Home » The Crystal Hall » Fan Fiction » Figment: The Dream Begins (An Exercise in Imagination [Complete])
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| Figment: The Dream Begins [message #65694] |
Tue, 12 January 2010 19:49  |
 Orichalcon
Messages: 348
Registered: December 2009
Location: Under your bed, USA |
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Hey there. I know you didn't see me come in. You wouldn't have. I'll have a cream soda. Yes, I know the bar's about to close. Thanks. No, I don't need a ride back to my house. Don't live around here, actually. Well... I'm here because you needed someone to talk to. Well, a little birdie told me you were a mu-
Hey! Put the gun down, lady! I'm not with the MCO or Humanity First! or anything, I just came here to talk! Relax! I promise that no one knows about your little secret except for me, and the one person who told me. You're a good person, you know. The power you have could have been used for evil or good, and you picked the middle road. However, that doesn't mean you shouldn't have trained your powers. You're 22, dear, and you've barely used your power since you manifested. Do you know what a burnout is? ...Judging by the look on your face, I'd wager you do. Do you know what usually CAUSES burnouts? Bingo. You know, for someone who seems to want nothing to do with your mutant abilities, you sure know the risks fairly well.
Hey, don't get angry!
Wait, I-
No, I don't have to deal with-
HEY! Don't think for even a minute that you're the only one who's had their life changed for the worse by their powers!
...Well, me, for one.
No, it's alright, you don't need to apologize. Just don't think you're alone. Well, my story's a bit different. See, I had EVERYTHING about me change. Well, it's hard to explain. Why don't I just tell you the story of how it happened?
______________
March 19, 2007
"Ey, Marine!"
Milk spurted out of Oliver's nose as he watched an ignorant girl look up and promptly get smacked out of her chair on Youtube. His friend Paul yanked away the computer quickly, to spare it from a death by lactose blast.
"Geez, dude! Wait until AFTER you finish to laugh! This is new, you douche!" Mirth softened the blow of his best friend's words, and Oliver laughed.
"Oh, give me a break! It's 8 seconds long! How do you expect me to prepare for that?" Paul nodded and laughed some more.
"Whatever, man. Just get a napkin." Oliver nodded, and got up, walking towards the other end of the cafeteria. He had almost made it there when he got a funny feeling in the back of his neck. Not a normal kind of funny feeling, like being sick or it being that time of the month. It was closer to the kind someone gets when the sniper has just positioned their head dead center in their crosshairs. Oliver whirled around, looking for his observer. However, whoever it was, he or she was hiding quite well. Oliver just gulped, laughed nervously to himself, and grabbed a handful of napkins, powerwalking back to his seat, earning an odd look from Paul.
"What's with you?" he asked, his jovial tone hiding a slightly concerned undercurrent. Oliver smiled and waved his hand dismissively.
"Nothing, it's nothing. Just got the jibblies for a second."
"OK, man, but if something's wrong, you just... You tell me. I'll sort it out." Oliver nodded, grateful for his friend's presence. Paul was about as different from Oliver as could be. Tall, well-built, and blond, Paul was built like a freight train, and had the grades of one. In fact, that was how he had become friends with Oliver- They lived near each other, and Paul had needed a history tutor. That was Oliver's strength. In fact, it was just about the only thing about him that could be called strong. Everything Paul was, Oliver wasn't. Short, but weedy, with scraggly black hair, the boy looked like a twisted candle wick that had partially burned. The skin he showed was pale as death, but most of it was covered in a poor-fitting amalgamation of clothing in color combinations that never should be. The only thing that had allowed him to escape from the void of total high-school isolation was the friendship between him and Paul. Paul was a rarity, Oliver surmised, a youth with a bright future ahead of him, but still a common man that would stop in the street to help you if you fell. He was truly lucky to have him as a friend. Offhand, the young man wondered what his life would be like if he was like Paul. He would be more popular, that's for sure. An image of him and Paul kissing entered his mind, unbidden, causing him to sit straight up. He shook his head, questioning his sanity for even considering such a possibility. Bromance, not romance, the young man reminded himself as he resumed eating. Suddenly, he stopped. That feeling was back, like someone had him in their sights. However, this time, it was accompanied by another feeling, a tingling feeling in his limbs and torso, like his whole body was cramping up. He shook his head hoping to get rid of both feelings. Both persisted. He glanced around, trying to find who was watching him once more. However, this time, he was met with a pair of startlingly blue eyes. His heart skipped a beat as he realized that his watcher was the infamous Molly Merrson, known better as Mutie Mindfreak. She had been the most popular girl in school, with flawless skin, long blond hair, and those eyes... But then, somehow, people had found out she was a mutant, and now she was lower than even Oliver. She had precognition, and something else. What had they called her? An Exemplar? The only example Mutie set was the one that showed that mutants were hated and ostracized. Oliver felt bad for the girl, but then remembered how she had treated him like dirt, and his sympathy was forced down. He tried his best to ignore her, but throughout lunch, he continuously felt the girl's stare on him. His agitation and worry boiled over as lunch ended, and in the middle of passing period, Oliver subtly made his way towards the girl.
"Why do you keep looking at me?!" he hissed angrily. Mutie looked at him, not blinking, just staring into his eyes with her own.
"Just preparing to welcome one of my own," she said simply, before walking away. Oliver didn't follow her. His jaw had dropped, his eyes were huge. The statement had a few connotations, but there was only one likely one, and it scared the living SHIT out of him. Mutants weren't discriminated against publicly in the town- they could still had equal opportunities for employment and the like, but Mutie had been the most popular girl in school before her powers became public, and now she was a pariah. Oliver was barely above her on the social ladder as she was now. If he was a mutant... No one would talk to him. Not even Paul. He would be far worse off than Mutie. And knowing his luck, Oliver surmised that he would probably grow an extra limb to boot as part of his "gift". Oliver held back tears as he walked to his next class, arriving just after the late bell, further adding insult to injury.
_________
Worry ate away at Oliver as he sat down for his history class. His teacher, Mr. Patterson could see it. Mr. Patterson was not a mean teacher, but he was a dedicated one. He believed that knowledge was the best medicine, and all a sick student needed was a good problem.
"Mr. Zinn, tell me who won the French and Indian War," he said formally, confident his best student would have no problem answering the simple question. Oliver looked up, pale as death. At this point, worry couldn't have been the only thing affecting him. He was sweating and shaking, his eyes bloodshot.
"I... Don't know, sir," he replied simply, before his head collapsed onto the desk. Mr. Patterson gaped and faltered. Not only had his prize student failed a question for the first time, but he appeared to be... Well, dead. Paul rushed over to his best friend and checked his pulse. He looked up, terrified.
"Someone call an ambulance!"
[Updated on: Wed, 24 March 2010 20:41]
"He can transform. He's a T-Rex that can transform into a dragon with rocket wings."
"Awesome."
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| Re: Figment: The Dream Begins [message #65764 is a reply to message #65694 ] |
Wed, 13 January 2010 07:38  |
Orichalcon
Messages: 348
Registered: December 2009
Location: Under your bed, USA |
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March 21, 2007
Oliver awoke with a moan and a whimper. His whole body hurt, and he felt like he hadn't eaten all day. He clutched his stomach, hating the fact that his first feeling was one so vile. He leaned over to the side of the bed, and was sick.
Wait. Bed?
Oliver wiped the bile from his mouth. He was definitely in a bed, but it was not his. It was hard, and smelled of rubbing alcohol and hydrogen peroxide. He wiped a stray hair from his face, getting a look at his surroundings. He was in some sort of infirmary, that was for sure. He tried to get up, but his arms betrayed him, and he fell back on the bed. He looked at his hands. Had he really become that out of shape? He didn't look out of shape. In fact, he looked better than ever. His baby fat was all gone, his hands were clean, even his nails looked well manicured. Well, that last one was a little weird. If he had been admitted to a hospital, it made sense that he would have gotten cleaned up, for sterilization purposes. However, a manicure was a bit extreme, as well as unnecessary. His nails weren't that bad. For that matter, since when were his hands that far away? His arms had never been this long before... Or this flawless. Oliver had always had a bizarre curse of permanent goosepimples running up and down his arms; they were completely flawless now, like ivory. Oliver shivered. Something was very wrong. He shook his head, praying that what he feared hadn't come to pass. The shaking caused more hair to fall into his face, and he swept it to the side. Hold on a minute. Oliver's hair was close cropped for simplicity's sake. It had never been long enough to fall into his face before. He traced the path of the hair with his fingers. It went all the way down to his waist. He grabbed the newly lengthened locks, and examined them. They hadn't been magenta before, either. Oliver began to cry as his worst fears were realized. Mutie's prophecy had come to pass, and Oliver had manifested his own mutant powers now. He moved his hands to his face to wipe away the tears, but was stopped by something on his chest. Two things, actually. Oliver began stuttering in shock.
