The Micro-Scenes Thread

Where would the micro-scene discussion thread go?

People watching

Looking at them no one would see anything unusual about the couple at the shopping center, not unless they could see through the illusion charm the wife was wearing.

Ryan: What's the matter Christine
Christine: Whateley's spoiled me
Ryan: How so?
Christine: nothing here can hold a candle to people watching on a green flag day.



(just a little plausible conversation I thought up)

"Question forty-one: I consider myself to be heterosexual, homosexual, or bisexual."

"Yes?"

Katryn stared at her and Thea's second-oldest.

"You don't know? What in Heaven's name do you boys get up to on those campouts?"

Mason shrugged, "Woodcraft, fires, breakfast and dinner cooked over a fire, you know: stuff."

"Oh, I'm seeing a lot of smoke now," Katryn said. "They made it an 'or' question, so they deserve the answers they get. Forty-two. Not the answer to life, the universe, and everything. The question is 'Gender: Male, Female, Complicated.'"

"I wish it was only that complicated."

Jason walked by as his mother got to, "Testosterone-poisoned male it is. Question forty-three is 'My powers or incidents associated with them are transforming/have transformed me: to have no gender, to become more feminine, to become more masculine, to exhibit characteristics of multiple genders.'"

"Empathy is kind of girly, when you think about it."

"Jason Garnett, you have never had to deal with the emotionally abusive harpies I grew up with. If they'd had empathic powers... It's for the best they didn't."

"Other than that eye color change, pretty much the same. Sorry, Mase. Sounds like you missed out all around."

"You could be next, bro. Crap. I heard a click. Did Petey just lock himself in his Closet of Doom again?"

Monday afternoon, October 31, 2016,
Twain Cottage

Max had spent hours getting his Lord of Darkness costume just right. He'd built shiny black hooves and deep red legs around a pair of digitigrade stilts. Molded silicone prosthetic appliances transformed his face and hair into a demonic visage in red, with a pair of magnificent black horns. In order to get the right look under red greasepaint, he'd used enough hair remover to render a furry catatonic, followed by enough greasepaint to touch up a big top. Best of all, he was now over nine feet tall, hoof to horn, of Tim Curryesque awesomesauce.

Something was missing, other than his best friend back home. If he were here, Max would have so tried to get him to dress up as Jack O'Greene. He was as short as Tom Cruise. Sure, Benjamin wouldn't be interested in snogging Mia Sara or wearing shiny gold armor. Maybe a goblin instead? The guy hated unicorns, not that he could get within a mile of one. And, he wouldn't be shooting with a telephoto lens...

That's it!

Minutes later, Max clopped in the freshmen common room, "Anyone up for taking a few pictures? I really want to show this off to one of my friends back home."

One of his fellow freshmen looked up from whatever he was gluing together (Mrs. Ryan would have been politely horrified) and said, "I didn't know they celebrated Halloween where you're from."

"We don't, and Benjamin doesn't. But, er, he does appreciate dressing the part."

Another asked, "What? No parties, no costumes, no headstones in the front yard or TPing houses?"

"We have parties on our own holidays! Dressing up as yaoguai, not so much. As to the rest? That would be a big Nope."

Taka Ono spoke up, "The Hungry Ghost Festival is celebrated in Kapalangpur, yes?"

"It is. Food, fireworks - even Anak Kapala gets into the act, music, plays, the works."

Taka nodded to himself, "So, Trick or Treat. Not needed."

"Plus, Benjamin already lives in a cemetery."

Taka took a step back and hid his hands behind his back.

"It's not like he lives in a coffin! There's a house on the property and all that."


Half an hour later, Max remembered how grumpy his bestie could be before his morning coffee. But, despite the death threats (all in good fun, hopefully) and the twelve-hour time difference, he was glad he called. Until Benjamin mentioned it, in all the haste and runarounds of getting ready, he'd completely forgotten to put on clothes! That's what friends were for, after all.

Waking up from a roofie sucks.

Waking up from a roofie and finding yourself in a van facing a large man who had a gun holstered at his side really sucked.

It took a while after waking up to get the energy to begin really thinking and moving. Time was a rather vague concept as the fog slowly faded from my brain, all I knew was that we were still driving and no one was talking to me.

Finally I was able to talk. “You should really let me go,” I said.

