Eximius Coventry Story There are some people who are special, there always have been, and there always will be. There was never an experiment or natural occurrence to cause this phenomena, some people are just gifted. In earlier times these gifts were regarded as witchcraft and devilry, and many were rounded up, tortured, and slain. For hundreds of years people have been killed for their abilities. Nowadays, the killings are more subtle: a missing persons case, an unsolvable murder, or even framed murder. No one knows who or what is causing all the killings, but whatever it is has always been the force driving the persecution of the Exceptional people of the world. You are an Exceptional (The term for one with powers), and reside in Coventry, England. The majority of Exceptionals don't even know that they have powers. Those that do learned to live quietly with their abilities, but there are some who have no control over them. Violence in the town is on the rise, and Exceptionals appear to be the main targets. You may yet survive, but you must find the people who can help you first. Please note that your characters have no foreknowledge of these happenings, other than what they've heard on the news. Exceptionals are not publicly known, but some are aware of others. IndieVidFx.com is a video/connecting forum that many Exceptionals around the world use to communicate with one another. You will start your writings with your character going about their everyday life. Settle in, get comfortable, maybe meet the other characters. (You may create your own NPCs, but sparingly, and only use them for short periods of time. NPCs like landlords, cashiers, or bankers etc. may be persistent, if you choose.) I will start the action once you've established your characters. I will send some of your characters on missions, so be prepared. I will PM you beforehand to let you know, if and when I do. Landscape Coventry will have the same geographical location as the actual town, but we will create the look and feel. The town will be small in size, and divided by Queen's Street. The East side will be more upper class, while the West side will be poorer. Notable locations include: Greenstan Grocery - The town's largest and main grocery store, located in the North--Eastern part of Coventry on Hubbard Avenue. Speedy Trip - A small gritty convenience store in the South-Western part of Coventry. This is a shady place, with many solicitors, and there is a high crime in this area. It may be a good place for information. Mac's Fish'n'Chips - A famous restaurant, located in the middle of Coventry, at Queen's Street and Richmond Avenue. Todslington Pub - A popular joint, located in the West-most part of Coventry, on Yarl Drive. Powers Your powers are each unique to you and could range from anything from telepathy to manipulating cloth. Your powers come with their own set of side effects, but (most of) you have learned to live with them. You either will have a temporal ability (one that can be activated), or a constant ability (one that is always active). You may use a combination of both if you want to as well. Don't reveal your character's powers right away, make it interesting for the readers/other writers and keep them guessing for a little while; HOWEVER, PM me all of your characters' powers with your templates for approval. Rules 1. No controlling others' characters, unless given special permission. 2. No god-modding. 3. Only join if you intend to write. If you have to leave, or if you fail to write, I can kill off your character, or turn it into an NPC. 4. Communicate with one another. If you're going to do something unexpected, PM me first. 5. Don't spam with posts, give others a chance to write/respond. And no one-liners, roughly 100+ words will do per post. 6. Please stay up to date with posts, and read the discussion thread. Post ALL of your ooc posts (excluding character profiles) in the discussion thread. 7. Please bold quoted text from previous posts. 8. Please edit or at least read through your post before posting it. 9. Some language is allowed, but don't go overboard. 10. Flaming/insulting/discrimination against other writers will not be tolerated in this RP, and will be reported to the admin. 11. My word is law, and I can change or alter the rules as I see fit. Template for character Name: Age: Sex: Appearance: Aura (This ties into your character's powers.): Short Bio: Personality: Miscellaneous info: Please PM me any characters for approval prior to posting! ------------ Remember to have fun! I will do my best to make this an enjoyable experience for all. Please give me any ideas you might have for improving the story/gameplay. Happy writing!
Cheyenne Fear *I... You... Person... People...* Cheyenne sat on a park bench, swinging her legs back and forth. Her mother was across the street buying food at the Greenstan Grocery. Cheyenne felt uncomfortable by herself, but knew she'd feel worse in the store. Too much space... So she sat, pecking the screen of the tablet on her lap with her index fingers, and listened to the robotic alto repeating the words back to her. *Bat... Crow...* She looked up to find a man sitting next to her. "Nice day, huh?" He said, with a smile. Cheyenne nodded, returning the smile. It was a very nice day. The sun was high in the sky, highlighting the colorful leaves above their heads. It had been rainy during the ride to this place, but it had cleared up since then. *Leaf... Fall... Sun...* The man smiled again, then stood, swaying on the spot. With a slight wave, he made his way down the sidewalk and out of sight, leaving Cheyenne alone once more. Having not noticed, Cheyenne continued typing her words into the tablet, the smile still faint on her lips. "Chey!" Cheyenne looked up, hearing her mother's voice. "Chey, come help me with the bags." Cheyenne jumped to her feet, and tucked the tablet into a small pouch sewn to the front of her blouse. She hopped forward, and pulled two bags from the cart her mother was pushing. "Thank you dear." She said, taking the remaining two bags out, and pushed the little cart into one of the outdoor racks, "It's such a nice day today, I'm glad we walked." Cheyenne nodded. It was a very nice day. She balanced on the painted curbs of the sidewalk as they walked, arms outstretched, trying to stay within the yellow. It had been a while since she and her mother had been able to walk around a town together. The last week they had spent driving around the countryside, looking for a place to stay. Whenever they'd stopped for gas or food, her father had gone out to talk to the locals and ask questions. Cheyenne didn't know what he was asking, but after a while they'd stopped here. She liked this place, even if it was a bit large compared to what she was used to. It was pretty, friendly, and there were fun shops to look into. She stared into the window of a pub as they passed, gaping at all the activity. A few too many people for her taste, but it was so fun to look at. Cheyenne felt more and more comfortable as they got closer to their home. The shops became less frequent, and bustling less hectic, the housing more spaced. As they passed the last house a trailer came into view. It was an old, worn trailer, nothing fancy, but it was home. Cheyenne quickened her pace as they approached, mashing both grocery bags into her left hand so her right could pull a set of keys from her pouch. She unlocked the door, pushed it open, and placed the bags on the table. She hurried down the aisle, and pulled herself into her bunk, pulling out her tablet at the same time. "Cheyenne?" Her mother called as she entered the trailer behind her. Cheyenne waved a hand from her bunk so her mother would see. "Why don't you go say hi to your dad?" Her father was currently at the town's library, sending out applications. *Don't you want... Help with food?* "No, no I'm fine Chey, you go out and visit your dad; I'm sure he'd enjoy it." Cheyenne hoisted herself down from her bunk, and pulled her jacket on once more. She waved to her mother, who gave a soft, "Be careful." then stepped out into the open. She made her way hesitantly down the street, hopping back onto the curb edge when it started again. She continued tapping words into her tablet not looking up from the screen. She walked for several blocks heading back toward downtown, unaware that she'd missed her turn.