"I have bre-bre-bre-BOOBS?!" He squeaked in a decidedly feminine voice. His situation was quickly proceeding downhill. There was only one other thing that could make Oliver's plight any worse. Slowly, tentatively, Oliver pushed off the covers, and lifted his gown. He was greeted with a surprise.
"IT'S GONE!"
A young doctor came running in at Oliver's outburst, concerned about his latest patient. However, as he opened the door, he suddenly became more acquainted with Oliver's new anatomy than Oliver was. He turned slightly red and turned away.
"Ma'am, please put your gown back down!" Oliver blushed deeply, and pushed down the gown. After a few seconds, the doctor turned back to Oliver. "I apologize for my behavior just now, ma'am. Ms. Zinn is it? I'm Dr. Edmunds." He reached out to shake Oliver's hand, but he just looked at him, tears forming in his eyes. Dr. Edmunds looked at his beautiful female patient with a mixture of confusion and sympathy. "Is something wrong, Ms. Zinn?" Oliver began sobbing.
"Of course something's wrong! I was male before! I was normal before! Now I'm some sort of freak!" Dr. Edmunds paled. He had heard tales of the mutant gene altering biology quite severely, a condition known as Gross Structural Dystrophy, or GSD. He had even heard of some mutants unintentionally manifesting into different genders. However, to see such a case in front of him, especially one that had progressed so far in so little time was nearly unthinkable to the young doctor. However, he regained his composure quickly, clearing his throat.
"I apologize for my mistake, ma-er, sir," he said professionally. "I was unaware such a change had occurred." Oliver stopped crying, and looked up at the doctor, anger in her features.
"Neither was I until just now! I still don't know what I look like!" he screeched, tears building back up in his eyes. Dr. Edmunds made an agitated noise in his throat, and dashed out of the room, returning moments later, rolling in a full length mirror. He positioned the mirror on the left side of Oliver's bed.
"Here you are. If you'd just stand up, you can see how you look now. Oliver shook his head.
"Could you move it to the other side? I kind of..." He pointed to the vomit with a sheepish expression on his face. The doctor looked at the former contents of Oliver's bowels, and shrugged. He was a doctor. Vomit was nothing new to him. However, he complied, rolling the mirror to the other side of the bed. Oliver moved himself to the side, and stood up gingerly. Once he had steadied himself, he looked up, and was greeted with a shock.
The girl in the mirror was nothing like Oliver had been. Every detail had been changed. He had grown several inches, for one. His hair had indeed lengthened, and changed color, for at the end of a long tress of warm, but not shocking, magenta hair was a tuft of wiry black hair. His skin had gone from his former deathly pallor to a warm cream color, without a single blemish anywhere he could see. His face was that of a beautiful young woman's; his lips had filled out nicely, his nose had shrunk to an appealing size, and his eyes... His eyes had transformed from the watery brown eyes that had always been a girl repellent into limpid pools of slate grey, with opaline flecks complementing it nicely. Oliver made a strangled noise in his now perfect throat, and sat back down on the bed.
"Great. The most attractive woman I've ever seen, and I can't ask her out because I am her. Figures." But Paul might... he thought, a small glimmer of hope appearing. Dr. Edmunds chuckled, earning him a glare from Oliver.
"Sorry. But you have to admit, the way you said it was quite funny," he said, earning another look from his transgendered patient. The tension in the room was ended abruptly by a knock on the door. A nurse poked her head in.
"I'm sorry to bother you, but there's a visitor here for Oliver Zinn. Is he-"
"He's in," said Oliver quickly. The nurse nodded profoundly, understanding what was going on far quicker than Dr. Edmunds had. She ushered Paul into the room, and quickly left. Oliver's eyes widened as his best friend saw him as he was now. She quickly hid behind the mirror, hoping he would just go away. He didn't.
"Oliver?" he said tentatively. Oliver wiped some tears away, and poked his head out. The shock he saw in his friend's face tore at him, and he began crying once more. He suddenly felt an arm surround him, and he looked up in shock. Paul was embracing him. He looked down fondly at Oliver's face. Oliver buried his face in Paul's chest, sobbing.
"I'm so sorry, Paul... I didn't... I'm not who I was, who I want to be." Paul made a shushing sound, and put his head on Oliver's.
"It doesn't make a difference. You'll always be my best friend, O. I don't care what anyone says." Oliver sniffed, and hugged Paul harder.
"But I'm a monster now. You'll be an outcast if-" Oliver stopped as Paul pushed him away, and bent down, looking him in the eye.
"Never say you're a monster, O. You're beautiful. Don't let anyone tell you different." Oliver's heart skipped a beat at Paul's words. B-beautiful? He thinks I'm beautiful! However, he knew that the problem wasn't his gender, but his nature as a mutant. Why was he the exception to the rule of hating mutants? He had to know.
"Why? Why don't you hate me like Mutie?" Paul's face turned stern at the question.
"Two reasons. One, as I said before, you're my best friend. Two, you may recall that I never made fun of Molly. I never had a problem with her." Oliver's eyes widened as Paul's words rang true. Paul was just about the only person who didn't needle Mutie after she had fallen so far. Of course, Oliver had always assumed that the reason why that was was that Paul was just about the only person who Mutie didn't needle prior to that point.
"Even if that's true, you're easily the most tolerant person I know period. Even I hate mutants more than you do. Why?" Paul's face turned stonier, and he walked to the other side of the room. He turned to Dr. Edmunds.
"Excuse me, Doctor. Could Oliver and I have a moment alone?" The doctor nodded, aware something was up. He quickly exited the room, and closed the door. As he did, Paul walked back to Oliver, and sat him down on the bed.
"What I'm about to tell you doesn't leave this room," he said warily. Oliver nodded, curious. "Do you remember a kid from when you were younger? Nickname was Burf?" Oliver nodded, confused. Of course he remembered Burf, a pudgy little boy with a permanently constipated expression on his face and a shock of greasy blond hair on the top of his head. However, his physical aspect was merely a shell for a friendly, intelligent child who cared deeply for anyone who he cared about. He had gotten his nickname in kindergarden, when he had come into school sick one day. The teacher had asked him to sit down in his chair, only for him to have a horrible diarrhea attack, getting liquid feces all over everywhere, much to the disgust of his fellow classmates, excluding Oliver. He had peed himself by accident at roughly the same time, having had to hold it in for the whole day. He had used Burf's little "outburst" to run to the clothes rack, and change quickly. He had come back just in time to hear Molly coin the nickname that would stick with poor Burf for as long as Oliver knew him- A portmanteau of butt and barf. He had befriended the boy after that incident, finding a kindred spirit in the other young man. However, even a person like Burf could not survive a life of ridicule like the one that Molly and others like her had delivered unto him, and the boy left for a boarding school after 6th Grade.
"Yeah..." said Oliver, his response laced with suspicion. "But how do you? Burf went to a boarding school after 6th grade. You moved here in 7th. How would you..." Realization dawned on Oliver suddenly. He had never been to Burf's house before he had left, but he knew he lived near him. And no one ever used Burf's real name after his nickname stuck, but it had started with a P... "You... You're..."
"Yeah," said Paul quietly. "I was... I am Burf."
[Updated on: Thu, 25 March 2010 13:32]
"He can transform. He's a T-Rex that can transform into a dragon with rocket wings."
"Awesome."
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| Re: Figment: The Dream Begins [message #66564 is a reply to message #65694 ] |
Wed, 20 January 2010 10:48 |
Orichalcon
Messages: 348
Registered: December 2009
Location: Under your bed, USA |
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"Wait, YOU'RE Burf? How can that be?!" asked Oliver, falling back. Paul looked nothing like his old friend had. Of course, Oliver didn't look very much like himself right now either. His shock soon faded, rage washing it away. "You deceived me for 3 years, Paul! 3 years! I've always wondered what happened to you... If you were happy..." If you missed me... "Why didn't you tell me?" Paul sighed, and looked down.
"I couldn't tell you, O. I couldn't tell anyone. I still can't. I've got a stellar career in sports, I'm doing well in school thanks to you, and I'm even popular! All those things would be gone if anyone found out!" Oliver digested this information quietly, contemplating Paul's logic. Suddenly, he found a rather large snag in the statement.
"Wait... Mutant testing is done constantly in sports, even school level. How have you not been found out?"
"Well... It's a long story. I always figured that my mutant power was shapeshifting."
"Was shapeshifting? What does that mean? And shapeshifting wouldn't get rid of the mutant gene, would it?"
"Like I said, long story. Believe it or not, I only used the power once, and I haven't since. It was 2 days after school got out..."
________
Two and a half years ago...
Burf woke up with a snort and a whimper. Summer was beginning, but he had no friends to enjoy it with. He was moving tomorrow, and leaving Oliver behind.
"It's not fair. I shouldn't have to deal with this. Stupid Molly... I wish I looked like a popular kid..." He imagined how he could be, tall, well-built, with straight hair and steely blue eyes... Then Oliver would love him.
-------
...
Trust me, if I had known he felt that way about me back then, the whole ordeal that followed would have been much easier. But, as per usual, things never were. Paul only told the full extent of the story to me later.
