agoa?" She asks, scanning the book, already having absorbed the first 100 pages. "T' print is i' gran' shape for it's age."
She could barely believe she was in public, in front of a complete stranger, and could use her abilities without incident. Reaching out a hand, three other books she'd identified as ones she hadn't read before, two on physics and one on ornithology, flew off shelves as far away as 40 ft and began to orbit her, pages rifling slowly as she absorbed the essence of the library. She always felt so much more at home in a library than anywhere else. Although a newspaper printing floor was almost as good.. so much ink and paper...
The leaves twisting in the wind were the first thing on campus to really grab Betsy's attention. It happened like that a lot; the precise way some random object or person was moving or making noise would strike her as interesting, and she'd just have to see how it all ended. The red one with the tear, she decided.
She moved veerrry carefully, avoiding any big movements that might move the air enough to spoil her plans.
She closed her eyes and sat down to wait, tugging her drab green surplus jacket closed against the cold. The zipper was long since fidgeted away, so the jacket wasn't much use unless she held it closed herself. This wind's great for leaves, but s~$*ty for sitting... Should just be another... 23 seconds.
The leaf spiraled closer and closer, and she slowly pushed one hand out of the relative warmth of her jacket, palm upturned as she waited for her target to land.
And then some winged f+!+er flapped over and ruined it.
Betsy didn't actually scream in frustration, but it was a close thing.
She didn't throw anything either, which was even closer.
But hey, he didn't know, and she was gonna be here for four Years. Plenty of time to teach him some manners. Or at least to come up with something better than just hitting him.
Still the mood was ruined, so she stomped over to the auditorium, barely paying attention (for her) to the other students, which meant that while she learned a lot of faces and names from idly listening in to everyone's conversations, it took her a while to notice that she was attracting more than- well actually, precisely her fair share of attention, even in her thrift-store-special of an outfit.
This wasn't exactly new. Her vibrant hair and assorted piercings were usually enough to get her at least a first glance when she passed by, and then the face that had started a lot of (frankly, gross) rumors about her and Killer Shark was more than enough for a second and a third.
But she was pretty sure that wasn't what was going on here. So with a challenging stare she decided to get it over with and shouted to the quad,
...No autographs."
"Will do, dad. No worries," the young man answers with a smile. Standing about six feet tall with a lean and muscular build, he certainly does not look like he weighs over two hundred pounds, even though he does. Fair-skinned, black-haired and golden-eyed, he is dressed rather casually in a light jacket, an untucked gray t-shirt, a pair of jeans and a pair of black sneakers, obviously valuing comfort much more than fashion. His attire is appropriate for the season, that much is obvious, but truth be told he could have come wearing just a t-shirt and a pair of shorts; it is not like cold bothers him at all anyway.
"Mom! Err... come on now, mom. You can't just say things like that... I mean..." Jason sighs. "People won't know what you mean if they hear that." Another sigh. "Yes, alright. I'll be sure to call." And then, just as he is starting to relax again, his father blindsides him with some support of his own. "Dad..."
He pinches his nose and smiles. "Sure, dad. You'll be the first to know, don't worry." His smile widens as he hugs them both. "You know I love you guys, right?" He takes care not to squeeze too tight. He also takes care to keep the hug going for a bit too before letting go of them and effortlessly picking up his various bags. He does realize he may have packed too much, but he has always felt that it is generally better to have something and not need it rather than need it and not have it.
"I think I should get going now," he finally says. "I think they're gathering." Looking one last time at his parents and smiling, Jason finally moves forward towards the next four years of his life.
"Should be fun," he mutters to himself as he makes his way to the auditorium, all the while looking around at not only the buildings and various facilities of the Academy, but also at the people, mostly students old and new. Particularly the new, wondering who might be his new squadmates and perhaps even friends.
As they step onto campus, they each seem to turn away from each other. There was so much to take in, and they could see it all at once. Especially the other students. It seems that most of the other students were eye-catching.
