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Marc was sitting out in the grove, Mary's grove as he called it, with a bottle of Jack Daniels. Sure, that stuff would always be just a little bit tainted for him, but it was still his favorite hard liquor.

He didn't quite know why he'd decided to drink out in the grove today. It was always better for him to hide in his room with the alcohol. That way, he wouldn't have that remote chance of being caught. Then again, not too many people knew the way to the grove, or if they did.. they didn't ever come out here. This place held a lot of good memories for him, a lot of fond times, but those times were over now.. weren't they.

He raised the bottle up to the sky in a sort of toast. "To Marcus Fucking Anderson... we all knew he couldn't stay sober..." He took another swig of the bottle. He glimpsed at the bottle, it was still halfway there. As he was looking at the bottle, he heard some rustling in the bushes. He almost jumped out of his skin, but didn't. "Who's there?!" He said as he put the bottle down. He'd been startled by the rustling sound, he didn't like being startled. It annoyed him.

He didn't hear an answer, so he stood up. Someone was trying to sneak up on him? What was up with that? He looked around, and didn't see anything. He heard the rustling sound, and turned around to see the outline of 4 or 5 people. What the fuck was this? An intervention? He really didn't want to deal with this at the moment. "Look, just go the fuck away, I don't want to deal with people at the moment." There was no answer, but they came closer. Who the hell would know the way out here anyways?

He squinted his eyes, staring at the people as they got closer. They weren't saying a word.. and they were walking.. oddly. Limping a bit almost. If he didn't know any better he'd think that they were...

His eyes caught a glimpse of one of the people that was aproaching, there was a small hatchet embedded in their head. There was something wrong with that, there was actually something amazingly wrong with that.


The thing that was staggering towards him definitely fit the storybook description. Slowly walking, definitely dead, and with that limp. A slow realization hit Marc and he slowly turned around. There were more of the things.. and they were walking towards him. "Oh... fuck." He took of running towards, leaving the bottle behind. He'd rather live than become zombie food, no matter how depressed he was.

The zombies switched directions since Marc took off running. They had no chance of keeping up with him, but they saw the mansion, and saw their next destination.

Marc slammed the door shut to the mansion and was freaking out. He didn't know where to go, who to get. The Professor.. he would have to talk to the Professor, and immediately. God only knew how long he had before the things got in the mansion.
25 March 2006 @ 07:39 pm
Andrea was sitting up in her hospital bed, ready to walk around for a bit to get some exercise. She stretched her toes out, and fixed the tubes around her so she could look around, possibly go to the window. Things were getting better, and she knew she would be out of the infirmary in no time. Andrea stood up, and took a few steps away form the hospital bed. A tightening in her chest she felt, she quickly grabbed onto it and fell to the ground.

Life became darkened...

Her heart stopped. The jump-starter was attached to her chest to the point where the nurses got a pulse. Andrea was then put back into the bed, and will now be under serious observation until further notice.
During the night of St. Patrick's Brandon was sitting on the computer dazed in his own thoughts. Some random anal porn was on his desktop. He didn't pay attention to it he was more concerned about his thoughts. What he did in the past, and who he had become. It was displeasure for him to even think that he should try to change things around. He then looked at the sleeping beauty on his bed all curled up. He had thoughts then of wanting to protect her, protect her from him protect her from...

A sudden startle in the air as it broke to the sound of "Stupid Girl" by Cold is played on his cell phone. Brandon looked at Melody and then looked at his phone. That was Andrea's ring tone, he had no idea why she would be calling this time of night. He looked weary at the cell, and decided to pick it up...

Brandon: "Hello?"
Police officer: "Yes, is this Mr. Forester?"
Brandon: "Um, yes this is Brandon Forester may I help you? What are you doing calling from Andrea's phone?"
Police officer: "This is concerning your Sister, Sir. Andrea Forester had been in car accident this evening. We need you to come to the Mary McClellan Hospital in Cambridge."
Brandon: "Huh? What?!"
Police officer: "We advise you Mr. Forester to bring someone along with you for this may be a very difficult time."
Brandon: "Is she Okay?"
Police officer: "Sir, please just come to the hospital at your convience. We need some paper work filled out."