“After you've done a few jobs for us, we'll let you go. For now, shut up and relax,” he replied.

Rolling my shoulders and neck trying to work the kinks out, I silently cursed the world. My life had been so much easier before manifesting. Safe, uncomplicated, just the usual everyday problems to worry about. But then I had to gain my powers, and worse yet gain them publicly so the entire world knew what I could do.

“Seriously, if you let me out at the next stop, I'll go my way, you go yours no hard feelings, no one has to get hurt,” I said.

He smirked at that. Honestly I couldn't blame him. There I was still fighting off the effects of being drugged, in the back of a van driving at high speeds, with no idea where I was, and nothing about me seemed dangerous. Even my power seemed harmless, it wasn't like I could shoot lasers from my eyes or tear metal apart with my bare hands.

Unfortunately that was going to get him killed.

“You know what my power is right?” I asked.

“You make doors. If you want to try making a run for it, be my guest, you might survive the fall,” he said, still smirking.

I nodded. “Yeah, I make doors. I can make doors in anything. Have you thought about what that means?”

The smirk was exchanged for a look of confusion.

My hand brushed against the seat belt. A golden outline, roughly in the shape of a rectangle, appeared on the buckle. Fabric and metal snapped open looking perfectly cut, allowing me to lunge forward as the seat belt released. My lunge was more of a forward sprawl, the drugs were still messing with me, but in the confines of the van I didn't need to be graceful.

My captor was reaching for his gun when my hand connected with his chest. His shirt and skin glowed, then his rib cage popped open as if on hinges, exposing his heart, lungs and other important organs. A bit of blood leaked out, but my power would keep him alive. My 'doors' didn't actually damage anything, his veins, nerves and organs still worked normally and as soon as I closed the 'door' everything would fit back together seamlessly. If I was medically inclined, I could be one hell of surgeon.

He gaped in shock and horror at the gristly sight of his rib cage hanging open. I didn't give him a chance to recover. Grabbing his heart I gave it a good, hard pull almost vomiting as blood coated my hand and arm.

The driver was yelling something. I couldn't make it out.

Falling to my knees as the van swerved all over the road, I grabbed the drivers seat and once more using my power, made the back of the seat swing downwards. Off balance, the driver shouted in fear and van went completely out of control.

I jabbed the driver in the side, the skin, fat and muscle pulled apart revealing his guts. As the van hit the ditch with a sickening lurch I curled up into a ball using my arms to protect my head.

I'm not sure how long I was unconscious. I woke up with a splitting headache as paramedics pulled me out of the van. I got a look at the driver when they put me into the ambulance, he was somehow still alive and screaming. The paramedics were trying to free his intestines from steering wheel.

I had tried to end things nicely.

Benjamin looked up from the report, "Wait a minute. They specify the grift up front?"

He would think of it that way.

Colombine pointed out that, "However, it is perfectly legal, and the considerations don't come cheaply."

"It's a little steep, isn't it?"

"Really? They're taking on some of the default risk and enforcement burden instead of leaving it all to adversarial signatories. I shudder to think how much economy of scale bears on the commission."

"Um..."

"They'll be bringing the big guns if shit flies sideways."

"Oh."

"And, if you play nice, they might even talk you through some of the wonky bits."

The AI knew that look on her human's face too well by now.

"I should not have said that, should I?"

Newbie

Whateley, Twain Cottage
Beginning of Summer Vacation, 2016


Dae-Jung took one last look around his room, if he forgot anything it was as good as gone unless the house father mailed it to him. He wouldn't be coming back to the Whateley for years, if ever. Satisfied he had everything, he headed downstairs taking his time, reminiscing about the good and bad times he'd had in the cottage.

He'd already said goodbye to everyone who was left at the school, some were like him and leaving late, a few had nowhere else to go. So he just grabbed his extra large luggage in one hand went outside to wait for his new employer.

A van pulled up and a pretty brunette stepped out. She was tall for a woman, but that just meant she came to his chest. She walked up to him without hesitation, something he wasn't used to, considering he was over seven feet tall and looked like a heavily muscled Sasquatch.

Holding out her hand, she gave him a bright smile. “Hi Dae-Jung, I'm June, aka Sun Hawk, pleasure to meet ya.”

He gingerly took her hand, not sure what her powers were and afraid to hurt her. “Hi. I'm guessing you got the short straw to pick up the newbie?”