Kjersti turned toward Alejandra and touched up her lipstick using another pair of eyes instead of a mirror. She needed makeup to avoid being monochromatic. Nordic pale skin and light blond hair almost blended into each other. A cheerfully bright blue dress set it off. Makeup also helped her fit in a little better. At barely five foot, she tended to look a bit like a kid when she went natural.
Alejandra had plenty of color. Being Mexican and Italian saw to that. A head taller than Kjersti, she went with yoga pants and a crop top. Her black hair was tied back. She could have come from the gym. comfort and movement were a priority.
A head taller than Alejandra, Derek was wearing slacks and a nice blazer. A white shirt to set it off. He almost always dressed a bit up - being a black guy in baggy jeans usually brought negative attention. But looking a bit upscale tended to smooth things out. Speaking of smooth, he slid a hand over his scalp. Still a couple of days until he'd need to shave again.
Kestrel's yell brings all three heads to her in perfect synchronicity, along with lots of people in the area out of sync. Perhaps the opposite effect she was looking for.
Still, this was a chance to meet people. So they each went their separate ways toward different entrances to the auditorium.
The guy seemed to have a lot of bags, but he was handling them well. Probably another strong guy. It seemed to be a pretty common power.
Alejandra came up to him, "Hey there, you probably want to drop those off at the dorms before orientation. Unless you're planning on building a fort out of luggage. I'm Alejandra by the way."
She looks at the load. "The dorms are pretty far, I could run them over for you if you want."
Coming up to the side door, Kjersti looked around. There were plenty of seats, but she didn't want to be all alone. There was one girl who seemed to be overthinking things, so she sat next to her. "Hi, I'm Kjersti, among others. You seem to have things figured out, so I figure sitting next to you would probably be a good thing."
As he walks by, Derek turns to Kestrel. "Awesome move on MechManiac's KillBot last spring. What did you throw to lock up it's shoulder joint like that?" He's keeping it smooth, not fanboying. There's a genuine curiosity about what it's like really being in the field.
Kestrel takes the comment at face value, "Oh yeah, MechManiac, the part that got livestreamed was really just the end, but by that point it's actually got about half a pack of Juicy Fruit already in there, stick by stick.
It took longer to work than I was hoping, but once it sets, your more clockwork style robots get really thrown for a loop by anything extra in their workings."
After a moment it occurs to her that she should probably express some sort of interest in her classmate, and she asks with a smile, "So clearly I don't really need to introduce myself, but just for the symmetry of it: I'm Kestrel, you got a Name?"
He chuckles at that. "Oh, four names so far. But Derek will do for now."
Allison and Kjersti are having a conversation in the ceremony hall.
Elsibeth, you start to dissapear into the world of reading before you feel the book being yanked back. The library books float back to the librarian, who smiles at you.
"Been a while since a student could pull that trick off. But I think it best you head to the opening ceremony. If you're like me you sometimes tend to get....lost in the pages."
Kestral, when you shout your pronouncement you find only roughly half the stares quickly turn away, the other half seemingly confused. It then occurs to you that perhaps the (largely) male section of watchers might have just thought you were hot.
Both Kestral and Derek see a group of hurried looking students hurrying to the ceremony hall.
Jason and Alejandra also see the masse of students heading towards the opening ceremony.
