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Dustyn Merle

"You don't fuck with me, I don't fuck with you"

0 · 714 views · located in Point Place, Maine

a character in “The Mistfits”, as played by Ivisbo

Description

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"After a while, you run out of things to keep yourself numb"






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| N A M E |
Dustyn Elias Merle

| N I C K N A M E |
Dusty, Dust | Only by close friends and family
Merle | By anyone that doesn't know him

| A G E |
18

| G E N D E R |
Male

| E T H N I C I T Y |
American; Mexican and Persian decent

| B I R T H D A T E |
October 31st; Scorpio

| S E X U A L I T Y |
Pansexual

| POWER |
Therianthropy




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| HEIGHT |
6'2"

| WEIGHT |
165 pounds

| EYE COLOR |
Green

| HAIR COLOR |
Black

| ODDITIES |

Apart from the general splatter of bruises and cuts that always reappear before they can heal, Dustyn has plenty of scars covering him. From fights mostly, many from his short time in juvie. They don't faze him, just like it doesn't faze him when he gets a new one- its all just apart of his life now.

| APPEARANCE |
All angels and sharp lines, Dustyn looks like a dangerous predator. His strong cheek bones jetting out over hollowed checks and his sharp brows furrowed over his lidded green eyes give him a haunting appearance. Dustyn's gaze is one of the most jarring things about him- even when he seems relaxed and at ease, his eyes tell a different story. Harsh, cold, criticizing, and intense, the vibrate green hue looks more like a snake then a humans. And like a snake, Dustyn's eyes cold charm you one second, mesmerize you into thinking he is as docile as a dog... and be at your throat the next.
Though quite tall, he is not overtly large- more lithe and toned like a cross country runner. He carries himself high and walks with a 'I don't give a fuck' swagger- rarely does Dustyn make eye contact or lower his gaze to others. Although he is one of those guys that takes a shower maybe once a week and barely takes care of himself visually, Dustyn is generally considered a very attractive man. If his social skills and constant scowl were different, his popularity would me enormous. But as it is, Dustyn's rigid posture and 'go fuck yourself glare keep most others far away. His knuckles are always bruised from fights and its not unusual for him to be sporting a swollen lip or black eye. And with his constant ensemble of black clothes- black t-shirt, black skinny jeans, black converse, black leather jacket- Dustyn entire aura keeps people averting their eyes and stepping out of his way when he comes prowling towards them.
Of course, Dustyn is one of the rare few that can change his appearance at will. In Animal form, he usually takes on the appearance of a large, dark, predatory animal. Even if the species has naturally light fur by nature, Dustyn's transformation will automatically create a slightly darker furred being. He blames this on his black, greasy hair as a human, though it may also be because of his dark personality. Though he can generally change into whatever he wishes, Dustyn's favorites are raccoon, doberman, harris hawk, and panther.



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ImageImageImageImage| PERSONALITY |
His powers didn't change much about Dustyn- for the most part, he was always a bit animalistic- instinctual in who he chooses to trust, unhinged in his love for violence and fights, and savagely temperamental towards those that rub him the wrong way.
On first appearance, Dustyn is the kind of person you shift your eyes away from on the street. His stringy black hair, daunting posture, and hollowed intense eyes send chills down your spine and force your feet to move a bit faster. And he doesn't care- he actually very much enjoys that his presence makes people uncomfortable. It makes him feel powerful, a feeling that is hard to come by for a kid that lives in a trailer with his drunk father. While most of his personality stems from watching how his father acts, a lot of it comes from simply anger problems. Dustyn might be angry at the world for the short hand he's been given, maybe he's angry for loosing his mom so early. But these aren't things he thinks about- Dustyn isn't the kid of guy that thinks through his actions, nor does he wonder 'why' when something unexplained happens. He's instinctual, follows his first thought and doesn't think back to the past. Dustyn's whole outward persona is meant to appear distrustful and guarded- he does not want people talking to him in public, he does not want to make friends, and he does not care to get close to others.
This being said, if he does decided to trust someone... he trusts them whole heartedly. Dustyn loves, not likes- everything for him is about the here and now. He feels much more deeply then most, allowing those that get under his skin to settle there forever. This is one of the reason's he's so guarded- letting someone into his life is opening himself entirely up to that person, which is the most terrifying thing in the world to him. He would rather beat the living shit out of everyone in the school then be hurt emotionally by a relationship turned wrong.
And he does. Dustyn will fight anyone that looks at him the wrong way, whispers his name too loudly, or attempts any sort of hostility towards him. His powers only increased him temper, so letting fully loose on another human truly is like letting loose a panther. While he knows to keep his powers in check- revealing them would only get him caged- he greatly enjoys the look of blood coming from another being because of him. Bruises, cuts, broken bones- anything that shows his power is greater then someone else's. For the most part though, the school knows to keep clear of him. A few have tried to fight him, but after a few public beatings, his reputation has created a bubble of averting eyes and shifting bodies around him.
There are few people that are close enough to Dustyn to know this about him, but he actually has a very lighthearted and fun personality, when the constant irk of 'attack' isn't on his mind. While his sense of humor is a bit crude and juvenile, when Dustyn laughs into the kind of laugh that infects everyone around him. If he wasn't frowning all the time, if his face wasn't a grim mask of rumbling temper, Dustyn could actually be a very warm, settling person. Maybe if he'd grown up differently, but those weren't the cards he was handed.

And Dustyn enjoys being an animal at heart.




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ImageImageImageImage| POWER | THERIANTHROPY |
The ability to shape shift into any animal of your choosing. As long as Dustyn has seen the animal before, he can change into the beast at will by rearranging his own DNA structure to take on the abilities, traits, and physiology of that animal. Though Dustyn is usually in full control of his changes, the power is also triggered by extreme mood changes, specifically rage. Being a person fueled by rage, Dustyn has to battle against his temper constantly, or else risk releasing a panther or wolf on a crowd of people. Rage is the most pure animalistic emotions human's feel, an emotion that allowed us to survive through centuries alongside the creatures with claws and nails that sought to kill. Dustin's ability allows him to change into one of those animals- he can now defend and attack with all the fury of a wild thing.

Being that he has to have seen an animal in order to change into it, Dustyn has seen most general American forest wildlife and anything kept in a zoo or aquarium. For the most part, he sticks to large predators. His ability it triggered by rage- although he always can change, in order to trigger that change he has to make himself mad. When he does that, his body does not immediately think to change into a rabbit or kitten- he usually becomes something that can rip and tear. Dustyn's favorites are as follows;

Raccoon- Easily the quickest and most comfortable change for him. He has thumbs, can walk on two feet, and generally behaves like a human. His raccoon form allows him to accomplish things he usually can't as a human, and get away face in case of trouble. Raccoons are around everywhere- he doesn't stand out when he scampers by. But, the raccoon is not a form that generally appears in his rages. He has to be quite calm in order to pull off turning into a bandit.

Doberman- His go to. Both in a rage and as a choice, the doberman is Dustyn's other form. It has the terror and teeth of a being that could do harm and the innocence of a dog. He gets away with a lot but also has to be wary of being caught. For these instances (much to his embarrassment) Dustyn has a black leather dog collar that he wears when he plans a change- the tag reading Dusty.

Harris Hawk- Generally his least common form, but he uses the wings when he needs to get away or wants a vantage view. Dustyn is an uneasy flyer- his wings are wobbly and unstable when he takes to the sky, but he is attempting to get better. Something about the height- even with his bird senses and abilities, the ground that far away just isn't right.

