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Post by Lainey Carson on Jun 22, 2006 16:34:24 GMT -4
[Uhh I tried?]
Third week of school. Monday. It was the start of a new rotation, and unfortunately she really wasn’t sure what that meant. The Defense classroom was stuffed with sophomores that she liked, and some she didn’t really like. Blair was sitting next to her, painting her nails under her desk. Seth was in the back corner, spacing out a bit. And that was it for the Team. As for Lainey, she wasn’t paying attention to a thing Jim was saying. Mr. Banks was a good teacher, but there were more important things to think about than how to handle a hostage situation. Like the way his perfect arms drew a cute little diagram on the board of different ways hostages could be held. She had to think about how structured his face was, as if God himself had spent hours laboring over it. The bell sounded, and her chocolate eyes flickered to the clock. It was three; it was the last class of the day. And that could only mean Combat.
She shoved her books into her backpack and slung it over one shoulder carelessly. She walked out of the classroom, sending Mr. Banks a little wave. In the hallway, she adjusted her skirt, thanking God that she could finally get out of it. Combat meant either comfortable shorts and t-shirts or uniforms. And today, everyone was getting their uniforms. Originally, Lainey had thought only the Team would get uniforms, but she was wrong. Everyone was getting one, made to fit them perfectly and to reflect their personality and powers. The only other thing she knew was that all the uniforms had masks of some sort. Like real superheroes.
She had to leave the Front Building and all the normal classrooms to get to Combat, which was in its own huge gym-like arena. A huge floor was surrounded by stadium like seating, and all of it was indoor. Hawthorne Academy couldn’t risk anyone flying above to see what they were doing. As she opened the door, it was obvious everyone else was excited about uniforms too. They were laid out on tables and students were looking at all of them and trying to find their own. With her bag in hand, she advanced toward the pack of students and found the table with hers on it. She picked it up slowly, smiled, and examined it closely.
It reminded Lainey of a lacrosse uniform she had worn. It was a white racer-back shirt, fitted but not spandex-like—exactly like her former uniform. In the middle was a black circle with a yellow L in the middle. Two black sports bras were provided (thanks?) and then a short black cotton skirt. On the sides were strips of white polka dots on a yellow background. There were two pairs of black spandex shorts too. There were black gloves and black fitted boots that seemed to work just like a pair of sneakers. No heel or anything like that. And to top it all off, was her black eye mask. It reminded her of the many superheroes she’d seen before, like Robin’s mask.
The Coach told them to head back to the locker rooms to change. The girls’ room was crowded and Lainey listened softly to the chatter in the background. They talked about boys, from everyone to Seth (not a surprise) to Jim, from Flick to Arrow and beyond. Lainey raised her eyebrows, bored, as she pulled on her spandex shorts and her skirt. The shirt was lower cut then she expected and showed parts of the black sports bra underneath it, but it seemed like that was the point. She pulled her blonde hair back into a ponytail, shoved the black gloves on, which resembled biker’s gloves, and slipped her feet into the boots. Everything fit perfectly. It hugged her body in places and emphasized every good feature. She wouldn’t mind wearing this all the time. And as she made a move to go back outside with the other girls, she saw their faces and remembered her mask. She put it on slowly, watching herself in the mirror. Even though she could still see the color and shape of her eyes, she felt different, like a whole new person. Lainey didn’t know this girl in the mirror. Had the mask done that or was she just being stupid?
Lainey walked back out, mesmerized by the colors, patterns, and designs of everyone’s uniform. A feeling overwhelmed her like never before. This was the real thing. They were superheroes. Decked out in their uniforms made it all too real. And as everyone took seats up in the stadium, wondering what they’d be doing today, Lainey found a seat next to some girls she sort of knew. They exchanged compliments of each other’s uniforms, and then looked back down to the center where the coach was standing impatiently, waiting for everyone to get quiet.
Combat was her favorite class, because it was like gym. It was a matter of showing off what you can do and working until you get better. She loved to take her aggressions out on other people, pretending it was just part of practice, and not suffering for it. Fighting well and beating other people was encouraged here. Lainey watched as a boy walked past in his new uniform. Her chocolate eyes gazed at him for a few seconds, wondering who it was. He looked so familiar; he had been in her last class. And yet, the mask somehow took his name away from her. She shrugged, licked her lips, hoping that they’d do some one on ones or group fighting. Lainey wanted to use her powers in action. And now that she had her very own uniform, she couldn’t wait to get out in Manhattan and prove herself to everyone out there.
Sighing, she watched as more people sat down, and finally the Coach cleared his voice. He was using a megaphone to speak to them, although he probably didn’t need it.
“Alright, guys, you’re uniforms look great,” he said, taking a look around the room. There was appreciative clapping from every person in the room, whether they were a freshman or a senior, a new student or an old student. Lainey stared around at all the faces, knowing what competition there was here. Every person in the school who had a competitive, offensive power was here. And she wanted to beat each and every one of them. “Today and all week we’ll be doing team fights. We’ll do a five vs. five all week and hopefully everyone will get a chance to fight. That means a lot of free time, too, so you can bring homework to do, but I’d rather you all pay attention. Bring your uniform every day. Some will be fighting more than others.”