Kami DeSoras Kami walked through the halls, a few of her girlfriends following behind her, waiting to see where she was going next. She was going to get her books for her next class, but if they wanted to follow her to her locker, that was fine. The more the merrier, she thought. And the more there were, the more popular she looked. That suited her just fine. Kami got to her locker and found a guy standing next to it. His black leather jacket made him seem a bit intimidating to Kami, especially with the metal dots all over it, which was simply a fashion disaster. "'Sup girly?" "Move please," she said, beginning the combination to her locker. "Maybe I won't," he replied, putting his hand against the locker as Kami opened it. It shut, locking again. Kami put her finger and thumb on her temple, leaning her other hand against the locker. "You don't want to do that again." "And why not," he asked as she put in the combination again. When she opened her locker, he pushed it shut again. The next second, Kami dropped her two books and swung her fist at him, knocking him to the ground as she connected with his cheek. He looked only a little shocked as he held his cheek, very red and somewhat indented with an imprint of Kami's fist. "Now stay out of my way," Kami said, unlocking her locker, grabbing her books, and going to her next class. A few students stared, but they all knew this was a regular occurrence. The gang from West Coventry didn't like the ritzy group of kids they shared a school with. The richest kids were the ones picked on the most, and that made Kami a regular target. She didn't put up with any of their antics though. She fought back.
Martin Wheeler The entrance to the Speedy Trip was hardly the most glamorous spot in Coventry and the rear of the shady convenience store was even worse. The lot was littered with garbage, broken bottles and the occasional junkie passed out in the shade of the building. So, the sound of cheerful whistling seemed quite out of place. At least, it would have if there had been anyone around conscious enough to notice. The happy little tune was terribly off-key, muffled and had a sort of metallic echo to it. After a moment the whistling stopped and was replaced by a din of scuffling and shuffling. Soon a scruffy face popped out of the large dumpster belonging to the Speedy Trip. Marty shook his head and bits of garbage fell from his scraggly beard, but many more remained lodged in the coarse, coal-black hair. With a grunt Marty tossed his treasures over the side into his waiting shopping cart and then pulled himself out of the dumpster. It was a good haul. Every so often the convenience store would have to toss it's expired inventory and that meant weeks worth of potato chips and snack cakes just waiting to be snatched up. Marty tore open a bag of Doritos and tossed a few of the tangy orange triangles into his mouth with a grin. He hadn't been in this good of a mood in some time and it wasn't just from his little shopping trip. "No one appreciates a nice day like the homeless," he told one of the junkies who only drooled in response. It was a nice day, particularly for autumn. In a few months winter would come blowing into Coventry, cold and hard as death itself. Then it would be long days of trudging through snow and longer nights huddled around a trashcan fire, but today was bright and warm and winter seemed very far away. Marty had even shed his long, ratty coat and wool hat, though his gloves remained on. Looking down at those gloves made his smile falter. The little sleeves for his pinky fingers dangled empty. "Won't forget..." he muttered to himself, suddenly feeling a chill despite the mild weather. He stuffed the open bag of chips into a pocket, took hold of his shopping cart and began wheeling it back toward the street. There were few people about and those that were paid no attention to a shabby bum pushing a cart full of junk. That was exactly how he liked it. He roamed the streets of the West side without any destination in mind, watching the people around him. He passed an old man walking with a limp, a teenager dressed all in black and a broad woman with a child on each hand. He watched the way they walked, the way their eyes moved, and the way they spoke to each other. He saw them all, but none of them saw him. It was like he was invisible, free to wander the streets as he pleased without being bothered. The smile crept it's way back onto Marty's face. It was a nice day to be alive and free and safe in his town. As he turned onto Yarl Drive, a faint whistling drifted back around the corner.
Alexander Butler Alexander spotted a large, burly man in a thick brown coat hurrying across the street towards the old convenience store. He was taking, swift steps, looking behind him every few seconds. Alexander smirked. The man was too obvious. And people who were that reckless were easy to fool. He had stopped in front of the store, looked around, and checked his watch. Alexander decided he would have to take the initiative. He always did. He cleared his throat, “You’re late,” he stated. The man glanced at Alexander for a moment, and then waved him away, “Piss off kid, I’ve got business to do.” He had a thick American accent. Alexander smiled slightly. “Ah, Mr. John Black, I assume? You’re the one they sent?” The man whipped around and stared at him. “Who the hell are you?” Alexander gave a mocking bow, “Christopher Adams Silgni, at your service.” John’s eyes bulged, “You’re Silgni? You? But you’re a kid!” Alexander frowned, and placed his hands behind his back. “Looks can be quite deceiving, Mr. Black.” John continued to stare at him for a while, and then shook his head, “Fine, whatever. Now hand over the double shipment and you’ll get your money.” Alexander raised his eyebrow. “You are quite the dull one, Mr. Black. Do I look like I have two shipments of anything on me right now?” he asked. “What? What are you saying?” “I’m saying that this isn’t a trade,” said Alexander, grinning, “It’s a tribute.” The man looked at him for a full five seconds before laughing, “Tribute? To you? What kind of bullshit is this, kid?” “No, actually, not to me. The tribute is to Mr. Markus Olgard,” said Alexander, “You’ve heard of him, I presume?” The man glared at him again, “What’s this got to do with the boss?” “Tell me, have you ever met Mr. Olgard?” “No. And we’re done he –” “Of course not, you only joined a month and a half ago,” interrupted Alexander. “But I have. He is… quite the demanding man.” “So you’re saying he asked some kid to get me hand over ten grand? Bullshit!” “I prefer ‘Mr. Olgard’s social associate’,” said Alexander. “One more word of trash out of your mouth, and I’ll be dumping your body in the ocean, kid,” John warned, starting to walk away. “Oh, that’s a shame. Mr. Olgard certainly doesn’t like it when his personnel don’t pay their taxes,” stated Alexander, taking out his phone. John hesitated for a little while, and then turned around abruptly. “And how do I know you’re not lying?” “Don’t worry about that Mr. Black,” said Alexander, turning away and pretending to dial on his phone. “Wait, who are you calling?” Alexander looked at him with an annoyed look on his face. “He made this as simple as it could possibly be, Mr. Black. As a sign of well-benefit to the new recruits, Mr. Olgard decided against sending armed thugs, and instead sent a weapon-less associate to collect his tax. And now you’re taking advantage of that system!” “I’m going to have to inform him of your dishonesty, Mr. Black,” Alexander grinned, “and that usually means termination.” “Wait, wait! You little piece of crap liar! How do I know anything you’re saying is true? Let me talk to Olgard!” Alexander held his phone out in front of him, “Of course Mr. Black. But remember that under-ranked personnel are strictly prohibited from contacting the crime lord directly. The agreement will be terminated.” John started to pace around anxiously. “No! But… I don’t know if… don’t you have any documents or… or something? Anything?” Alexander sighed, and pretended to think for a moment. “Very well, Mr. Black, it is obvious that you are too shallow minded for this kind of business. So tell me, how many people on this planet know your true name?” The man looked surprised for a moment, and then furrowed his brows. “Uh… my parents…” “Who are now dead,” Alexander affirmed, “and?” “Well, the boss knows,” the man added. “You’re right, Mr. Olgard does know!” said Alexander, stretching his grin across his face. He swiftly mimicked the man’s American accent without flaw, “It’s quite a good think he told me, don’t you think Mr. Sebastian Kaminski?” The man – Kaminski – gaped at him, his jaw hanging a good two inches below his head. “Now,” said Alexander, switching back to his native accent, “I have a call to make.” Kaminski quickly pulled a fat pouch from under his coat and held it out to Alexander. “Fine! Take it, ten grand.” Alexander stopped grinning and solemnly shook his head, “I’m afraid not, Mr. Kaminski. Your dishonesty has already shown itself. Mr. Olgard would never tolerate such imbeciles.” “N-No, please! I’ll… I’ll add an extra one grand! One that you can have!” Alexander started walking away, leaving the stuttering man behind him. “T-Two grand! Two grand for yourself, please! Mr. Silgni! Five grand!” Alexander stopped, and turned around. “Five grand, Mr. Kaminski?” The man nodded feverishly, the money pouch trembling in his hands. Alexander pretended to think for a moment, “Five extra grand it is,” he nodded, “Mr. Olgard will be delighted.” The man handed him the money, and immediately started striding away, cursing under his breath. Alexander knew that the promised money would be there; no one would defy the all-powerful Markus Olgard. “Pleasure doing business with you!” Alexander called after him. This one was too easy. Kaminski would be much too afraid to actually check with Olgard and figure out the con. Criminals were the best people to steal money from. If they caught you, they couldn’t get you arrested. Plus, they always had a large lump of black market money with them. Alexander smiled as he slid the money away into his own jacket pocket.