Black Panther- More common then he would like. The panther only comes out when he is incredibly angry- it itches and claws at his soul at all other times. He has to fight the urge to rip people apart with the terrible back claws and sink his massive fangs into their muscle. Dustyn dreams in his panther form, wakes with the urge to change into it, and constantly feels the never ending growl inside of him. It scares him how easy it would be to let it go, release himself, allow the feral creature to take over...




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| HISTORY |
The best way to describe Dustyn's history is this- he had fucked up parents, thought he could be better then his dad, but ended up becoming just like him. For a while he fought it- the anger, the violence, the constant need to break skin and bone- but it became exhausting fighting the animal inside. His mom died before he remembered, and with her went any love and adoration that may have allowed Dustyn to turn out differently. He was raised by his drunk father and his parades of girlfriends- a montage of fake boobs, penciled on eyebrows, bad tattoos, and the smell of sex in their little trailer. He figured out when to stay clear and when to come home- the trailer walls were thin and he could always make out his dads pig like grunts or the screams of a female from the outside.

He didn't hate his dad though. They had a mutual respect for each other- while Dustyn viewed him as a sloppy drunk, his dad kept food in the fridge and money on the table for him to spend. He didn't ask about where the money came from- he knew he couldn't hold down a real job, so he figured it was illegal. Dustyn didn't care though, as long as the lights stayed on and his stomach full the money wasn't an issue. His dad checked up on his grades and commented when he noticed things declining or when he was doing well, which made Dustyn focus on school more then he normally would if only to get a little attention from his father. But for the most part, they didn't run into each other. Two people exactly alike but separated by awkward family bonds and two very different schedules.

It was no surprise to anyone that Dustyn ended up going to juvie his freshman year of high school. He inherited his fathers quick temper and penchant for trouble- Dustyn would often prowl the city at night and involve himself in situations far too mature for someone that was barely 16. He made friends with the wrong crowd, a group of thugs that passed the time smoking weed, drinking hard liquor, and stealing from convenience stores for fun. Dustyn was fast and sly- he became the runner pretty quickly, especially because of his hostile appearance and temper. People didn't fuck with him due to the fact that he looked like an unhinged animal, and for the most part that saved Dustyn from getting caught.

He'd had a plenty of minor run ins with police before, nothing major, but enough that they recognized him on the street. His group decided to pop a local Quik-Mart without much preparation- the guys in the back seat were drunk when Dustyn stepped out and let loose a billow of marijuana smoke, coughing and surprising laughter at some raunchy joke. They were cocky, thinking they could pull this off with minimal forethought or precations. He ambled inside, did his usual perusing of the aisle, before holding the cashier at the end of a .45 pistol. Usually, Dustyn's dark eyes and intensity make the victims do whatever the fuck he says without having to so much as wave the gun. Usually, he gets out within minutes and they high tail it out of there, cackling their heads off at the success. Usually, though, they don't forget to check to surrounding areas of the dirty street- a cop was parked a block away and answered the distress call in seconds

Because of his dense rap sheet and nasty personality at his court meeting, Dustyn landed himself three months in juvie and 200 hours of community service. Inside, Dustyn fell in well the ranks of nasty-ass trash kids that looked way older then they were. He fought well, landed vicious punches and knocked peoples head back, and became mostly untouchable. After the first few months, the juvie kids got the picture- people stopped fucking with Dustyn and he became some-what of a celebrity. Despite his mean appearance and constant scowl, he actually does have a good sense of humor and generally doesn't hate people that have done him wrong.

He got out in the middle of freshman year, but by then the rumors had already spread. He was a pariah, rejected by most of the school out of fear. Some people thought he shot someone, some thought it was for hard drugs, some spread a nasty rumor that he killed a woman. Whatever people believed, he was avoided- even his group that he used to spend so much time with stayed clear because of his jail time. In contrast to the comfortable life he had for three months in juvie- the first place that his violence had been openly accepted- the real world was hard for Dustyn to re-acclimate to. So, he shut himself off, allowed the rumors to label whims dangerous, and kept to himself.

Dustyn regularly got detention- if he looked at a teacher wrong, they slapped him with a pink note- so on the day the lightening storm struck it was no surprise that he was amongst the crowd of detentioee's. While he had always been violent, instinctual, and quick-tempered before, the bolt awoke in him a savagery that terrified him at first. The constant growl of a panther filled his chest, an animal that wanting to break free so badly that Dustyn was unable to compel it away. The first time he changed, he killed a neighbors dog. But not just killed- ripped the thing to shreds and pulled the guts loose on the lawn. Normally, he would have been revolted by the scene...but the next morning, when his neighbors were crying and the police had no idea what they were looking for, he couldn't help but let a savage smirk stretch across his face.




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| HEX CODE |
#ab2626

| FACE CLAIM |
Samuel Larson

| PORTRAYED BY |
Ivisbo

So begins...

Dustyn Merle's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Matt Greene Character Portrait: Dustyn Merle Character Portrait: Briar Rose Montague Character Portrait: Huxley I. Jansing Character Portrait: Jess Banks Character Portrait: Maxwell Lumikha Character Portrait: Minx Lilia Monroe Character Portrait: Myung Sung-Jae Character Portrait: 'Seagull' Livingston Character Portrait: Magdalene Atwood
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#, as written by CutUp
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Echoes
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Friday October 14th, 4:20 PM

Matt sat there at one of the tables outside of the school cafeteria by himself. He had his nose in a book, Isaac Asimov's Prelude to Foundation, and with his usual hood held over his head. He was the first one there at their agreed meeting spot. Him, and the rest of the gang of misfits had decided to go out, and visit the teacher, Mr. Walsh, that was watching them during detention during the Storm, well mostly them, Matt had just sat there, and nodded his head. No one has seen him since, or heard anything from him since the Storm. They needed to know if he was also affected by the Storm.

Matt then began to idly chew on the draw string of his hoodie as he continued to wait. "Well, well, well what do we have here?" A familiar voice to Matt called out to him from behind. Matt gave no reaction, and continued to stare forward. "Hey Freak I'm talking to you!" Then a hand came up, and smacked Matt on the back of his head. It was Mike Logan, probably Matt's most frequent bully. Mike was a smooth operator, being able to talk himself out of any trouble, and well loved by most of the schools. He was the reason why Matt was in detention to begin with. Mike still had a slight bruise on his chin from when Matt clocked him. Though Matt got a few good licks in, it was Mike who won the fight.

Matt glanced up at Mike with an uninterested look on his face. "What Mike?" Matt asked a soft, and timid tone. Mike then yanked the book out of Matt's hands, and tossed it aside on the ground. "So I've been thinking about when you sucker punched me. And I gotta say, I don't like it. Especially that lesbo bitch yelling at me afterwards. I don't really appreciate it." Mike stated as he hopped up on the table. "Don't call her that. I didn't tell her to do anything. I told her to drop it." Matt told him, his voice ever so slightly raising. "Don't tell me what to do Greenie! Beside, that bitch is just a stupid cu-" Matt then shot out of his chair, and slammed his hands on the table. "Don't call her that!" Matt demanded as he tightly clinched his fists.

Mike hopped off the table, and sized Matt up. "Well look who grew a pair!" Mike had one or two inches on Matt, but to Matt it seemed like feet. After staring one another down intensely, Matt backed down, and brought his gaze to the ground. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Don't you EVER talk to me like that again Freak." Mike then proceeded to shove Matt, but Matt didn't budge an inch. It was like trying to push a brick wall. Mike raised an eyebrow at this, and saw that some of the others were starting to come. "We'll finish this later Door Matt." Mike whispered in Matt's ear before he left.