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Elsi shakes her head. "Be reight. T' Commencement Ceremony is int' Commencement 'All, t' front entrance o' which, pa t' school's map, is exactly 'un 'undred fo'ty three point twoa meters fra t' front door o' t' library. Uz personal middlin' walkin speed is seventy twoa point fowa meters pa minute, teur ta uz 'eeight plus t' current boyts ah'm wearin. 'a' means it will tek uz almost exactly twoa minutes ta walk fra t' fust floor o' t' library teur t' front entrance o' t' commencement ceremony, 'n sin ah kna 'a' ah'm ra fowa, sea' fourteen, it will tek an additional fo'ty seconds ta gerr uz sea', factorin i' tutheur students slowin uz daahn once ah enta. Wea'ar ont' sixth floor o' t' library, it will tek just unda twoa seconds ta fall fra t' bannista..." She waves a hand at the banister two meters away. "...toa t' fust floor, plus an additional ten seconds for uz ta sla missen a' t' secon' floor 'n safely lan' wiyaa' makin anyone panic. 'A' means ah need ta drop fra t' banista neya lata than twoa minutes, fifty twoa seconds afowa t' commencement begins. 'Oweva, sin it's unlikely 'a' anyone int' Scozzy Staff is punctual, given 'a' thee are mostly Yanks, ahl leev fi' minutes afowa t' scheduled start." She taps her watch. "I' otha words, i' eeight minutes twelve seconds. int' meantime, Ah'm enjoyin readin thy buk on Alexander's weddin int' original Russian."
Elsi continues reading the book, and chatting with him about the Russian book, before tapping her wrist a few minutes later. Without a word, she walks over to the banister, places her left hand on, and leaps over the side.
As she falls, papers fly out of the inside her flaring jacket, forming a 'snowboard' on her feet, wrapping over her boots as she falls. Around the second floor, the board solidifies completely, hard as a real board, and she begins to slow and move toward an opening on entryway of the library. She steps off the board in front of the round rotating door and steps in as it sweeps past, the paper following along behind her and tucking itself into her pocket as she steps out of the library.
She begins walking across the campus toward the ceremony, as she does, the students who are already there walk past her, and her brain automatically compiles information.
Chen, Mai Lee, 1998, November 17th, female, height 162 cm, Passport 60000000002CHN8101165F171024919203100, Hunan Province
Martin, Ericka R, 1999, February 21st, female, height 5 ft 7 inches, Wisconsin License S123-4568-2901-23, 123 North Main Street, apt 1, Madison WI 55405, 122 lbs (Nae bloody likely), brown eyes, black hair, class D license, SSN 382-38-2283
Johnson, Jamile A, 1998, June 3rd, male, height 6 ft 0 inches, Washington License JOHNJA185800, 888 Morton Lane, Seattle, WA, 99382-3828, 183 lbs (Nae fat on that one!), brown eyes, black hair, no restrictions, organ donor, SSN 128-99-2934
Malloy, Margret S, 1983....
Just walking to the ceremony, her mind automatically scanned the papers around her, and added to her own personal database of information, she could probably steal the identities of anyone who'd ever been within 15 feet of her since she was 12. Not all states used paper for their IDs, but, but most used Teslin sandwhiched between PET/PVC. Some used raw PET/PVC or Polycarbonate, and those she couldn't read, but the Telsin was synthetic paper, and came through crystal clear. Passports were like cash, technically cloth, but close enough to paper. And of course, every bill and it's id number was in her little database. Sometimes she had to wade through 3 pages of notes on Prada shoes to find the footnote reminding her she'd left her red Prada's in the flat, one on the coffee table and the other kicked up on top of the book shelf. Her memory almost never failed to bring back something, sometimes it was useless amounts of it that made it as bad as not remembering anything. 'Do you know David Smith?', she wanted to scratch the eyes out of anyone who asked her that one. There were 6,163 David Smiths on the register in the UK at last census, she had been within 15 ft of 2,413 of them. And every single one scrolled through her mind at at the question. Don't get her started David Jones, that wanker was just as bad. And now she was adding more of them to her database, and would have to ask 'Yank or Brit, ya bloody wanker?'.
The siphoning up of information and ruminations on the annoyance of the lack of originality with parents (who should be shot for naming their children the most common names possible) got her all the way to her destination.
She walked into the auditorium, took her place on row 4, chair 14. The bloke in chair 15 was Marko, Jason, and the lass in 13 was Alllister, Cherryblossom, both of which were unique enough to improve her mood. As she stepped past Marko, she nodded politely. "Pardon uz sir, ah'm i' fourteen. gran' ta meet theur." She then nods at Cherryblossom. "Ayup lass, gran' ta meet theur ta."