Someone groaned in the back of the room. A few people giggled. The Coach looked stern. He cleared his throat, and then put his lips back at the megaphone. Lainey wished she could cover her ears. “Donovan, Wright, Rice, McRedner, and Speed on one team. Bishop, Li, Stretch, Rewter, and O’Donnell on the other.”
As kids stood up and headed down the stairs to the floor, Lainey shifted in her seat, watching as still more kids poured out of the locker rooms. She lifted her eyebrow, bored, hoping she’d be able to fight today. As the whistle stung the air, her chocolate eyes focused on the fight going on before her.
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Liao Zhang
Junior Member
Sometimes the silent ones are the ones you should fear the most
Posts: 59
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Post by Liao Zhang on Jun 22, 2006 16:40:22 GMT -4
AHhhh -wants to join- cant decide which character though.....hmm.. oh and its your post in mannie babe
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Post by Molly Hunt on Jun 22, 2006 16:54:04 GMT -4
-pops in- is intiguied... -nods- is considering joining. Stuck Molly in combat because, well empathy's not really defense and she can channel powers... -shrug-
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Post by Molly Hunt on Jun 22, 2006 17:52:25 GMT -4
-my posts around here are getting significantly shorter, so I shall try to make it better…-
Molly Hunt ran down the sidewalk, brushing past students and nearly spilling across the sidewalk. She had had a free period and used it to work on a rousing song about being in control when she had fallen asleep. Could you blame her? Those dorm rooms were designed for comfort. Decorated to her personal taste, they had supplied the godliest bed she had ever slept on. Who was supposed to wake up on time for morning classes when they had a bed like that? They were just setting students up to be late. And she almost was.
In haste, she had thrown on a pair of jeans and a long sleeve shirt, the first thing she could find on her floor. It was hardly the clothes for Combat. The jeans were too tight and she would die of heat stroke in the shirt, especially in the indoor arena. She was already working up a sweat just trying not to be late. She picked her pace up to a jog, holding onto her books for dear life.
“I can’t be late. Not on the first day of a new rotation…” She muttered under her breath.
She recalled her first day at school at her old public school. Her mother’s alarm clock had faltered, and so she pulled into the parking lot at 8:01. Homeroom started at 8:00. She scrambled out of the car, having already missed the bus, and skidded right into the principal. After a lecture on running in the hallway, she was sent on her way without a pass and was thereby labeled “the late girl” by her fellow classmates. I didn’t say they were smart. To make matter worse, Molly had just begun coming into her powers, so every class she had, twenty-six other bored students magnified her boredom, and she had actually fallen asleep in her World Geography class.
Molly snapped out of her trance in time to avoid colliding with the long line of students forming to get their uniforms. Good god. She took in the building. It’s vast ceiling and arena like floor took her breath away. Why, oh why, was she signed up for this class? Her power wasn’t active enough to be used in combat. She could really only channel when she took on a serious set of emotions, so unless she was going to be battling girls with PMS, she was in serious trouble. She bit her nails out of nervous habit. Lowering her guard, she braced herself to see what she was really up against, if she even had a chance…sadly no. Not a peep. Well, excitement, but that emotion was enough to get her rolling. You would think with thirty some students in the room; there would be some resentment to help her not be the loser who couldn’t activate her powers.
The line moved, and she stepped up to look for her uniform. What could make this day worse? One word. Spandex.
“Please no spandex…or leather…” She mumbled, scanning for her name.
Molly Hunt. She found her name, and picked up the bundle. She moved away from the madness that was the crowd of students, and stared down at her uniform. Everything was a shocking blue, and a gray. She set her books down and held up a under armor like t-shirt, with a slight V-neck. There was a blue and gray stripped M on either shoulder, and a set of gloves without the finger tips on them that sported the same M. There was a blue sports bra and a gray sports bra, and matching spandex (damn. So close.) She held up a pair of short gray shorts, which looked like something they pulled out of her running closet. All in all, this outfit looked exactly like one she would wear on the track, except with more style, and cuter shoes.
She slinked to the locker room, slipping into the outfit. It was comfortable, and made her wonder if there were cameras in her dorm. How else would they know this fit exactly, physically and mentally? Silly thought, magic of course. The blue matched her eyes magnificently; she smiled as she looked at herself in the mirror. They brought out the shocking blue even more so, if it was even possible.
“I can deal with that.” She smirked, stepping out into the arena again. But any confidence she had had vanished when she looked at all the students again.
She was going to die. Maybe she could feign sick? Seriously, it’d be better than being crushed by the blunt power that all these other students possessed. She moped over to bleachers as the first battle was announced. At least she had the chance to sit out this one and watch what she was up against. Before meeting her sudden doom. Her knee bounced nervously, making the bench shake. Some students were too absorbed in the battle to commence to care, but others scowled. She stopped, looking at the arena. What had she gotten herself into?
-well...its not total crap-
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Post by Jake Wallace on Jun 22, 2006 21:00:49 GMT -4
*ponders* The team uniforms should probably be similar, right? I'm going to say yes.