Matt clinched his jaw, and sat back down, averting his eyes from the others. "Umm......hi." Matt greeted rather awkwardly, still unable to look them in the face. Matt took in a deep gulp as he took quick glances up at his 'friends'. What an odd group of friends. If he can even call them that. Most of them are complete strangers, having only seen them when walking pass them in the halls. Then there was Max, he does consider her a friend. Though he's not sure why she can say the same when she hardly knows anything about him.

Matt got up, and picked up his book. "So....is everyone ready to go?" Matt asked. "Does....anyone have a car? I don't think Max's car can hold us all....though I guess Huxley can just run.....and maybe Jessica can teleport? And Dustyn could turn into a bird or something." Matt suggested. He folded his arms, and held them close to his chest rather uncomfortably. Those were probably the most words he has said to most of them. Matt opened, and closed his right hand as the others talked. His body still felt rather weird, he felt like he weighed as much as a tank, and just as strong as one.


Meanwhile as the group was gathering an unknown man watched them from afar. He rode in a blacked out SUV, with the drivers side window rolled halfway down. He held a camera in his hands, and was taking pictures of the group. Focusing particularly on Matt, Magdalene Atwood, Minx Monroe, and Myung Sung-Jae. He was rather out of the way, no way the teens could see him watching him.

After several more pictures his cell phone began to vibrate. The man placed his camera in the passenger's seat, and calmly picked up his phone. He received a text message from someone simply referred to as 'The Boss'.
{From: The Boss}
{They're going to the teacher's house. Get there first, and set up surveillance. It's an important moment for them.}
The man sighed as he put his phone down, and drove away. "It's gonna be one of those days." The man sighed, his voice sounding like thunder.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Matt Greene Character Portrait: Dustyn Merle Character Portrait: Briar Rose Montague Character Portrait: Huxley I. Jansing Character Portrait: Jess Banks Character Portrait: Maxwell Lumikha Character Portrait: Minx Lilia Monroe Character Portrait: Myung Sung-Jae Character Portrait: 'Seagull' Livingston Character Portrait: Magdalene Atwood
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The morning was like any other. The alarm on her phone caused the device to vibrate, which sent Duke into action. The large, beast of a dog leapt onto Max’s bed and immediately started licking her face until she awoke with a disgusted “ugh!”. She shoved him off, rolling the mutt onto the other side of the bed. Knowing he did his job, Duke simply laid there, his big pink tongue flapping in and out of his mouth. Max’s father told her that Duke was a mixture between a Siberian Husky and German Shepherd, but Max is pretty sure there’s some Tibetan Mastiff in his genes. The dog is massive; on his hind legs, his paws reach the girl’s shoulders.

Max knew she had to get up; if not, her brute of a dog would just drown her in slobber once more. She started her day like most others: filling her empty house with loud music and dancing through her morning routine. A quick shower, doing her hair, getting dressed, making breakfast, and feeding Duke. Of course, she couldn’t resist giving the dog a couple of nibbles of her own food; she knew it wasn’t healthy, but those puppy dog eyes broke her down every time.

Once she was ready to go, Max opened the front door, only to have Duke bolt out and leap into Max’s car. “Sorry, big boy. You should stay home for today.” The dog whined, flattening his ears, practically pouting. Max let out a dry laugh and sat down in front of the wheel. “Fine, fine. You can come.” He let out an elated bark, his tail thumping against the leather seat.

There was always something about driving with the top down that felt… empowering. Not just thrilling, but strengthening. It felt like she was flying with the wind tearing through her hair, with Duke sticking his head over the side, tongue flopping out. Her speakers were blasting one of her favorite songs. She sang along loudly, practically shouting the words.

It was easy to spot the group she was to meet with. By the time she had parked her car and started walking over, the douche-dick that had gotten her that detention was picking on Matt. This made her clench her jaw in frustration. She strutted over, head high and shoulders wide. Duke trotted alongside her, his face serious and his chest puffed out. It was as if he could sense that Max wanted to show dominance, so he went along with it. Before she had even reached the group, the bully was storming off. Her steely-gold gaze followed him, but her jaw relaxed. She crouched down for a moment and put her hand on Duke’s head. He perked up, tail wagging and tongue flopping. “Duke, why don’t you go play with our friend over there.” Duke’s body language changed just with the inflection of the way she said “play”. He grew stiff and took up a dominant body posture once more, waiting. “Go.” And it was as if he was a thoroughbred being let out of the gates. Duke was off like a bullet, darting after the guy, barking wildly with fangs baring. The bully immediately shouted and ran, Duke nipping at his heels.

Max approached the group with a broad smile on her face. She just caught the end of Matt’s sentence. “..Does....anyone have a car? I don't think Max's car can hold us all....though I guess Huxley can just run.....and maybe Jessica can teleport? And Dustyn could turn into a bird or something.” She put her arm around Matt’s shoulder, despite the boy being taller than her. Her boots did add an inch or two.

Her gold eyes surveyed the group, counting how many there were. “Let’s see… We’ve got… nine people, minus Dusty, Huxleberry, and moi…” She said to herself, trying to figure out how many people she could fit in her car.

“No can do, boss- so far, I've only been able to teleport places I've actually been before. And I'm not in the habit of stalking teachers, so… Still, I can always sit on someone's lap if needs be.”

Jess. Max felt her heart skip a beat, like something out of a shitty romcom. That one night… God, she’d fucked that up bigtime. She probably rushed the poor girl and scared her off; the blonde was out of the door before Max had the chance to offer her coffee. Although she had liquor in her veins, Max remembered that night vividly. The feeling of her pale, soft skin… Her nails digging into Max’s shoulders… The noises she made…

It was as if a jolt of electricity was sent arcing up her spine. Despite the warmth she felt in her face, Max still managed to open her smart mouth, “Well, my lap is open if you’re willing.” That clever smirk creased her lips. A sharp bark in the distance got her attention. Duke trotted over; she could see a slight bit of denim in his mouth. The bully had been wearing jeans. She leaned down and grabbed his cheeks, giving the mutt a kiss on the nose. “Gooood boy. Good boy.” She patted his head before standing up and looking back at them.

“Regardless, this doesn’t fix the problem. I can only bring five people maximum in my car… Where are we going, anyways? Where’s this teacher live? God, I can’t even remember who it was. Can being struck by lightning cause memory loss?” She let out a laugh, albeit it was nervous, as she rubbed her temples.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Matt Greene Character Portrait: Dustyn Merle Character Portrait: Huxley I. Jansing Character Portrait: Jess Banks Character Portrait: Maxwell Lumikha Character Portrait: Minx Lilia Monroe Character Portrait: Myung Sung-Jae Character Portrait: 'Seagull' Livingston Character Portrait: Magdalene Atwood Character Portrait: Clementine Kido Character Portrait: Octavia Johansen
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#, as written by Ivisbo
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Quiet and empty. Dustyn seeked out places where he could be alone during the breaks between classes. Sometimes he just slipped into the bathroom and doused his face in cold water, sometimes he slipped out behind the dumpsters next to the football field and smoked a fast cig. Sometimes he left campus all together, his black boots marching him out of the humdrum neighborhood the high school inhabited and straight towards home, done with the day and in dire need of his own space.

Sadly, today he had no such luck. He was supposed to meet the kids from detention- the ones that suffered from the same affliction as him, though in strangely different ways- after class. Though he wasn't the type to usually join in after-school activities, this was something he couldn't just ignore.