“Nah, I volunteered. I was the new girl on the team last year, so I figured it would be easiest for me to fill you in on things before you meet everybody else. And... they probably would have volunteered me anyways, so I figured I'd beat them to the punch,” she admitted.

He chuckled, happy that she seemed to have a sense of humour and wasn't upset with him for travelling halfway across the country. “Thanks. I hope I can return the favour someday,” he said. Placing his bags in the back of the van, he eased his enormous body into the too small seat. At least it was already pushed as far back as possible, so his knees weren't quite at his chin.

Getting into the drivers seat she started the van towards the gate. “Have you chosen a new codename yet? Hairy, just doesn't have the right ring to it.”

“Mogollon Monster. Since it's Arizona and I look like this, I figured I'd try to fit in, in my own special way,” he said.


“I like it,” she said. “You look the part and it will at least make the bad guys think before they come after you.”

Hearing her approval made him smile, and not just because she was so pretty. He wanted to make a good impression to the Phoenix Warriors, he knew getting picked to join an experienced team like them would be a huge boost for his career. “So what's the plan? We're not driving all the way to Phoenix are we?”

“Nope. I've got two rooms waiting for us in Boston and then we get a morning flight to Phoenix. I'll help you get settled in one of the temporary rooms in HQ, and you'll meet the team that night provided nothing explodes.”

“So that's how many hours in economy?” he asked, dreading the thought of being so cramped for hours.

“None. We're going first class,” she said with glee.

“You're kidding me!”

“I'm completely serious. Phoenix is a tough assignment,” she said, her tone serious, “so we try to pamper ourselves and newbies when we get the chance.”

He shook his head. “I still find it hard to believe you'd pay first class for me.”

“Well, we would normally go business, but with your size it made more sense to splurge a little. And after watching your combat finals, looking at your grades, and your powers, we want you to stick around.”

“You think I'm that good?”

“Yeah we do,” she said, stressing the 'we'. “We need more powerhouse bricks like you. You've looked over the threats file we sent you?”

He nodded.

“So you know what we face whenever the cartels get twitchy and send out The Cannibal, La Llorona, or my personal favourite, The Hungry Ghost.” She shuddered in disgust. “ And then we have all the usual supervillains, assassins and hit men for hire who call Phoenix home, or regularly pass through. Lolomi is a great leader, and his shell can take an insane amount of punishment, but his power is mostly defensive. We haven't had someone who can really go toe to toe in a straight up brawl with some of the major threats since February.”

Dae-Jung nodded again, more slowly. He knew what his role was going to be once he decided to try the superhero route, but hearing it put so bluntly worried him. “What are your powers?”

“Fast flight, with agility, reflexes and speed the equivalent of an Exemplar 4, but only slightly enhanced strength and durability. I'm the eyes in the sky, sniper, and deal with the chaff. I'll make sure anyone who isn't a huge brick stays off your back.”

When he didn't say anything for a few moments, she kept talking. “We've got a lot of time to talk, and it doesn't have to be all business. What music do you like? Personally, I'm a rock fan.”

He perked up at that. “Cool! I love rock, I played the drums with a student band. Who's your favourite band?”

The long ride suddenly seemed a lot more interesting.

"Christ," a girl swore at the TV where an H1 spokesman was busy explaining why mutants needed to be locked away. "Is there anyone stupider than an H1'er?"

While the other girls nodded in agreement Shisha looked up from her text book. "They are scared," she said slowly.

"Yeah right. They're just idiots who are too inbred to have a clue."

"If stupid, they would be ig-nored," Shisa retorted.

The girl snorted. "I bet your parents were with H1. That's why you got thrown out like the mangy cat you are."

Shisa's mouth opened and she let out a series of squeaks that was her version of laughing. "Yes. I real-ly H1 youth group pre-sss-dent. They love me."

"Stupid animal," the girl said contemptuously.

Shisa reached out with her hand, a look of concentration on her face. Flicking her wrist, it was as if a knife was slicing through the plaster wall in front of her, leaving a long gouge from one side to the other. "I now kill-ed front row of class."

Another flick and another line appeared. "Second row."

Motioning with a finger, an invisible spike drove into the wall beside the door. "Kill a runner."

