NationStates Jolt Archive

"ummm I'm a rebel going to amush a convoy, that's about it right? what do you mean control yourself?" He questioned.

"That's right. Ambush a convoy and wipe it out, if you take too long, Vamperial Support will arrive and you won't be able to over-power the support," replied Professor Phoenix. "The illusion is history. This event really took place and I was part of the Rebellion on Union. I rather not talk about it," finished Professor Phoenix. "Anything else?"

Kash had one word " Survivors?...." he said asking whether he could kill them all or let some surrender.

Dastardly Stench;14299575']"All sounds like a bunch of claptrap to me. The REAL issue is how you're going to get through the day. If some bunch of totalitarian thugs makes you register with them or else, what kind of law are they trying to peddle on you? Are they going to train you to goose step with the rest of the 'registered few' while they're at it? And this Bat of yours, I've heard of him. He's strictly small town. Sticks to one city, and works alone. Even if he is the top of the heap, one day, he'll slip up, and then what happens...to his city? How does he get through his day knowing that everything that he's doing is doomed to fall to dust?"

"The Bat has operated internationally, both in Moscow, St. Petersburg, Hong Kong, and sporadically throughout the Middle East." Sareau corrected, his hero worship becoming too apparent. "His effect on his city, though-that is what occupies the man's time. I'll certainly never consider a crime there-the Bat doesn't recognize boundaries, and he's far too efficient.
"This Galactic Federation certainly sounds to me like a fascist space power, enslaving it's Empowered"-he paused at the politically correct term, hoping Min didn't take offense-" for the purpose of maintaining it's own authority.
"The subject here, is deputisation-while this 'Galactic Federation' has it's view, the policies of it's governance would have to be considered, and we know nothing of those. The Bat operates as a vigilante simply because he must-the government there is far too infiltrated by criminal elements to permit him otherwise.
"Since everything is doomed to dust, that part of your argument is a non sequiter-but the Bat makes a real difference. I think making a real difference is important to each of us-wouldn't you like for others to say the world is a better place because of your participation in it?
"As Ian Fleming wrote:'You only live twice-once when you are born, and once when you are about to die.'
"The Bat is a deputy officer when it's convenient, but he also has no trouble shirking this when it's more effective to not be a deputy. I think the exact situation determines when 'deputy' is desired and when it is not."

"Let history deal with them," replied Professor Phoenix. "Lynion History states that the survivours were slightly wounded but they had it back to their camp. They told of stories of a ghost up in those hills,"

" Very well, begin the simulation professor." Kash said as Adrenanline began to flow through his veins, he anticipated danger. His super muscles began to twitch. This could get very ugly for him.

Professor Phoenix meditated for a moment as Kash found himself in the vast forests of Union. He was overlooking a rocky pass as the sound of tanks and trucks could be heard coming around the bend carefully. Three men suddenly appeared to his left as he realised the middle one was Past-Professor Phoenix. The other two laid down their backpacks as they waited for the convoy to come around more. They had a combination of assault rifles, a sniper rifle and three rocket luanchers as well as a heavy machine gun on its stand. The three Rebels were wearing heavy forest camoflague gear that made them nearly invisible and they had their helmets on as well as their mouth guards across their mouths.

"Wait for the convoy to come around a little more," stated Past-Professor Phoenix. "Josh aim for their rear and take out the rocks. Oliver, get on the machine gun," finished Past-Professor Phoenix as the convoy came to a stop at the road block of rocks that had trapped. "Oliver fire!"

Oliver quickly fired his rocket at rear of the convoy as the shooting suddenly started. The spirit darted above as the Rebels were picking off the Vamperial Forces below them.

"Sounds like a lot of claptrap to me," The Sphincter replied. "What's the real difference between someone like the Bat of yours and a criminal? Both decide when they will and will not obey the law. And what happens when this Bat of yours makes a mistake? You're not telling me that he's never beat up an innocent man. And that is how he stays in business. Whenever there isn't enough crime in town, he just goes out, beats some people up, and creates more criminals for him to perse--er--prosecute. It all works very neatly.

"I, personally, don't have time for all that political claptrap. I just do what I have to do, don't make excuses and don't ask for any. It's all so much simpler."