It was fucking terrifying, the shit that was happening to him. Unrelenting rage that had always existed, but now took the shape of claws and fangs and talons. Anger that was so concrete it was almost like it existed apart from him, a strange beast that stirred murderous thoughts in his mind. It was terrifying because he could tell when it was happening- like watching himself on a television, he wished he could scream and say 'calm the fuck down, this isn't that big of a deal'. His dad finishes the milk in the fridge, his dad takes his last cigarette from the package, a teacher calls on him in class when its clear he doesn't know the answer, a guy bumps into him in the hallway- all triggers for a brutal force of hot red that shouldn't be.

That first day after the lightning storm, the power had been amazing. After he'd gotten over the initial fear, Dustyn had changed into every single animal he could think of, tried every single ability they could offer, and loved it. But now, after the excitement settled and reality checked in, he realized he was dangerous.

Dark blue eyes danced across the faces of the students he had sat with in detention, people he recognized as passerbys in hallways, some that he knew more then others. If that inner beast of his wanted to, he could change right now and rip into a few of these soft bodies, the curved claws of the panther slicing into flesh like warm butter. And he'd probably get away with it to, because who in their right mind would look at him and think he had the power to conjure claws and fangs when his anger got the best of him? It would be so easy- even that dog wouldn't put up much of a fight next to the bulk of 160 pounds of pure feral cat.

He shook his head as a slow rumbling purr threatened to escape him, the images of kneading claws and a content blood splattered feline grin flashing through his mind. No, sticking with this group for the moment was in his best interest- he wanted to learn as much info and figure out what the hell happened during that lightning storm.

"...And Dustyn could turn into a bird or something." He was only have paying attention when- Max was it?- spoke his name, causing his attention to jerk to the shorter blonde haired kid. Invincibility or something like that, a power that men could only dream about.

"Yeah, I'll just fly" Dustyn grunt of a reply was loud enough for Matt to hear, spoken in between the comments of the others. Though he could fly, the stability and control of those god-damned wings was damn near impossible. He'd practiced a few times, and like a fledgling bird learning its first flight, he'd fallen from every single platform he took off from. But he'd gotten the hand of it mostly, enough that he could keep up with a car as long as he could focus on the control of his feathers and not the direction of his flight.

As the rest of them planned the ride to the teachers house for information, Dustyns eyes traveled to the massive tongue lolling dog that joined Max at her side. There was always a slight territorial edge he felt towards other animals, though Dustyn knew Duke from previous encounters. Blue eyes met canine brown for a moment and Dustyn felt a stir of instinct slice through him... best to ignore the dog for now. His attention returned to the group as everyone settled out their riding arrangements, only mildly paying attention as he thought through the lessons he'd taught himself for flying without falling out of the sky.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Matt Greene Character Portrait: Dustyn Merle Character Portrait: Briar Rose Montague Character Portrait: Huxley I. Jansing Character Portrait: Jess Banks Character Portrait: Maxwell Lumikha Character Portrait: Minx Lilia Monroe Character Portrait: Myung Sung-Jae Character Portrait: 'Seagull' Livingston Character Portrait: Magdalene Atwood Character Portrait: Clementine Kido Character Portrait: Garry Wu Wei Zhi Character Portrait: Octavia Johansen
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#, as written by CutUp
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Ghost
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Matt flinched slightly as Max wrapped her arm around him. He appeared even more uncomfortable being touched. But there was nothing he could really do. Max was Max, she does whatever she wants. He rolled his eyes when she made a comment about her lap being open for Jess. As the others began talking, and Max's dog Duke joined them. Matt lightly patted the dog on the head, who then proceeded to lick his hand. Matt watched as Octavia joined them, gravitating towards Max. When Octavia jumped from Huxley's entrance, and clung to Max's arm he saw this as his chance, and ducked underneath Max's other arm to get away.

With everyone there, and discussing riding arrangements Matt rubbed the back of his head. "Ok.....so we'll ride in Max's, and Jonathan's car, while Huxley, and Dustyn get there their own ways." He summarized it up. "I know where Mr. Walsh lives, I looked it up last night." He stated. "If everybody's ready, then we should go on."

And with that everyone loaded up in the respected cars. Matt got into Max's car, taking the front seat with Duke sitting on his lap. It was a short twelve minute drive to Mr. Walsh's house. He lived in a small residential area, with only a few neighboring houses. As they pulled into the driveway the curtains of the window next to the door shuttered slightly as someone had watched them pull in, and quickly moved away. Matt stared at the window before getting out of the car. Matt carefully approached the front door, opening the storm door, and knocking on the door. Shuffling could be heard from the inside, stuff being moved around rather quickly. Matt knocked once more before the door was finally opened.

Mr. Walsh answered the door. The teacher was in rather bad shape, with thick bags under his eyes, his skin being a ghostly pale, and his hair being a complete mess, with what would appear to be small clumps pulled out of it. "Mr......Mr. Walsh?" Matt asked hesitantly. "Gr....Greene? What are.....what are you kids doing here?" He asked, struggling to get his words out. "We.....we haven't seen you since the storm.....we were worried.....can we talk?" Matt nervously asked. "Ta....talk? The.......Storm......the Storm......the Storm.......cause of the Storm......it has to be- ARRGGHH!" Mr. Walsh screamed in pain midst his ravings. Mr. Walsh clinched his temple as he screamed in agony, and then he began pounding on his head.

Mr. Walsh staggered back away from the door, mumbling something. "Mr. Walsh!" Matt opened up the door fully. Once he did an overwhelming stench bombarded everyone. It caused Matt to flinch, and cover his mouth, almost enough to make them throw up. Inside Walsh's home the entire living room was a mess. Furniture turned over, holes in the walls, pictures broken, it was a complete mess. "Mr......Mr. Walsh are you ok?" Matt asked as he fought through the overwhelming smell. "So many voices! Too loud......can't think.....hear it all.....not sure what's my thoughts anymore." He managed to get out.

Matt approached him carefully. "Can't....think.......Butter knife.....it was just a butter knife....No don't!......was my hero....now my burden." Matt stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening. How did he know? He wasn't even thinking about that. "I'm strong now........make him pay.....Animal.....they see me as an animal.....and I like it.......The Lily......the Lily's gone, and I have wilted......Can't face them.....only makes things worse.....always worse.......He fought for so long........then the plug was pulled......A thirst that can't be quenched.......encouraged by the jasmine......" Walsh stated seemingly randomly as he held his head, groaning in extreme pain.

"The Seagull tinkers......to keep his mind off the flock.....Rejects because.....it's what she fears......So many men......so many bruises......strength, need strength......Guilt, am I guilty.......just a child.......so was he......Couldn't be without her......she lights a fire within me....." Walsh leaned against a wall, nearly collapsing. He looked like death warmed over. Everything he said seemed to be random until it pertained to each teen. They were each something he heard from their minds. It was apparent that he had powers as well. "Mr. Walsh....are you ok?" Matt asked as he hesitantly approached him. Matt glanced over into the kitchen to see something covered by a white sheet, the kitchen was where the smell was the strongest.

He then looked to the wall that Mr. Walsh was leaning on to see a crooked picture of himself, and some woman who's face was obscured by the broken glass of the frame. "Mr.....Walsh? What happened-" Before Matt could finish his sentence Mr. Walsh abruptly pulled out a revolver pistol. Matt was surprised, and out of instinct backed away from the teacher. Matt held out his hand behind to signal the others to stay back. He couldn't get hurt, but they could. Matt held out both his arms in front of him, hopefully to show that he didn't mean any harm to the teacher.

"I can't think......everyone's thoughts.....deepest secrets.....desires....." Mr. Walsh groaned as he waved his gun about. "Things......I shouldn't hear.......twenty years of marriage.......affairs.......hated me......couldn't take it........it had to stop......she had to be quiet....now she's quiet.....everyone else is loud.....too loud..." Mr. Walsh continued to back away into the kitchen as he waved his gun about. "Just.....calm down....We can get you help.....no one has to get hurt." Matt stated as he slowly, and calmly approached Mr. Walsh, keeping his hands where he could see them. "It's ok.....it's gonna be ok.....just put the gun down."