Stretching out her fingers she brought them down at an angle, leaving five perfect furrows in the wall just missing the TV. "Class all dead."

Sliding out of her chair, Shisa looked at the shocked girls, her tail flicking in contempt. "Fear is smart."

Phoenix, Arizona
Monday, August, 2016

“They'll kill me if I go with you,” the drug dealer said.

Sun Hawk peered out the window, while The Mogollon Monster watched the door. The rest of the team was coming, but for at least the next several minutes the two of them were in a situation that could either lead to a blow against the drug trade in Phoenix or end in a potentially lethal fight.

“They're already going to kill you,” Sun Hawk said. “They know you've been skimming off their products for at least a year. They have everyone in the city looking for your ass. Whoever brings you to them has been promised ten thousand dollars, even supervillians are hunting you down looking for an easy payday.”

“I can explain things, pay them back, you know. And they haven't caught me yet. I can still get outta here, lots of places to go once I'm on the road,” he said. His rapid breathing, wide eyed look and the sweat pouring off of him in the air conditioned room was more than enough to tell her he was in an unthinking panic.

“The only way you're getting out of Phoenix is if you've got a teleporter stashed away in the closet. Come with us, we'll get you to a secure location and the DEA will have you out of the city within the hour.”

He shook his head, his gaze rapidly going from the window to the door, judging his chances for escape. She was getting ready to just grab him and flying at top speed to HQ, when the wall behind her exploded.

Even with her reflexes, she had only just started jumping away from the wall when a massive hand grabbed her leg. She saw shaggy, brilliant red hair, and a leering mouth that was far too wide, then she was screaming in agony as her leg armour was crushed like an eggshell.

There was a roar of outrage from the Mogollon Monster who body slammed into The Cannibal. She was dropped to the floor as the newbie and one of the most dangerous mutants in the city went crashing through the wall and onto the street below.

Sun Hawk gritted her teeth, refusing to look at her leg. With the adrenaline pumping through her, she could still act, but she knew if she saw the damage, the pain and shock would be overwhelming. The drug dealer was running for the door. Taking to the air, she grabbed him from behind and flew through the gaping hole heading straight for HQ.

She forced herself to ignore the screams, the tearing of metal, and the sound of bloody fighting below. The Mogollon Monster was on his own, with the growing pain in her leg and darkening vision, she wasn't sure if she'd even be able to reach safety.


Wednesday, August 2016

June leaned against the railing, taking a break from the party. The devise around her leg was using a lot of her energy as it repaired the broken bone. She'd gotten off lucky, it was just a bad break and some blood loss, not shattered like she'd feared.

Dae-Jung came up beside her, holding an oversized mug of beer in his left hand. His right hand and lower arm were in a similar devise to her leg. Neither of them had come out unscathed from the fight with The Cannibal.

“I don't know why we're celebrating, The Cannibal got away,” he said.

“We survived and weren't crippled,” she said, “against The Cannibal, that's a win.”

He grunted and gulped down his beer.

She floated upwards to look him in the eyes. “Hey, Dae-Jung, listen to me. You lasted over a minute against a hero killer. Yes he got away and you broke your arm and fist, but you got hurt from punching him too hard and refusing to quit. He had to throw you into a moving truck to get you to stop fighting.”

“We still got hurt, and he got away.”

“It's part of the job. And while you were fighting him, I got our guy to HQ, he's already made a deal with the DEA.” She put an arm over his shoulder. “So the two newest members of the team, one of whom has only been a superhero for a month, managed to go toe to toe with The Cannibal, and complete the mission. Sure, we didn't walk away unscratched, but we'll both be back on the street in a week or two. That's a win.”

His expression didn't change.

“I almost quit being a superhero. It was February, just after Laughing Man was killed by The Hungry Ghost. I took some time off from the team and had my resignation letter ready to go. But after talking with some people, including the team therapist, I realized something important. We can't save the world, but every win we get, no matter how small, makes the world a little better. So focus on what you can do, not just on what you want to do.”

That finally got a small smile. “I've heard similar. Guess I just forgot it.”

“You're cute when you smile. You should do it more,” June said.


His eyes widened. “No way is this face cute.”

“Well I like it,” she said. “Have you had any luck finding a place to stay?”