Rebecca Woods brushed a run away curl of hair, from her forehead, with the back of her gloved hand. She diligently squirted bleach on the table, wiped it down and moved on to the next one. It was regular routine as waitress, most hated getting their hands dirty cleaning the toilets or taking out the garbage. But Rebecca found a sense of pride in her work. She had a good job at Mac's Fish and Chips. She got paid regularly, she was able to support herself, she'd even found time to do an online college class. Slowly but surely she'd get her degree and go on to work in Social Services. Rebecca frowned at a tough grease spot on the table and scrubbed harder. She of all people knew how hard it was to be in the foster system. Kids always needed a friendly, caring person to help them. Rebecca stood and stretched then looked around the semi-crowded resturant. An obnoxisous customer in the corner burped loudly before slurping down the last of his soda. A young child squealed in delight at his new toy. Two young teens, playing hooky from school, stood in line whispering to eachother thinking they were the smartest kids ever. Rebecca smiled. You never knew the type of people that might come in. They were interesting to watch. "Hey, Rebecca." Mr. Orlis, her manager, beckoned her into the kitchen. "I need you too close up tonight. I've got to pick up my wife at the airport." "Sure, Mr. Orlis. I don't mind putting in a couple extra hours." Rebecca smiled. "I know, you've been great. Keep up the great work and you just might get a raise." With that Mr. Orlis turned around an started berating a cook on how he wasn't cooking the french fries long enough. Someday she'd get out of here. Someday.
Ivanna Testarossa “You gonna study it all day, or are we gonna do business?” Ivan said, leaning her elbows on the counter. “Hmm…” the pawnbroker murmured. He held a thick golden ring between his fat fingers and was inspecting it through a magnified eyepiece. “This diamond looks a little… off,” he said. “But it is a diamond, right? Of course it is. Now, let’s talk price…” The broker set his eyepiece down and looked her square in the eyes. Unsurprisingly, she didn’t blink. But she did smile. Unfortunately, his poker face wasn’t half as good as hers, despite his line of work. “I don’t know if it’s real,” the man said. “How about you let me hold on to it for a while, so I can have an expert take a look at it?” “I don’t like to wait,” she said. “The fact that you would even consider calling in an expert proves it’s worth something.” She leaned a little closer, glanced down at the ring, and quickly met his eyes again. “Let’s cut to the chase: six hundred.” “You’ve got to be kidding me…” “I don’t kid,” Ivan said. “The gold alone is worth two or three, even if the diamond’s a little sketchy.” “And if it’s fake, where does that leave me?” the man grumbled. “I’m trying to run a business here, lady. How ‘bout three hundred?” “How ‘bout I leap ‘cross this counter and smack the shit outta you?” she muttered in Russian. “Excuse me?” “Nothin.’ Five hundred,” Ivan said calmly. The man immediately refused, but she stuck by her offer. “Five hundred’s as low as I go.” “You really don’t understand how negotiating works, do you?” “I understand when I’m gettin’ ripped off by a fat bastard in a two-bit pawn shop,” Ivan retorted as she snatched the ring from his hands. “I’ve seen the idiots who come into this place. This ain’t a high-end jewelry shop. They wouldn’t know a diamonds from a ice cube.” She pointed to the door. “Some slack-jawed moron is gonna stroll in here, see something shiny in the jewelry case, and slap down a fiver for it, without batting an eyelash. Because people are stupid. And you can sell anything to stupid people. You follow what I’m sayin?” “I can’t make a profit if I-” “If you don’t know how to milk a few hundred pounds out of an average moron, you don’t deserve to be in business,” Ivan said as she slowly moved the ring toward him. “Buy it. Five hundred. Final offer. You could resell it for two grand if you're smart... you are smart, aren't you?” A few minutes later, Ivan emerged from the pawn shop five hundred pounds richer. A shame that 'diamond' was going to vanish by the time she reached the end of the block. Oh well, she thought, I wonder what I'll have for lunch.
Cheyenne Fear Cheyenne looked around at her surroundings, as she stopped at an intersection. A large sign overhead read "Queen's Street", and Cheyenne had no idea where that put her on the map. Unperturbed, she turned around to head back the way she'd come; only to find that the path split in two. Which had she taken? She was knocked off balance as someone bumped into her. "Sorry about that." A gloved hand was lowered, which Cheyenne took. She was pulled up to find herself facing a wispy haired young man wearing a grey suit. "Are you alright?" Cheyenne examined her tablet to make sure it was unharmed, then nodded. "Where are you heading?" The man asked, in a friendly voice. *Library* The man raised an eyebrow at the tablet, then smiled. "What a coincidence, I'm headed there too! Can I walk with you?" Cheyenne smiled, then nodded. "Alright." The man started walking down toward the left path, and Cheyenne followed him. "I'm Nicholas, by the way; what's your name?" Nicholas stared expectantly at her for a moment, then shrugged, "Sorry for prying." He pulled a small leather bound book from his jacket to show to her, "I've got to return this book, it's a week overdue." He smiled guiltily, "It was just too interesting to return on time." Cheyenne smiled. She had gotten her parents many library fines from un-returned books. She craned her neck to look at the title of the book Nicholas was holding, but he returned it to his jacket. He stopped in his tracks. "W-wouldn't you know it, I forgot one of my books at home." He said, flustered, "I really need to go grab it, it was nice meeting you." He turned on his heels and jogged back down the street. "Cheyenne!" Cheyenne turned to see her father running toward her. She waved, beaming, but her father did not return the smile. He reached her side, and placed a gentle but firm hand on her back. "Who was that?" He whispered, "I told you not to talk to strangers here. And why are you out on your own?" Cheyenne met her father's frown with a perplexed look. *Mum told me to-* Her father pulled her hand away from the tablet, and bend so he was staring at eye level with her. "You have to trust me honey, okay? Don't talk to that man again. Don't talk to anyone wearing a grey suit, okay?" Cheyenne wriggled a bit, but her father kept a firm grip on her arm, "Cheyenne. Okay?" She nodded, and her father gave a sigh of relief, and rose to his feet. He pulled her into a one-armed embrace, and guided her up the street. "Guess what?" He said, in an overly cheery tone, "I think I found a job on the East side of town, so we can move over there tomorrow!" He looked down at Cheyenne, and gave her arm a squeeze. "I'm sorry." He said softly, "The world isn't a safe place. We're only doing what we think is best for you." Cheyenne felt a bit better upon hearing the words. Every time they'd moved, every time something had happened, she'd heard those words. But now she was thinking about Nicholas. Why couldn't she talk to him? He'd been so nice... What wasn't safe? "I'll t-" Her father bit his lip, and fell silent. They continued in silence, until they reached the trailer. Her father ushered her in, then closed the door behind them, locking it. "Welcome back!" Her mother beamed, but the smile off her lips at their expressions. "What happened?" "We need to tell her Veronica." Her father said. Worry stretched across her mother's face but she nodded, and sat down, gesturing for Cheyenne to come sit next to her. Her father coughed as she took her seat, then smiled faintly. "I don't know how to start, so why don't I just show you."