As Matt got within arm's reach of his teacher he gently placed his hand on the barrel of the shaking gun, pointing it towards the ground. 'You can read thoughts right? Just focus on my mind. Ignore everyone else. You can do it." He repeated in his mind, which seemed to have worked as he began getting more calm. As he got closer Mr. Walsh placed his other hand on the back of Matt's neck, and leaned him in closer, and whispered something in his ear so low that the others couldn't hear. Then a gunshot was heard as Mr. Walsh unloaded a round in Matt's abdomen.

While it didn't cause him any harm the initial shock made Matt jump back slightly, letting go of the gun. "Sorry....it's too much." Mr. Walsh then placed the barrel of his gun underneath his chin, and pulled the trigger. The gunshot rang in Matt's ear, drowning out any other noise. Mr. Walsh's blood, and other fluids sprayed the kitchen, with Matt himself being right in the splash zone. Matt stood there, his eyes widened at the sight he just saw. He's never seen a real dead body before. The smell of blood was overwhelming. Matt couldn't move a muscle, his entire body was shaking with the gunshot still ringing in his ears.

His stomach was turned upside down, he felt like he was going to throw up. He couldn't take his eyes away from the dead body. He couldn't will himself to look away. He could feel the blood dripping down his face. What was he supposed to do? He couldn't move, and his body was still shaking. His mind was blank.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Matt Greene Character Portrait: Dustyn Merle Character Portrait: Briar Rose Montague Character Portrait: Huxley I. Jansing Character Portrait: Jess Banks Character Portrait: Maxwell Lumikha Character Portrait: Minx Lilia Monroe Character Portrait: Myung Sung-Jae Character Portrait: 'Seagull' Livingston Character Portrait: Magdalene Atwood Character Portrait: Clementine Kido Character Portrait: Garry Wu Wei Zhi Character Portrait: Octavia Johansen
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What was to ensue at Mr Walsh's house was more than enough to make up for the uneventfulness of the rendezvous by the school. Not even he could muster enough to properly joke as they followed Max's car to the particular house. His mind was abuzz with the same what-ifs and theories as the night before, and he groaned silently at the realisation that it was going to have to take more time to reflect—and perhaps another spliff—to set his mind straight.
Those who couldn't ride in Max's car for lack of space he took in his pickup.
"Smell that? Minty fresh. I told you," he said as peppermint wafted out of the Colorado.

The jangly riffs of an Australian psychedelic rock band playing quietly on the speakers seemed the only respite on the drive there.

It seemed a good enough neighbourhood, he thought to himself as they seemed to near the place. He could just make out Matt gesturing towards the house ahead of him—and he swore he could even see the house closer than he could behind the wheel. Luckily for him, there wasn't a car coming at them as he momentarily let the car skid for a very, very brief moment that he promptly apologised for, as one should following accidentally posing great risk to lives being behind the wheel.

He had no idea just why his mind had wandered off into someone else's, and specifically his first body's. He still couldn't wrap his head around the scene immediately post-storm, though he remembered it perfectly well enough.
Several desks were overturned. The (fortunately, stunned and not dead) bodies of his fellow detainees were on the ground in odd positions. Must've been powerful, he thought to himself as he came to, and slowly got up on his arms to try and dust himself off, only to find he wasn't wearing his jumper. Frowning, he wondered where he had gotten this particular jacket (deep blue, hooded) and this particular tan (considering getting sun involved him burning like bacon on a cast-iron skillet) when he looked up to see that carrot head of his lying by the shelving in the back of the classroom. His sound of protest was immediately cut off just hearing the sound of not-his-voice. He came to in his real body a minute after, and for the longest he'd ever mustered in the presence of people his age, remained quiet trying to figure out what happened.

He pulled over in front of the house, parked appropriately (so no one would have at him for parking inappropriately), and got out with the rest.
The Walsh fellow seemed to him a decent sort of man, if the residence and all in it was enough to go by. Still, there was something unsettling about the way that certain things had been overturned, things had been thrown about, things broken, things fallen off walls that screamed that something in what he assumed was a perfectly ordered house could be and had gone wrong like a burglary or a nasty scuffle. It looked as if the storm had happened twice over.
Not unexpectedly, those thoughts were confirmed by the presence of the man in question. He looked wrong. Everything around him was in complete disarray—and was that blood on him?
He observed as the Matt fellow tried to reason with him, ask him what was wrong. A small part of him wanted to declare that no, he was absolutely not all right. But they needed to be delicate. If they could be spooked by the sudden appearance of powers after a freak lightning storm, then Mr Walsh could be no different—and maybe even be more worse off than them.
Then, the Cassandric babbling came.

"So many voices! Too loud......can't think.....hear it all.....not sure what's my thoughts anymore. Can't....think.......Butter knife.....it was just a butter knife....No don't!......was my hero....now my burden. I'm strong now........make him pay.....Animal.....they see me as an animal.....and I like it.......The Lily......the Lily's gone, and I have wilted......Can't face them.....only makes things worse.....always __________________________________
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worse.......He fought for so long........then the plug was pulled......A thirst that can't be quenched.......encouraged by the jasmine...... The Seagull tinkers......to keep his mind off the flock.....Rejects because.....it's what she fears......So many men......so many bruises......strength, need strength......Guilt, am I guilty.......just a child.......so was he......Couldn't be without her......she lights a fire within me....."


It occurred to him that the incoherent ramblings actually did make sense. Hearing his own nickname seemed to prove that well enough, and Clem's and Jay's stories. However, he was more preoccupied trying to think of ways to tackle the man if he posed harm to himself and others.

"Easy, Mr Walsh. No need for the tin foil today," he tried to encourage, to say something, in the hopes that it could help make the situation light. That was futile—the teacher's eyes darted over all of them before he started to shrink in on himself again. His moves were erratic and utterly pained. He looked as if he were going to tear his hair out from the roots.

His eyes widened in shock at witnessing their own teacher making his student eat lead for breakfast, lunch and dinner and turning the gun on himself and shooting. Immediately, he backed up at the sight, gripping at the hair at the back of his head as he stood there speechless. When he came to his senses half a minute later, he gulped audibly and sucked in his lips.
"Cops. Coppers," he muttered, frantically looking around for a telephone.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Matt Greene Character Portrait: Dustyn Merle Character Portrait: Briar Rose Montague Character Portrait: Huxley I. Jansing Character Portrait: Jess Banks Character Portrait: Maxwell Lumikha Character Portrait: Minx Lilia Monroe Character Portrait: Myung Sung-Jae Character Portrait: 'Seagull' Livingston Character Portrait: Magdalene Atwood Character Portrait: Clementine Kido Character Portrait: Garry Wu Wei Zhi Character Portrait: Octavia Johansen
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Magdalene actually felt surprisingly calm as she watched the insides of their teacher's skull decorate the kitchen ceiling.

Having followed along quietly and without much comment with the group on the way there, she had hopped across to the house fairly quickly (if for no other reason than to avoid the damn dog). It hadn't really been her intention to be too heavily involved in the discussion. She was not exactly popular with school staff, especially not after the whole bra incident, so she figured she'd just stick around and try not to poison the well before things started.

She didn't know what she'd expected, but whatever it had been...this didn't meet it. As soon as the door opened it became clear that something was seriously wrong. The smell that began to leech out of the place was something that Mags picked up on almost immediately, but discounted it..mostly because it was easier to believe it was just food gone bad. And it gave some veneer of sanity to the situation.