Don't worry. The commencement ceremony is in the Commencement Hall, the front entrance of which, per the school's map, is exactly one hundred forty three point two meters from the front door of the library. My personal average walking speed is seventy two point four meters per minute, thanks to my height plus the current boots I'm wearing. That means it will take me almost exactly two minutes to walk from the first floor of the library to the front entrance of the commencement ceremony, and since I know that I am row four, seat fourteen, it will take an additional forty seconds to get my seat, factoring in the other students slowing me down once I enter. We are on the sixth floor of the library, it will take just under two seconds to fall from the bannister...
...to the first floor, plus an additional ten seconds for me to slow myself at the second floor and safely land without making anyone panic. That means I need to drop from the bannister no later than two minutes, fifty two seconds before the commencement begins. However, since it's unlikely that anyone in the school staff is punctual, given that they are mostly Yanks, I will leave five minutes before the scheduled start.
In other words, in eight minutes twelve seconds. In the meantime, I'm enjoying reading your book on Alexander's wedding in the original Russian.
Pardon me sir, I'm in 14, Good to meet you.
Hello girl, good to meet you too.
"Ah... Umm... What?" Distracted by his new surroundings and the various people walking, running and flying about, Jason is caught by surprise by the young woman talking to him. Turning to look at her, he does his best not to stare. He always did feel a bit awkward around pretty girls.
"Oh, hello there," he finally says, the words spoken in a British accent with a hint of something else. His voice also hints at a bit of embarassment as he turns his eyes from the woman to his bags. "Heh... Yeah. Umm, well... I think it's quite alright. I plan to sit in the back anyway."
The young man takes a moment to clear his throat softly. "I am Jason, by the way. It's... err... nice to meet you. And thanks for the offer. But I think we don't have much time anyway. It's about to begin."
With that he starts to quicken his pace, his things not weighing him down in the slightest. "Coming?"
He has barely taken a seat before he has to stand up again momentarily to let a colorfully dressed girl with an even more colorful accent -Yorkshire, he thinks- to get to her own seat. "Umm... Hi? Same here?"
Kestrel gives a lively grin and wink at Derek's reply, "Okay, fair enough, I'm good for an enigmatic quip now and again. Well, good to meet you Derek. I'll have to ask you about the other names later."
Definitely a new face. Makes sense, probably plenty of people here who've never really used their gifts. Or just haven't gotten their faces out there.
As she stalks over towards the auditorium, she lets out a long breath. Well, that was embarrassing.
I'll just have to make sure they know who they're dealing with.
Alejandra easily keeps up with Jason's speed. As they approach the building, she dashes forward to get the doors so he doesn't have to slow down or put anything down. She says, "I'll see you later..." she checks the luggage tag, "Jason."
At Kjersti's comments, Allison laughed a bit. "I'm as new as anyone else, and most of it's bluffing." she observed. "Although I'm a little surprised by how normal this place looks from the outside. Though, given the odds of explosions around here, I suppose it makes sense to be conservative with the budget... So, what brings you to this place?" People had all kinds of motivations for wanting to become heroes. Some people wanted to be the best they could be, some people wanted to show off, or get rich, or just learn to control themselves. There weren't too many bad motivations - those usually got filtered out somehow - but she was interested in what motivated others to act.
Kjersti smiles at that, "Power corrupts. We hear that all the time. We see that when some crazy thinks that they have the right to rule the world. So I choose to fight that. I choose to use this to help other people. To stand with people who've made that choice too. I'm choosing to not give in to corruption."
"Hi ya'll! Ya'll can call me Cherry. Cherry Allister." Says the blonde girl with a Texas drawl.
"Ah'm Elsie 'Eart..." Elsie responds, then tilts her head and looks to the stage. "...oh, thee are ossin." She jerks her chin toward the stage. Although nobody is on it. Elsie however can see a sheaf of papers behind the curtain, cue cards, being put in order.