Hey, who's telling the story here? It's not out of context if he thought it at the time, so don't ride me.
Fine, I'll get back to the story. Geez, so picky!
-------
Wait. Burf sat up. No, it wasn't like that. Oliver was his friend, nothing more. That was wrong... Wasn't it?
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...
Yes, I know that it sounds like a crock. But you know what? I can't go back in time, by myself at least, so I go on what he says.
...Don't make me skip ahead. Please, just let my finish.
Thank you.
--------
The question caused his neck to break out into goosebumps, like something had found out about him. Suddenly, Burf's vision got all hazy. He fell back, panting. Something was wrong. Sure, it was summer, but this heat was inhuman. It felt like his body was on fire... He threw up on the floor, and dragged himself downstairs, where his mother was making breakfast. She turned to him.
"Paul, honey, I've got panca- OH MY GOD! PAUL!" She ran to her son, picking him up.
"Mooooom... It's so hot... What's going on?" He looked at his hand. Blisters were forming quickly, and going down immediately, leaving tan patches in his pasty skin. It even looked like his arm was widening. He screamed as the blisters began going up his arm, leaving tan in its wake. His mother dropped him in fear, and everything went black...
__________
"And when I woke up, I looked like this," said Paul bitterly. Oliver looked at him, a mixture of sympathy and horror on his face.
"Oh my god... Paul, I'm so sorry..." The other boy laughed harshly.
"I wasn't, when I first woke up. I could finally be the good-looking one, the popular one. I looked exactly how I wanted to." His face turned dark. "Then I realized I couldn't change back." The words were like ice to Oliver.
"You couldn't change back? I thought you were a shapeshifter!"
"I was. However, I wasn't supposed to manifest at that time, or maybe at all. I had something called a burnout. It's when your powers go out of control, and your power and metabolism literally burns up. I lost my powers that day, but the body stayed, minus one ability. Lots of things can happen as a result... New powers, loss of powers, and sometimes even fundamental body change. That's what happened to you, O. Do you know what your body temperature was when we got you into the ambulance?" Oliver shook his head, worried exactly how far from his normal temperature of 97.4 he had been. Paul looked him in the eyes, deadly serious.
"O, you were 107.6 degrees. At 107, your body's cells begin shutting down and DYING. That's what happened to you. Your cells died, and we think they were replaced by these ones. You had the most catastrophic burnout the guys in the ambulance had ever seen, and you're walking around and yelling 2 days later. O, you should have died. Either you're one HELL of a regenerator, or something else saved you." Oliver looked at Paul, eyes wide, tears beginning to stream down his face once more.
"W-what do you mean, something saved me?" he asked in a quavering voice.
"I don't know. I never got tested or anything. Hell, most of what I said is what I read on the internet. I'm sorry I can't help you more, dude."
"Actually, I may be able to shed some light on your situation," said a voice behind the two, in a heavy Japanese accent. The two whirled around to see a little old man with a long Fu Manchu mustache and beard looking at them. They looked at him suspiciously, and the man responded in kind with a squint of his own. Finally, Oliver broke the tension.
"...Mr. Miyagi?"
The man burst out laughing, a hearty booming chuckle undiminished by age. Even Paul snickered slightly at the comment. All this time Oliver looked blankly, wondering what was so funny. The laughing continued for about 30 seconds, until the old man finally settled down, sighing.
"That was clever. I haven't heard a Karate Kid reference in years. But that's only because my students are too cowardly to say them to my face!" He began laughing again, and Oliver began chuckling nervously, joining him. The man sighed again.
"Anyway, enough with the humor. You are Oliver Zinn, correct?" he asked, regaining his composure. Oliver nodded hesitantly. The man stroked his beard in thought.
"Interesting. According to my sources, you manifested two days ago, and yet you appear to be a girl completely." The look that the old man gave Oliver as he said unsettled him enough to cross his legs. The man waved his hand down.
"It's alright, Mr. Zinn. I merely read your medical records. Do not assume I'm just some stereotypical lecherous old man because I'm Asian and, well, old." Oliver nodded, but kept his legs crossed.
"Enough about that. You said you had an idea of what was going on?" he asked impatiently.
"Indeed I did. Mr. Zinn, do you know what an avatar is?" asked the man quietly. Oliver shook his head. The old man stroked his beard in thought.
"Well, the best way to describe an Avatar is as a vessel."
"Vessels for what, exactly?" asked Oliver.
"Spirits. Everything in existence has a kami, or spirit, living in the kakuriyo, a spirit world half-overlaid onto our own utsushiyo, or material world. People, animals, plants, even concepts and ideas have spirits. An avatar becomes an anchor for that spirit in the material world, and gains powers and the like from the spirit, in a form of symbiosis. Certain types of spirits can reshape their host's body in order to allow them to use the powers they've been given easier or more effectively." Oliver looked at the old man, then Paul, then down at himself.
"So I'm some sort of... Avatar?" The old man stroked his beard.
"It is a distinct possibility. And it would allow us to better understand the events of a few days ago..." said the man cryptically.
"What events? What happened?"
"...3 days ago, there was some sort of... incursion. A spirit managed to enter our world from a weak point between the kakuriyo and utsushiyo. That spirit was incredibly powerful, and managed to shrug off the strongest wards our yamabushi shamans could create as if they were nothing. We lost track of it the next day, and was last seen travelling this way. As of this moment, I think it may have taken you as a host." Oliver's eyes widened.
"Wait, so I've got some unbelievably powerful ghost in my body, and that's why I look like this? Get it out of me!" The old man sighed, and shook his head.
"I'm afraid that's probably impossible. If you ARE an Avatar, you appear to be of the Paladin variety, which integrates its essence with that of the spirit. Removing it would be like attempting to cut out part of your soul. It could be fatal, for all we know." Oliver blinked as more tears formed, and collapsed into Paul's arms, sobbing. The other boy embraced his newly female friend, stroking her hair and whispering consoling words into her ear. The man walked over to the two, and looked Olivia in the eye.
"That's not why I'm here though. I belong to a school that trains mutants, helping them to improve their control over their powers. It's an expensive school, but we've already arranged for a scholarship and spoken about it with your parents. They gave us their blessings, so all we need is for you to say yes now." Oliver sniffled, and wiped away his tears.
"Wait... Who are you, and what's this school called?" The old man smiled, and stood up straighter.
"My name is Goki. I am the head of combat training at the Yama Dojo."
[Updated on: Thu, 25 March 2010 13:47]
"He can transform. He's a T-Rex that can transform into a dragon with rocket wings."
"Awesome."
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| Re: Figment: The Dream Begins [message #67194 is a reply to message #65694 ] |
Wed, 27 January 2010 20:12 |
Orichalcon
Messages: 348
Registered: December 2009
Location: Under your bed, USA |
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March 23, 2006
"Mom," grumbled Oliver, her face flushed. "You don't need to do this!" Angela Zinn, a slightly overweight brunette woman, turned around and used one of the two most powerful weapons in the universe: The +10 Maternal Disapproval Stare. Oliver shrank back in her seat, her resistance fading in the wake of the eye-narrowing onslaught.
"That's playing dirty! I can't do that kind of thing!" Angela chuckled.
"Not yet, baby girl," she said before giggling. "Now that's one thing I never expected to say." Oliver sank down in her chair, beet red. Angela noticed this, and tried to find a way to change the subject.
"Anyway, have you picked a new name yet?" Oliver, grateful to get away from the other conversation, shrugged.
"Not really. I don't want to lose my identity as Oliver... Of course, I can't be Little Miss Olly Pocket, can I?" Her mother looked sadly at her new daughter for a minute, then chuckled again. Oliver looked at her hotly.
"What's so funny?"
"You're about to buy bras and panties, and you're worried about losing your identity?" Oliver gasped at the comment.
"Mom!" Angela just laughed as the two pulled into the mall parking lot. Oliver tucked her hair into her hat, making sure not to let the magenta locks show. She walked out, and, her head down in shame, shuffled towards the entrance to the mall, her mother right behind her. Oliver trudged towards the JCPenney, until she was stopped by a hand grabbing the scruff of her neck.
"Yeep!" she squealed, before she clamped her mouth shut, mortified. She turned around, to see her mother holding her, and began to sigh in relief. That sigh caught in her throat as she realized that she was being pulled into Victoria's Secret.
"No. No, no, nononononono-" her protest was silenced instantly by her mother's squint once more. She grumbled.
"That should be a daily power only..."
20 minutes later
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What, you think I'm going to show you my escapades in lingerie? You must be joking. Don't give me that face. I'm not showing you that. Now let me continue with my story.
------
As I was saying, 20 minutes later
Oliver walked out of Victoria' secret, blushing and murmuring.
"Nonono, too sexy..." She hefted the 4 bags of unmentionables onto her back and glowered at her mother.
"Did I really have to get all of this?" she asked. Her mother chuckled.