Well, so long as you discounted the man himself, and the manic glint in his eye.

The events after that went pretty quickly. The ranting, the first shot that impacted harmlessly with a certain invulnerable member of the group. (That was pretty lucky.) And then the final shot, the spray of gore over the floor and ceiling, and the body lying prone on the floor with a considerable gap in the top of its head.

Perhaps it was a life of being a horror enthusiast. Perhaps it was some hitherto untapped steely resolve that Magdalene was surprised she possessed, or perhaps the last twenty-four hours had caused her to reach some kind of weirdness terminal velocity and she couldn't possibly get more freaked out than she already was...but Maggie didn't panic. She didn't even offer a yelp of alarm at the shots and the grisly consequences.

She stood there, eyebrows raised, a moderately shocked expression on her pale face, for a few seconds approximately, until the frantic movements of Livingston provoked her to respond in kind.


Anticipating Gully's action, Maggie's gloved hand closed around the receiver of the phone, holding it down unless anyone attempted to do anything rash and snatched it up.

"No. Let's not. Bunch of kids in some guy's house. No other witnesses. Guy supposedly just up and blows his head off in front of everyone when we all happened to show up at his house? And one of us has his prints on the weapon?" Mags indicated Matt with a casual wave of the hand.

"We're going to end up as suspects. No cops. Hang on a second and let's think about what we're going to do before we start getting the law involved, alright?"

Almost immediately she felt some level of guilt for her own safety being her principle concern. After all a man had just died.
On the other hand, someone had to say it. Before they all ended up in court trying to persuade a jury that their teacher had killed himself after an attack of apparent malicious telepathy, and that he'd attacked them first but fortunately the guy he'd shot was immune to bullets.

At least, she reflected, they'd probably end up in a psychiatric hospital rather than jail.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Matt Greene Character Portrait: Dustyn Merle Character Portrait: Briar Rose Montague Character Portrait: Huxley I. Jansing Character Portrait: Jess Banks Character Portrait: Maxwell Lumikha Character Portrait: Minx Lilia Monroe Character Portrait: Myung Sung-Jae Character Portrait: 'Seagull' Livingston Character Portrait: Magdalene Atwood Character Portrait: Clementine Kido Character Portrait: Garry Wu Wei Zhi Character Portrait: Octavia Johansen
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He actually flew quiet well, considering his past experiences in the air. Yeah, to other birds he might look like a full-sized adult flapping its wings like a fledgling, rutting for the right wind streams and faltering on perfect glides, but he made it.

Dustyn made a terrible landing in the (thankfully) soft grass just in front of the indicated house, a few feathers flying loose at the clumsy impact. He sent a disdainful 'don't-anyone-say-anything' glare at the group of teens that were unloading from the cars, then promptly changed back into a human, adjust his clothes, and followed the group to the front door.

Walsh opened the door and Dustyn was felt an onslaught of sickly warm humid air that seemed to seep into the back of his throat like rotting sewage. He held back a gag, his face twisting into an uncomfortable grimace as he hid his nose in his leather sleeve. He couldn't tell if it was coming from the sickly looking teacher or the house, but Dustyn reasoned it was probably both.

The man looked bad, pale and gross and near death, by the looks of him. Matt had backed the teacher into the living room and Dustyn's attention turned towards the kitchen, nose scrunching as the stench increased. That was we're the putrid smell was coming from, the smell of disease and rancid meat. Meat that was not fresh, that had festered and should be left to the lesser animals... a comforting growl was echoing through his mind as he turned away from the vile murder scene covered by a stained sheet, a mental unsheathing of claws as his eyes raked over the defenseless excuse for a man. Pathetic creature...someone should put him out of his misery. A very feline rattle shook through him, a feeling that only meant power and fury and blood.

And he liked it.

"...Animal.....they see me as an animal.....and I like it..." Dark blue eyes widened as his thoughts were redirected back at him through the mans mouth, followed by a muttering stream of more random sentences. The man could see through him, he knew that Dustyn enjoyed this beasts whispered words and suggestions. Anger surged, a brittling clawing that felt like knives digging their way out of his soul, but he stamped down the change with gritted fangs as soon as his eyes locked onto a gun.

The first blast of gunpowder made Dustyn jump, eyes feverishly wide as he stared the two bodies in front of him. He knew Matt could not be hurt, but it was the anticipation of the second shot that made him uneasy.

Blood sprayed, covered the carpet, wall, and soaked Matt through. Dustyn didn't even hear the gunshot, just the noise and smell of the red liquid slapping against hard surface's and soaking into soft. Staining the carpet and Matts clothes with pinprick dots of lovely red, a spattering of the most beautiful kind of art...

Ignoring Gullys muttering, Mag's snappy retort, and Jess's frantic rambling, he took three long steps forward to get a better look. He'd never seen so much blood at once, not even when he let loose on the neighbors dog. He'd killed animals already, but the sight of human blood plastered across form of of the invisible blonde teen made a pleasurable purr threaten to leak out of him. Dustyn stood next to a very still Matt, yellow eyes locked on the body.

"I could take care of this" Gesturing towards the brain blasted body, he cast the tiniest of glances Matts way, chilly blue eyes drinking in the blood splattered across the blonde boys face, "You clear everyone out, I can make this look like a nasty accident."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Matt Greene Character Portrait: Dustyn Merle Character Portrait: Briar Rose Montague Character Portrait: Huxley I. Jansing Character Portrait: Jess Banks Character Portrait: Maxwell Lumikha Character Portrait: Minx Lilia Monroe Character Portrait: Myung Sung-Jae Character Portrait: 'Seagull' Livingston Character Portrait: Magdalene Atwood Character Portrait: Clementine Kido Character Portrait: Garry Wu Wei Zhi Character Portrait: Octavia Johansen
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Myung Sung-Jae | Eighteen | Atomic Transmutation | #368BC1


Sung-Jae hadn't been close to Mr. Walsh. Quite frankly, he couldn't remember most of the teachers at the high school. If they couldn't give him decent life advice or a good recommendation letter they were pretty useless to him. Still, seeing Walsh's power spin out of control (at least that's what he hoped it was rather than inviting everyone to watch him commit suicide) made him a bit glad he had nothing to hide. It also made him a bit sad that he wasn't the one who stepped up to help the man find his center.

The gang was left to pick up the pieces after his death which meant a flood of emotions from each person in the room. Gully was looking for his phone, Magdalene being oddly casual, and Jess very obviously wanting to vomit (not that he blamed her). He'd faced death in different ways as his family had a history of depression, casual alcoholism, and heart disease but he'd never been close enough to anybody to look at their death beyond a clinical sense. It, too, made him sad sometimes. But not sad enough that he couldn't deal with the situation at hand.

"It's a good idea but we're limited by what you can turn into," Jay interjected, glancing from the teacher's corpse to Dustyn, "unless you plan on cracking his skull it'll be hard to explain what sort of animal in Maine made a bunch of scratches and a clean bullet hole."

He steeled himself as he walked past the body, eyes scanning the room until he found one of the bullets Walsh shot into Matt.

"There's also the matter of the gun," he continued, "if it's suicide (which it was), why did he need two bullets? If it's not suicide then why is the bullet that shot him the same as from his gun?"

He was beginning to sound like the lawyer his parents always wanted him to be.

