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Magdalene Atwood

"Dead and loving it."

0 · 999 views · located in Point Place, Maine

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

Description

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Muse- Panic StationWindmills- Get UpFlorence and the Machine - Shake it OutKasabian-UnderdogThe Mountain Goats - Up the WolvesThe Mountain Goats - You Were Cool
{"Want to know all the gory details? "}


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| N A M E | Magdalene Atwood (No middle name.)

| N I C K N A M E | Mags, Maggot

| A G E | 18

| G E N D E R | Female

| E T H N I C I T Y | English on mother's side, father's side could be anything.

| B I R T H D A T E |
2nd December -Sagittarius


| S E X U A L I T Y |
"'Fancy whoever I feel like'-osexual?


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{"When my face is all in the right place, it's not so bad to look at."}


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Image| H E I G H T | 5'4, with an inch or two added by wearing heavy boots.

| W E I G H T | About 125lbs on a good day, a few pounds probably added by aforementioned boots.

| E Y E C O L O R | Hazel

| H A I R C O L O R | Naturally brown though has gone through a myriad of different colours over the years. Currently black in colour.

| A P P E A R A N C E |
Mags is by default, a bit on the scruffy side. Most people would refer to her as a bit of a 'goth'. She has a penchant for head play eyeliner, hair dye, fingerless black gloves an heavy boots. However she sort of lacks the polish that others with slightly more money and means might have. She is mainly seen in a leather jacket and numerous T-shirts. She doesn't tend to do a great deal in the sense of grooming. She keeps clean and applies her eyeliner, and sometimes even combs her hair.


| O D D I T I E S |
Mags has a couple of scars on her cheekbone and forehead from hitting her head on a coffee table as a child, marks from a dog bite on her left wrist.



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{"All the grisly bits underneath."}


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| P E R S O N A L I T Y |
✦ Cheerful ✧ Impulsive ✦ Independent ✧ Morbid ✦

Magdalene is a bit of the quirky type, that is what most people around her would describe her as. She's a relatively recent arrival at the town, and the school, and has already attracted a fair degree of rumours with her demeanour...several of them started by her.

She is a largely cheerful person, seeming optimistic and talkative, and a little theatrical in both her actions and her speech. She likes to use some grisly and colourful references and metaphors in her speech, and seems to be full of peculiar trivia...however her actual academic performance never seems to really reflect what she appears to know.

She has a great appreciation for horror and seems very much unconcerned by the darker aspects of life...something some people can find a bit offputting. Probably another reason that people at school tend to dismiss as being rather weird and strange. Outwardly at least, Magdalene seems to have no concern in regard to her popularity (or distinct lack of it) . Inwardly she's not exactly pleased about the arrangement, but feels it to be just the latest in many disappointments.

Beneath her cheery exterior is a person who is distant from those around them, and has become very much used to it. She doesn't trust people not to let her down, so has cultivated a lifestyle that means she never has to risk it. Magdalene won't commit to things, or to people, because she never wants to be out of control of things and allowing herself open to rejection.

In this way it has made Magdalene a bit of an anarchist, a bringer of chaos and the unexpected. She likes to challenge authority...whether or not it's really warranted at any time.



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{"Special is one of the less colourful words for it anyway. "}


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Image| P O W E R |

Re-animation.

For the longest time Mags has never had the best sense of self-preservation. Her reckless attitude and her sense that she alone is responsible for her own welfare has come together in the form of her ability, the ability to put herself back together, even when torn apart. In amongst all the uncertainty and chaos of Magdalene's life, she remains a constant.

This power is certainly not immortality. Mags can absolutely still die, and will sustain injury just like any other ordinary person. However unlike an ordinary person, the death doesn't actually last all that long. After a short period, the young woman will rise back to her feet again. Her cells will regenerate more efficiently and can reconstruct larger things that most human healing factors can, and parts of her severed from the main body do not suffer cell death and can continue to heal. An arm could be re-attached if held in place long enough to let it do so.