"Of course not. 1 of those bags is for me." Oliver paled at the statement, and ran to the bathroom to hurl.
The Men's bathroom.
Oliver ran out of there like a bat out of hell, followed by cat calls and wolf howls. She slunk, mortified, into the Woman's bathroom. Several seconds later, she walked out briskly, blushing. She dashed over to her mother.
"...I have to go. And I can't use either of these. We go home. NOW." Angela nodded gravely, and began to usher her mortified daughter out of the mall. However, their paths were stopped by an explosion of smoke and flame, knocking the two into a column. Angela was downed instantly, but Oliver was made of sterner stuff since her manifestation. At least, physically. She squealed in terror, and grabbed her comatose mother, pulling her to the safest place in the mall: the Christian bookstore. She deposited her there, and ran towards the source of the explosion.
Hold on a sec, I'm a mutant! I have powers! Maybe I can he- Oliver's thought process was cut off as another explosion threw her back.
Oh, that's right. My power is PURPLE FUCKING HAIR!
It's magenta, you know. Oliver's eyes grew wide. That wasn't her thought. Was the attacker a telepath? Oliver gulped, and tried to run out of her mental assailant's range.
SHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHIT-
BANANAPHONE! cried the other voice happily. Oliver stopped.
...Boo-ba-doo-ba-doop. she thought, her nerdy mind getting the joke. The girl flinched as roaring laughter boomed in her head.
Ah, that was good. Haven't had a laugh like in a while. Anyway, get on the ground. Let's make this quick. Oliver meeped at the suggestion, and slowly complied.
Where are you? WHO are you? She blinked and screwed her eyes shut as she heard large, clanking footsteps behind her.
"Turn around," she heard, out loud, from the voice that had spoken to her inside her head. She did so, and saw a rather generic-looking mad scientist peering at her, a colander decorating his head. Oliver raised an eyebrow.
"And you would be?" she asked in a casual voice that disguised her fear at confronting a supervillain quite well. The man laughed evilly.
"I am the most dreaded villain known to Red Bank, New Jersey! I am... Throwaway! Fear my sinister plot!" Oliver's fear was rapidly abating.
"And that plot would consist of?" she asked.
"Evil!" he responded madly. Oliver rolled her eyes.
"Do you even hear yourself?" she asked, earning a look from the villain. "No, seriously. You're such a cliché it's not even funny! Look at your outfit! A labcoat? Crazy white hair? Orthopedic shoes? Goggles? A COLANDER? Who even buys one of those things these days?" The villain stroked his chin.
"Hmm. Those are valid points, and they deserve a well thought out answer. But I think I'll just shoot you instead," he said, pulling out a cobbled together death ray. Oliver's eyes grew wide.
"Um... Hey, you don't need to- Induræ Cum ira, si onata sine lacrima, samaphe oraanu omni ana me!" She clamped her hands over her mouth, wondering what on earth she had just said. Even Throwaway looked confused.
"Um... You punch your mother with that mouth?" Oliver looked at him indignantly.
"You're completely batshit insane, you know that?"
"I'd like to point out that I'm the one holding the death ray." Oliver's fury boiled over, and she lashed out verbally.
"It looks like shit! You're just some typical mad scientist. You're nothing. And you're dressed like an idiot! Maybe if you didn't look like such a colossal tool, people could take you seriously!" Throwaway gave Oliver a look that brought a mouthful of lemons to mind.
"Hey, screw you! I can imagine how it's supposed to look, I just can't get it to look that way! It would be awesome, matte black coating, bayonet attachment, the whole shebang! Just because it looks like crap doesn't mean I don't wish it looked better!" As Throwaway said this, the gun was suddenly wreathed in shifting lights, and Throwaway dropped it, his face registering almost as much shock as Oliver, who was speechless.
"How the hell did you do that?!" he yelled. "I read your mind! Your superpower is magenta hair!" Oliver broke off her shocked silence and gave the villain a withering look.
"You know my point? The one about the crazy? You just proved it," she said. The light faded, and Throwaway looked incredulously at his gun. It had transformed into the gun he had described.
"Hot damn! Now this is what I'm talking about! This'll do some serious damage!" He quickly picked the gun up, and pointed it at Oliver.
"Thanks for the help. Now say bye-bye," he said as he pulled the trigger. Rather than shooting a murderous beam at Oliver, however, the gun simply exploded, tossing Throwaway into a wall, and knocking him out. Oliver looked at the crumpled form of the supervillain, shocked. [i]I doubt THAT was supposed to happen," she thought. She quickly checked to see if he had a pulse, then called 911 for the police.
"Oy... I'm a mutant for what, 3, 4 days, and I've already been attacked by a supervillain..." She ran to her still unconscious mother, and sat down, exhausted.
"...You know, for a mall, this is quite empty," she said as the sound of sirens began getting closer. "Meh, blame it on the economy."
[Updated on: Thu, 25 March 2010 14:05]
"He can transform. He's a T-Rex that can transform into a dragon with rocket wings."
"Awesome."
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| Re: Figment: The Dream Begins [message #67459 is a reply to message #65694 ] |
Fri, 29 January 2010 17:01 |
Orichalcon
Messages: 348
Registered: December 2009
Location: Under your bed, USA |
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March 25, 2007
Oliver sat on a bench at the train station, next to Paul. An uneasy silence rested between the two.
"So..." he said quietly.
"So..." mirrored Paul. The tension hung like a miasma over the two, until Oliver turned to him, trying to keep tears out of his eyes.
"Why do you have to go to this other school? Mr. Goki would probably let you come with us," he said. Paul smiled sadly at him, and put his arm around his shoulder.
"It's not like I want to leave you, O. I wasn't even going to leave at all, but Goki pulled us both out of school. Apparently, people want to study why I'm stronger than normal despite the fact my metagene burned out, or how I'm even alive from a burnout like that. I have to go here because your school doesn't have the space," he said. Oliver sobbed.
"Paul, I've been turned into a girl, attacked by a supervillain, and I'm going to some school in Japan soon, all in a week. I can't deal with it without you. I don't want to." I need you... He buried his head in Paul's chest. Paul lifted Oliver's head up, and looked him in the eyes.
"Oliver. You are a strong person. I've been with you this whole time, and I'll always be with you, right here," he said touching his chest absently, trying to point out his heart. However, he quickly realized what he had done instead, and pulled his hand away, stammering apologies. Oliver giggled, and wiped his tears away. She leaned into Paul, blushing softly. It's now or never... I can't let you go without this, he thought. Paul gulped. "O? Oliver? What are you gonna d-Mmph!" His questions were answered as Oliver mashed his lips into Paul's, pulling him into a passionate kiss. Paul's sounds of confusion and shock faded as he kissed him back. The two continued kissing for 15 minutes, until they broke off slowly. Paul looked at Oliver, a mixture of satisfaction and drunken glee on his face. "...Wow, Oliver." Oliver giggled and bit his lip nervously.
"I guess I really am a girl now, after that. Call me Olivia." She stood up unsteadily, before plopping down on the bench, sighing happily. "I think my mind's changing too," she said, trying to pass her feelings off as a result of her change. "That felt... It felt amazing. It felt right." She turned back to Paul. "I don't want to leave you after that." Paul frowned, and looked at the train coming into the station.
"All aboard for the Great Miskatonic Shuttle!" cried out a voice from the first car. Paul pulled out his ticket, and looked back to Olivia.
"I'll keep in touch with you, I promise. But I have to go. I lo... I'll see you soon, O." He kissed her on the head, and ran to the train. Her eyes widened as she caught what he was planning to say, and a warm feeling enveloped her body. He loves me back! HE LOVES ME BACK! she thought happily. However, her mood sobered as she saw tears forming in his eyes as he talked to the conductor. Olivia looked at him longingly, and cursed Goki silently for separating Paul and her. She cursed the train for taking him away. She cursed her body for changing on her, and putting her in this position. And most of all, she cursed herself for letting Paul get away. She stood up, her mind made up.
"No."
--------
4 hours later
Paul sighed, reclining in an old leather chair.
"Figures... O finally likes me, and I have to leave her." he mumbled sadly. He was roused out of his stupor by a rap on the door of his booth, followed by giggling. The door opened to reveal 5 girls that looked like they walked out of a fashion show. All of them were bombshells, tanned and beautiful, with sparkling white teeth. The first girl, who appeared to be in a leadership position, was a redheaded amazon, vibrant green eyes studying Paul. With a shiver, Paul noticed that the girl was subtly licking her lips, as if he was a piece of meat or particularly delicious prey to her. The other girls that filed in did not do much to help his impression of the group either. All of them were almost exactly identical, black hair framing amber eyes that held him in a regard that could only be described as "I call his thigh". Paul shifted in his seat, crossing his legs, and waved politely. "Er, hello there," he said. The clones made no change in their expression, but the redhead smiled, and sat down next to him, smiling coyly.
"Why, hello there, handsome. Going my way?" she said in a light Irish accent, earning a panicked look out of Paul.