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Post by Jake Wallace on Jun 22, 2006 21:27:01 GMT -4
School wasn’t Jake’s favorite subject. He had trouble keeping his eyes uncrossed throughout his Study of Ancient Languages class, which was easily his most boring class. The others were at least a little more hands on. In potions, he was able to throw a punch of crap in a bucket and boil it. In cooking, he got to throw a bunch of crap in a bucket and boil it. In photography, he got to throw a bunch of crap in a bucket, boil it, and take pictures of it.
During classes such as Study of Ancient Languages, Jake was able to have some time to himself. He was able to catch up on his sleep, to think about various subjects, such as Wynne, marijuana, and food. He was able to watch other people take notes, do the class work, scratch themselves, and pass notes. On that level, Hawthorne Academy wasn’t very different at all from the middle school he had attended in Massachusetts. In Jake’s opinion, the two schools weren’t very different in many ways. First and foremost, they were both schools with kids and teachers and homework. Secondly, it was full of little groups of people that losers with no friends called “cliques” (if you couldn’t fit in any group, that was your own fault, not anyone else’s). Thirdly, it had rules that you were supposed to follow, but as long as you went into the bathroom, no one was going to see you smoke pot or make out. Sure, there was the whole thing about Hawthorne being full of genetically mutated freaks, but if you walked through Hawthorne Academy and Mildred Avenue Middle School, you might not be able to tell the difference. The only major difference that Jake could see was the classes.
He laced his fingers and put his hands behind his head, the classic I’m Not Listening pose. The professor was fully aware that Jake was ignoring every word that she was saying, or that he had no idea about what was going on up on the board, and what’s a teacher to do when they want to catch a student not paying attention?
“Mr. Wallace? Derive the evolution of the Greek language for me in no more than five steps.”
There were many answers to that question. “Fuck you,” “No thanks,” “Kiss my ass,” or the possibility of bullshitting the whole thing. Jake rubbed his forehead with his ring finger. He couldn’t think of a smart comeback. It seemed as though he had used them all, and he already had a few detentions from not doing homework and staying out late on Friday night. Jake shook his head, and shrugged with his hands as well as his shoulders. The professor nodded. “I thought so,” she said. “Please pay attention for the last-“ she looked up over her shoulder at the clock “-five minutes of my class.”
Easier said then done.
Jake waited until the last thirty seconds of class and then scribbled down a crappy, half-ass copy of the tree drawn on the board, the trunk labeled nothing more original than “Latin.” Had he not learned this stuff last year? Well, some of them had, but Jake hadn’t been listening. When the bell rang, he crumpled up the paper, stuffed it in his bag, and took his schedule out from his pocket. Oh, right. Combat.
Combat was actually one of the better classes Jake had. It wasn’t as good as gym, where you could just run around and still get a good grade, but at least you got to do something. It was one of the classes Jake considered training for whatever the Team did. Combat/Undercover, Defense, and Strategy seemed directly related to fighting crime or whatever.
It wasn’t until Jake reached the general vicinity for Combat that he remembered: today they were getting their uniforms. Jake had mixed feelings about the whole Superhero Uniform Thing at Hawthorne. His first year at Hawthorne, his uniform had been an embarrassing jumpsuit, complete with the little footies at the bottom. The hands and toes had the fingers cut out because he was supposed to grow claws or whatever when he was able to morph on command. The staff had told him that it was a developmental suit or something, and they would add things according to his progress in his CYP class. Jake hadn’t gotten very far that year, and the only piece they had added was a cape so that Jake could sort of hide himself when he got caught in limbo with a tail, big teeth and huge unibrow. Not his best year.
“Wallace!” someone shouted. Jake raised his hand and waved it around until a bag came flying towards him. He caught it, and opened it up.
“Are you kidding?”
He said, holding up a skimpy banana hammock.
“I’m bigger than that!”
The one-piece little Speedo could not possibly be his Superhero, I’m On The Team Hear Me Roar costume. He started to shout that someone had fucked up, but the Speedo and bag were grabbed out of his hand. A skinny kid with black, floppy hair was glaring at him. He mumbled something to Jake. After some prompting, Jake got “It says Walter, retard.” The kid brandished the bag at him, where it read, “WALTER JACOBS.” Jake laughed.
“Dude what’s your power?”
Walter Jacobs mumbled something and scuttled away into the crowd, leaving Jake to shout his name. Someone passed it back through the crowd, and Jake grabbed it before anyone could take it from him. Instead of opening it right then and there, he figured that maybe he’d have more luck if he waited until he got into the locker rooms.
Inside, Jake wolf-whistled at more self-conscious underclassmen who had turned into corners to take off their shirts and expose their snow-white, skinny little backs.