Kash panicked for a moment and dropped to the ground holding his ears before he regained control. " Okay, wasn't quite ready for that." He picked up a boulder the size of a car and hurled it into the road in front of the convoy. the sheer impact of the massive rock destroyed the road, the convoy wouldn't be getting away anytime soon.

"Sounds like a lot of claptrap to me," The Sphincter replied. "What's the real difference between someone like the Bat of yours and a criminal? Both decide when they will and will not obey the law. And what happens when this Bat of yours makes a mistake? You're not telling me that he's never beat up an innocent man. And that is how he stays in business. Whenever there isn't enough crime in town, he just goes out, beats some people up, and creates more criminals for him to perse--er--prosecute. It all works very neatly.

"I, personally, don't have time for all that political claptrap. I just do what I have to do, don't make excuses and don't ask for any. It's all so much simpler."

"Is your self-esteem so low you must tear down others to make yourself a 'Big Man'? If you had half the career of the Bat, you'd be more than a flatulent joke." Sareau almost immediately regretted his words, but what was spoken could not be unspoken. "You live entirely for yourself, never considering your impact on the world at large. The Bat has trancended that-he moves for the good of his society, and while his methods are questionable, his results are testiment to themselves-he's a man who would retire if his ideals could be met-he doesn't seek criminals, he seeks commiters of crime, and sees to it they meet justice, when possible.
"The Bat is fundamentally rooted in the rightness of his culture, and his role as arbiter of Justice in it. He's hardly perfect, but neither is the Human Condition. If you cannot define yourself as he has, you're just the flavor of the month-destined to be forgotten or worse, defined as a Period Era joke, like that lamentable 'Dazzler' of the seventies or that drunken 'Irishman' who fought crime in the 1930's Bowery."

"Registration is due to the needs of the Federation," Min said crossly. "Zebesians still scourge this galaxy, and various bad eggs flow from system to system, messing things up." The Chozo-blooded young woman looked around. "If we didn't know where those of us with the ability to combat threats were, the galaxy would be at war." She gestured with her arm, taking in the rest of the students. "It's only thanks to our... totalitarian... government that the Space Pirates haven't descended upon this planet long since and turned it into their newest conquest. As for the human condition." Min snorted. "Those of us blessed with the chance to become Chozo-Human Guardians are expected to be fundamentally perfect. The first of our number, whether she realized it or not, remains a symbol of pride in the Federation, despite her vigilante bounty hunter employment."

"Registration is due to the needs of the Federation," Min said crossly. "Zebesians still scourge this galaxy, and various bad eggs flow from system to system, messing things up." The Chozo-blooded young woman looked around. "If we didn't know where those of us with the ability to combat threats were, the galaxy would be at war." She gestured with her arm, taking in the rest of the students. "It's only thanks to our... totalitarian... government that the Space Pirates haven't descended upon this planet long since and turned it into their newest conquest. As for the human condition." Min snorted. "Those of us blessed with the chance to become Chozo-Human Guardians are expected to be fundamentally perfect. The first of our number, whether she realized it or not, remains a symbol of pride in the Federation, despite her vigilante bounty hunter employment."
"That's interesting," Mathieu turned to face Min. "I've never heard of that...but what of us still...gifted with being human? I mean, of course we'll make mistakes, right?"

"That's interesting," Mathieu turned to face Min. "I've never heard of that...but what of us still...gifted with being human? I mean, of course we'll make mistakes, right?"

"Mistakes?" Min raised her eyebrows. "From what I was instructed by the GFSM, the only mistake that can be made is to die."

"Well, that has definitely gotten the conversation ball rolling. Remind me not to drag in the debates on profitability into this class." Rufus cut the feed to the front display, bringing the ambient light up to normal levels.

"First off, I want to state that what I heard is the type of conversation I look for in this class. You'll never learn how to deal with the people in your collective future if you just sit there expecting a lecture, but today was a very good start. Now, we've heard about some particular examples, as well as the sides on the issue of deputization. Ultimately, though, it goes back to the remarks citing the Populist argument: How one interacts with an area's power-holders affects, and is affected by, the collective opinions of the people within.