"If, uh, you're asking if I'm going to Whateley, then yes, I am," he said, gulping nervously. "Um, I'm Paul."
"Ceara," she said seductively. "Ceara Olcán. These are my... My sisters." Paul silently registered the hesitation in her voice as she referred to the girls, not quite trusting the redhead. "Anyway," Ceara said, "What's a strapping boy like you doing on this train all... alone?" The way she said the last word would have sent almost any boy, or a good bunch of girls, straight into heat, but Paul had Olivia on his mind, and ignored Ceara's honeyed tone. Ceara noticed this, and a slight look of interest and agitation appeared under the seductive façade.
"Well, I have a g... I have a friend who I just had to leave at the last stop. I miss her already," he said sadly.
"Hmm," said Ceara, putting a finger to her head in mock thought. "I wonder how we can fix that. Should we treat him to a show, girls?" she asked, and the 4 nodded, smiling widely.
"A show?" asked Paul. Before he could question any further, Ceara pushed him down, lying on top of him. The other girls sat around him. Grinning, they began to unbutton their shirts, earning a beet-red blush out of Paul. Before they could continue, however, the booth door opened with a SLAM.
"Let him go," said Olivia in an even tone that belied true menace. "Or I will personally rip out your reproductive organs and shove them down your throats." The girls turned around to see Olivia, and stood up, buttoning their shirts. Paul jumped up, looking at Olivia incredulously.
"O? When...Why... How did YOU get here?" he asked, confused, but more than a little happy to see her. Ceara smiled wickedly.
"Ah, you must be the 'friend' Paul was talking about. I really must ask you to leave; this is a private booth. Whateley students only." Olivia flushed in anger. She had to think of something to make a comeback.
"Uh... I'm going to Whateley. So, suck it, bitch," she said coldly. Ceara's eyes narrowed, and Paul could have sworn he heard a small growl escape the redhead's lips.
"Oh really, then. Well, this I'll have to see. Paul, do you mind stepping out in the hall for a moment?" she asked, and the 4 girls ushered the boy out, locking the door behind them. Ceara sat down politely, and Olivia did the same across from her. The redhead appraised Olivia, smirking at her hat. "Really, dear girl, the grunge look is far out of style. I honestly suggest you just give up on Paul. He's mine now." Olivia chuckled at the statement, causing Ceara to narrow her eyes once more. "And just what, exactly, is so funny?" she asked, anger creeping into her voice.
"Ceara, is it? Let me explain something to you. I've known Paul since we were kids. He's never been interested in a pretty face. It's the heart that counts with him. And your heart? Black as pitch." The way Olivia said this infuriated Ceara. Who was this little hatheaded bitch to talk to her, a beautiful girl, like that? Maybe she'd thrall the little whelp just to shut her up. She involuntarily let loose another growl, causing Olivia to raise an eyebrow. "You may want to get that checked," she said, no trace of mockery or guile in her voice. Ceara scowled. This little trollop wasn't worth it.
"Fine, bitch. Have it your way. But watch your step. You fall out of line once, and I can make your life a living hell... Or end it completely." She walked out of the booth coolly, taking the other 4 girls with her. Paul and Olivia looked at each other, Olivia blushing slightly.
"Paul..." she started, but he just closed the booth door and sat down, a fatigued expression on his face.
"O, we are going to be in so much trouble. Did you even think about this?" he asked.
"Of course I did! I don't want to leave you. This place is a school for mutants. I should be able to go here without trouble. Worse comes to worse, I take some classes here and then go to the dojo. It's a win-win!" she said. "...I thought you'd be happy to have me with you. Are you?" she asked, worried. Paul chuckled, and nodded.
"I just worry about you, O," he said, pulling Olivia in for a kiss on the forehead. "You've become rather... Impulsive. I want to make sure you're always OK. If being with me is the best way to do that, then so be it. Anyway, we should probably get some sleep. This train is slow, and we've got quite a ride ahead of us." Olivia smiled, nodding, and snuggled into Paul's chest, falling asleep quickly.
--------
High above the train...
A pair of figures, one bizarrely tall and one normal sized, floated well above Olivia and Paul's car, observing them. The tall one turned to his counterpart.
"This is her? This is the Marid? She's but a girl, and a new girl at that. How can she be the one to fill such a role?" he asked. The other figure did not avert her gaze.
"There is no one else who could be. Despite our efforts, the spirit's essence has merged with the girl's own. She utilized her powers accidentally a few days ago when threatened, and granted a wish, through the Verses. She is who we seek." She turned to the taller figure. "And if you question my authority again, I will not only kill you, I shall seal your gate." The tall figure flinched in terror.
"I apologize, my Shah. I shall not dishonor you again. Please forgive me." He said.
"Only because you are useful to me," said the normal-sized figure.
"What do we do now?" her consort asked.
"Now," said the figure, pulling back her hood to reveal shimmering silver hair.
"We watch."
[Updated on: Thu, 25 March 2010 14:57]
"He can transform. He's a T-Rex that can transform into a dragon with rocket wings."
"Awesome."
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| Re: Figment: The Dream Begins [message #67780 is a reply to message #65694 ] |
Mon, 01 February 2010 21:59 |
Orichalcon
Messages: 348
Registered: December 2009
Location: Under your bed, USA |
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As the train continued moving well on into the night, Olivia and Paul decided to sleep on separate benches in the booth. The two said nothing for about an hour and a half, until Paul finally broke the silence with a soft snore. Olivia tensed for a moment, and got up, silently giggling at the boy's noise. She put her shoes on, and snuck out of the room, pausing to softly kiss Paul on the forehead as she passed him. She had not been outside of the room for more than a minute when she saw a bright light flash in a booth a few doors down from her. She quickly (but quietly, Paul was still asleep after all) ran over to the room, and opened the door, only to get a pillow tossed at her face. She fell over, and was pulled in quickly.
"What the-"Olivia began to ask, but before she could finish, 2 hands clamped over her mouth. She pulled away quickly, to see two girls looking at her, a combination of annoyance and mirth on their faces. Another slept next to them.
"Quiet. There are people trying to sleep here." whispered one, a perky Latina brunette with glowing eyes that changed color every second.
"If you know that, why are you setting off flashbangs in here?!" Olivia whispered fiercely. Rather than responding, the brunette turned to her right, looking at a deep redhead with blue eyes and freckles who was now glowering at Olivia.
"Hey, that's what I can be called! Think about it, Ethel! Flashbang: the Blinding Bombshell!" the brunette said softly, in a voice that sounded like it was drowning in helium. Olivia winced at the tone, then looked at the girl questioningly.
"You made that light show?" she asked.
"Well, she would have made more if I hadn't done something," said the angry girl, whose name was apparently Ethel.
"Really?" asked Olivia. "What do you do?"
The girl cleared her throat. "I can eliminate all sound in a 15-foot radius around me by stopping airflow. That's why I call myself Whitenoise. I'm also a telepath." Olivia gulped.
"Um... You haven't been hearing my thoughts, have you?" she asked. Ethel laughed harshly.
"Well, let's go back to when you first saw me. I quote: 'GINGERGINGERGINGERGINGERGINGERPaulGINGERGINGERGINGER.' End quote." she said, earning a blush out of Olivia.
"Um... sorry. I'm just... Well, I've had a bad time with redheads recently." she said, looking away in shame. The brunette nodded profoundly, before breaking into a big grin.
Enough about her. I'm Cataluna. I make fireworks!" Cataluna put her hands together, and pulled them apart, causing a bright flash. Olivia silently thanked the lord for Whitenoise's prescence as she rubbed her eyes. "Neat, huh?" asked Cataluna, bouncing up and down. Olivia nodded hesitantly, eyes screwed shut in case the brunette decided to show how "neat" her powers were again.
"So, what can you do, Miss Magenta Hair?" asked Whitenoise, causing Olivia to open her eyes. She gave the redhead a look.
"Well, you can read my mind, so you probably already know that my name is Olivia. As for my powers, well... I don't actually know. Supposedly I'm some sort of Avatar, but I haven't felt any sort of spirit or anything." Cataluna looked at Olivia questioningly.
"OK. But what can you do? You know, fire bananas, kick laser beams, eat only one Lay's potato chip, that sort of thing!" She bounced up and down again, her excitement heightening. Olivia reared back slightly, feeling all the eyes in the booth (minus the sleeping girl, who must have been deaf and blind to sleep through this madness) Between, Cataluna's constant badgering and Whitenoise's hateful looks, Olivia's stress was building and building, until...
"Induræ Cum ira! si onata sine lacrima, samaphe oraanu omni ana me!" she hissed furiously in an odd, breathy voice, and the two girls shut up. The third girl sat up, the eye mask on her face slightly skewed.
"Who just used magic?" she asked, pushing her disheveled blonde hair out of her face. Cataluna and Whitenoise ignored her, staring at Olivia, who had clapped her hands over her mouth.