Phone clicks...

Brandon sat there for a moment looking at Melody. He ran his fingers through his air, and took in a deep breath. "Alright... Let's go." He said blankly still unable to move out of the computer chair.
Current Mood: shockedshocked
13 March 2006 @ 02:50 am
It took Ro Kusaragi all of five minutes to unpack everything he'd shoved into the one dufflebag he'd brought with him, and as he looked at it, he released a tired sigh. He'd stopped at a store prior to the long bus ride to the school, and even with the items he'd piled in from that trip he was still allowed room for more. He tried to persuade himself that it was just a big duffle bag, not that it was for the fact that he owned so little. Looking around now that everything was unpacked the room looked terribly bare, and he made a mental note to go out and buy a few more odds and ends once he got the chance.

Using his foot, he slid the small trash under the dart board he'd attatched to the wall opposite of the bed he'd chosen of the two that were available. It had been a parting gift from the few friends he'd made at the bar just under his old apartment, and Ro had carried it proudly in his hands from the bus to the door to his room. There wasn't a lot of space to play properly, but a little practice was better than no practice at all. Tilting his head at the board, he took two steps back, eyeing the trashcan, then the board again before moving up to it once more, sliding the object on the floor a little more to the left.

Shrugging off his overshirt, he tossed it onto the bedcovers and moved to the door in his black 'Brother Weeze'' T. The poor thing looked as if someone had forcibly torn the sleeves off, leaving what little of them remained jagged over his biceps. Obviously aged and well worn, it was still Ro's favorite article of clothing and the most comfortable thing he owned. Not a fantastic trophy, but the first of few, memorializing the first friend he'd made in Rochester, a biker named Freddie, who'd given it to him after the young man managed to slam down and entire bottle of whisky in twenty minutes without vomiting or passing out. Beyond the twenty minutes was a completely different story. Ro'd been sick for nearly three days after that and had sworn never to drink again, but Freddie had still been impressed. His reward was the shirt and fifty dollars. When the bartender had found out the young man was underaged Ro was banned from the bar for all of three weeks before Freddie and a group of his buddies managed to persuade him back in. While he wasn't allowed to drink after that, not that he'd planned on it, the company was good for both sides. Ro had long since forgotten why he'd gone down to the bar to begin with, perhaps to get change to use the washer and drier in the building's basement, but the rest was history.

Opening the door wide, Ro instantly felt the cross breeze from the open window and smiled a little, testing the door to see if it would close on it's own before he turned back to what he was doing...which, he realized a second later, was pretty much nothing. He made his way to the bed and flopped onto his stomach, the mattress bouncing a little as he grabbed the map of the compound that had been laying on his pillow, studying it, his bare toes curling slightly as the fresh breeze filled the room.
06 March 2006 @ 09:42 pm
Peter Stood in the entry way of the mansion. It was hard to believe it had been nearly three years since he had last been there. The time in-between was best left forgotten. He wasn't proud of what he had done, but he would have done anything to assure the safety of his family. The Russian Mafia is a difficult adversary anywhere in the world, but is impossible inside the borders of Russia. He was fairly confident, that at least for a while things were safe for his family, for his beloved sister Illyana.

It had taken him a long time to actually feel like he could tell anyone what was going on, even Professor Xavier. He was ashamed of the fact that he had felt like that. He should have known better than that. By not going to his friends, by not going to the people that had earned his trust and proved their loyalty time and again, he had allowed his enemies to control him, allowed them to win. He had learned nothing from his time at the mansion, and he was going to right that this time.

He walked to the fireplace, and warmed his hands. He watched the flames dance, and the embers crackle. He sighed. He hadn't wanted to leave. He hated that he had to pack up a whole part of his life and put it in storage like it didn't exist. When he was in Russia there was no time for him to be an artist. No time for him to be thoughtful or feeling. Those things would have been weakness, and he was being extorted for his strength, and nothing else. Never again. He wouldn't deny himself again. No-one could make him do that. He was assured that when he returned, his art supplies would be in his room waiting for him. He was almost nervous about it, like they might not love him anymore. He smiled at his own pathetic nature sometimes, at the contradiction he seemed to embody.