"If we do choose the route of calling the cops though I'd suggest someone call a lawyer."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Matt Greene Character Portrait: Dustyn Merle Character Portrait: Huxley I. Jansing Character Portrait: Jess Banks Character Portrait: Maxwell Lumikha Character Portrait: Minx Lilia Monroe Character Portrait: Myung Sung-Jae Character Portrait: 'Seagull' Livingston Character Portrait: Magdalene Atwood Character Portrait: Clementine Kido Character Portrait: Octavia Johansen
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The whole drive to Mr. Walsh’s place was tense. Well, that was until Max revved the engine at a stoplight and took off, going from zero and fifty miles per hour in a few seconds whilst blasting Queen songs over the speakers. The whole time the music played, Max made sure to sing along as loud as possible, though it was difficult with that broad smile on her face.

The second Max turned the car off, she felt the uneasiness coming off of the house in waves. Duke could sense it too; every hair on his body was standing up and his ears were perked for any possible sound of danger. He spotted Mr. Walsh shutting the blinds and let out a low, throaty growl. A soft shush from Max silenced him, but he stuck to his master like glue. If she was in danger, he would be right there to protect her.

Max walked next to Matt. Even though he was taller, she seemed more dominant and foreboding; her body language displayed both her sense of unease and her willingness to protect her friends if shit went down. As soon as the door opened, she felt Duke go stiff. His lip curled at both the scent of the inside of the house, along with the actions of Mr. Walsh. Max was stunned by the words coming out of his mouth. It was obvious he was reciting something, but she had no idea what it could be. That was, until she heard the words, “Pull the plug”, and she herself wanted to let out a deep growl.

As soon as Max spotted the sheen of the silver on the gun, her whole body grew tense. The way he waved it around while rambling frightened her to no end, but Matt was the one closest. She took a step up behind him. The image of those riot shields SWAT carries was imbedded in her mind. The moment that he pointed the barrel at any of them directly would be when she would, hopefully, create the shield for protection. She could feel the tips of her fingers start to tingle and her head start to hurt; her whole body was already straining and she hadn’t even used her powers yet.

Regardless, it was too late for her to do anything. When Walsh turned to gun on himself, the only thing she could do was gasp and stumble back, barely out of the way of the spray of blood resulting from the shot. Immediately, the whole group started to try to figure out what to do, but all of their options weren’t logical. Now that she didn’t have to focus on possibly using her powers, Max could think about what to do. “Nobody touch anything, you hear me?” The first words that came out of her mouth were nothing but stern. “We need to go, and we need to go now. The odds are someone has already dialed the police, and the last thing we need is to be sat down in a small room and questioned for hours. He killed himself; we didn’t do anything. We couldn’t have done anything.” With a deep breath, she circled around Matt and grabbed his shoulders. She stared deep into his eyes, but they seemed glazed over. “Matt? Look at me. This wasn’t your fault, alright? We’re going to go back to my place to get you cleaned up.” She waited for him to move, or do anything for that matter. Duke, who was still uneasy, perked up for a moment. He growled and then raised his head up, letting out a toned howl. Max knew what that meant.

“We need to go, and we need to go now.” Without waiting for any sort of response, Max wrapped Matt’s arm around her shoulder and hoisted him into her arms. She carried him bridal style out of the building, barking orders all the while. “Everybody, follow me to my house! It’s big enough for all of us. Tavi! Sit with Matt in the back and make sure he doesn’t pass out. Jess, you’re up front with me.” Max walked to her car and sat him down in the back seat. “Here.” Taking a deep breath, she held out her hands and furrowed her brows. Within a few seconds, a black towel materialized in her palms; she let out a sigh as all of the tension in her body was relieved. She reached to the front of the car and grabbed a bottle of water. “Tavi, start trying to clean him up. Get the blood off of his face. I don’t care if there’s a mess. I can just get my car refurbished.”

Max could feel her heart in her throat as she climbed into the driver’s seat. Duke hopped into Jess’s lap without the order, a low whine of anxiousness coming from his throat. The only thing Max could do was give her an apologetic look. She revved the engine and took off fast, hoping their second car was following close behind.

This car ride was most certainly more tense than the last one. No one knew what to say, and Max was sure that if she hadn’t taken charge, they would still be standing in Mr. Walsh’s yard, being questioned and ordered around by the police. Just the thought of it made Max clench the wheel so tightly that her knuckles turned white. When they pulled into the driveway, Max didn’t turn off the car for a few minutes. The hum of the car filled the silence that she knew would follow the turning of her key, and she feared that silence. Because once the silence begins, it can only be broken.

Max helped Matt out of the car. As the rest of the group arrived, she gave them a few more orders, “Feel free to wander about the first floor. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. The indoor pool is probably cold, so I’d stay out of it until I turn on the heater. Stay downstairs; I’d rather not have people rifling through my bedroom.” The words came out harsher than she intended, but her nerves and sense of patience were fried. She brought Matt upstairs, into one of the bathrooms, and turned on the shower. She left for a brief moment to get him some spare clothes, but made sure to return quickly.

Max grasped his shoulder with one hand and held his cheek gently with the other. “Matt, it’s alright. It’s not your fault. We’re alright. You just need to get yourself cleaned up, ok? I got some clean clothes you left here in the past; you can change into them when you’re done. I promise, everything is going to be alright. You didn’t do anything wrong.” She gazed deep into the eyes of this boy she thought of as a brother, hoping to find that usual spark of life. It’s there, it’s just dull. He’ll… He’ll be fine. She took another deep inhale of breath before sighing again. “If you need anything, just call me, ok?” She stood up on her tiptoes to give him a soft kiss on the forehead. She left the bathroom with a kind, reassuring look.

When she returned to the living room, the first thing Max did was seek out Octavia. Once she spotted the girl, she practically tackled her into a hug and clung to her tightly. The warmth of someone else calmed her thudding heart. She breathed softly against the other girl’s neck and ear for a few minutes before loosening her grip. “Well… What now?”

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Matt Greene Character Portrait: Dustyn Merle Character Portrait: Jess Banks Character Portrait: Maxwell Lumikha Character Portrait: Minx Lilia Monroe Character Portrait: Myung Sung-Jae Character Portrait: Magdalene Atwood Character Portrait: Clementine Kido Character Portrait: Garry Wu Wei Zhi Character Portrait: Octavia Johansen
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Mr Walsh’s house looked surprisingly normal - pretty much a house affordable on a teacher’s salary. Garry followed the others to the house, slipping his hands into his pockets as Matt knocked on the door and idly looking around as they walked towards their teacher’s house as if he were curious about Mr Walsh’s garden looked like.

What? It wasn’t every day they came to a teacher’s house, right?

Unexcitedly, it looked like a perfectly normal house. Garry’s gaze lingered on the neighbour’s curtain as it fluttered (stars and moons against a black background, pretty nice), but then Matt opened the door and Garry’s head flicked towards the front again, slipping his hands in his pockets to hide his nervousness over finally seeing the missing teacher.

Who looked like he hadn't slept in a week. Garry’s eyes widened as Mr Walsh screamed. Oookay… What drugs is he on?!

As Mr Walsh continued to talk though, it became apparent that he wasn't on any drug or crack, just Lightning-addled with a side dish of uncontrolled telepathy like Jean Gray from X-Men going out of control. Pretty unlucky considering that the rest of them had powers that didn't cause them to have a prolonged nervous breakdown, although Garry wasn't sure about the others. Ranting something about the Storm (yup, capital letters), Garry couldn't help but feel some sympathy for the guy until the door opened and promptly destroyed his sinuses.

Oh Lord my nose it burns. Coughing and trying not to breath in too deeply, Garry entered the house, eyes widening at the sight. It looked as if a serial killer with seizures had tried to redecorate the house will drunk up to the gills before spraying the smell of decay everywhere possible (wait, it was coming from something under a white sheet), but it seemed that nobody had entered the house - his eyes zeroed in on Mr Walsh, who was continuing to rave.