"Actually, I don't really understand that point of view." Allison observed. "I mean, if you're, like, the first gifted ever, people are probably going to treat you like a god... so I can understand getting a big head. Now, though? You're different, but it's not like you're the only person with powers. It seems like the whole villainy thing is more a mental health issue than a powers issue, and there's a reason we don't try Major Interventions..."
"Eh, villainy is too common to be mental illness. It seems like there's a lot more people who are willing to turn to crime than to do good."
The general din and chatter of the auditorium begins to quiet and the distinct clacking of shoes across the stage sounds, each step seemingly growing louder as someone made their way to the podium. He was not a large man, if anything he was a bit too lean to be seen as fit. Those who did even a bit of research before coming would recognize Headmaster Damien Brandish. His head was kept near shaven and the suit he wore was fit perfectly, the dark colors of the fabric complementing his dark skin.
He looks out to the seats, taking the time to look at each of the forty freshmen that sat there.
“Congratulations.” he says, letting the word hang in the air. He does not smile, he does not shout, the natural acoustics of the room letting his words carry.
He begins to pace.
”The forty of you sitting here have been accepted into Claremont Academy of Higher Learning, dubbed by the informed populace as the ‘Super’ ‘School’. You know why you’re here right?”
He stops and looks to the group of freshman.
”You want to be heroes.”
”A noble goal, to say the least. But why are you here?”
The question hangs, the pressure of the speaker making it clear you were being spoken to, to with.
”You’re here because you need accreditation. You’re here because there’s a reason the government and the populace doesn’t just let any random superpower individual throw on a mask and start enforcing justice. There are rules. There are laws. There are people who depend on heroes to make the right call in an emergency. And in most cases, there are no do-overs...”
He starts pacing again.
”I’ve read every single one of your applications and files. John Doe wanting to make a difference, Jane Doe having a tragic history. All acceptable. All fine..”
”Some of you I have no idea why you’re here. You’re already making a difference. You’re already helping the world be a better place. A handful of you don’t even want to be here! Leave! There are a hundred other applicants that will write a strongly worded letter to take your place. Some are willing to act physically to ensure a spot opens up. Does that intimidate you? That level of drive to get what you want? That's your competition.”
He stops and looks out to you all again, something about him seemingly looking at all you individually as well.
”I’m not going to tell you to not break the rules. I won’t say to study hard or to be better you. That’s your business, those are your decisions. But this institution was founded to create heroes the people could depend on. This is a promise I made to them and myself. Every hero makes a promise to someone, even themselves. Stay true to it, or get left behind. Weak wills have no place here.”
The Headmaster walks off the stage, no applause, no chatter, just a bit of stunned silence.
An older Korean woman walks onto stage. Her hair is slightly grayed, but all appearances she seem's very put together, not batting an eye at the Headmaster's address.
”You’re luggage will be taken care of for you. If you all would please proceed to the field outside, we will begin the appraisal process. You will be sorted into groups to train and learn with. Then will begin the first practical assessment.”
Elsie listens politely. Yes, she had been making a difference. However, there is making a difference, and having a life that makes a difference. How long before she would come to hate her life so much that she became that which she hunted? She'd read enough profiles to know that many of the worst people in the world had started out with the best intentions. Freedom fighters who turned into terrorists, heroes who fell to villainy, when they could no longer stand their life as it was.
Cain, Erik Lawrence, 2001, January 1st, male, height 5 ft 11 inches, California License I3829283, 1884 Muldave Circle, Sacramento, CA, 95818, 198 lbs, blue eyes, blonde hair (cute, surfer dude), class C, SSN 148-33-2893
Mobira, Alethra, 2000, February 12th, female...
She walked out to the outside silently, not saying anything unless someone talks to her. The girl from Texas peels off to talk to someone she knows, a boy from Texas, maybe they knew each other, same zip codes, probably went to school together. Ages were right.
Betsy was nowhere near her assigned seat during the speech. After all, crowds weren't her favorite. Well, crowds were fine, but she'd never liked being part of them.