"As it has been stated, sometimes the people will support one not affiliated with the authorities. Other times they will not. And, Mr. Endis, Mr. Sareau, and Ms. Okan, I'd appreciate that the personal barbs be kept to a minimum, at least until we get to instigating fights. Also, I want to go to what was said about corrupt government. Without taking shots at any current standing body, my next question is this: Does the presence of corruption in government matter in the public view, or is it more reliant upon the perceived level of corruption in the government?"

ooc: I'm not worried about confrontation from the villains, just remember that Rufus has no alignment, except an opposition to stupidity.

"Mistakes?" Min raised her eyebrows. "From what I was instructed by the GFSM, the only mistake that can be made is to die."
"Oh, that's right...you didn't see me lose control and send myself flying in that last simulation," Mathieu chuckled. He turned to answer the next question, "A patriot should always be ready to defend his nation from its' government."

"Is your self-esteem so low you must tear down others to make yourself a 'Big Man'? If you had half the career of the Bat, you'd be more than a flatulent joke." Sareau almost immediately regretted his words, but what was spoken could not be unspoken. "You live entirely for yourself, never considering your impact on the world at large. The Bat has trancended that-he moves for the good of his society, and while his methods are questionable, his results are testiment to themselves-he's a man who would retire if his ideals could be met-he doesn't seek criminals, he seeks commiters of crime, and sees to it they meet justice, when possible.
"The Bat is fundamentally rooted in the rightness of his culture, and his role as arbiter of Justice in it. He's hardly perfect, but neither is the Human Condition. If you cannot define yourself as he has, you're just the flavor of the month-destined to be forgotten or worse, defined as a Period Era joke, like that lamentable 'Dazzler' of the seventies or that drunken 'Irishman' who fought crime in the 1930's Bowery."

"Do yourself a favor: don't try to fathom my mind. You can never understand it. I, on the other hand, can understand yours easily: you've got to have it all your way.

"Case in point: in one breath, you're going on about how we're all doomed to fall to dust, and, in the next, you're going on about how I'm destined to be forgotten. A legacy is a good thing when it suits you and something to discard when it does not suit your purposes.

"Well, guess what: this is reality that we live in, not some land of hero-worship fetishes. In reality, you can't have it both ways.

"This debate is over. You've lost due to self-contradiction. Fortunately, there's no penalty for you--today. But don't ask me to debate with you again. There's no point in talking with someone who can't be bothered to listen."

He turned away.

---------------

OOC: Sorry about the argumentativeness of my character. As I wrote earlier, he's a villain. He's also guilty of the logical fallacy of using the falseness of one argument to attempt to disprove another, unrelated one--but don't try to tell him that. ;)

OOC: Is the class over? Or....

OOC:I think it's still going, just addressed a new topic.
IC:"Does the presence of corruption in government matter in the public view, or is it more reliant upon the perceived level of corruption in the government?"
"All governments are seen as corrupt-some to a greater degree than others." Sareau answered. "The best view the Common Man has of the government is that of a necessary evil. The difference between a 'fat cat' and 'concerned philanthropist' is largely the political views shared by the speaker with the individual in question.
"The anti-government rogue is a solid archetype in the Empowered culture-I could point at the Senate Committee on Abnormal Resources and Events, but the archetype is far older, and universal.
"In every case of Individual vs. Government, the individual receives public sympathy. Robin Hood is best known, but the British celebrate Guy Fawkes Day, not Parliament Day, so even villains get this consideration.
"People don't want to fight the system, per se, but they do like watching it get a black eye. During the Great Depression, bank robbers could generate public support by burning the bank records when they robbed.
"Similarily, under the Wertham Statutes even mass murderers became folk heroes as the press wasn't allowed to report on certain crimes when the Empowered were involved.
"It wasn't until that New York paper carried a local Empowered breaking the biggest drug combine on the East Coast-drugs and Empowered being a Wertham taboo-and forced the State to attempt to prosecute the editor, that the Wertham Statutes were softened, then stricken from the books."

Lucus

Lucus wasn't concerned about the current debate between the three students but he was slightly worried about this so called 'Federation'. Nevertheless, the Lynion's were known to be very galiant fighters and Lucus was trying to be like his father. He quietly pulled out his drinking flask and took a quiet swig of the...blood substance. Lucus wasn't a matured vampire yet and he requires blood until the age of 23 and only then does he stop drinking blood. If he doesn't get the blood from the flask, he'll find another source of blood. Even without his powers, his fangs and his mouth could still abosrb the blood from spilt from the wound.