This all tends to take time though, and the re-animation prioritizes time. As a result, it is quite possible for Mags to end up looking like a zombie risen from the crypt, all corpse-coloured and bits missing while waiting for the healing to kick in. It's a little...unsettling to the uninitiated to see someone casually duct taping one of their limbs on.

| S T R E N G T H S |At Least five. Repeat if needed.
Survivor - Mags knows how to take care of herself, and has learned how to fight for, and keep hold of, the things she needs.
Jack of all trades - Mags can turn her hand to just about everything in a small scale.
Independent - Magdalene lhas learned to be quite self-contained, and has no need to get others' support, emotionally or practically.
Unflappable - Mags has seen enough stuff in her time that few things really shake her up. When everything is falling apart there's a high chance that Mags will probably still be as chirpy as ever.
Compassionate - Despite everything, Magdalene genuinely cares about those around her, and tends to be easy enough to get along with.
| W E A K N E S S E S |
Undisciplined - Mags is unlikely to stick to anything for very long. Most of her plans tend to fall by the wayside when she finds something that interests her more, and her number of properly honed skills is minimal.
Immature - Something about having to grow up so fast in her early years, has rather stuck Mags in the past. She struggles to take things seriously.
Lack of finances- Mags has had to deal with most things on a shoe string. This can be a hindrance much of the time.
Disorganized - Independence doesn't necessarily mean having your life together, and Magdalene does not have this. She is messy, a poor timekeeper, and can rarely find anything.
Uncommunicative - In the same vein, Mags' independent nature tends to mean that she won't tell others about her problems and will attempt to fix any troubles herself. This character flaw is one thing if the problem is homework, and a whole other thing if there are lives at stake.


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{"Aside from the obvious."}


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| H O B B I E S |
Drawing Cartoons - "True artists are never appreciated in their own lifetimes. Art teacher has never understood my level of genius."
Video Games - "I'm not allowed to take part in tournaments any more."
Film-making - "The world needs more avaunt-garde directors like myself. "
Making things. - "I love trying to figure out how stuff works."
| H A B I T S |

✧General fidgeting - "Can't sit still, haha."
✦ Drawing - "When I should be note-taking. Whoops."
✧ Biting her lower lip- "Tend to bite all the skin off when I concentrate....thankfully it's not all that often."
| L I K E S |
✦Junk Food - "Who needs good teeth and a long lifespan when you can live off of soda?"
✧Ferrets - "Never really been in a pet-friendly establishment too long, but if I were going to have one, I'd like a ferret. I like their goofy little dancing."
✦Zombies - "Sounds a bit narcissistic now, right? Honestly though I always felt that way. Zombies are freakin' cool."
✧Electronics - "I like tinkering with stuff."
✦Old Horror Movies - "Hammer was far and away the best. The Quatermass Xperiment blows shit like Prometheus out of the water"
| D I S L I K E S |
✦Authority - "Respect is earned, not given, don't see any reason I should bow and scrape to arbitrary authority."
✧School - "Most of what I do goes over the heads of people there anyway. Sooner I escape the better."
✦Self-pity - "No time of it. You take your past, pack it up and move on with stuff, right?"
✧Mushrooms - "They're not even proper plants. I refuse to eat anything that can't settle on whether it's a plant or an animal."
✦Pop Music - "Just hollow-eyed mannequins warbling about sex. Bores me."
| G O A L S |
✦To make her own horror flick. - "The film world needs my fresh voice. And more sci-fi zombie demon movies."
✧ To get her own place to live. - "Don't really like owing people anything."
✦ To get out of town.- "There's not enough room in this town for the one of me."
| F E A R S |
✧Dogs - "Had some...uh...encounters when I was younger. I'm not that into them."
✦ Growing Up - "Responsibility. Nope!"
✧Rejection - "Haha, no comment."


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{"Skeletons. It's funny because I'm undead. It's not funny because foster system."}


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Image| H I S T O R Y |

The accidental child of a seventeen year old mother who liked to part much more than she liked to parent, Magdalene's early life had been defined more by lack of attention than by it. She was trailed around from town to town as her mother crashed on people's couches.