“A thirst that can't be quenched.......encouraged by the jasmine......"

“Ok Mr Walsh, calm down.” Garry was surprised but glad that his voice came out soothing instead of nervous. Quick what am I supposed to do… Mind racing through options, Garry quickly chose one and then immediately tried to think soothing thoughts. Forcing his voice to sound slow and soothing and clear, Garry took a step forward, raising his hands up and gesturing at the man to calm down. Nothing but concern was on his face, and the teen was exuding a calming aura, one that had served him well countless of times before. “Focus on my voice, Mr Walsh. Ta-”

“Guilty, am I guilty…. Just a child…. So was he….”

“Wha-” Garry’s mouth hung open for a moment before he shook his head. “Nevermind, that doesn’t matter. Just focus on my voice, Mr Walsh...” He went back to making soothing motions, eyes flickering around to look for an alternative like sleeping medication or a large blunt object to knock their teacher unconscious - it was pretty obvious that talk wasn't working, he needed another plan. They could figure everything out later. Right now calming him down was more important.

Then their teacher pulled out a gun. Garry felt his heart stop in his chest and for a moment he was thirteen again, standing near the living room table and watching Dev reassembling what Garry later found out in great detail was a SIG P226.

Then he blinked and it was Mr Walsh again, holding a gun he didn't know but was definitely loaded. Shit.

Garry went quiet as Matt took over trying to calm their teacher down and took a deep breath, touching the charm hanging around his neck. It was almost like a security blanket in how calming it was. He let it out after a few seconds, forcing his heart rate to go back to normal and not flashback to a memory that really wasn't needed right now. Spying a broken lamp lying on the floor, Garry inched towards it so that he could - I dunno, use it to bash Mr Walsh over the head or something, but before he could Mr Walsh had pulled Matt close and shot him in the gut.

Mother- Garry instinctively ducked into a crouch as the gunshots rang in his ears, raising his arms over his head. As Garry ducked something white shimmered in the air, surrounding the Chinese teen like a small dome, but it didn't matter - the man was dead, blood leaking out of the mess that used to be his face and leaking into an ever growing puddle on the floor.

Seconds after he ducked Garry looked up almost immediately, a look of concern flashing across his face. “Matt!” Shooting back up, Garry made for the shot-at teen intending to give him a quick lookover, but he had barely taken two steps forward before he bumped into an translucent wall. "What the -" Garry groaned and raised a hand to push his palm tentatively against the translucent wall. His eyes went almost comically wide as the barrier rippled outwards as if his hand had touched the centre of a perfectly still pond.

Ok. Barriers. Suicidal teachers. Ok. Forcing the feelings of curiosity forward to shove the cocktail of emotions he'd been feeling away, Garry quickly tapped the barrier again, analysing how the barrier rippled more violently with the extra force. This was the first time Garry had seen something like this, but it wasn't as surprising as it should have been considering how everyone else seemed to have powers too - it was just that Garry's had turned up later than usual. Great. Now he had to figure out how to turn it off so that he could actually walk anywhere. Frowning, he tapped it again - and the barrier faded away as if it had received his wishes for it to disappear.

The teen blinked. Ok. It seemed that the barrier responded to his thoughts. Awesome. He'd deal with it later. More important things right now. Walking over to Matt, Garry took a quick glance at him - he wasn't injured thanks to his powers, but the bloodstained teen looked traumatised by what he had just seen. Turning away to leave Matt to Max, he checked in on the others - they looked shaken but not injured, gathering around to discuss what to do.

Alright, that left one more thing to do. Mentally breathing a sigh of relief, Garry steeled himself and moved to see the recently dead Mr Walsh for the first time.

The blood and the mess of a head would forever remain imprinted in Garry's mind. Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, Garry swallowed hard, forcing the bile down his throat and the images of a squished eyeball and brain cartilage away, shoving his emotions to the far edge of his brain and locking it along with the other emotions from before into a box to be dealt with later. Almost on automatic, his hand curled gently around the charm as he took a deep breath, and as he breathed out Garry's expression changed from shaken to calm.

"There's also the matter of the gun," Sung-Jae said, "if it's suicide (which it was), why did he need two bullets? If it's not suicide then why is the bullet that shot him the same as from his gun?"

"Hmm." Garry's grip loosened from his charm, tapping a fingernail idly against the charm's surface as looked at the scene cooly. "We could go with a twisted version of the truth," He suggested thoughtfully. "We paid a visit to Mr Walsh's house, he went loco on us and Matt tried to grapple with Mr Walsh in an effort to save all of us from getting shot. After Matt dodged a bullet Mr Walsh despaired and decided to kill himself - although why, I don't know." Garry shrugged indifferently. "We also need to figure out how to explain the bullet hitting a blunt object point-blank where Matt would have been, but it could work, right?"

Well, maybe. There was something he needed to check out thanks to that, now that he thought about it. Garry drifted towards the kitchen entrance as he kept half an ear out on what the others were talking about. So far, his first plan of action was:

1) Don't touch anything.

2) It was probably Mr Walsh's wife lying under the white cloth in the kitchen. Sounded like a mean old biddy from what we heard from Mr Walsh. Explains the rotting smell anyway. Gross. What did she die of?

3) He shot Matt. Matt's still alive thanks to his powers, but the bullet didn't pass through him. Just bounced off I guess. That means the bullet is here on the floor somewhere, waiting to be found by the police.

4) The neighbours saw us enter... probably. Maybe heard the gunshots, could be calling the police now.

5) Don't go to police yet.


"She probably died at least a week before we got here," Garry muttered to himself thoughtfully, staring at the white cloth. The shape underneath it looked like a person. Fumbling in one of his pockets for a tissue, Garry pulled out a serviette that had came with the coffee he'd had earlier in the morning. Geez, that seemed ages ago. The serviette was still in its package - Garry ripped it open and pulled it out, mindfully touching only one side of the dry napkin. Carefully placing the untouched side onto the white cloth, Garry took a deep breath, choked from the smell and then held his breath because if he didn't his nose would clearly send signals for his stomach contents to go up to his mouth and no thank you, really! Despite the determination set in his face, his arm was trembling from fear at what he might see - but before Garry could rethink his idea the teen pulled the cloth up just enough so that he could see what was under it.

The sight made Garry turn as white as the sheet he was holding and nearly throw up, but it answered his question. Hastily but still careful not to touch anything but the serviette, Garry placed the cloth down back over the body in what he was pretty sure was the same way it had been. Then he walked away, the napkin still held tightly in his hand.

Despite the schooled look of indifference on his face and Garry's relatively firm steps, anyone who knew Garry well enough would notice the troubled, horrified look hidden behind the indifference and that despite having one hand stuffed in his pockets casually, his other hand was in a white-knuckled grip on the charm around his neck and clutching it like a toddler hugging his security blanket after a nightmare. The blanched tinge to Garry's normally tanned skin would have helped too, but it was back to normal by the time the teen rejoined the group just in time to hear Max say:

“We need to go, and we need to go now.”

"Wait, wait," Garry said urgently, his eyes frantically scanning the floor. Max swept past him with Matt in her arms, but even if they fled it didn't matter - Matt's fingerprints were on the gun, and all it would do was buy them some time to come up with something before the police caught up to them. Then again, the longer they stayed here the more suspicious they would look to whoever noticed them enter. Where is it where is it - aha! Oh. "Ok I'm ready to go." Garry turned to the others, a questioning look on his face as he headed for the door. "Well, only if my ride's still available - otherwise I'm stuck here until it is."