Jake’s bag contained an outfit that, although still embarrassing, could only have been an upgrade from his first uniform. The uniform was all leather chaps with the buttcheeks cut out. Not. The whole thing was stretchy, spandex-y, and black and yellowy. He had leggings, predictably, but no boots. In fact, he seemed to have no shoes at all. The shirt was sort of like a jersey, so it was more loose than tight. On the back, there was a yellow J in a circle. The knees and elbows had ribbed pieces of metal to presumably work as some sort of armor. There was a chest piece as well, but only in the front, and, to his disappointment, it seemed to go under the jersey. His favorite part, though, was the leathery gauntlets. They went up to the elbow (which covered some of the sweet metal action as well) and opened at the fingers. They covered pretty much only the palms, where they were heavily padded. He had no mask, presumably because his face underwent the most drastic changes.
Jake jogged out of the locker rooms, cracking his knuckles and rolling his head. He threw a cat-call at a half-dressed Freshman, whose uniform was dominantly bright green. He looked like a skinny little pile of radioactive waste.
In the main room, there was an oval open. He took a seat somewhere in the middle and listened to the Coach shout directions. He joined in the jeers, cat-calls, and whoops at the mention of everyone’s new uniforms. When the ten people whose names had been called stepped forward, Jake shouted “Yeah Speed. You run fast you little bitch!”
[crappy ending but whatever]
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Liao Zhang
Junior Member
Sometimes the silent ones are the ones you should fear the most
Posts: 59
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Post by Liao Zhang on Jun 23, 2006 10:31:01 GMT -4
still can't decide who to join as, so I'm going to be a schitzo and join at liao and then post as flick -bounds off-
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Liao Zhang
Junior Member
Sometimes the silent ones are the ones you should fear the most
Posts: 59
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Post by Liao Zhang on Jun 23, 2006 11:13:32 GMT -4
"Oh God what the hell are you? stop, please let me go, please! I was kidding, it was a joke, please God, please."
These were screams heard in sleep, in daydreams. Everytime he blinked, Liao Zhang heard the pleas for salvation, heard the victim of his greatest crime scream. It wasn't a stomach turning event or one of nightmares. He felt little remourse in what happened to the boy. In what he did to that boy. He was a sacrifice to power, without him Liao might have still been in Taiwan. He might still be walking down the same school hallways, a weak-link in the Zhang family chain. He might still be enduring his brothers beatings. He might still only have archery and drawing as escapes from the dull, depressing life he led. If it weren't for that boy's death, Liao might have never released his powers.
It was less than a year ago, towards the end of his sophmore year of highschool. Liao was walking down the hallway, pushing his way through the crowds of people. The only thoughts on his mind where that of his family. HIs fathers embarassment of his artist son. His mothers fear that the boy would remain weak and beaten by the world. His brothers physical abuse. Then someone tripped him and down he fell, landing with a loud thud on the black tile floor, bracing himself up with his hands, his long black hair falling infront of his then mahagony eyes. Ow. He muttered a few unpleasent words beneath his breath and reached for his books, but as his hand touched one a foot toppeled on top of it. In shock, the boy withdrew his hand and followed the foot up to a leg and to a face. The tripper. The boy that made him fell.
"Whats wrong, Little Liao? Afraid of being late for class? Jeeze, don't get all hot and upitty little Liao, we got time to play a little before the bell rings."
With that the boy kicked Liao's book across the hall and he watched it slide and hit the opposite wall. Anger...anger...anger. ENOUGH. Liao closed his eyes and growled deep inside his throat. The winds and doors in the hall crashed open, huge gusts of wind filling the hallways. Students papers flew, girls uniform skirts went flying up, people were screaming. And then Liao opened his usually almond color eyes to stare at the boy. He rose onto his feet, as if being carried by the wind and clapped his hands. The wind directed the boy across the hall where Liao's book lay on the ground and the boy was held against the wall as Liao took a step forward and slowly made his way. People were screaming. Choas. Choas. BEAUTIFUL MADNESS. The boy pinned against the wall struggeled and closed his eyes screaming loudly. Thunder pounded outside.
"You want to play? Alright. Lets play human lightbulb."
CRASH. Liao blacked out five seconds later. He was sent to a hospital and when he was revived, he found that a freak storm had sent lightning towards the school that struck the boy. The janitors were still peeling him off the walls. None of the students revealed it was Liao, they were all to much afraid, Liao knew the truth that he had killed this boy. And so did someone else. A man appeared at his house, when he was released by the hospital. The man, calling himself The Dean, told his parents of what really happened that day in the hall. They were shocked but not appauled, it was the first time Liao's father wrapped an arm around his shoulder lovingly. The Dean told them of a school, far from Taiwan, a place in America, in New York City. A place for kids like Liao, with special talents.
Two weeks later, Liao found himself in a country he had only seen on the news.
Language was not a problem. They taught english in schools and that, other than art, was the only class he excelled in. No, the hard part, was being with people. It did not disturb him that he had killed someone. It wasn't as if he had culture shock. It certainly wasn't that he was a nerdy bookworm who didn't know how to be social. No, there were two problems with Liao's coming to Hawthorne Academy. 1. He was shy making it hard to socialize with the children and 2. He didn't like when people touched him. Atleast without permission. If someone touched him, it made him angry. And when he was angry, he was ANGRY.