Considered largely more a matter of baggage than a blessing there was little affection in the parental relationship, and it all came to an end when one evening, a motel maid went past on her rounds to find a five year old Magdalene sat outside of one of the room doors, rain-soaked, freezing, hungry, and obediently waiting to be allowed back inside, whilst her mother was in the room with someone she'd picked up.

Neglect charges were filed, and, with no family connections willing or able to deal with this matter, she was placed into the foster system.

The child who started out with the quiet stoicism of someone who had grown up with no expectations of anything good, Mags soon began to discover that life did hold some better aspects to it. Placed into a group home she soon began to covet a foster family, having begun to get a sense of what she was missing. Sadly, none of this ever really seemed to work out. Things started out well, but fell through, for myriad reasons beyond her control, and, as she got older, the number of potential parents looking to consider her diminished year by year.

After numerous arrangements falling through and empty promises about the prospect of some kind of stable home, Magdalene simply...stopped caring. She had a sudden epiphany that she would no longer have to worry about being rejected if it was she who rejected others instead, rejected societal norms in general, and put people off. She stopped trying to appeal and went the whole other direction, scruffy, quirky, morbid, and with plummetting academic grades.

| F A M I L Y T I E S |

Mother - Roseanne Atwood (Alive, location unknown.)
Father - Unknown




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{"I think that's all the nasty bits."}


ImageImage| F C |
Tuppence Middleton

| C O L O R |
#2B233B

| P R O T R A Y E D B Y |

VitaminHeart


Sheet Ⓒ of CutUp

So begins...

Magdalene Atwood's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Minx Lilia Monroe Character Portrait: Huxley I. Jansing Character Portrait: Briar Rose Montague Character Portrait: Matt Greene Character Portrait: Magdalene Atwood Character Portrait: Dustyn Merle Character Portrait: Jess Banks Character Portrait: Maxwell Lumikha Character Portrait: 'Seagull' Livingston Character Portrait: Myung Sung-Jae
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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: Minx Lilia Monroe Character Portrait: Huxley I. Jansing Character Portrait: Briar Rose Montague Character Portrait: Matt Greene Character Portrait: Magdalene Atwood Character Portrait: Dustyn Merle Character Portrait: Jess Banks Character Portrait: Maxwell Lumikha Character Portrait: 'Seagull' Livingston Character Portrait: Myung Sung-Jae
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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: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Minx Lilia Monroe Character Portrait: Huxley I. Jansing Character Portrait: Briar Rose Montague Character Portrait: Matt Greene Character Portrait: Magdalene Atwood Character Portrait: Jess Banks Character Portrait: Maxwell Lumikha Character Portrait: 'Seagull' Livingston Character Portrait: Garry Wu Wei Zhi Character Portrait: Myung Sung-Jae Character Portrait: Octavia Johansen
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There weren't a huge number of things that could leave Maggie Atwood speechless. Ever since her transfer to Point Place much of the school had been subject to her running commentary and expression of fascinating facts about unsolved murders or pagan burial practices or spontaneous human combustion. Today was different. Today Magdalene had been...uncharacteristically quiet. Of course being addressed was still enough to stoke the young woman into conversation... but it was a little unusual to see the regular chatterbox so comparatively muted.

Superpowers were all well and good, but you had to actually know what they were in order to use them effectively...and up until pretty recently Mags had had no idea what kind of ability she'd been bestowed with, or indeed if she'd been given anything at all. The idea that some freak storm had bestowed x-men shit on every random bastard except her seemed like the kind of thing that might happen.

Except she'd worked it out. Completely by accident mind you.

Maggie had read stuff about synchronicity before, how unrelated events might line up together in strange, nearly deterministic ways...and it was an impressive stroke of luck in many ways that she were to get a superpower of that nature just before she was going to need it. Evenso, Magdalene could not help but feel like she moderately preferred the annoyance of not knowing that you had any kind of superpower, to the events that had led up to her working hers out.