She'd made certain to find somewhere that Brandish's voice would carry, but after listening to his speech, she wasn't sure she should have bothered. Anyone who didn't know all that shouldn't be here in the first place.
So instead of any sort of introspection, she poked her head up to watch her classmates. Who was nodding, who was worried, who was really thinking, who else was just watching...
After all, if she was going to get put on a team, why wait until she met them to get to know them?
In her scans, Elsie will notice an anomaly. A student ID card with three names. It stands out like a sore thumb because they used the software compression of their layout program instead of simply using the condensed font of the typeface. It's as if nobody cares about proper kerning anymore. Once she spots it, the other two stand out as well. The barcode on the student ID is the same.
Hernandez, Allejandra; Johnson, Derek; Schmidt, Kersti; 2001, May 12; Female; Height 5 ft 8 inches; Texas License 8776261; 1452 Camino Real, Austin, TX 78742; 140 lbs; Brown eyes, black hair; SSN 642-79-9818
Johnson, Derek; Schmidt, Kersti; Hernandez, Allejandra; 2001, May 12; Male; Height 6 ft 2 inches; Ohio License JZ688973; 4773 Lakewood Circle, Cleveland, OH 44110; 207 lbs; Brown eyes, black hair (shaved); SSN 301-68-0618
Schmidt, Kersti; Hernandez, Allejandra; Johnson, Derek; 2001, May 12; Female; Height 5 ft 1 inch; Oregon License 730461605; 2887 Spruce Drive, Pacific City, OR 97135; 110 lbs; Blue eyes, blonde hair; SSN 543-75-7838
Kestrel will see Derek as he leaves the chamber. As he walks, she'll notice something that few people even could. Two other people walking in exact sync with him in other parts of the crowd. Even though they are different heights, their footfalls hit with uncanny precision. Even their breathing is synchronized.
As they move, they look in different directions. Between them, they seem to be watching the field.
Once at the field, Elsi notes each of the students with the strange ID. She would suspect fake ID's with the barcodes being the same, except for the three names being on each ID. At least one of the trio probably notices her narrowing her eyes at the trio, her head moving precisely to pick out each one in turn, out of the crowd.
While Kjersti is the one who notice the looks, it is Derek that walks up to Elsie. "Hi there, I'm Derek. Pleased to meet you."
Meanwhile, Kjersti comes up near Kestrel. She reaches into her small bag and comes out with some gum. "Juicy Fruit?"
Ooh, that's not just teamwork...
She lags behind a bit, watching and listening to their synchronicity giving her a mild ASMR response.
Wonder-triplets? Psychic bond? Can they get other people to do that?
She shivers a little, I'll see what it takes to make sure they're in my group...
***
As Kjersti walks up, Betsy doesn't make an obvious point of noticing her. She gratefully accepts the gum, "Sure, I'll take a stick." She folds it precisely, tosses one half into her mouth, and stashes the other for robot-emergencies.
With a gesture that shows she's explaining the obvious she introduces herself, "I'm Kestrel. So how do you know Derek?"
Alejandra Will walk next to Jason. "So, do you think that they'll drop a car on any of us?"
Elsi nods at Derek. "Ayup, Derek Johnson, Kersti Schmidt, Allejandreur 'ernandez. Eitha thas reeight close friends, or t' Academy messed up thy id tag." She reaches out to flick the ID tag around Derek's neck with a finger. "Ah'm Elsi 'eart."
"Hmm...?" Jason seems preoccupied, probably thinking about the Headmaster's words. His eidetic memory -one of his... gifts, he realized at some point- will make sure he does not quickly forget them.
"Oh, hello again," he says with a somewhat awkward smile as he looks around, taking in the field the various students, himself among them, find themselves in. "I rather hope not frankly. Someone might get hurt. I'm sure there are resilient people here, but not everyone is indestructible."
He sighs then as he finally realizes Alejandra is joking. Probably anyway. "Ah. Heh... You know, I'm willing to wager they're a bit more imaginative than that."
"Then again...," he adds with a smile, less awkward than before, and looks up. Just in case.