Avery Funkhouser Her eyes snapped open to loud high-pitched beeping coming from her wrist. Not again. Avery groaned, beginning to sit up, but a wave of nausea forced her to stop for a moment. She was home from school today with a cold, but her case was far from common. Taking a deep breath, Avery climbed out of bed, her feet leading her to her room thermostat. She squinted her eyes, trying to make out the red numbers in the dimness of her sunglasses. 60 degrees. She bumped it down to 50 with a sigh, and made her way back to bed. She couldn't help noticing the sunshine seeping through her curtains. It was simply gorgeous out, how delightful. Avery threw herself onto her pillow, face-first. She wondered what Mr. Abbott, her chemistry teacher, would be saying right now. No matter what he said, she knew his dark chocolate brown eyes would light up with each word. Even though most of what he taught, Avery already knew, she loved to watch his enthusiasm. It was a nice kind of spontaneous energy, the kind that made her smile. Avery chuckled at her thoughts, to have a crush on a teacher was seriously pathetic. But, who else was there to barely relate to? She could imagine the popular girls walking the halls this very second, giggling and carrying on like the world was there's. The rough-housing, arrogant jocks wouldn't be far behind. Then there were the sporty girls, drama kids, band geeks, insecure losers, rebels, wanna-bes, college preps, and Avery. The one-and-only. The girl no one truly understood. And, at times like this, Avery didn't understand herself either. She heard yet another muffled beep, and grunted into her pillow. Why won't you shut up? She regretted ever inventing the thing now that it was giving her a headache. Even so, Avery flipped over, and lifted the wristwatch to her face. 'Intake Fluids' flashed back at her with each beep. "Might as well just get out of bed for good." Avery muttered, as she stomped to the kitchen. She opened a wooden cabinet, grabbed up a plastic cup, and swung open the fridge for her orange juice. But, when she peered inside, she quickly noticed her juice was replaced with a note scrawled onto an egg carton. "Avery, I'm going to the grocery tonight, and will pick up orange juice. Blame dad for drinking the rest. Try water it's good for you! Mum" If you only knew, Mum. Avery thought, angrily shaking liquified plastic from her fingers. She really wasn't in the condition to go out, but did she now have a choice? Her mum could persuade as much as she wanted, but disgusting water wasn't on the menu. Avery went back to her room, grudgingly throwing on her rainbow polka-dot hoodie over her tank top. It will only be a quick trip, she reminded herself, as she slipped her boots over her sweatpants, and slammed the door behind her.
Joe Williams Joe sat sipping his hot chocolate. La choco was his favourite cafe and they did the best hot chocolate. Coming here meant walking up in the east side of coventry but he didn't mind, it was worth it. It was a sunny day and people were bustling about. He prefered it in this end of coventry but west was more useful for his needs. Besides, he might have a lot of money but not enough for a house in this area. Joe like is current house. It sat just on the edge of west coventry; Practically on the border between east and west. "Refill Joe?" The waitress smiled down at him. He checked his watch before shaking his head. "Sorry Sally, I've got to be somewhere." He stood up dropping a note onto the talble then another for Sally. "I'll see you tomorrow, and when are you going to let me take you to lunch?" Joe smiled as he started walking. "How about next week?" She smiled back before heading inside with his cup. Joe headed off down the road and back into west Coventry towards Speedy Trip. It was a small convenience that sat in a shady corner of west coventry. Joe didn't care much for the store but it was a good place to meet potential buyers. His current customer was waiting round the corner, leaning against the alley wall smoking. Rat was his nickname, Joe never bothered to ask for his real name. He stood as Joe approached. "Got the goods?" He asked. Joe nodded in response as he pulled the envelope from his coat and handed it to him. Rat looked through the contents pulling pieces out every so often to examine them. "Some fine pieces, as always." "Of course. Do you have the money?" Rat reached into his coat and pulled out a roll of notes. He threw them to Joe who counted them before tucking them into his pocket. "Until next time." Joe said as he left the alley.
Cody Deluca [HR][/HR] Cody leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms out. He was sitting alone at a table in the school library. A random assortment of books sprawled out on the table in front of him, more for show than anything else. His headphones blasted thrash metal music contrasting the quiet of the library. He checked his phone for the time and let out a sigh, reaching into his hoodie pocket for his pills. He examined the iron supplement pills, fiddling with them in his palm. "Who'd think that a couple of pills would make such a difference..." he thought to himself. He threw the pills into his mouth and then felt his hands, rubbing his fingers together. "This sensation-" A girl tapped Cody's shoulder, he turned around slightly startled. He couldn't hear what she was saying, but she continuously pointed to her ears. "What the hell...?" Cody's eyes widened as he realized his headphones were on. He quickly stumbled onto his feet and shouldered his bag. "They've got to leave me alone." He ignored her and swiftly left the library, leaving the girl at the table. The girl picked up one of the books. "I just wanted to know if you were done with this book..." she mumbled to herself, perplexed. He left the library relieved, brushing his grey hair to the side and out of his eyes. He walked down the hall, his hands in his pockets while looking up at the ceiling. "Man, I'm tired... I totally come off as an emo or something but I guess it's for the better. It's not like that stuff matters anymore... I don't think it ever really did. I know my place now and... I know what could happen." He bumped into a guy dressed in a black leather jacket riddled with metal studs. He was rubbing his red cheek. "Move it!" he roared as he pushed Cody into the lockers. He seemed very frustrated and continued down the hall, leaving Cody on the ground. He slowly picked himself up and adjusted his headphones. "So tired."
Martin Wheeler Thirty-five cents. The coins clinked cheerfully as they bounced into the palm of his glove. "Goes around, comes around," Marty said, offering his latest benefactor a smile in return for the change. People expected that sort of thing. The round man gave a dismissive grunt and continued on his way without a second glance. "A penny saved," Marty mumbled and stuffed the coins into a pocket. Later he would add them to his stash along with the rest of the days earnings, but that meant digging down deep in his cart. Down where the past lived. He shook off a shiver and resumed his journey. It was time to hit the city library, one of the more consistent locations on his route. Nothing good in the dumpsters, of course, but the patrons were often in a charitable mood and most had at least a few jingles in their pockets. He had never actually been inside the building. So many books made him nervous. Marty turned a corner and stopped to get his bearings. The street was empty except for a short girl with brown hair, talking to an older man and the sound of running feet. Curious, Marty turned toward the sound and jumped back so fast he nearly toppled his cart over in the process. A flash of grey, he was sure of it. "Fear itself," he whispered, shaking. "Fear itself, fear itself." He repeated the mantra over and over until he finally began to calm down. Slowly, very slowly he left his cart and crept back to the corner and peered around. Nothing. No one wearing a grey suit and no sound of footsteps. Even the girl and the man she was talking to had gone. Still a bit shaken, Marty returned to fetch his cart. "Idle minds?" He asked himself. It wouldn't the first time he had seen things that weren't there. Somehow that thought was comforting. Crazy was better than the alternative. At last, Marty reached the library. There was a fair trickle of people coming and going though the big double doors. It was an old building and sort of welcoming, even if he couldn't bring himself to go inside. He set to work right away with palms outstretched. Some people ignored him, but most dug grudgingly into their pockets to hand him a dime here and a quarter there. He had been there nearly twenty minutes when she finally came bustling out the front entrance. "You can't do that here," The stern, old woman told him as she hurried over. The elderly librarian glared at him over the frames of her glasses. "Hello, Mrs. Muncy," Marty said. The old woman blinked, then squinted at him. "How did you know my name? Have we met?" Marty laughed and scratched at his dirty beard. "Once upon a dream." Mrs. Muncy scowled. "Alright, Mr. Funny. I'm letting you off with a warning. If I ever see you again, I'm calling the police! You can bet on that." With a nod Marty turned his cart around and set off again for another location. He watched Mrs. Muncy scuttle back to the library over his shoulder, wondering how many times she had made that same threat now. Five years and she still hadn't followed through. Not that it was her fault, of course. Marty smiled to himself as he made his way down the street and whispered, "Out of sight..."