This was his first year at Hawthorne, his junior year. The people there were....insulting. The only people he could completly stand were the professors. Mainly the Ancient Languages and Art teachers, for the both knew that Liao was not much of a talker, but a hard worker and did not press that it was unhealthy for a boy his age to have so much resentment and no friends. The art teacher was the first person to ever support his drawing. His mother had wanted to be an artist, but instead became a designer in his fathers company. Zhang Enterprises. One of Taiwan's largest technical companys and producer of car parts. These were really the only two classes Liao ever showed up to. Those and Fencing. he was slightly disappointed that Archery had not been a choice for what they called 'electives' but he understood.
People seemed to think swords were a better skill in battle.
"Please god no!"
Liao sat on the roof overhang right outside his bedroom window. They had dorm rooms here, decent ones with closet space and comfortable beds. He didn't mind the room much, other than kids could come in and out of it as they pleased, no matter how much Liao threatened them, it took them weeks to realize he was not the kind of person who enjoyed having people barge into his room. So, when people did try to break in, he found himself climbing out of the window and onto his roof overhang, staring out at the grounds. This truely was the only place one could be alone in this awful school. It was a good place, he supposed, for children who wanted to pretend they were normal. But Liao relished his powers. He adored them. And the Dean was trying to hold him back, trying to keep an eye on him and trying to convince him that true happiness was returning to society.
Destruction was true happiness.
Beep beeep beeep.
Inside his room, an alarm went off. Shit. Class time. But which one? He hadn't felt like going to Ancient Languages today, and he knew the professor wouldn't bother to ask him why. LLiao growled deep inside his throat and opened the window, climbing into his room and grabbing his black emssanger bag. Flipping it open he dug through the sketch pads, drawing books, pastels, charcole, inks, paints to find a crumbled up ball of white paper. His slender fingers unraveled it.
Liao Zhang: Schedule for the year
Today was...first rotation? His black eyes followed the words on the paper. Combat. His heart pounded. It was a class he yearned to expierence. Violence. Choas. Some of Liao's favorite things. The Dean once told him, that he was capable of so much good, that he needed to resist the evils in life. But death and choas were a part of life, were they not? People couldn't go around being all sunshine and daisies constantly. Not unless they wanted Liao to strike them down.
Liao opened his closet door and reached in pulling out a pair of nice black pants, a red dress shirt and a black tie. He didn't like jeans, he didn't like these baggy pants that american boys wore. So he 'dressed for success'. After pulling the articles of clothing on he glanced at the mirror. The eyes staring into his were a perpetual black. After the 'accident', his eyes became a vast blackness that gave him an intense almost alien like look. He was one of the few students there who had physical reprecausions of his powers. He couldn't hide his eyes. And these were the only things he hated about his powers. They were a detachment of who he was, were he belonged.
They were the only part of him he yearned to be normal.
Tearing himself away from the mirror he grabbed his bag and walked quickly through the corridors, weaving past students who gave him terrified looks. Many already knew who he was, but not by name. By reputation. His first week there, while on the archery range a small boy named...flick, was it? tried to play a joke on Li. Li did not find it amusing. But then flick didn't find arrows being shot at him every amusing either.
He exited the building and headed for the Arena in which Combat classes were supposed to be held. Walking in he stepped back a bit.God it was loud in there. And crowded. Liao despised crowds, being a naturally shy boy and not liking for people to touch him, crowds were terribly uncomfortable. He saw people swarming around tables, grabbing clothing. Was he supposed to look for his name? Did they have clothes they were assigned to? And here he thought he had left uniforms back in Taiwan. They were in alphabetical order. Well that should make it easy, seeing as he was probably the only Z in the entire school. Heading to the last table in the room, he found a bundle of clothes.
Hm.
He grabbed them and walked towards the locker rooms, setting his bag down and pulling each article of clothing out piece by piece. Boots. He got to wear combat boots. Large black ones. He inspected the shoes and...whats this? Did he actually smile for half a second? The source of the smile? He had discovered they were steel toed. Sweet, as American kids said. The next article of clothing, a black long sleeve spandexy shirt, that had a zipped collar up to his chin(which he left open just below his neck) and a red LZ emblem on the chest. He wasn't going to complain really, it would have been a very different situation if the boy was embarassed of his body. Liao was not self involved, and had very little ego at all (unless it came to his powers) but he was not afraid to show his body. He had a very fine toned chest. Booya. The third article was a pair of pants. Black spandex pants, much like the shirt but the material was looser than the shirt so there was no -uh- bulge shown. So...the boots go over the pants? whatever. The next to articles of clothing were a little ridiculous in Liao's point of view. A cloak? What did he need a cloak for? To fly? he had flown without a cape, thank you very much. He set the black thing to the side and picked up the last part of the costume. A black mask, like those dorky superheros from TV wore. Like these really kept anyones identity.
With a sigh the boy removed his shirt and pants and pulled on his costume, he strapped the boots on, slipped the mask on and pulled on the cloak feeling extremly foolish. Liao glanced in thenearby mirror. He looked less ridiculous than he thought. Infact, he looked sort of menacing. His normal height was about 5'11-6 feet, and the boots made him even taller. The cloak made his entire body resemble his eyes. Perpetual black. Intense. He locked up his things and then exited the locker rooms looking around. What now?