"I suppose that depends on whether anybody can make a car." Allison said as she heard the question. "To be fair, getting cars tossed at you is apparently a fairly normal part of being a hero. Someone super-strong throws one at you, or magnetically accelerates it to you, or waves their hand and magics it at you... big enough to hurt, to block line of sight, and to hurt civilians if you don't give it your all. They'd probably be lacking in the syllabus if they didn't have a few practical lessons on what to do when big, heavy objects get hurled at you. But then, budgets are a thing, too... maybe if they get them from scrapyards...?"
"That," Jason quips, feeling more relaxed as the minutes go by, "is quite a bit of consideration you've put on the matter of having cars tossed at you. Happen often, does it?" The young man's smile is still on his lips as he talks.
Alejandra shakes her head with disappointment. "Nobody knows the classics anymore." But she doesn't press the issue. "For purposes of hurling and dodging, you don't need a precision machine designed for speed, safety, and fuel efficiency. A solid block that's fifteen by six by five is good enough."
"Good eyes. Most people can't see that from across the quad." He says. "As for us, Kjersti and Alejandra have been my imaginary friends since childhood, and I've been theirs."
"Ah dint see it ont' quad, noticed it walkin o'a fra t' auditorium. 'n most fowk dooant pay attention ta owt, sa it's not sa special ta notice. none o' tutheur students 'ed t' sem bar codes, nor three names." She looks around. "Ah'm guessin they're goan mek wee sha off wee powers, sa thee can gauge wha' we can doa. Ah submitted eur list o' things they'd need ta test mine wi' uz application. Ah dooant see 'em yet, bur they'll probably av 'em appear i' um flashy way, probably teleported."
She turns back to Derek. "Sa, otha than avin real fowk for thy imaginary friends, 'n avin um kin' o' min' link, wha' orl can theur doa? Personally, uz powers are mooar useful for intelligence analysis 'n gatherin, as theur probably already gathered. Although ah can cut eur few corners if ah need ta. 'n Ah've gorreur few tricks 'a' are gran' for party games."
I didn't see it on the quad, noticed it walking over from the auditorium. And most people don't pay attention to anything, so it's not so special to notice. None of the other students had the same bar codes, nor three names.
I'm guessing they're going to make us show off our powers, so they can gauge what we can do. I submitted a list of things they'd need to test mine with my application. I don't see them yet, but they'll probably have them appear in some flashy way, probably teleported in.
So, other than having real people for your imaginary friends, and having some kind of mind link, what all can you do? Personally, my powers are more useful for intelligence analysis and gathering, as you probably already gathered. Although I can cut a few corners if I need to. And I've got a few tricks that are good for party games.
"Well, the whole point of an education is to get the best information you can on the subjects most likely to come up, right?" Allison inquired quizzically. "Firefighters learn different types of buildings and firefighting techniques. Taxi drivers learn streets and locations. Heroes learn public safety, damage control, and villain threats. Keeping yourself alive is priority, like, two or three, so you gotta know what to expect."
Derek is quick to correct one point."Oh, it's not so much a mind link as having one mind. It's like being one person with thirty toes. Beyond that, I'm just strong and tough and quick. Nothing a normal person can't do, I just bring a little more to the table. I hope that with training I can figure out how to maximize what I can do."
What greet's you at the field is line of alternating green and red painted humanoids. They look human, but they lack any sort of sexual characteristics facial features making them resemble fleshy mannequins. At your side of the field, you see a regularly skin colored humanoid mannequin jeans and a sweatshirt making a motion as if yawning.
The Korean woman addresses you all after arranging all the freshman in a line so that a red and green mannequin is across the field from them.
"I am the Headmistress of Claremont Academy, Mrs. Eunsoo Lee. Assisting me today is alum Manic."
The faceless, but dressed mannequin waves at the freshman.
"Do your best!" he offers encouragingly, though how he speaks with no mouth is a question that might linger in some of your minds.