"What was THAT?" asked Whitenoise, her eyes wide. "That was like nothing I had ever heard! It wasn't even a sound- I couldn't dampen it!" She gulped. "You better hope that everyone in the train didn't hear that." Cataluna, in the meantime, had a dreamlike look in her eyes.
"It sounded beautiful... Like my abuela was alive again... I just wish I knew what it meant..." As soon as she punctuated this last sentence, her pupils suddenly got huge, eclipsing each eye entirely. She straightened like a board, and began babbling. Olivia gaped, recognizing a few words out of the girl's speech as words from languages like Greek, Russian, Dutch, and many more. Whitenoise grabbed Olivia by the collar and hefted her up.
"What did you do to her? Tell me!" she roared.
"I don't know! I didn't do anything!" she yelled, terrified. Suddenly, as quickly as she had been afflicted, Cataluna relaxed, sinking back into the old bench with a sigh.
"Well now. That was interesting," she said, matter-of-factly, as Whitenoise rushed over to her.
"Catie, are you OK?" she asked, worry practically dripping from her tone.
"Never better. I know what she said, by the way. Something along the lines of, 'Endure with wrath, if only without tears, for I am the song of all the ancient seas.' Very poetic." Olivia and Whitenoise looked at Cataluna, mouths agape. "What?" Cataluna asked. "It's cool! I have every language in my head now!" Whitenoise turned to Olivia.
"You turned her into an omniglot?" she asked, shocked. Olivia shook her head again.
"I didn't do anything!" she cried, but Whitenoise would have none of it. She picked up the girl with the eye mask on, and put her Cataluna's lap. Olivia noticed that the girl was very young, and couldn't have been more than 8.
"Hey, Brighteyes. We need some help. Would you mind looking at this girl, seeing how much magic she has inside her? She did something funny to Catie, and we want to know how." The girl turned her head to Whitenoise, and nodded.
"K, Noisy. This girl is funny. She has purple hair," she said, giggling. Olivia turned red and frowned.
"It's magenta," she said, holding it nervously. She watched as Brighteyes began to pull off her eyemask. As soon as she opened her eyes, however, she screamed and fell to the ground, quickly replacing the mask and bursting into tears. Whitenoise picked her up.
"What happened?" she asked Brighteyes.
"She's too bright! It's like looking at the sun and mommy told me never to look at the sun or I'll hurt my eyes and I looked at her and my eyes hurt!" she bawled. Olivia looked down guiltily as Whitenoise looked at her with enough anger to make a Rager try and calm her down.
"Er, Olivia, maybe it's best that you leave. We'll see you at school," said Cataluna. Olivia nodded sadly, and exited the booth. She went into the hall, walking to the end of the car, to the outside. She sat down and watched the countryside through the rails, letting the tears that had formed fly off her face.
"Before, I was unpopular because I was ugly. Now I'm hated because of something I can't control. Why does this keep happening to me?" she asked herself, sobbing.
"Dunno. But you seem like a pretty nice girl."
Olivia shot up, and noticed the boy sitting next to her for the first time.
"How... When... Who are you?" she finally asked. The boy chuckled, waving back a mop of bluish-black hair.
"I'm a pal. That's all you need to know. You need anything when we get to Whateley, and I'll help you out." With that, he walked back in, leaving Olivia more confused than ever. She blinked as she watched the sun begin to come up, and headed back inside, hoping to catch at least a few minutes of sleep.
[Updated on: Thu, 25 March 2010 15:00]
"He can transform. He's a T-Rex that can transform into a dragon with rocket wings."
"Awesome."
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| Re: Figment: The Dream Begins [message #68005 is a reply to message #65694 ] |
Fri, 05 February 2010 03:25 |
Orichalcon
Messages: 348
Registered: December 2009
Location: Under your bed, USA |
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Olivia barely managed to make it back to her box and settle in before the train pulled into a station that could only be described as "Paleolithic" to her. The design looked strong and sturdy, but the bricks were faded, paint long since peeled away. It wasn't even an issue of disrepair; she could feel a palpable sense of age from the station, like an old man who had resigned himself to watching what happened around him. Olivia smiled slightly. It was a good feeling. She shook Paul, and he woke up after sputtering a menagerie of sounds that could have come from a See and Say.
"The hunk goes, 'Zzzz-Snrk?'" she muttered as the boy stretched out, and pulled himself up with a grunt. Olivia tried not to swoon as his muscles tensed at the effort, highlighting a body that, in the girl's humble opinion, could make Artemis hot and bothered. Paul shook his head and opened his eyes widely, taking in the morning's light with gusto. He looked at Olivia with a sly smile on his face, and she knew that he had heard her private joke.
"And the babe goes, 'Oh, take me now!'" he said in a humorous falsetto, and Olivia giggled slightly, turning a friendly shade of pink as he waggled his eyebrows in jest.
"Oh, stop it," said Olivia. "It's our stop. Put on your pants and let's get off." Paul complied, and the two grabbed his stuff and walked out, Olivia making sure her hair was all in her hat before she did so. Despite trying to stay low-key, they were noticed by a middle-aged man, who ushered them into a waiting room covered in enough tarp to make a tent city. As Olivia walked in, she shivered, noticing the disturbingly chilly glares she was getting from both Whitenoise and Ceara's posse, and no sign of the dark-haired young man from before. She meekly shuffled to the end of the room, and sat down in an open chair, causing both a squeak and a visible cloud of dust to pop out. As she coughed and waved the dust out of her face, she became painfully aware of the fact that anyone who hadn't been looking at her before was looking at her now. She gulped and slid down on the chair, another long squeak tailing her descent. The tension-filled atmosphere remained until about 4:00, when a severe looking asian woman walked into the waiting room, and clapped her hands once, somehow getting everyone's attention with the single sound.
"Hello, children. My name is Ms. Shugendo. I am the Dean of Students at Whateley. I assume you're all here for that, rather than a vacation in scenic Dunwich?" she said wryly, with a hint of mirth that strangely seemed out of place to Olivia. She disregarded the thought, and resumed listening to Ms. Shugendo.
"Alright, boys and girls. I'm going to call out your name, and when I do, you get into one of the vans. Guillermo Ruiz?" Olivia silently panicked as she realized that her name was not on the list, and her impulsive charade was about to fall apart. Quietly, carefully, she pulled herself out of the chair and snuck behind Paul, praying to whatever was up above her in the sky to let her get through this ordeal. Paul managed to catch on to Olivia's plan, and hid her in his shadow as he walked out to the vans. As soon as she got to the white shuttle, she dashed in and hid under the seat, thanking whatever deity had answered her prayers. However, the rest of the ride was not nearly as heaven-sent, as a triad of girls wearing absurdly pointy heels decided to sit on top of her, and while they watched Dunwich's apparently gorgeous scenery in awe, Olivia watched 9 inch stilettos dig into her flesh with horror. She breathed a sigh of relief 30 minutes later, when the bus stopped at what she assumed was Whateley. She exited the bus and was greeted with fresh New Hampshire air blowing off a collective of buildings that occupied a range between Norman Rockwell and Ritz-Carlton. Olivia picked her jaw up off the ground and subtly blended in with the crowd, up until she saw a point where she could escape. She ducked past a large glass building, into a secluded alcove. She laid out some tarp- a "gift" from the waiting room, and put a blanket from the train over it, bundling it up at the end to form a crude pillow, and folding the far end over to make a passable sheet for her. She tore into it, falling asleep instantly.
A few hours later, in the Security Office...
Chief Delarose walked into his office to see his team looking intently at one of the surveillance screens.
"What's so interesting?" he asked, causing more then a few of the battle-tested soldiers to jump. Delarose turned to one of the few soldiers who hadn't been startled, Lieutenant Forsyth.
"Come on, Colin. You know I don't like to ask twice," he said simply to his subordinate, and the soldier nodded.
"Well, sir, we've got a bit of a problem here. Well, maybe that's not the right word. We're confused about something." Delarose raised an eyebrow.
"And that would be?" he asked.
"Well, we've got a girl lying on a makeshift bed in the shadow of Crystal Hall. Ordinarily, we'd do something, but it doesn't look like she's actually doing anything wrong. We can't tell if she's meditating, or trying to create a mana bond with the land, or whatever. We're actually placing bets." Delarose nodded and looked at the screen for a minute, before sighing.
"I thought you guys were supposed to be the best around. She's sleeping, you dumbasses! Just go get her and escort her back to her room," he said dismissively, shaking his head. Lieutenant Forsyth looked at his fellow officers sheepishly, before clearing his throat.
"Uhh... You heard the man. Let's go get her."
A few minutes later
Olivia woke up with a whimper as Forsyth hefted her up.
"Sorry about this kid. No students allowed outside after curfew. Just head back to your dorm," he said gruffly. Olivia nodded, terrified, and proceeded to walk towards what she perceived the dorms to be. Forsyth observed her as she went.
"...She's walking into the Crystal Hall, isn't she?"
"Yup," said Sgt. Harris, who was watching Olivia go with his commanding officer.