Adelaide Reynolds Adelaide searched the oak drawer beside her desk frantically for her needle and thread, tossing papers aside as she did so. "Ridiculous.. if Mum has moved the sewing kit again.." Adelaide groaned, setting aside the piece of fabric for another time. She had been searching for almost 30 minutes and was becoming irritated. She rose out of the swivel-chair and swung open her wardrobe. Pulling out a long floral print dress and a cardigan, she quickly got dressed and laced up her booties. "Mum'll have to go without a new blanket today.." she murmured to herself, tying back her dreadlocks with a large beaded band. Adelaide picked up her purse, stomped down the spiral staircase and hurried past the kitchen, trying to not make too much noise as her mother was sleeping on the couch just around the corner from the front door. Just as Adelaide undid the latch, her mother's shaky voice echoed in the hallway. "Adelaide.. is the blanket almost done.. you're not planning on leaving.. are you..?" Adelaide sighed out of frustration. She shouldn't be so annoyed, but she was. She wanted to go and buy some new fabrics for the dress she was making. Sure, her mother had a strange illness but that doesn't mean she had to give up her own freedom to take care of her. "Mum, I really can't stay. I need to go out and get some silk and thread. I'll be back later so can we talk then?" Adelaide muttered. "Oh fine, just leave me again.. get me some soup while you're out, okay dear?" her mother replied, grumbling as she snuggled under her torn blanket. "Yeah, yeah.." Adelaide uttered. She walked out of the sitting room, undid the latch on the door and finally got out into the midday sun.
Ivanna Testarossa “Another,” Ivan said, gesturing toward her empty glass. The bartender slowly made his way over, after topping off another customer. “I thought you were banned or something,” he said as he took her glass, filled it with cheap ale from the tap, and returned it. “People always say that. They don’t mean it,” Ivan replied. “Next time your boss bans me, tell him to guard the door with a shotgun, so I don’t just waltz back in.” “Well, aren’t we sassy today...” the bartender said with a snide little grin as he began wiping down the bar. “You’re lucky you’re my second favorite customer, or I’d tell him you’re here.” “And you’re lucky you’re my favorite bar slave or I’d tell him you let me in, Dave,” she teased before taking a long swig of her drink. “And what’s this about second favorite? I still get my discount, right?” Dave, the bartender, shrugged as he moved her empty plate away and polished the countertop with a rag. “Your jokes aren’t as good as some of my other customers. We slaves need a good laugh to get through our shift.” “So that’s how it is?” Ivan said with a sinister smirk. “Well, too bad. In Soviet Russia, joke tells you,” she said, laying the accent on thick. The bartender began to laugh, but she put a finger to his lips. “This isn’t Soviet Russia, is it?” Ivan whispered with a straight face. His laughter slowly subsided, but, just as quickly as her humor had faded, she was smiling once more. “Kidding.” “No, you weren’t,” the bartender replied as he worked his way down the bar. “That was definitely a death glare you just gave me...” “I hate ‘Soviet Russia’ jokes. Only I am allowed to say them. Remember that,” Ivan said as she dismounted her bar stool, straightened her leather jacket, and slapped a hundred-pound note on the bar. “Gimme my change, slave. No tip. Your ‘lunchtime special’ tasted like dog food.” “So I get screwed 'cuz the cook's not on top of his game today?” the bartender said with a slow shake of his head as he took the money and moved to the register. “That's cold. Did I ever tell you, you remind me of my ex?” he added with a slight smirk. “It’s probably wishful thinking on your part,” Ivan said, holding out her hand for the money. When he finally placed the cash in her open palm she thumbed through it, counting each note, before pulling out a small one and handing it back. “For you, slave. We wouldn't want you getting 'screwed' today, would we?" she added with a wink. “See, when you say it like that...” Dave smiled, but she was already headed for the door and ignoring anything more he had to say. Ivan always wore her jeans so tight she could count the coins in her pockets right through the faded black denim. Though she didn't look back, she was sure Dave tallied every penny on her way out. Trading jabs with him was one of her favorite pastimes, but Ivan wasn't nearly drunk enough to make the most of it, and she had no intention of getting that wasted in the middle of the day. She still had business to take care of. Dangerous business. She paused outside Todslington's Pub just long enough to double check the address scrawled on a slip of paper. Someone on the edge of town owed someone else money... and no one paid her to make empty threats.
Rebecca Woods "Will that be all for you today, Sir?" Rebecca asked man who had a horrible looking hawaiin shirt on. "Yea, Just the check."The customer replied his attitude completly contridicting his cheerful and boistrious shirt. Rebecca smiled anyway and lay his check down, moving experetly from table to table, a coffee pot in hand. She went over to a corner booth to refill that particular customer's coffee for the 3rd time that afternoon. He wore a stylish gray suit and seemed immerssed in his book, "Of Mice and Men". Rebecca's hands tingled sharply every time she got near him, she didn't know why. But she had felt the feeling twice before. The first time had been the night her parents died. It had been a rainy evening and a drunk driver hit them at 60 miles an hour on a bridge that connected both ends of large crevice. Rebecca remembered the horrible feeling of falling and then the sudden jerk when they stopped. Her parents had been killed instantly but somehow she had been unharmed, much to the baffilment of everyone. She remembered hearing and seeing someone in a suit outside the car trying to open the door. Her hands felt like they had lost blood circulation all of sudden and they tingled as if someone was pricking her with needles. She didn't remember much after that. She had passed the memory off as an after affect of adrenline, but then just a couple weeks back she had been standing in line at a bank when her hands started tingiling again. Rebecca remembered rubbing her gloved hands together to try and get them to stop when a robber burst in waving a gun in the air. Both times her hands had tingled, were when she had been in danger. Was this one of those times? The man in the gray suit seemed harmless even friendly. "More coffee?" She asked. The man looked up and smiled the cutest smile she had ever seen. "Why yes thankyou. I'm sorry for keeping this table so long, it's just that this seems to be the only place I can find peace and quiet." "That's no problem. The resturant isn't that crowded today." Rebecca replied as she refilled his cup. A tingle went through her hand so sharp that she almost dropped the coffee pot. "Sorry about that." Rebecca said nervously, then she turned and headed toward the kitchen. Immediatly the feeling in her hands returned to normal. What was wrong with her? Why her hands being so weird. Was it warning or just a side effect of her abilities? Rebecca took a deep breath determining not to let it bother her. She was fine...the dude in the suit was fine. Her gloved hands were probably just getting too warm; though a nagging thought in the back of her mind told her it wasn't so. She set down the coffee pot and picked up a tray of orders. She'd just keep an eye on him. It wasn't like he could sit there forever.