Jacked zipped up and an aged-looking purple keffiyeh scarf draped round her neck, the figure of miss Atwood slipped out of a side door and over to the group, affixing a moderately socially acceptable smile on her face before she got close enough...albeit it was a little strained as it became clear that they were going to have a degree of canine company.

Supposedly the plan was to go seek out the teacher, assuming he'd not turned into a pumpkin or a pick-up truck or been dropped through a wormhole. Who knew. She'd be willing to bet anything by this point.

"Don't panic everyone, I'm here." she remarked, rather flippantly, before flopping back against the wall, calculating her apparent carelessness to make sure she had a decent number of people stood between her and some hairy death machine.
"What did I miss? Anyone started to fight crime yet, because honestly the lot of you are way behind the curve with that. We're getting into 'uncle dying' territory at this point and no-one wants that to start going off, so someone should probably go falcon punch a mugger this afternoon just to be safe."

She hunched forwards, arms folded over her chest and booted feet crossing each other.

Alright, so quiet was still not that quiet.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Minx Lilia Monroe Character Portrait: Huxley I. Jansing Character Portrait: Briar Rose Montague Character Portrait: Matt Greene Character Portrait: Magdalene Atwood Character Portrait: Jess Banks Character Portrait: Clementine Kido Character Portrait: Maxwell Lumikha Character Portrait: 'Seagull' Livingston Character Portrait: Garry Wu Wei Zhi Character Portrait: Myung Sung-Jae Character Portrait: Octavia Johansen
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CLEMENTINE KIDO
hex; #a0c7b4XXXlXattire; xXXXlXsong; x

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Fourth period always seemed to move with a particular sluggishness, the ache of the period prior still dull and brooding, coupled with the knowledge that there was still another to go.

Kido tucked a lock of silky black behind her ear, only for it to tumble back towards her face. She liked the easiness of her short hair, the little effort it required -but she could not deny that her bob's irritating persistence could be grating after a long enough space of tucking, and falling. Tucking, and falling.

The door opened, and there was a young boy. Dark and small with eyes like a startled deer. He walked towards the lecturing professor, head bowed shyly as he passed on the slip of paper. Professor Gaffney read the paper with a funnel between his brows, and looked up through smudged spectacles. "Kido? You're wanted at the office."

Immediately everything was hushed whispers and curious chatter. And Kido stood up amidst intrigued gazes, and walked to the office with blossoming rumors trailing behind her like a murmuring cloak.

She walked into the office, and saw her mother. She frowned, and spoke perplexed. "Mom? What are you doing here?" Her mother balled the handkerchief in her hands, looked up at her with damp eyes. "Oh, honey. It's- it's Aunt May."

Kido frowned some more, knowing perfectly well that she did not, and never had possessed any such Aunt. Nonetheless, she followed her mother out of the office, getting into her car with a sigh of annoyed realization.

"So, we got you out of that hell hole, huh? What did you think of my acting?" "Good enough to put Keith Richards to shame." "Keith Richards? He's not an actor." "Exactly."

Her mother pouted, before grinning merrily, squeezing Kido's shoulder with one hand whilst she drove. "Anyway, Snippy, I was thinking McDonald's? For a treat." "What's the occasion?" Her mother looked offended, but she hid it -badly- behind a layer of nonchalance. "Do I need a reason to treat my daughter?"

You got dumped again, didn't you?

Kido didn't say it aloud, and when her mother bought her a happy meal, she ate everything despite not being hungry. She humored her mother as the woman made jokes about the large gentleman sitting beside them, ensuring herself that he probably couldn't hear them, or even if he could, he wouldn't know that they were talking about him. Kido didn't completely believe herself, but she pretended to, and as her mother took her to bumper cars, and bought her an ice cream, and then clothes shopping, she tried not to pay attention to the fact her mother's card maxing out in front of a number of other impatient and judgmental customers.

By the time her mother finally dropped her off back at school, Kido was exhausted from feigning cheer.