"...You ever seen her around here before?" Forsyth asked.
"Nope."
"...There a record of anyone resembling her on file?"
"Ye-...Nope."
"...She doesn't go to the school, does she, Harris?"
"I'm going to guess not, sir," Harris replied.
"...We are complete fucking idiots, Harris."
"Like babies trying to do calculus, sir."
----------
Olivia panted as she ran through the halls of the large glass building, terrified that someone had already spotted her. She heard someone say "Stop!" behind her, and yelped, running faster. That was her first mistake. Her second was stopping when she heard the gunshot. She felt an impact in her back, and crumpled to the ground, a dart sticking out of her. Her last conscious thoughts were of Paul, and how much she'd miss him...
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Above Whateley...
The taller figure tensed as Olivia fell.
"My shah! Surely you can't consider leaving the Marid at the mercy of these humans?!" The shorter figure shook her head.
"These are not humans, Aziz. Times have changed, and the humans themselves are being replaced by these beings, called mutants by the population. They will treat the Marid far better than a normal human would."
"Are you sure, my shah?"
"Aziz. You know as well as I do that nothing is ever sure. But we can hope."
---------
Olivia awoke with a groan, and then with a scream as she recalled being shot.
"Am I dead?" she asked herself aloud.
"No, but I recommend that you provide some answers, or you may wish you were," said someone behind Olivia. She turned around to see a prim looking woman peering at her imperiously over horn-rimmed glasses.
"What's going on?" the girl asked, getting worried.
"Why don't you tell me?" asked the woman. "I get a call from security about a girl sleeping outside, who, when told to return to her dorm room, runs into Crystal Hall instead, and resists arrest. And the best part is, when Security brought you in, no one had any idea who you were. So why not shed a little light on the situation, young lady?" she asked primly. Olivia gulped.
"Well, my name's Olivia Zinn, and it used to be Oliver. It all started..."
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"Well," said the woman. "That IS quite a story. But it does not provide a suitable explanation for why you're at my school rather than Yama Dojo." Olivia shrugged.
"I just didn't want to be away from Paul," she said simply. The woman looked at her curiously.
"...Very well. Go to Powers Testing now. It's 5 doors down on your right. Tell them Headmistress Carson sent you," she said, before walking out. Olivia just sat there, perplexed as to what had just happened.
"He can transform. He's a T-Rex that can transform into a dragon with rocket wings."
"Awesome."
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| Re: Figment: The Dream Begins [message #68297 is a reply to message #65694 ] |
Mon, 08 February 2010 22:12 |
Orichalcon
Messages: 348
Registered: December 2009
Location: Under your bed, USA |
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Olivia peeked outside, and walked into the hallway, timidly following Ms. Carson's directions and walking towards the room that had been identified as Powers Testing. Hesitantly, she rapped on the door once and pulled her hand away as if stung, terrified that someone or something was going to get her. Just because Throwaway was the most threatening mutant she had ever met didn't mean that all the things the MCO said about them were wrong. She had seen the Anti-Paladin fight that angel girl on TV. Her worry session was interrupted by the door opening, and a friendly man's head poking out.
"Ah, speak of the devil!" the man said. "We've been waiting for you. My name is Dr. Hewley. Are you ready to get your powers tested?" Olivia just stared, slack-jawed. The door had opened just enough for her to see a menagerie of needles, spikes, and other terrifying appendages. Dr. Hewley looked back, wondering what was holding his guest in such rapt attention. His eye caught on the devices, and he chuckled.
"Relax, my dear, relax! Most of the students who attend the Academy are a good deal more durable than a normal person. We can't adequately gauge their powers without seeing their upper limit. And thus, we have these. Relax; it's very unlikely we'll need to use them on you." Olivia shivered. Unlikely did not mean that they wouldn't. She gulped, pushing thoughts of her own mutilation and decapitation out of her mind, and walked into the testing room. She shied away from the instruments of death, and sat down on a couch that looked like it came out of a Freudian wet dream, minus the sex and murder of course.
"Um..." she muttered, looking down. "What am I supposed to do now?"
"Well, my dear, first I'd like you to tell me, in your own words, what your powers are. I've found that mutant abilities tend to be heavily affected by the owner's perspective. So, in layman's terms; what can you do?" Dr. Hewley asked kindly. Olivia squirmed. There was that question again.
"Well, ah..." she said, gulping. "Does purple hair count?" Dr. Hewley chuckled.
"Maybe partially. And it really isn't purple, dear. It's closer to a dry magenta. Quite a nice shade, actually. However, I was thinking more along the lines of telekinesis or teleportation." Olivia groaned slightly.
"Erm... I don't know." she said hesitantly, and Dr. Hewley frowned slightly.
"Well, surely you must have done something when you manifested. Anything at all?"
"Umm... Well, I don't know if I did this..." Olivia began, but broke off, looking down. Dr. Hewley put his hand on the girl's shoulder.
"It's alright, er..." Dr. Hewley stopped for a moment. "I just realized, I never asked your name. How dreadfully rude of me!" Olivia giggled a little, breaking the tension.
"Um... My name is Olive-er, Olivia Zinn. Er... Pleasure to meet you." She said politely.
"Nice to meet you too, Oliver Olivia Zinn. I take it you weren't always such a beauty, then. Am I correct?" Dr. Hewley asked, his face pleasant, but serious. Olivia blushed and nodded.
"I see," the doctor said. "So we can assume some sort of Exemplar effect. Anyway, you were in the middle of saying something?"
"Well..." Olivia said, and she explained the events of the last few days, from her manifestation, to. "These two times, when I was stressed or in danger... Well, I said some weird things, and weird things happened." Dr. Hewley raised an eyebrow, interested.
"Define weird. What actually happened in those two situations?" he asked. Olivia thought for a moment.
"Well, there was this one guy, Throwaway, and he pointed a death ray at me. After I said the words, he complained about how stupid his weapon looked, and it turned into something cooler. Then it exploded. Then, on the train, these 3 girls were stressing me out, and I said the words. One of the girls wondered what the words meant, and she became a... What did Whitenoise call it? An omniglot?" Dr. Hewley's eyes grew wide and he jumped up.
"Are you telling me that you managed to give someone a new ability?" he asked, his voice practically bursting with excitement. Olivia shrank back and nodded. He stroked his chin and turned around, muttering about terms that the girl didn't understand, the words "Braeburn" and "acceleration" being some of the few words she retained. When he turned back around, his hands were shaking with excitement.
"My dear, we need to find a link! Other than those words, there had to have been some sort of other trigger! Come on, my girl! This could be huge!" Dr. Hewley's excitement was not contagious, and Olivia was getting more and more uncomfortable by the second, until...
"Induræ Cum ira! si onata sine lacrima, samaphe oraanu omni ana me!" she yelled, and Dr. Hewley stopped, his grin frozen on his face.
"Those were the words! Those words must have been the trigger! My lord, I wish I knew what your powers actually were! Then we could learn how you-" Dr. Hewley's reverie was cut off instantly, and his face paled like a man who had just opened his front door to see Death trying to sell him something. He picked up a pad and began scribbling down furiously, hyperventilating. Olivia looked at the doctor.
"Er, is something wrong, Dr. Hewley?" Dr. Hewley looked up, as if he had been shot, and gulped, laughing nervously.
"Hahaha! Oh, no, no! Nothing wrong at all! Nothing to worry about! Anyway, let's get you to the hard classification testing!" As Olivia was ushered into the testing chamber, she did not see the look of terror that had formed on the doctor's face.
-------
"OK, Olivia," said Dr. Hewley from behind the glass. "We're going to do a regeneration test, and then an esper test. Just stand up and look down for now." Olivia nodded nervously and complied, wondering what he was going to do. She did not have to wait long to find out, as a massive blade suddenly sliced her in two.
She screamed.
"Olivia, calm down! Look at yourself!" Olivia looked down, still screaming, and was greeted by a shock. There wasn't a scratch on her. If it hadn't been for the large gash going all the way through her shirt and sleeves, she would have thought the blade had just been an illusion.
"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!" she screamed, fear giving way to rage. Dr. Hewley fell out of his seat, and jumped up, shaking his hands.
"No, no, Olivia! It was a test! Just look at the footage!" the doctor screamed, smacking a button on his control panel. The glass screen turned opaque and footage of the previous few seconds appeared. Olivia gasped as she saw what happened. The blade had gone through her... And her body had just reformed around it. She fell on her bottom, shocked.
"What in... How..." She mumbled, failing to form a sentence. Dr. Hewley sensed this, and opened the door, helping her out.
"Come dear. Go to Assistant Headmistress Hartford to get a room assignment for now. Just go back to Ms. Carson's office and take the other door, and it will lead to her. Come now, come on; let's go," he said, and he walked back with Olivia to the Headmistress' office, and he ushered her through to Ms. Hartford. As soon as he did, he slammed the door, locking it, and quickly did the same to the other door. He looked at Ms. Carson, eyes wide with fear.