He shook his head, his sombre expression returning. “Nah. The only places that will rent to me are roach traps. Every other place says I don't have the right references, they just found a renter, or something else. And I think I'm wearing out my welcome in the guest room.”

“Want to live with me?” she asked. “As long as I pay my rent on time, the landlord doesn't care if I have a roommate.”

Dae-Jung was speechless for a minute. Finally he said, “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. We'll need to change a few things, like reinforcing the toilet, but Janet would probably be willing to help with that as long as we pay for the supplies, pizza and beer. Besides that you're tidy, polite, I know you can afford half the rent and other things, and like I said you're cute.”

“I'd love to! But don't you live in a one bedroom apartment?” he asked.

“I figure if we get a king size bed, we'll both fit,” she said, grinning at him.

His face went blank for several seconds as his brain tried to piece together what she'd just said. “Uh, you-you mean-”

She kissed his cheek. “Normally I'd wait a bit before making the offer, but we work well together, I like you, and you did save my life and maybe kept me from being eaten alive. That puts you well above any boyfriends I've had in the past. I asked the boss if it would be a problem, and he said as long as it doesn't interfere with our jobs, he won't say no.”

“YES!” he shouted. “I'd love that. You won't regret it.”

She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him on the lips. There were cheers from their teammates and the rest of the staff, as well as some grumbling as money was passed around.

You. Shall. Not. Harass.



A typical evening at the Crystal Hall. Dinner hour with most of the students trying to rush through the lines, hoping to find whatever they had set their minds on for dinner still in the supersized heating tables and not stripped bare by the locusts that were the big eaters. Tempers as always were a bit high after a long and usually stressful day. Mutant classes on top of the nationally mandated curriculum boht of which would fully occupy a teenager's days. On top of that the various combat classes or the not so occasional superpowered bullying.

The staff of course was long aware of this reality which is why there was a bigger security presence in and around the Crystal Hall, though that still did not necessarily mean much with the well over six hundred students of wildly varied power levels packed into the building. Short of large scale food fights -- which did occasionally get provoked, somehow -- there were enough to the two or three students letting their tempers getting the better of them.

For the most part the aggression was relegated to pushing, shoving and the occasional snarling layered on top of a ton of teen angst and drama. In short, it was the ideal place for Gilded. That was of course not the name he secretly had given himself, but he had not wanted to advertise his powers to the MCO, or to the school to be perfectly honest. And gilded suited his apparent powers well enough to fool those who would scrutinise him to satisfy. Being a Exemplar 3 who somehow had gotten the physical attractiveness package more generally associated with an Exemplar 6, he generally held court at the second level surrounded by his gang of hangers on. He was used to female attention and considered it his due, and the selection was simply more in line to his sense of entitlement on the second floor, while at the same time he did not feel like trying to muscle his way into the top level. Too much drama going on there for his tastes.

Yet sometimes he could no longer resist some of his darker urges and he kicked some hapless group off their table near the food lines so he could heckle the less attractive girls and manipulate them into feeling terrible about themselves. Which he could then feed off, subtly, for the next several days, or weeks if he managed to hit a nerve just right. It also had the happy side effect of providing endless amusement to see those girl's sense of self worth burn to ashes.
Girls by and large could not help themselves but perk up in interest in his presence, as was only his due, so it came as a bit of a surprise when a girl of maybe 15 years, on the undeveloped side really, literally skipped up to him out of the waiting foodline where she had been chatting with her friends while waiting for a salad or some such diet nonsense. He hadn't seen her before which might mean she was new, or that she was freshly released from the prison pens of Hawthorne. Or maybe it did not mean anything and he just had not seen her before. She was after all fairly ordinary looking and he would likely pushed her a little down just to drive home how ugly she was compared to the pretty girls in this high school.

Doubly surprising was that she cheerfully told him "Could you please think happy thoughts? You stink up the whole place."

A bit high on the misery he had already caused to a gaggle of ugly Whitman girls he narrowed his eyes at her as he struggled to keep his anger under control.

The girl narrowed hers a little in response and told him, still somewhat chipper, "You're doing it wrong. Now you're making the stink worse."

One of his mindless hangers on sniggered stupidly "Did that stupid broad just tell you that you stink Gilded?"

His tightly suppressed anger at girls in general, and now this girl in particular, flared and he growled "Why " while he balled his fist and Pushed.