"Corruption within the government can influence peoples lives but it depends if the public is willing to take a stand against the government," answered Lucus as he attempted to answer the question. "If the corruption is too bad in the public, the public won't take a stand unless there's others that are willing to make a stand,"


Arena

"We've got the Vamperial's cut off in both directions," stated Oliver as he took hold of his sniper rifle and started to snipe off the convoy below them as a boulder flew across and smashed into a tank.

"Hold your fire piss-by-rebels!" shouted a voice from below as an APC back door opened and a woman came out with her legs misisng alongside two others. "If you move in any directions, the girl and her friends are going to get it!" finished the officer as he pulled one of the girls in front of him.

"Hold your fire," whispered Rathma as he looked down on the situation. "Oliver, get a clear shot on the man," Rathma looked down over the convoy as he started to think. "The Vamperial Forces are starting to go back to dirty tactics. Josh, watch the Vamperial Forces. They lost several tanks and APC's as well as trucks. The rest of their crap is burning," finished Rathma as he noticed his voice was going to echo. "we just need someone to flank behind them and make them look behind,"

"There are bonuses and drawbacks to government sponsorship." Sareau replied slowly. "I mean, the Big Blue Boy Scout has been a staunch patriot for his entire career, to the extent he was conducting terrorist activity against the Japanese prior to Pearl Harbor-something we overlook largely because he's proven himself personally over his seventy-five year career.
"He is the exception, however-most government sponsored Empowered are seen as corrupt lapdogs-Stalnoivolk has served the Russian government since Stalin, and no one considers him a hero.
"Government sponsorship is a slippery slope-back in the first half of the twentieth century, there was this fellow called the White Wizard-operated throughout the South and Midwest, strong governmental ties, and quite a laudable record-for a fire-wielder, his collateral damage was minimal, and he adhered closely to the laws of the land, was tied to several prominent politicians, and like them, was a card-carrying member of the Ku Klux Klan.
"Today, he's remembered as a villain, despite his adherence to the law-even retired with the passing of the Wertham Statutes in 1956, so he's probably dead now.
"Tying yourself into a governmental agency is historically a bad move, despite the temporary advantages-even Min admits her Founder is not tied to her Federation but peripherally.
"It's best to operate within the law, though historically, again, this doesn't always pan out-the corruption perceived by later generations is what determines how you are considered-the counter-culture Empowered of 1960s America are currently considered heroes despite being psychotic murderers almost to a man, but US government in the 1960s is currently perceived as deeply corrupted.
"I believe it was the Big Blue Boy Scout himself who said,'You're only as good as your worst act.', and this statement seems as true as any."

ooc: I don't mind the sphincter's combativeness. I'm only trying to ask if it's the only way. If it is, then be proud of that.

"Okay, I think I've managed to get you all to cover the full range of what I had on the schedule for the day. So I'm going to let you all out a few minutes early, and tell you all to think about what we've gone over. Oh, and by this time next week I want you all to have personally told me the laws governing metahuman registration and deputization within whatever jurisdiction you're from. Now get out of here and go annoy a different professor." Rufus hit the big white button again, letting the suppression field fade as corralled them out of his classroom. "Go on, go and leave me in some peace."

ooc: I don't mind the sphincter's combativeness. I'm only trying to ask if it's the only way. If it is, then be proud of that.

"Okay, I think I've managed to get you all to cover the full range of what I had on the schedule for the day. So I'm going to let you all out a few minutes early, and tell you all to think about what we've gone over. Oh, and by this time next week I want you all to have personally told me the laws governing metahuman registration and deputization within whatever jurisdiction you're from. Now get out of here and go annoy a different professor." Rufus hit the big white button again, letting the suppression field fade as corralled them out of his classroom. "Go on, go and leave me in some peace."
Mathieu stood up, waiting a bit and manuevering so he could walk out next to Min. He was quiet, though. Years of being isolated and alone had made him forget the niceties of interaction with others.