He glanced around at the people, all showing off their powers, teasing each other about their costumes. He didn't have anyone to tease not that he would if he knew anyone. Liao stood against a shadowed wall, crossing his arms over his chest and examining the students, trying to size them up.
"The next two teams will be called in a few minutes"
Liao looked around to find the source of the voice and spotted a stocky man in a gym uniform. Their coach? Um alright. Boredum. His dark eyes scanned the room and finally he closed them, creating a freezing breeze to spread throughout the arena. IT was getting to hott in there for his tastes anyway.
[awful post wasn't sure what to do with antisocial Little li]
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Post by Lainey Carson on Jun 23, 2006 21:55:06 GMT -4
*Will Post Soon* *Was Waiting For Others To Join*
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Liao Zhang
Junior Member
Sometimes the silent ones are the ones you should fear the most
Posts: 59
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Post by Liao Zhang on Jun 23, 2006 22:02:59 GMT -4
dumdedumdumdum
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Post by Lainey Carson on Jun 23, 2006 22:04:04 GMT -4
Yo. I posted in the Manhattan thread by the way. *Nod*
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Liao Zhang
Junior Member
Sometimes the silent ones are the ones you should fear the most
Posts: 59
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Post by Liao Zhang on Jun 23, 2006 22:11:01 GMT -4
yup i'm working on it as we speak
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Post by Alison Carmichael on Jun 23, 2006 22:27:37 GMT -4
I might reply to this...I should have time before sport. Rawr.
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Post by Alison Carmichael on Jun 23, 2006 23:16:25 GMT -4
Alison had always looked for explanations about her powers and where they had come from. She’d come up with many wild theories ranging from over exposure to breeding shows to concentrated radiation. For a while she had pondered the idea about her cell mutations and multiplication. It had seemed logical, to be constantly giving parts of yourself away, to be constantly prodded with chemicals to make your cells multiply faster. That could have triggered the mutation. Or perhaps it had started from birth. Having her DNA so carefully created in a lab could have done something to it. Perhaps she’d been exposed to something in their or perhaps just the idea of replicating Kate’s genes so she’d be able to be her donor had done it. However, whatever it was Alison didn’t mind. She loved her powers, being able to duplicate herself became interesting. Sometimes, right before surgery she’d do it and her clone would sneak to Kate’s room to give her a last hug and hold her hand. It was also pretty useful with idea of being attacked. They could approach her; she could surround them and then, kick their butt basically. They’d probably think they were delusional but what would it matter if she prevented a rape attack or a kidnapping. She couldn’t afford not to be there and healthy for Kate in case she needed her. That’s why she took the pills, almost as many as the sick one, several pills a day each with a medical reason joined to it but lost somewhere on her memory. It didn’t matter; she took them anyway, for Kate. It was always all for Kate.
First day of actual classes and Alison was getting used to the weird rotation system. It was almost the end of the day with one final subject to claim her until she was set free to- do homework. Stupid icky school. You were either in class, studying or doing homework. A ridiculous system, all the kids did was live and breathe numbers and facts and formulas, their mind swamped and their brain tired. The kids must be running on a caffeine-based diet because Alison was beat.
However not tired enough to show a glimmer of excitement as she shrugged off her shirt and pulled on the first part of her new uniform. It would appear that her colour was black, with a quick glance around the change room she concurred. Why did she always get black when others wore reds and blues, yellows and greens, there was a whole rainbow of colours and she got black. Black didn’t stand out, black faded into the background, it was mysterious, deadly and well, like a shadow. And okay, perhaps that summarised her entire being but still. Exhaustion had made her grouchy. Alison’s costume was simple and it was supposed to be that way to avoid mistakes during duplication, it was harder to duplicate when you were wearing an obscene costume combination with odds and ends. Picking up the pair of pants Alison tugged at them, stretchy. She pulled them on. For her first year at Hawthorne they had chosen for her a black pair of stretchy to the knee pants, a black short skirt, two pairs of looser shorts and two shirts, one with short sleeves and a v-neck that dipped low and the other, just an ordinary tank, all in black. However rotating her shirts she discovered a royal blue circle on the back with an A in the centre. Lovely.
After tugging on the black heelless boots they had provided her Alison stood and gave herself a quick glance in the mirror, no cape, no gloves, no mask. Combing her hair away from her face with her fingers she pulled it into a ponytail, loose waves spilling free from the elastic. She hadn’t always had such beautiful hair. In a way Alison saw it as a reward, not from God, because she dared not to believe but perhaps from her body, which seemed to be thing that people worshipped around her neighbourhood anyway. At age nine Kate had started to loose her hair again. As Sara’s brushed her fine tangle of blonde wisps, strands became caught in the bristles and clung to it. Picking them off before her daughter could see Sara had leant towards her, the young girl that chatted so animatedly on the stool and had suggested they shave it. The very concept was met with an outburst. Kate had cancer, she’d had it the majority of her life and she’d been fighting hard the entire time, beating the odds with Alison right by her side. But she didn’t want people to know as they walked down the street. To look at her instantly, eyes scraping over a shiny baldhead to look to the flor, embarrassed. She didn’t want to be just a patient.