That was as far as he got. Two alarmed looking security guards were far too late to close the last 30 feet of distance between themselves and the rapidly escaliting confrontation.

Gilded had a moment to notice that the girls' nearly black eyes now showed flames, before her hair caught fire and then her entire body. In a moment she was a shadow of a humanoid figure inside a much larger flaming figure, still humanoid. Light in the entire Crystal Hall dimmed unnaturally, as if something kept the sun from reaching in and somehow put the interior light at a long distance. The darkness rapidly deepened and became decidedly manacing, as if the vast open structure of the Hall had been overlayed with an equally vast cavern where a few small torches cast a wavering light moving the deep shadows of every nook, stalagmite and stalagtite around. The last thing was that two winds of yet deeper shadows unfurled from the flaming figure's back. They spread wide and grew until the appeared to fill the entire cavern, even though the were not physically quite that big. Her presence exuded such a power that she seemed to fill the entire hall, leaving everybody presence only the choice between fleeing and cowering before her.
A long line of fire uncurled from her hand, forming a whip that then snapped out with a crack before curling itself around Gilded's neck. It was not illusionaly fire either because the skin near the whip already began to blacken and smoke.

"Bee! Stop!" came an equally autoritative void and presence. "You do not want to do this."
The source of that voice was an unexpected, if iconic, character in a grey robe and pointy hat, carrying a gnarled staff that exuded a sphere of bright white light around him.

"But Fuub? He was stinking up the place and I was very polite when I asked him to stop. And then he wanted to hurt me. And ... he tried to get in here".
The seven foot tall flame girl pointed at its head much like the shadow figure at hits core did, but the shadows retracted themselves, slowly, and the flame whip dissipated. The fire figure shrank down a bit and became more solid, less a flame in roughly the shape of a person and more a young woman who as extremely accurately modelled by a fire underneath her outline, even down to the various colour variations represented by the different temperatures of her fire.

"I know Clara, but you know the rules."

The girl sighed dramatically and muttered "Yes Fuub."
The last remnants of the unnatural shadows disappeared along with her wings and fire manifestation, leaving only the fifteen year old girl standing without a shred of clothing in the middle of a two foot circle of molten and resolidified tile.
At a gesture of mr Geintz one of the security guards came up slowly and very carefully to the girl who was busy glaring at the terrified Gilded. The guard took off her jacket and handed it to the girl, along with a royal blue UV armband. She looked at it for a long moment after she became aware of the presence of the guard and told the manifestation of Gandalf "I was wearing that Fuub. I really was."

"We know Clara. You will not be punished for that. Can I trust you to go quietly with these nice security guards to go to their office and tell what happened?"

"Yes Fuub" she sighed. She turned around, after a long moment of obviously considering the kick the boy on the ground before her where it would hurt him most, but he clearly was already in a great deal of pain from the blackened third degree burn around his neck. The large wet spot between his legs made kicking him there a less than appealing proposition as well.

As the girl meekly walked out of the Crystal Hall between the two security guards, Dr Geintz turned his attention to the crying Gilded.
"Mr Gilmore," he said sternly "you will be escorted to Doyle where they will attempt to treat you for severe burns by infernal fire. After that security will want to have a word with you about why you chose to assault both physically and mentally a student who was clearly warning her UV armband and who tried to warn you of her triggers. And tomorrow morning at 6:30 you will be reporting to the powers test facilities to assess the nature and extend of powers you have so far not only chosen to hide from the school administration but apparently also have freely exercised in violation of the student handbook and general guidelines for acceptable use of psychic powers."

His next announcement came over the PA system of the Crystal Hall. "Any student who has captured any imagery of this incident, wheter intentional or by accident on any form or recording device, I would strongly suggest you take a moment now to check and if necessary erase such recordings. Cybersecurity will do extensive sweeps of the network and anybody found in possession of such images will get the chance to try and explain at an expulsion hearing why they should not be removed from this school for the possession of child pornography.

As four guards escorted out the whimpering Gilded and the two EMT's who had answered the urgent call for burn victim treatment. the leader of the security team at this evening's excitement finally had time to ask Dr Geintz his urgent question.

"What the hell was that?"

"That ... was our latest little headache and bundle of joy in Hawthorne," came the reply. "On the danger of sounding incredibly cliche ... she is normally well behaved and polite"

"But?"