He walked down the hall to Professor Xavier's office. He sighed deeply. He was happy to be back, to get a second chance. He would try not to let the professor regret coming through for him again. He would show everyone that he wasn't a thug or a mob strongman. He could be counted on, he could be a hero. He would train harder and study harder than anyone else to prove he deserved to be there. Another deep breathe, and he straightened himself up. It was good to be back he thought again, before knowing lightly on the door and entering Professor Xavier's office.
‘Well, this is going to be interesting.’ Aryn thought, her duffle bag slung over one shoulder as she walked down the street towards the taxi. Same damn yellow car that infected New York. She’d be Grayhounding it back to the Big Apple, then catch another taxi to Xavier’s. Aryn was practically lost in thought, staring down at her steel-toe army boots as they walked, left-right, making the walk seem like a treadmill. Aryn was oblivious to the beautiful, crisp Maryland afternoon, the clouds, the sunlight, the people bustling by. No, she was thinking about Jade.
They’d said goodbye yesterday morning. The world had seemed a little darker since then. Aryn remembered it vividly—Jade had seemed much quieter than was even usual for her, and Aryn had yelled at the cat to keep from crying. The cat, of course, had to go with Aryn. One of her hands held a soft carry cage that Watt was currently riding in, contentedly mewing at the world. It had been hard to let Jade go, but she needed somewhere else. Now that Aryn’s world had fallen apart, the only way to keep Jade safe from the mutant-hating bastards that beat the shit out of her was to send her away. Jade chose San Francisco. It was possible that it would be a very long time before Jade saw either Aryn or Mary again.
But it was for the best, Aryn decided, and hailed the taxi. It slowed down. “Going where, miss?” the ultra-polite voice in the front seat asked her. “Bus station.” Aryn grunted, passing front money up to the man so she could sit back and watch the world go by.
The greyhound ride was excellent. These two thugs got in a fight in the back, and had to be thrown out near some gas station somewhere, and Aryn very nearly joined in if it hadn’t been for the cat. It would have felt SO good to beat the hell out of something that deserved it right now. Mmm. Then, the rises of New York and a yellow cab heading just out of town, stopping long enough to grab a hot dog and a coke. Aryn didn’t like New York. Not anymore.
There. Was that it? The oh-so-gorgeous and huge mansion and estates that the taxi pulled up to was insane. Wow. Aryn stepped out of the cab, dragging her suitcase, duffle and cat behind her. She stared up at the vast mansion.
It might have been the smart thing to ring the buzzer, wait for an answer, wait for the huge iron gates to move. Yeah, that might have. But something moving caught Aryn’s eye, and she decided that she had all night to ring that blasted buzzer. So she put her things down by the gate, scratched Watt’s head, then climbed over the fence. A little recon couldn’t hurt, right?
The grounds were beautiful. A little gazebo was erected not far from the perimeter. There were ashes all over the ground here, and a few ash cans. She assumed that this was a common smoker’s spot. She moved a little farther, far from the lights on the walls.
Not that she had any doubt at all that they knew she was there, or that someone would come looking for her. She had no doubt she’d get in trouble for it. But at the moment, she needed to fight something. So rather than stop by the bar she’d seen on the outskirts of the little (she assumed mutant?) town they’d passed in the cab (the shithole was labeled ‘The Bar.’ Either mutants were stupid, or that was just a little obvious, no?) she’d just do this and assuage her mounting discomfort. Oh, for the good old days when the bad guys carried guns and shot at people needlessly. The times she could beat someone senseless and feel so good about it. Now, the bad guys carried protest signs and broke her best friend’s legs in back alleyways. It made her so mad to think about that she punched a nearby tree for no reason. The bark splintered around her hand, and she felt the skin part along her knuckles. It felt good. Very good. She kept moving, staying to the shadows for habit’s sake, and came around to the back. There was a huge basketball court here, surrounded by the compulsory fence. A smile came to her face. She’d be spending a lot of time here, shooting hoops. A forested area was on the back end of it—she thought it might not be wise to wander into the forest just now. She could see further on what appeared to be a small stable, and skirted around to it. She knew Mary loved horses, especially palominos.
Wow, it seemed that this place was intensely well kept. She wanted to go inside, but didn’t know how the “bald wheelchair guy”(as Mary had put it) would take that. Aryn knew that an exploration of the grounds was a minimal infraction, but entering? He could call the… yeah. Never mind. She fingered the 9-volt battery in her pocket and went inside. A few soft whinnying noises were coming from the darkened stalls, and she gave her eyes a few seconds to adjust.
The horses were beautiful. Aryn almost immediately spotted the palomino. That one must be Mary’s favorite. But another horse drew Aryn’s attention. It was black, with some white markings. It might have been painted, but Aryn couldn’t see all that well. What attracted her was it’s eyes. Galaxies could have fallen in those eyes. She scratched it behind an ear and moved on.
As the brown-haired girl walked back out and around the building, she pulled the 9-volt from her pocket and touched it to her tongue. She’d been doing that ever since she’d changed the first time. She was afraid to change, a little, since being a walking body-shaped ball of energy wasn’t exactly her idea of normal. The night was beautiful, and she decided that it might be time to head back toward the gate and ring the bell properly. She disappeared into the shadows, hoping for entertainment’s sake that noone would come looking for her until she was damn good and ready…
16 February 2006 @ 11:12 pm
Alex stood at the edge of the road and watched as the taxi pulled away, her eyes following it until it was beyond her sight. Once it had disappeared, she reached slowly into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. On it, she had copied the information she'd been given - the access code to the entrance, a room number, and a small map of the school.