So Kate had refused, until two mornings later when she ran her hand through her hair only to remove it with a ball of pale blonde. She’d screamed. Sara had come running, Alison right behind. Brian was on call but if he’d seen he surely would have come running too. She’d looked up, tears streaming down her cheeks, anger and disappointment, a glint of raw failure welling in her eyes. ‘Shave it.’ She’d said. And they had. And then they’d shaved Alison’s too, for she had bounced around so excited as Kate’s hair was removed. And then after that Sara had let them shave her hair. They’d gone out to the shops later that afternoon, hands clasped tightly together, three baldheads shining in the glow of the pale morning sun. They hadn’t let anyone beat them; they’d stared them all down and they laughed, long and hard, shrill giggles escaping the barriers.
Alison’s power had been tamed and controlled from an early age, duplication it seemed was rather fun. She also specialised in a form of gymnastics, not as a power, although perhaps that made it easier, but rather as a learnt talent. She’d chosen not to study it at Hawthorne, figuring they did gym and she already knew enough. With a final glance in the mirror Alison noticed the blooming bruises across her two upper arms. They weren’t signs of mistreatment nor drug abuse, in fact they were where the needles had gone in when she’d last visited the hospital. Still, not wanting people to think she was some type of freak Alison snatched up her loose blue jacket and pulled it on overtop of her costume. A nod to her mirror and she was gone.
R-entering the gym from the girls locker rooms Alison skirted around the edge and took a place next to a blonde girl on the stands. She didn’t know her but she had glimpsed her at that party a couple of night’s back. She contemplated introducing herself but she seemed so focused that Alison turned and faced the arena. The five kids faced each other, awaiting the whistle.
She found herself tensing, waiting for the whistle too.
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The Amazing Flick
Full Member
I am awesome, and you know it...your just jealous because even when I shrink mines bigger than yours
Posts: 126
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Post by The Amazing Flick on Jun 24, 2006 9:03:38 GMT -4
"I've got a lovely bunch of cocanuts dedaleedee there they are standing in a row bumbumbum..."
Jeremy Swanson lay ina large white bath tub, his body consumed in blue bubbles, his hair sticking up in odd spikes from his shampoo. Today, he had decided not to go to class and he knew that would earn him a detention later. Girls had it easy, if they didn't show up to class they could blame it on cramps. He tried that once but instead of being excused they quickly took him to the infirmary. Lame. He just wasn't feeling class today. IT was so nice outside, the birds were singing, the sun was shining. And after a quick run...yeah believe it or not he actually did some physical activity, the boy decided to slip into the bathtub with his rubber ducky and soak till first rotation.
"Rubber ducky your the one.Quack Quack Quack. Yo make bathtime lots of fun Quack Quack Quack rubber ducky your the one for mmeeeee."
He snickered at the lonely blue rubber ducky floating amongst the bubbles. HOw childish right? Well we all have those days were you just got to let go your seriousness and be silly again. Regain your five year old mentality. Even if that was Flick's mentality everyday, today was his day to be utterly foolish. He planned on spiking his hair today, wearing a hawaiin shirt and cargo shorts, sandals and bringing his rubber ducky in one hand and Polaris in another. Polaris is his snake let us not forget.
"Blub Blub blub."
The boy submerged himself beneath the bubbley waters to cleanse his hair of the soap and resurfaced releasing a long held breath. Ah. All clean. His hand searched the bottom of the tub for the plug and upon finding it he gave it a nice tug and wwwwhhhhhoooshhhhhh, down the water went in a spiraling motion, taking the bubbles with him. Jeremy just sat in the tub watching the water deminish before finally standing up, jumping out of the tub and grabbing a blue towel(you see a theme here?) and wrapping it around his lower torso. Grabbing his rubber ducky, he walked into the next room(his dorm room) and turned on his sterio, grabbing his brush and sliding back into the bathroom.
"I know you wanna leave me, but I refuse to let you go If I have to beg and plead for your sympathy, I don't mind coz' you mean that much to me
Ain't too proud to beg, sweet darlin Please don't leave me girl, don't you go Ain't to proud to plead, baby, baby Please don't leave me, girl, don't you go"
The Temptations blasted, the classic 50's group filled every corner of the dorm room and bathroom, echoing off the walls. Flick loved it. He grooovedddd to it. Side step, grape vine, slide, box step woooo. Grinning he spun infront of the mirrors and combed some of his damp hair pushing it up into different hair styles. The first result made him look like a skinny blonde superman. Fabulous darling just fabulous. Snickering he spun around again. SIde step, grape vine, slide, box step, bounce.