"But, she is a receptive empath, short range but extremely sensitive. Whatever mr Gilmore was feeling must have been acutely painful to her. If, and that is still a big if at this point, he tried to mentally influence her ... well ... her defensive reflexes kicked in."

The squad sergeant sighed "Never a dull moment here at dinner time. Good thing we only have four more days of it before we get off rotation for two months of much needed rest. I have one more question for you before you have to oversee the psychic examination of our lovely twol miscreaans. if you do not mind?"

Dr Geintz nodded.

"What kind of name is Bee for a fire manifestor, and why the Gandalf shtick?"

"The Tolkien estate is extremely protective of its copyrights. You will not get permission to use any of its copyrighted or trademarked names as code name."

Whateley
The Quad

“Hey Mary, have you seen what Teri's doing?” Cheryl, a fellow Whitman freshman asked.

“Not recently, why?”

“She's acting weirder than usual, we thought you should know.”

Mary looked at the sky in frustration. “Why does everyone seem to think I'm Teri's keeper? I'm her roommate, and somehow I'm her friend too. Still trying to figure out how that happened,” she muttered. “But she's fourteen, she can look after herself.”

Just then Buster ran past them as if the Devil himself was on his tail.

Razorback came running up a few seconds later and stopped beside them. Teri was sitting on his head, wearing a cowboy hat, with a piece of string tied like a lasso.

“G'day ladies. Have you seen a no good cattle rustler come by recently?” Teri asked.

“Oh dear god,” Mary said.

Razorback screeched, pointing in the direction Buster had gone.

“Good job, Razorback, lets get that dirty yellow back scallywag! YEE-HAW!” the fairy shouted.

“Scallywag is for pirates, not cowboys!” Mary shouted.

Cheryl watched the two bully busters run off, and then looked at Mary. “So...”

“Not my problem,” Mary said, going back to her book.

Saturday before combat finals
"Ok pranksters, listen up." The voice of Gunny Bardue echoed through the speakers in the occupied sim suites. "The administration has noticed that the 4 of you have a few grudges that need to be settled. So this is your chance to do so, without the risk of catching half the student body in the crossfire. You've got 30 minutes. Have at it. The simulation starts in 5 ... 4 ... 3 ... 2 ... 1... Mark!"

In the control room, the sim tech waited for the microphone to be switched off before querying. "So, when do you plan to tell them that you've knocked them down to baseline and set it to paintball mode?"

"I think I'll let them figure it out on their own."

In the simulator suites, Beltane, Thorn, Generator and Absinthe all blinked as the loading screen for Goldeneye briefly flashed across their vision.

Not canon, not a new character for Gen1 Whateley, just wanted to write something a little nasty.

Phoenix, Arizona
February, 2007

Even with her hair covering her face, Saul was certain the filthy girl sitting on the sidewalk couldn't be more than thirteen. He had seen her around the neighbourhood for the last week, and it was always the same scene. She had a sign in front of her, 'Thrown out of house, need food', but no one was giving her money. The people on the crowded sidewalk gave her plenty of space, even walking on the road, to avoid coming within five feet of her.

He didn't know why they avoided her. He'd walked by her the other day and put fifty dollars into her hat and nothing had happened. She'd looked up at him in shock, and he'd finally caught a glimpse of her face. She was no beauty, with one eye larger than the other, but he'd seen worse faces. Shrugging to himself he was about to leave when a group of young teens came along and surrounded the girl. His gut told him something interesting was likely to happen, so he lit another cigarette to watched the show.

The boys began taunting her, calling her a freak, a monster, telling her to leave. When she ignored them, they started spitting on her, kicking her, pouring their drinks on her head. The pedestrians ignored it all, simply giving them more space. The girl didn't do anything, didn't cry out, didn't call for help, didn't fight back, she just covered her head and accepted the beating. When they got bored of her just sitting there, the oldest boy grabbed her by the hair and dragged her down a nearby alley. She grabbed his hand to keep her hair from being pulled out, but again there was no crying, no fighting.

Saul followed them, keeping well back, not planning on interfering, just curious. When they were out of sight of the street, the teens really began to hit her, stomping on her, trying to break her. She cried, but it was more like a child who had bruised herself in a fall, not like a person being beaten to death. When a boy jumped on her arm, she let out a small yelp of pain. The arm should have been shattered, but all Saul could see from his place was a small red mark. They soon got tired of beating the girl. The apparent leader pulled a knife from his pocket as the others held the girl down.