The girl turned to face the gate. This was it. Reaching to brush a bit of dark hair from her eyes and peering between the bars, she got her first real look at the mansion. It was certainly impressive, but she wasn't sure that she'd be able to call this place her home. Home was a thousand miles away, a house on the beach, surrounded by palm trees and friends that she'd known since she was a kid. This place was as far from home as she could get, but it was the only place she had at the moment. Alex took a deep breath before raising a slightly shaking hand and entering the sequence of numbers. For a moment, she hoped that it hadn't worked, that it would've given her an excuse to start off along the edge of the road to wherever it went - she didn't care. However, it opened soundlessly, and she lifted her duffle bag and started up the long driveway.

Well, no turning back now. Not that I've got anything to turn back to, she reminded herself. Alex exhaled, her breath visible in the cool air - something that she wasn't used to at all. In her haste to leave, she hadn't exactly remembered that most of the world experienced something called winter, and at the time, she hadn't known that she'd end up in New York. A light jacket and a few layered t-shirts didn't do a very good job of keeping out the cold, but she didn't have money to spend on a proper coat. Shivering, she walked faster as she tried to calm her nerves. She couldn't help but worry - what if she wasn't welcome? What if they didn't like her? What if she didn't fit in? She struggled to assure herself that everything would be fine. They had, after all, invited her there. Why would they do that if they didn't want her?

Before she'd convinced herself that there was nothing to be afraid of, she found herself facing a fairly intimidating set of heavy wooden doors. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to let herself inside, or if she should wait for someone to allow her in. Alex stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do, before raising a fist and knocking sharply upon the door, hoping someone had heard her. There - it was done. Now, all she had to do was wait.
16 February 2006 @ 03:17 pm
Nolen swore to himself to never allow his father to ship him out again on an airplane that was not the private jet of his company's. Even though he had gone first class, the smell of vomit and a baby screaming made Nolen want to rip his hair out.

The car pulled up, allowing Nolen to punch in the eight-digit number that had been included with the packet of materials that had been sent to him. The gates opened and Nolen settled back into the leather seat, automatically clicking the button that brought the shaded glass back to block the sun. As the Rolls Royce pulled up to the mansion, Nolen lowered his window again. He was mildly impressed until he realized that there would be many, many people living there, so he assumed that to find a quiet place would be difficult.