Cody Deluca [HR][/HR] “Most metals have high electrical conductivity which depends on their valency of ions, thermal conductivity, luster and density, and the ability to be deformed under stress. While there are several metals that have low density, hardness, and melting points, these are extremely reactive, and are rarely encountered in their elemental, metallic form….” said Mr. Walker, standing in front of his class, reciting a passage from a textbook. “I hate this class… he just goes on and on… I’m already tired…” Cody sat next to the window, barely able to keep his eyes open. His headphones hung around his neck and the sleeves of his hoodie were pulled back. He rested his head in his right arm, staring outside. He watched the colorful leaves falling outside, wind scattering them across the courtyard. Chemistry was his last class for the day, after which, he could go home. It was normally the only thing he could look forward too. He'd been avoiding contact with other people as much as possible and barely even interacted with the house maid. She'd been good to him, cleaning, cooking, and at least trying to understand him. “I wonder if there’s anything to eat at home… I don’t really want to trouble Elysa anymore than I already have. She's been acting strange, well I'm probably the one that's been acting strange. I don't talk to her at all. She's nice too. But... I guess I could go and get some food. That's probably best. Yeah, I've been around the house too much anyway, it's definitely for the best. I think there’s a fish’n’chips place in the middle of town. What was it? John’s? Dave’s? Whatever…” Cody yawned and turned the page of his chemistry textbook, continuing to stare out the window. “Max… it was definitely Max. Wait… was it spelled with an ‘x’? It could be ‘cks’. Maybe just ‘cs’? ” Cody felt a vibration in his pocket. He glanced at the teacher to make sure he wasn't looking and then took out his phone, to see that he had 1 new message. "IndieVidFx.com" from an unknown number. Cody stared at his phone perplexed. "What's this supposed to mean?" “Well Mr. Deluca, did you manage to find something more interesting than our lesson?” asked Mr. Walker. "Wrong number I guess." "Mr. Deluca?" repeated Mr. Walker, raising his voice. Cody looked up confused, he quickly shoved his phone back into his pocket. He looked around, seeing the entire class staring at him. He heard murmuring and whispering amongst them. “He’s the transfer student right?” “Sucker...” “He’s that quiet kid. I think he might be retarded or something…” “Shit. Why is he calling me out? What page were we supposed to be on again? Shit.” Mr. Walker walked over to Cody’s desk, adjusting his glasses. He looked down at Cody’s textbook and then sighed, “Mr. Deluca. If you’re not going to pay attention, I’d suggest at least having your book the right side up.” “T-thank you sir,” mumbled Cody, turning his book around. He slouched back in his chair, glancing at the textbook and looking back up to the teacher as he walked away. Everyone's eyes stayed on Cody, as if they were waiting for something more; however, he continued to stare ahead. Slowly, his classmates gaze left him and he turned back to the window, looking outside. "It was probably just a wrong number," whispered Cody under his breath.
Kami DeSoras Mr. Walker stopped reading and turned his attention to a student near the window. The kid was new, Kami knew that for a fact. He was sort of quiet and kept to himself, and she didn't really blame him for that. He was one of those kids who had something about them that they'd probably never get past. He just didn't want to be involved in a social life, and to Kami, that seemed like a real shame. Of course, whatever it was that was wrong with him probably stopped him from even trying to be social. "He's the transfer student, right," one of Kami's friends asked from behind her. Kami shrugged. She might be popular, but she maintained that popularity through herself, not putting others down. Besides, she liked the quiet students. She could relate to them a little, even if the rest of the popular students didn't realize how much they were alike. The gangs came after the popular, ritzy students, and some of those same popular students picked on kids like him. Poor guy... "Mr. Deluca. If you're not going to pay attention, I'd suggest at least having your book the right side up." Kami looked around the room. Yep, just like Mr. Walker to pick on the new kid. Three kids in the back who were asleep, a girl right behind the new kid doing her hair in a mirror, and Kami's friend was reading a magazine. Not to mention two gang kids hiding behind their books to play cards, even though it was clearly obvious what they were doing. Kami hated some of the teachers in this school. They just went after whoever was available to put down. Just like some of the other popular kids. "Excuse me, Mr. Walker," Kami said as he began returning to the front of the class room. "I noticed that some other students are not paying attention either." Everyone who wasn't now was, at least, they were looking at her. Mr. Walker looked straight at her. "Why thank you Kami. I'm glad you noticed. Would you like to come up and teach the class as well? Then perhaps I can take a break?" Kami swallowed. She'd cut her immunity right there. She'd called him out for being the jerk he was, and she was probably going to pay for it. "I'll see you and Mr. Deluca in detention after school. Perhaps you could both learn a thing or two from one another: he can show you how to keep your mouth shut, and you can show him how to be more attentive." Kami sighed, slumping in her seat. Way to go Kami, she thought to herself.
Alexander Butler As Alexander walked down the street, he started to plan his next few days in advanced. On his current funds, he would be able to hold out for about one or two weeks. But with the extra money he had just acquired, he wouldn’t have to undergo another con for months. Of course, he couldn’t just go to a bank and hand in the entire fifteen thousand American dollars. That would only raise suspicion. He would have to go at intervals, and exchange reasonable amounts of currency at a time. Alexander shook his head in annoyance. He disliked travelling, especially when it was repetitive. As he turned the corner of the street, he caught something from the side of his eye and paused. He slowed his pace, frowned, and pretended to check his watch as he confirmed what his eyes had seen. A large man with dark toned skin stood a few blocks down the street, only a few buildings away from where Alexander had done the trade. He sported a clean, smooth grey suit, and seemed to be watching him. To make sure, Alexander paced backwards a few steps, and instead of continuing down the road, he crossed the street. The man’s eyes followed his trajectory. He was definitely watching him. Had he seen the transaction of money? Perhaps he planned to mug him. He certainly would have a hard time doing that, as Alexander would fight back earnestly. But Alexander didn’t want to take the risk – the man was large, and he himself wasn’t quite athletically inclined. “Well then, let’s take you for a walk,” he muttered, heading off down the street, checking and noting that the grey-suited man was indeed following him. Where would he go? He certainly couldn’t simply lead him back to his own home. That would be stupid. No, he would have to lead him somewhere he couldn’t take any action. Somewhere public, where the man couldn’t think of mugging anyone. Then Alexander smiled to himself. But also somewhere where he couldn’t get away. Perhaps he could turn the tables. Alexander ran through his list of possible locations. There was the grocery, but that was too public. There were too many corners and lanes. Any sort of small store or department wouldn’t do. He would get jumped right outside. He didn’t have enough money to go to a diner, unless he planned to pay with American dollars. And he certainly wasn’t going to head for any police department. That would scare the man away. The library? No. Too quiet. Nothing would get done. Park? Too public. May not have anyone watching. A school? Alexander glanced backwards. The man was hurrying towards him with a brisk pace. Yes. A school would be perfect. He could pass himself off as a student, and the man could pass himself off as a teacher or a parent. He turned another corner and headed for the nearest educational department he could think of.