That finally made the girl react.

The boys holding her arms were jerked off their feet, and thrown into a heap by her side. The one holding her legs got a shoe to the face that shattered his skull. She almost seemed to levitate to her feet, slapping the knife from the leaders hand. As the teen screamed holding his obviously broken wrist, she shoved him into a wall. Saul heard the crack of bones and watched the corpse slide down to the filthy pavement.

He walked over to the carnage, while the girl vomited. Taking out his custom pistol, he shot the surviving teens, the crack of the bullets barely audible thanks to the devised silencer. Putting it back in its holster, he turned to the girl who was done throwing up and now looked at him in horror. “Hello girl. I'm Mr. Luna, I think you should come with me, I could use your talents. I'll make sure you have food, a home and aren't arrested by police,” he said in English.

She moved the hair, letting him see her face clearly for the first time. It was a mess, teeth too large for her mouth, lips too wide for her face, a tiny chin, eyes out of alignment, and a nose that was too narrow at the bridge only to flare out almost comically. “You killed them,” she said, with a faint Spanish accent.

“Yes. You shouldn't leave witnesses when you kill someone. We really should go if you want to take my offer,” he said in Spanish.

She looked at the bodies, then at him. “You gave me money the other day, you aren't scared of me,” she said in the same language.

He shrugged. “I don't think I've ever been scared. Now I'm going to my car, you can follow or not, but this is a one time offer.”

She followed him.

**

The next morning, he watched Veronica eat her third helping of chilaquiles. His staff gave her a wide berth, coming in quickly to place the food in front of her and then almost running away. He couldn't understand why, so he simply filed it away in his mind for later.

She kept her hair in front of her face, clearly ashamed of her appearance. But she had washed herself well the night before, and he thought the clothes he had his staff by her looked quite good on her.

When she cleaned her plate and finally seemed satisfied, he got to his feet. “Come with me Veronica, we are going to begin your training.”

“What exactly am I being trained for?” she asked.

“How to fight, shoot, and defend people. If you do well and obey me, I'll make sure you have everything you need, and when you're old enough a well paid job in my family,” he said.

“And what does your family do?”

“We're the Luna Cartel. I think you could be one of our enforcers.”

She thought it over as they went to the gym. “So I'll be killing people?”

“That's one of the requirements,” he said. “If you don't think you can do it, you can leave now. But you can never come back.”

Her hand brushed her new, clean clothes, while she looked at the large gym with state of the art equipment and a fantastic view of the desert. “I think I can. It's better than starving.”

He nodded in approval. “Then we can begin.”

April

"Kill him,” Saul commanded.

Veronica raised her pistol, pointing it at the badly beaten man. He was trying to talk through a mouthful of blood and broken teeth, his eyes pleading for life. She hesitated, tears filling her eyes.

“He betrayed the family. He needs to die,” Saul said.

She pulled the triggered.

The tears began to fall.

Saul came over handing her a tissue. “You did very well for your first time, Veronica. But the tears, they don't fit a cold-hearted enforcer. You remind me of a ghost story my grandmother use to tell me about La Llorona, the weeping woman.”

She looked up at him, not sure what to say.

He gave her a rare smile. “Yes, that is perfect. You're a mutant, and mutants need a codename, you can be La Llorona.”

July

“Veronica, I am sending you away,” Saul said.

The girl looked at him like he'd just shot her. “Why? I've done everything you asked. I thought I was doing well enough in training. I'll work harder, just tell me what I did wrong and I'll fix it.”

Saul had to pause and think about why she was panicking. Then it struck him that she thought it was a punishment. “You're doing very well Veronica, and I'm very proud of you. That is why I'm sending you away to a school where they teach mutants. I am sending you there to learn how to control your powers better. They will also teach you regular classes along with how to fight.”

Hope shone in her eyes. “I might be able to not scare people anymore?” she asked.

“I hope so, I'm getting annoyed at how my staff is treating you,” he said. “I want you to learn as much as you can, and when you are done you'll be ready to work for the family.”

“I will,” she said, hugging him. “I'll learn as much as I can, and make you proud.”

“I'm sure you will, La Llorona.”