"Your first assessment is straightforward," Headmistress Eunsoo Lee continues. "Manic's mannequin's will charge down the field and attempt to move past you. You must subdue both somehow, but the green one must be uninjured and the red one must sustain injury. If there are no questions, you may begin as the mannequin's charge you."
"'a' mun be awkward when theur fetch someone back teur t' fla' for a snog." She says, looking to the other two curiously. "Or does thee tek care o' 'a' internally?"
Oh, that must be awkward when you bring someone back to your flat for a snog. Or do you take care of that internally?
---------------------------------------------------------
Elsi tilts her head, and watches the two mannequins get ready to charge, and points one hand toward the parking lot nearby. A silver sports car comes winging in off the parking lot, and lands neatly on the red mannequin.
She'll then close on the car, and stab any portion of the mannequin that's visible. As she moves up, paper flies out of her sleeve and folds itself into a paper sword that she brings down on the mannequin until it shows slash marks.
Mannequins, was it? She had a straightforward method of subduing conscious foes, but inanimate objects were going to require a slightly more... special... touch. Allison snapped her fingers, and as she did so, a book appeared in the air beside her. She caught it in a practice motion and considered for a moment. As she did, the book opened of its own accord and began to rapidly flip through its own pages before finally stopping. As the page glowed, Allison reached into it and pulled out... what looked like a "future" laser gun from 80's movies. "Maybe work on the design a little more next time." she said, eyeing the colorful purple body and green metal rings before pointing it towards the targets. A pair of bursts of light shot out of it a moment later, aiming to explode on the ground next to her targets and bring both of them down. Following that - assuming it worked, and she was pretty sure the homing shots somehow would - she'd simply walk over and smack the red one with her book. Nobody'd said how much they needed to be hurt, and since the school probably wanted to reuse them, outright destruction seemed a little much.
Elsi raises an eyebrow. "Wha' an odd buk. it's pages fluctuate, atwixt twoa 'undred 'n fowa 'undred pages. Ah dooant recognize most o' t' languages, 'oweva, Ah doa recognize 'attic, Sumerian, Cypro-Minoan, 'n Olmec. Theear are several pages wi' mooar modern languages, such as Egytian 'eiroglyphics, Moabi', 'n Phonecian." She looks at the girl curiously. "Menny o' thems not translated ta uz knowledge. Eur theur capable o' readin 'em?" She asks the girl when she's done with her attempt. Then she raises an eyebrow. "Theur should tell thy buk 'a' thems not words 'a' eur lass thy age should kna, even i' 'itti'."
What an odd book. It's pages fluctuate, between two hundred and four hundred pages. I do not recognize most of the languages, however, I do recognize Hattic, Sumerian, Cypro-Minoan, and Olmec. There are several pages with more modern languages, such as Epytian Heiroglyphics, Moabite, and Phonecian
Many of those are not translated to my knowledge. Are you capable of reading them?
You should tell your book that those are not words that a girl your age should know, even in Hittite.
Stop them without hurting them, eh? Sounds to me like we've got bystander training...
Before she does anything with the green-marked mannequin, she does her best to de-escalate the situation by filling the red one's calves with metal.
With the red one hopefully stopped, Kestrel turns her attention to the green mannequin. Hope this guess was right.
With her hands up in a vaguely calming gesture, she instead tries to stop the mannequin with her words, "Hey-hey-hey-hey, hold up, you're gonna hurt yourself. See? It's not chasing you anymore.
Derek chuckles, "No, I definitely prefer external snogging. As for the rest, that's still a work in progress. I'll need to find the right person first."
---------
There is a burst of action as all three begin moving. Kjersti and Alejandra leap into action, surrounding the red figure and pummeling it. Their blows are coordinated to keep the mannikin from easily being able to avoid them all. They start out not using full strength as they don't know how tough it is.
It evades one, but the other blow knocks it down.
Derek runs toward the green one, arms out for a big bear hug.
He manages to restrain it, but barely.
Kjersti keeps on the red one to keep it down, while Alejandra joins in in holding the green one back.