"Elizabeth," he said in a quaking voice. "We need to talk."
"He can transform. He's a T-Rex that can transform into a dragon with rocket wings."
"Awesome."
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| Re: Figment: The Dream Begins [message #68608 is a reply to message #65694 ] |
Fri, 12 February 2010 22:11 |
Orichalcon
Messages: 348
Registered: December 2009
Location: Under your bed, USA |
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Olivia jumped as the door slammed behind her, and walked, shaken, towards a pretty, though severe-looking woman typing casually at a computer desk. She tentatively tapped a bell on the desk in order to get the woman's attention. She did not look up. Olivia frowned slightly, and moved to tap the bell one more. Before she could, however, the woman's hand lashed out and grabbed the girl's. Olivia made an involuntary "Eep!", and the woman winced at the sound.
"I heard you the first time," she said icily in a hard voice that made Olivia feel vaguely uncomfortable in the pit of her stomach. "Now what is your business here? I'm very busy."
"Er..." said Olivia quietly. "I'm Olivia Zinn. I was told by Dr. Hewley to get my room designation from Assistant Headmistress Hartford." The lady cleared her throat loudly.
"I am Assistant Headmistress Hartford. Let me check the files to see where you go, then." She typed for a short while, and a sheet of paper came out of a slot in the desk. She grabbed the sheet quickly, and put on a pair of horn-rimmed glasses hanging around her neck.
"Ahem. Well, you'll be going to Poe Cottage, room-" Ms. Hartford's glasses fell off her face as Ms. Carson opened the door with a slam, causing Olivia and the assistant headmistress to jump.
"She's going to Hawthorne, Amelia," the headmistress said in a hushed voice that magnified the unexplained fear that was already present on her face. Ms. Hartford frowned further.
"But the system states that she's going to Poe, ma'am." She protested. Ms. Carson raised a hand stiffly.
"Hawthorne, Amelia."
"But-"
"Damn it, Amelia! Just do what I say if you want to keep your job!" Ms. Carson roared. Ms. Hartford and Olivia both looked at her, stunned. Olivia wondered if Ms. Hartford had done something to put her on thin ice before. Ms. Hartford wondered what the hell it was about this girl that caused her boss to become so irrational. She nodded, and typed something into her computer, printing out another sheet.
"Well, then. You'll be going to Hawthorne, room 17. You should go now- Curfew is in 30 minutes and Hawthorne is on the other side of the school. This sheet has your directions, and your class schedule. Off with you, then." Olivia nodded graciously, took the sheet, and tore off towards the dorm highlighted in red. As she left, Ms. Hartford turned to Ms. Carson.
"Elizabeth, what the hell was that? The girl may not be very impressive-looking, but Hawthorne? What does she do, shit enriched plutonium or something?" Ms. Carson looked at the assistant headmistress with fear and fatigue in her eyes.
"No, Amelia," she said. "It's far worse than that. No one, and I mean NO ONE, can learn of that girl's abilities. Wars would be fought over her. She could throw the entire world into chaos if she falls into the wrong hands. Hawthorne is the only place that is safe for her right now." Ms. Hartford looked unconvinced.
"That doesn't answer my question, Elizabeth. What does she do?" Ms. Carson looked at her subordinate gravely.
"I can't tell you. But you have to delete every record you have of her. As far as you or anyone else knows, she does not exist. She was just a figment of your imagination."
-------
As Olivia walked out of the Crystal Hall, she surveyed the campus, and then studied her map.
"OK, that's Melville..." she said as she passed the high-rise dormitory. "And Poe's over there. Just gotta walk past there, and then Hawthorne." She noticed that no students were out and about, despite it being about 5 o' Clock. She reasoned that, as a private school, classes were probably still going on. She glanced back quickly, her eyes passing a red flag as she looked for another person. Not finding any, she shrugged, and continued running. It took her about 5 minutes to get past Poe, and the building that greeted her was not one that filled her with happy thoughts. Alcatraz was the first thought that came to her mind as she looked at the grey slate compound, and she gulped, wondering if being assigned here was a punishment for sneaking into the school.
"It is a bit drab, isn't it? I personally would have sprung for a more vibrant coat of paint," said someone behind her, and Olivia jumped forwards with a scream. A tall, handsome man who appeared to be in his early twenties stood there, wearing a tweed suit. He smiled politely.
"First time I've gotten that reaction while looking like this," he said, mirth framing his features. Olivia blushed, embarrassed.
"I'm so sorry," she said. "It's not how you look. I'm just a bit... Well, I'd like for it to be called 'high-strung', but it's closer to 'startled by a pin dropping'. I just got caught up in the quiet, is all. Are classes still going on?"
"I'm guessing this is your first day, then. Come on, let's get inside. I'll explain everything to you after." The man ushered Olivia inside, and closed the door. "Now that that's out of the way," he said. "Welcome to Hawthorne, also known has the Freak House. Whether you're a victim of Super-GSD, or have powers that can't be controlled, you're welcome here. I'm Louis, but you can call me Fubar." He put a hand out, and Olivia shook it hesitantly.
"Um... Thanks, Louis. I'm Olivia." She smiled on the outside, but on the inside, a tumultuous whirlwind of confusion stirred. Her powers were barely present, and she looked basically normal. Was there something Dr. Hewley didn't tell her? Louis' expression changed imperceptibly.
"You're right; you do seem completely normal. I wonder why you're here," he mused, and Olivia blushed.
"How did you... Are you psychic or something?" she asked.
"Amongst other things. And the correct term is telepath," Louis said. "Anyway, what codename were you assigned? We're supposed to refer to everyone by them, to prepare the students for keeping a secret identity." Olivia glanced at Louis, perplexed.
"I was never given one. When were we supposed to get them?" she asked.
"Dr. Hewley's supposed to either ask you what you want to be called or assign one to you. Have you gotten tested yet?" said Louis.
"Yeah, I got 'tested'," said Olivia bitterly. "And I'll be happy to never do it again."
"Why is that?" asked Louis.
"You can read my mind, can't you?" said Olivia. "Just check." She shivered as she felt some sort of pressure on her mind, and then relaxed when she felt it go away. Louis whistled.
"Well, I can see why. That's quite odd. I've never known Dr. Hewley to act like that. He's one of the most friendly and sociable members of the faculty. Something you didn't notice must have happened," he said thoughtfully, stroking his chin. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers. "You never got an MID! Dr. Hewley must have printed one up for you- he has to, as part of the law. It should have your codename and power classifications on it. Would you like me to get it for you?" Olivia nodded graciously. Louis smiled, and suddenly vanished, leaving a bewildered Olivia alone. Slowly, she walked down a flight of stairs, hoping to find some sort of common room in the basement. She was greeted by a locked door. Frowning she turned around, only to see a large an old black woman in a fancy wheelchair staring down at her imperiously.
"And who would YOU be, little girl?" she said.
"Uh... Olivia Zinn. I'm supposed to be living here now, in room 17," Olivia said nervously. "Er... Actually, Louis is getting my MID from the office. When he comes back, I can prove it to you." The woman seemed satisfied by this, and her expression softened.
"OK, dear. I'm Ms. Cartel, the House Mother here. I don't recommend you go in there, unless you'd enjoy cleaning up Louis' tank." Olivia frowned.
"Tank? What is he, some sort of warmonger?" she asked, and Ms. Cartel chuckled.
"Wrong kind of tank, dear," she said kindly. As Olivia thought of what other kind of tank Louis would have, he returned, holding a small card. He handed the card to Olivia, frowning slightly.
"What's wrong, Louis?" the girl asked.
"Well, for one thing, I wish you'd told me that you had snuck into the school. The records office is having a field day with you. As for your card... Well, see for yourself," Louis said simply, pointing at the card. She looked at the card, confused, and began reading.
NAME: OLIVIA ZINN
CODENAME: FIGMENT
POWERS: CLASSIFIED
WEAKNESS: CLASSIFIED
Olivia looked up.
"Classified? I don't even know what I do. How is it classified?" Louis shrugged.
"Who knows? If you're classified here, it must be for the best. Let's get you to your room; it's almost time for dinner, and we 'Thornies get private dinner service." Louis sighed, and took Olivia's hand, bringing her to Room 17, a comfortable, if a bit cushy, dorm with two beds.
"Your roommate will be here shortly. We'll pick you up some clothes and such tomorrow, before setting you up for your classes. Anyway, you've probably had a fairly exhausting day, so I'll leave you to get to sleep." Louis let Olivia sit on her new bed, and he began closing the door. Suddenly, he stopped, poking his head back in.
"One more thing, Figment. Welcome to Whateley."
--------
Well, that's all the time I have for tonight. You should probably close up now. It's 3 O' Clock.
Yes, the time did go by fast.
Hmm... I'll be back here in about a week. Are you alright with that?
Good. Well, see you soon, then.
Oh, and try not to cause any property damage while I'm gone, please? Thanks.
"He can transform. He's a T-Rex that can transform into a dragon with rocket wings."
"Awesome."
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