Adelaide Reynolds Stepping out into the midday sun, obscured by grey clouds, Adelaide walked down the gravel pathway of her house and onto the street. Adelaide hadn't been out of her cramped and slightly dilapidated designing room since yesterday. The only light coming from a dirty old window situated high up on the wall. Adelaide's family used to be well-to-do until last year. They moved to Coventry when the business that her father worked went bankrupt. Her mother's strange illness had only appeared ever since they had moved here, and Adelaide believed this was the cause of all the suffering to her family's wealth and health. Sighing to herself she passed by shady looking characters, men in dirty business suits giving her wild-eyed looks and a homeless woman begging for change sitting in a pile of her own filth. Adelaide shuddered at the thoughts of having no place to stay. She crossed the street and was outside Speedy Trip. "I'll have to go in there and get soup for Mum.. but first, I need to make my way to the fabric store." Adelaide spoke to herself and turned on her heel south. She reached the large double-doors of Madame Turin's Fabric Designers and stepped inside, the small decorative bell above the door clinking. She perused the large amount of fabrics, from silk to leather and plaid. She picked up a large roll of green and yellow floral detailed fabric and set it beside her purse. Looking around for a new sewing kit was tedious, even in a fashion designing store. She pocketed a small sewing kit into her cardigan and set off towards the cash register. Strangely enough, she could have sworn she saw a flash of grey in the purple and pink's aisle.. she brushed it off as a mix-up. As she payed for her wares, she felt someone was watching her. She turned around and saw a ruddy-looking chubby man searching the aisle behind her. He wore a grey suit and a strangely posh-looking tie, even for the poor side of Coventry. She thought for a moment but decided nothing of it. She gave a sheepish grin to the cashier and set off for Speedy Trip.
Cheyenne Fear Her father knelt in front of her, and took her hands. "No matter what." He said, gently squeezing her hands with each word, "You have to promise me you won't panic." He laid heavy emphasis on the last two words. Cheyenne looked to her mother, who nodded and rubbed her back comfortingly. What was going on? She turned back to her father, and nodded slowly. Her father closed his eyes, and got back to his feet. Even as he rose, his appearance had begun to change. The thin nerdy looking man she knew was becoming taller, heavier, and more muscled. She looked to her mother, panicked. Her mother was the same, but even the trailer itself had begun to change. The old faux-wood panels were turning metal, the covered windows were turning into computer monitors. Shaking, her mother still patting her on the back, Cheyenne looked at her bunk. It had become a small padded cell. She shot to her feet, but the man caught her, and sat her back down. "Let me explain." He said, as she wriggled to get loose. What was going on? What was going on? "I'm still your father, she's still your mother; there's a reason for all of this!" Tears fell down Cheyenne's cheeks as she looked into the man's eyes. They weren't green anymore, they were brown. She started fighting his grip again, and he closed his eyes. He began moving his mouth, but Cheyenne couldn't understand his words. The black metal cage began turning back into the old trailer, the muscular man back into the thin unassuming man that she had called her father. "I have an... Ability." The man said, "Power, call it whatever you want. I was born with it. Cheyenne... There are people who want us dead. That's why we've been moving so often. Not just to protect myself, I'm not that selfish; to protect you. You have an ability too Cheyenne, you just don't know it." Cheyenne sat dumbfounded. Ability? Power? What could she possibly do. How could this be real? She absently pinched her arm, and winced at the pain. "This is real." The man said, "You're not asleep." Cheyenne fumbled with her hands, then pulled the tablet out, bitterly wishing she could speak herself right now. *What was that before.* "That's my ability." The man said, "My words cast illusions. I told you we were in an old trailer, and that's what you saw. You were a child, you needed a friendlier environment." Cheyenne pointed to her bunk. "Please understand." The man said, lines stretching across his brow, "It was for your protection, as well as ours. You can't control your ability when you sleep." *I need air.* "No, we started, I need to finish telling you-" "Gary." Her mother finally spoke, "Maybe we should-" *I need air.* Cheyenne got to her feet. She needed to get out. She'd come back when she'd had time to process what she'd been told, though she didn't know if that time would ever come. "Cheyenne." The man grabbed her again, and Cheyenne struggled. "Gary!" There was a sound like a high-pitched scream, loud and constant. Suddenly Cheyenne felt something shoot from her body in every direction, the sound moving with the wave. She fell to the floor, and curled into a ball, as the sound wave bounced around the room. After several seconds, it stopped. Cheyenne got shakily to her feet, the sound still ringing in her ears. The trailer had turned back into the black metal vehicle. The monitors were broken, and papers lay scattered across the room. She turned to see the man lying unconscious on the floor, blood oozing from his ears. Panicked, Cheyenne ran about, digging through the piles of papers, until she saw her mother unconscious, with the same blood falling from her ears. Cheyenne's lip trembled, as she shook her mother, fearing the worst. What had she done? She pulled the tablet from her pouch, her hand shaking so much she could barely hold it. *Mum. Mum.* She repeated typing the word, the machine's monotone failing to express her emotions. She felt a surge of relief, when she saw her mother's chest rise and fall steadily. Choking, she turned and saw the man moving about weakly, trying to get to his feet. Cheyenne, moved away from the man, opening the door of the vehicle. "Don't!" The man yelled, placing both hands over his bleeding ears. The man got to his feet, and Cheyenne fled out of the door, into the afternoon. She didn't hear the man pursuing her, but didn't stop running for a second. Where would she go? ---- Two men occupied a darkened room filled with computers, one sitting, one standing. "Did the text go through?" The standing one asked. He was a rather obese man who went by the name Trace. He adjusted his pea-sized spectacles, as he squinted at the computer monitor. "Of course it did." The one sitting responded. His name was Arnold. He was one of the younger people in their organization. "Though I don't know why Dirk asked me to send it during school. That just seems irresponsible." "Who knows why Dirk asks anything." Trace said, "Whatever the reason, I'm sure it's a good one." Arnold shrugged, and turned to another monitor that was flashing. He clicked the screen, then his mouth fell open. He pushed a preset button on his ever-present headset, and the line began to ring. "Yes?" Came a voice so hoarse, it was barely understandable. "Dirk, something happened to Gary." "What?" "The illusion around his van disappeared." "What the hell is he thinking?" "I don't know, but you'd better head over there. The civilians around the area have already gone into their homes." "Damn it!" "Hello? Dirk, there's a girl leaving the van." "A girl?" "A girl. Does he have children?" "No, he never had kids." "Maybe she took him out?" "One way to find out. I'll catch her." The line clicked, and Arnold turned to share a worried glance with Trace.