She walked into the room just in time to catch the end of Magdalene's quip, and she raised her hand in casual wryness. "I offer my services. On the house."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Minx Lilia Monroe Character Portrait: Huxley I. Jansing Character Portrait: Matt Greene Character Portrait: Magdalene Atwood Character Portrait: Dustyn Merle Character Portrait: Jess Banks Character Portrait: Clementine Kido Character Portrait: Maxwell Lumikha Character Portrait: 'Seagull' Livingston Character Portrait: Myung Sung-Jae Character Portrait: Octavia Johansen
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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: Minx Lilia Monroe Character Portrait: Huxley I. Jansing Character Portrait: Briar Rose Montague Character Portrait: Matt Greene Character Portrait: Magdalene Atwood Character Portrait: Dustyn Merle Character Portrait: Jess Banks Character Portrait: Clementine Kido Character Portrait: Maxwell Lumikha Character Portrait: 'Seagull' Livingston Character Portrait: Garry Wu Wei Zhi Character Portrait: Myung Sung-Jae Character Portrait: Octavia Johansen
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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: Minx Lilia Monroe Character Portrait: Huxley I. Jansing Character Portrait: Briar Rose Montague Character Portrait: Matt Greene Character Portrait: Magdalene Atwood Character Portrait: Dustyn Merle Character Portrait: Jess Banks Character Portrait: Clementine Kido Character Portrait: Maxwell Lumikha Character Portrait: 'Seagull' Livingston Character Portrait: Garry Wu Wei Zhi Character Portrait: Myung Sung-Jae 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: Minx Lilia Monroe Character Portrait: Huxley I. Jansing Character Portrait: Briar Rose Montague Character Portrait: Matt Greene Character Portrait: Magdalene Atwood Character Portrait: Dustyn Merle Character Portrait: Jess Banks Character Portrait: Clementine Kido Character Portrait: Maxwell Lumikha Character Portrait: 'Seagull' Livingston Character Portrait: Garry Wu Wei Zhi Character Portrait: Myung Sung-Jae 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.

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Character Portrait: Matt Greene Character Portrait: Magdalene Atwood Character Portrait: Jess Banks
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Jess wasn't sure what to expect from the visit to the teacher's house. Maybe just a pleasant conversation over tea? Or, alternatively, a door slammed in their face. But as they made their way up to the door, she composed herself, mentally preparing herself for any of those circumstances. Letting nerves show was never a good thing. She had to be solid marble, not let anything else show. Not the nerves bubbling in her stomach, not her confusion over Max- nothing but her usual demeanour. However, when the door opened, she felt her composure slip a little in shock. Mr. Walsh looked way worse than he had before any of this. And oh god, the smell.

And then the babbling came. Or, at first, it seemed like babbling. Until he said what seemed to be an all too common thought in her head. Can't face them.....only makes things worse.....always worse. It had to be a coincidence, right? But when taken in context of everything else he was saying... then she wasn't so sure if it was or not.

Jess stopped thinking once the gun appeared. "Matt, get away, I don't think that's a good-" She started, but then the teacher pulled the trigger. But Matt was fine, and that was when it clicked. He had invulnerability or something- a gun wasn't going to hurt him. She released a breath that she hadn't realised she'd been holding- but then Mr. Walsh turned the gun on himself, and blood spattered the ceiling.

Her stomach turned so violently, she honestly thought she was about to hurl. She couldn't tear her eyes off of the body, until Magdalene spoke. It was enough to snap her back into rational thinking, and she stared at her shoes as she spoke. At least they were still clean- that would save some explaining.

"We can't just walk out, though. There are plenty of neighbours around, they'll have seen us- and besides, fingerprints on the gun," she said, absentmindedly tugging on the bottom of her skirt. "We need to... I don't know, but if we walk out now, and the neighbours did see us coming in, then we just look more suspicious. But if we say... I don't know, that we tried to talk him out of it, then maybe we'll look less guilty? It's still pretty obvious that it's a suicide, I mean, the trajectory of the bullet and-" She cut herself off, aware that she was rambling. She needed to ground herself, before she disappeared. That was all she wanted to do- but she couldn't do that. She couldn't abandon the others.

Characters Present

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