"Now I heard a cryin' man, is half a man with no sense of pride But if I have to cry to keep you, I don't mind weepin' if it'll keep you by my side
Ain't to proud to beg, sweet darlin Please don't leave me girl, don't you go Ain't to proud to plead, baby, baby Please don't leave me girl, don't you go"
He re-combed his hair and spun back into his dorm room, letting the towel drop from his lower body and pulling on a pair of his favorite boxers(black with blue lightning bolts.) Corrrection: LUCKY boxers. He had been wearing them when he and BLair first...well...you know. He then pulled on a pair of socks and his tooth brush and slid back tino the bathroom. Thickly spreading the toothpaste upon the brustles of the tooth brush, he commenced with shining them pearly whites.
If I have to sleep on your doorstep all night and day just to keep you from walkin' away let your friends laugh, even this I can stand cause I want to keep you any way I can
Ain't too proud to beg, sweet darlin' Please don't leave me girl, don't you go Ain't to proud to plead, baby, baby Please don't leave me girl, don't you go
Flick tried to sing along, but what with the toothbrush in his mouth he ended up just slobbering toothpaste all over the place. LAughing hysterically at himself, he cleaned it up and rinsed his mouth. Ah beautiful and minty fresh. He grinned at himself in the mirror, winked, spun around and pointed at himself winking again, before spinning back into his dorm room. His socked feet went from cold tile to nice hardwood floor, to carpet as he stepped onto the carpet which lay beneath his closet/dresser thing. Theres some fancy name for it...Flick didn't know it. Spreading the doors wide he pulled out his blue hawaiin shirt that held palm trees, bear bottles and scantily clad women on it, and his beige cargo shorts. Upsadaisy. Pulling them on, he grabbed his addidas and strung thme on as well. Back to the bathroom.
Weeee.
He spun in with the hair gel and danced infront of the mirror as the song continued. Man he was making record time today. Already he had gone for a run, taken a bath, and danced like a fool. Better slow down Flick, pretty soon there will be nothing left on your to-do list for today. Slicking some gel onto his hand he masterfully rubbed it through his hair and then his hands worked intricatly to create blonde spikes randomly all over the place. The result wasn't bad, infact he probably looked better in this fashion than with his hair ungeled. But the fact he was wearing the ridiculous shirt made him terribly unattractive.
He quickly ran into his dorm, grabbed his bag and rushed out. Shit, all this time infront of the mirror and now he'd be late. And he was making such good time till six seconds ago. MUtering xcues mes and pardon me's, Jeremy tried to push and shove his way through the crowd, but being much smaller than most of them, he was uncapable of doing so. Unleash the beast? Growing big was always a problem with Jeremy. He could shrink to about the size of a pin head and grow to reach about 11-12 feet tall. It was just, when he became that big, his anger usually got the bteter of him. But he had been practicing....and it was only for a few seconds. Closing his eyes, he felt his legs get long, his arms grow larger, his body stretch out. It was a painful endevour everytime. He opened his shocking lue eyes. Wow...no anger what so ever. The boy leaped over peoples heads, his large hands pushing them out of the way to clear a path. 5...4....3....2....1...And down he went, back to normal size as he sprinted across the grounds towards the stadium.
Combat.
Believe it or not, Flick enjoyed combat. He got to wail on people with no reason other than..to wail on them. He was alright with pysical tormnet, it was mental that he despised. Reminded him to much of his father. But we all know the tormented story of a young freak, living in a conservative christian home in the boonies of New Orleans, cast out of his house by gun point after fifteenth birthday never to return again. Sob. LIttle Violin. Anyway.
"Swanson Swanson."
He muttered to himself looking at the tables. Where the hell was his uniform. And thenh e found it. He didn't want to look at it till he got into the locker room. Tucking it under one arm he rushed into the locker rooms and tore open the package. He pulled out a metallic blue zipper up spandex long sleeve shirt. Seriously? Spandex? What the hell were the thinking? But then, it probably did very well with his shrinking and growing. It must have been hard to find material adaptable to change. All these years and JEremy had been shrinking and when he returned to his normal size would be completly naked becuase his clothes would simply slip off. His hands went over the material. It felt nice, and there was a circle with a green F in the center. Why F? Why not J? He set the shirt to the side and pulled out a pair of blue long cargo pants. Um..ok...because those would shrink with him? But the professor/Dean/coach....whoever must have a reason behind that right? Lastly he pulled out a small blue mask, like Robin wore in bathman and robin.
The boy pulled off his hawaiin shirt and pants, and slipped on his uniform over his spikey hair, slapping the mask on and glancing in the mirror. Super Flick! He posed. Nahhh...FLickeroo! to gay. The Amazing Flick. Bingo! Perfect. Grinning, he hopped out of the locker room, searching the crowd for recognizable faces. HIs eyes zoomed in, on Jake wallace. Taking a running start, Flick jumped on the boys back, piggy back style and then jumped off again landing on his knees and gripping Jakes pants with his hands making a tormented pleading face as he sung at the top of his lungs:
" Now I've gotta love so deep in the pit of my heart And each day it grows more and more I'm not ashamed to come and plead to you baby If pleadin' keeps you from walkin' out that door
Ain't too proud to beg, you know it sweet darlin' Please don't leave me girl, don't you go Ain't to proud to plead, baby, baby Please don't leave me girl, don't you go Baby, baby, baby, baby (sweet darling)."
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