Nolen realized that he had agreed to this situation, and besides the money his father's secretary sent to him from the family account, he would not have contact with them for some time. That didn't bother him, really. As the vehicle came to a stop, Nolen didn't wait for the driver to open his door. His face was cool as marble as the driver collected Nolen's suitcases and he threw his messenger bag over his shoulder, clicking off his iPod.

"Thank you, Jeffery," Nolen said as the driver placed his luggage by the front door.

"When you're ready for your Bentley, I have been instructed we would bring it up within two days." Jeffrey stated.

Handing Jeffery a twenty-dollar bill, Nolen watched the Rolls pull away. Sighing, he looked around quickly, surveying the area. Straightening his shirt, he opened the door and grabbed up two bags, his power taking care of the bulk. Nolen closed the door behind him and set everything in a pile, pulling out his docket with his room assignment and directions to Professor Charles Xavier's office. Nolen zeroed in on the door, not too concerned about other rooms just yet, his footfalls echoing. Knocking on the door curtly, he entered. As the door closed behind him he cleared his throat. "Hello Professor Xavier. My name is Nolen Hasboro, I believe my father spoke with you about my arrival earlier this week."
29 January 2006 @ 12:12 am
The bus dropped her off in front of her new "home". Fae green hues flicked up as she stared straight ahead and then walked on inside of the school, she hiked her bag and back pack a little higher on her shoulder, keeping her suitcase in one hand. Once inside of the school, everything was rushed. She was in her room, putting her clothes from their suitcases and the like. She sighed as she closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. Things were just so....she wasn't sure what it was...she couldn't think straight for the time being. A faint frown crossed her lips as she stood up to grab the map to make her way towards the kitchen to get herself something to eat.

Her eyes closed momentarily as she grabbed an apple and a bottle of water before heading somewhere or other, mostlikely outside to find a tree to perch herself in. That was pretty much what she had done. For the time being, she'd just watch as the other kids played their games outside, hung out, and just did their thing. She didn't want to get involved in the social issues right now.

Once she had finished the apple off, she rested the core on her leg and closed her eyes as she leaned back against the tree trunk to fall asleep. A sudden sound shocked her, and she rolled from the tree, doing a quick flip, she saved herself from an ungraceful landing and landed on her feet, like all cats are prone to do.

After walking around a bit, she headed back inside to sit down in the rec room with her drawing book, bottle of water, and a charcoal pencil to begin a sketch.
27 January 2006 @ 12:48 am
Andrew Stood at the door to the school. The school was in a giant mansion, adding another first to the long series of first's that were being tackled that day. He had his first plane ride, his first time in a taxi, and his first attempt at ordering something at a Starbucks, which had ended with him going to the small McDonald's in the airport instead, when he realized that he did not understand any aspect of anything at the Starbucks. He knew that coffee places like that were very fancy, and not something that even considered stopping in or near his town. It wasn't like he would ever have been allowed to pay 4 dollars for coffee anyway, but he was going to do it at the airport, just to make a point, and show that he was starting a new life, until he chickened out after five minutes of staring at the menu board, and being near tears about it.

When they had said New York, he had envisioned it being in New York City, and that had scared him more than a little bit as well. He was from a town of less than one hundred people, and the thought of living in that New Sodom and Gomorrah made him uneasy. He was pretty sure that the building he was in front of could house his whole town's population, as well as that of the next two closest towns. He had been in front of big buildings before, he had been in the Wichita convention center, and in the Radisson near it when they had the Christian Youth Conference in the summer, but this wasn't a hotel. He looked around, and back at the long driveway he had walked up, and back to the gate the taxi had dropped him at with his luggage. He had used the code for the gate that had been in the packet he was sent by the school. He had read and re-read his packet on the flight, but he was still nervous. The packet said he was in the boys hall, room 2048, and he had a map. There was a girl's hall too, and it concerned him. He looked at the door again. He didn't know if he still had to knock, or if they... "they" would open the door assuming he was there needing to go in, or if he should just walk in on his own.

Andrew took a deep breath, and let it out as a sigh. The whole experience of being on the plain and in the airports and the taxi had made him tired. He decided not to wait any longer. He lamented for another moment, before deciding to just knock on the thick wooden door.