Avery Funkhouser The slight Autumn breeze felt cool on her cheek, as she made her way down the drive. "I better hurry..."Avery muttered, pulling up her hood. On any other day, she would have gladly soaked in the suns rays, but not today. She turned off her street and into the familiar city. Just a couple of blocks to Greenstan Grocery. If she could only grab a cab to get there quicker, but she knew that would be dangerous. Cautiously, she looked around, and noticed the many shoppers out and about. Why wouldn't someone be out on a day like this? Well, at least someone normal. She nervously looked down at her wristwatch, still blinking its warning with no sound. If there were this many people here on the street at the grocery, it may take too long. Avery quickly changed direction, turning onto a different street. She knew of a restaurant nearby that might have orange juice. She took a deep breath of fresh air, her head starting to feel light and hazy. She needed to hurry. After squeezing past an elderly couple, she saw the large restaurant sign come into view. Mac's Fish'n'chips. Despite being English, Avery wasn't fond of greasy food, and had never been in the place. I'll be in and out. Keep your cool, keep your cool. She told herself, while pulling open the door and stepping inside. The restaurant was bustling with hungry people and waitresses filling orders. She hurriedly walked by a sweet family enjoying their lunch, and a man from across the room wearing a grey business suit turn to stare at her. Avery tried to shrug off the unnerving gaze, really hoping she didn't look as bad as she felt. To her relief it didn't seem like anyone else noticed her presence. When she finally made it to the front counter, she could feel her legs starting to give way. Gripping the checkered tile, she said to no in particular, "Could I get three large cups of orange juice to go?"
Ivanna Testarossa Ivanna banged her fist on the door repeatedly, but still no one answered. “You can’t hide!” she said, still pounding. “Roland wants his money. 1500 pounds. You can pay in blood or in cash.” She banged harder, and even jiggled the knob a few times, but still there was no answer. “Don’t make me come in there,” she said. “You won’t like that…” After another minute of heavy pounding, she gave up on that approach. Maybe they really weren’t home. Oh, well, Roland would get his money one way or another. It was a fairly nice house. She could find something of equal value inside. Their punishment would have to wait until later; the money always came first. With an angry grunt, Ivan descended the porch and prepared to go around behind the house. Surely, she could find a window to break out and get inside. But as she stepped down, a piercing scream tore through the silent neighborhood; a hellish scream, like the death-cry of an evil banshee screeching at the top of its lungs. Ivan stopped. Her first thought was that it was the squealing tires of a car before an accident, or the malfunctioning groans of a strange machine. No person or animal could possibly make such a sound. There was just no way. A flock of birds took flight, spooked from their treetop roosts, and Ivan looked down the street, where an armored van stood parked in a vacant lot. She could’ve sworn there was an ordinary trailer sitting there a moment ago. Had it driven away when she wasn’t looking? She didn’t like this. It was too much like something the gray suits might drive. “Fuck this,” Ivan murmured, taking one last glance at the house before turning toward the street. Roland could get his money some other time. She was just about to walk away when the van’s door burst open and a girl came sprinting out. She was running hard, the way a person ran when their life depended on it. On one hand, Ivan wanted nothing to do with the van, the girl, or the horrific scream that preceded them both. On the other hand, there might be gray suits involved… Haven’t seen one of those in a few months, Ivan thought, balling a tight fist. It’s about time. The girl was running almost directly toward her, and Ivan half-expected her to stop and spill the beans on whatever had just happened. But, no. The girl didn’t even slow down. Ivan narrowly managed to stick an arm out and hook her, before the girl could race by. An electronic tablet fell in the grass and tumbled a few feet away. “Whoa, easy there, shorty,” Ivan said, staring directly into the girl’s eyes as she gripped her by the shoulders and held her tightly in place. “What happened? Somebody fucked with you?”
Rebecca Woods "Could I get three large cups of orange juice to go?" Rebecca heard someone at the counter ask. She looked around and noticed that Trisha, who was supposed to be watching the register, had taken off on break without saying anything. Again. Rebecca sighed and wiped her gloved hands on her apron and blew a curl of bright red hair out of her eyes. "You said three large cups of orange juice?" Rebecca asked as she stepped up to the register. The teen nodded, shifting from foot to foot as if she really didn't want to be here. Rebecca typed the order into the register and said, "That will be $6.75." Rebecca looked up and noticed the gray suit watching her intently but then glance down at his book quickly when he saw her looking. A shiver went down Rebecca's spine but she smiled inspite of it and waited paitently for the young girl to get out her money.
Cody Deluca [HR][/HR] Cody put a pile of lab textbooks down; the desk creaking under the weight. He stretched out his arms above his head, yawning. He was stuck in detention with another student. Mr. Walker had left the classroom to get some coffee, so at the moment, the two were alone. Cody was organizing the bookshelves while the girl was cleaning the white board. Cody leaned onto the books with his elbow and looked over at her, “Why did she say anything? She doesn’t know me or anything… and she should’ve known that Mr. Walker would do something like this. Was she trying to help me out? Maybe I’m just reading into it too much…” he thought to himself. Kami got onto her toes and reached for the top of the board, exposing the small of her back. “She’s pretty cute. Kami DeSoras… One of the popular girls. She’s tough too. I’ve seen her take out those gang kids a few times. I guess that’s gotta be annoying, dealing with delinquents like that all the time. She’s probably had twice as many guys propose to her… I wonder which is worse.” “You know a picture would last longer, right?” said Kami from the front of class, turning to face him. Cody quickly looked away embarrassed. His elbow slipped, knocking some of the books onto the ground. “Crap! She totally saw me. This is just going to be awkward. Well more awkward. This is pretty awkward. Is me being really quiet and not saying anything making things worse?” “You don’t need to be so quiet all the time. There’s no one else here,” she said, walking over to help pick up the books. “Yup, definitely making things worse.” “S-Sorry… and thanks…” mumbled Cody, reaching for a book. “What was that?” replied Kami, placing two books onto the desk. She brushed her hair to the side and reached for another one. “T-thanks. You know, for earlier…” replied Cody, picking up the remaining books. He placed them onto the desk and then began placing them back onto the shelf, checking the spines for the numbering. Kami leaned back on the desk, “Some of the teachers here are just terrible! You’d think they’d have some standards but then you see someone like Mr. Walker… It’s so disappointing. And I didn’t just do it for you, you know. I just don’t like bullies. It doesn’t matter who they are.” “Sounds like she’s had a rough time here too. I guess being popular has its own disadvantages. She doesn’t speak with an English accent either. When did she transfer?” thought Cody, Kami began to walk around class, picking up scrap paper and garbage. Cody yawned and grabbed a cloth from the lab equipment. He walked towards the teacher’s desk to grab a bottle of Windex Mr. Walker had left for him. As he reached for it he paused, “Mr. Walker’s been gone for a really long time. He said he just getting some coffee… well… maybe he got sidetracked, it’s not like he wanted to be here anyway,” thought Cody, picking up the bottle and moving to the windows. Cody began half-heartedly cleaning the windows, looking at the courtyard outside instead of focusing on the work. “What about that text from earlier… Was it random?” he thought to himself. A boy appeared in the courtyard, walking briskly to the entrance. He looked over his shoulder and quickened his pace. Cody stopped cleaning, watching him closely. “Why is someone coming back to the school? Classes are out now… maybe he just forgot a book or something,” thought Cody, shaking his head. Moments afterwards a man in a gray suit appeared, seemingly following the boy. “What?” murmured Cody, catching Kami’s attention. “Is the kid being followed? I’m probably just jumping to conclusions again.” She walked over to the window to see what Cody was looking at. She looked over his shoulder and saw the man in the gray entering the school. “What is it?” she asked inquisitively, “Ah? It’s nothing… Yeah, I just zoned out. Sorry about that!” Kami looked at him disapprovingly, knowing that wasn’t the truth. She turned to go back to cleaning, when Cody spoke, “D-do you know what IndieVidFx.com is?”