Delphina, meanwhile, was hit with a sudden psychic shock. She had forgotten her usual control, and a thousand and one thoughts barraged her before she could recover. Holding her hand to her temple, she walked over to Rufus.

"That suppressor is amazing," she tried to smile, though the pain lingered. "I'd love to know about the technology behind it..."

"Well, thank you, but it came standard in the room. I've seen similar mechanisms before, so if you...well, wait, it's easier to just show you." Rufus pulled a chair under a specific spot, then stood on it, balancing on the back as he moved a ceiling tile out of the way. He pulled out a screwdriver and a wrench, and after some finicky movements he pulled out what looked like an inverted focusing dish, albeit for the fact that the arc was hyperbolic instead of parabolic.

"Here. The dish resonates at a variable frequency. There are three others in the room, creating an overlaying three-dimensional field blanketing the room. It's charged with EM pulses, emitting a set of radiation wavelengths that suppress hyperactive cellular activity seen in metahumans. It's actually quite the impressive..." Rufus trailed off, realizing that Delphina had been grimacing when he let the field fade.

"I am so sorry. I had forgotten the whole feedback problem that telepaths experience when sudden exposure occurs. Look, I've seen people wear different types of suppression technology. I can't force your actions one way or the other, but this," said Rufus, holding up the device, "is not the way. I'm not a telepath. But on the same note, I'm not readable to telepaths either. And I've met a few. If you want my help, I can help you practice control over your ability. But you'll have to promise you won't rely on this if you want my assistance."

"Well, thank you, but it came standard in the room. I've seen similar mechanisms before, so if you...well, wait, it's easier to just show you." Rufus pulled a chair under a specific spot, then stood on it, balancing on the back as he moved a ceiling tile out of the way. He pulled out a screwdriver and a wrench, and after some finicky movements he pulled out what looked like an inverted focusing dish, albeit for the fact that the arc was hyperbolic instead of parabolic.

"Here. The dish resonates at a variable frequency. There are three others in the room, creating an overlaying three-dimensional field blanketing the room. It's charged with EM pulses, emitting a set of radiation wavelengths that suppress hyperactive cellular activity seen in metahumans. It's actually quite the impressive..." Rufus trailed off, realizing that Delphina had been grimacing when he let the field fade.

"I am so sorry. I had forgotten the whole feedback problem that telepaths experience when sudden exposure occurs. Look, I've seen people wear different types of suppression technology. I can't force your actions one way or the other, but this," said Rufus, holding up the device, "is not the way. I'm not a telepath. But on the same note, I'm not readable to telepaths either. And I've met a few. If you want my help, I can help you practice control over your ability. But you'll have to promise you won't rely on this if you want my assistance."
"Well, it's not that I can't control it," she replied, "But it's like...having a thousand televisions tuned to different stations and choosing to ignore them." Delphina smiled at him, "When you turned it on, it was like the tv's all went off at once. And...I'd greatly rely on your assistance more so than a device any day."

"Well, I'm free for the rest of the day. The way you describe it...I'll need to do some research on it. You sound like you've your senses well tuned, but that you have trouble filtering out the signals that you're not interested in. Not overly prevalent, but not uncommon. I'm sorry, but I know that I've seen this before. It's just...different for me. My mind has the toughest time remembering things about myself, of all things."

Mathieu stood up, waiting a bit and manuevering so he could walk out next to Min. He was quiet, though. Years of being isolated and alone had made him forget the niceties of interaction with others.

Min noticed a signal on her passive motion tracker, and looked out of the corner of her visor to where a very short -- more than a foot shorter than her -- boy walked silently and awkwardly, obviously in an uncomfortable situation. Turning her head completely, she ran a scan on him. Returning her sight to the forward position, she spoke when information appeared on her screen.

"Mathieu Jean Cavalier," she said mildly, making idle conversation, "alias 'Blue Knight'. Known evolutions include flight and erginesis -- mentally-controlled energy manipulation," she added offhandedly. "You were once -- wow." She whistled. "Is this story right? Did you really--"

Feel free to cut me off or respond, or allow me to continue, as you wish.

Sareau 'ported down for a deep fried burrito from Dodge's and munched happily away, checking over his schedule. Next class would be in a few minutes, but the time it took Dodge's to deep-fry a burrito was minimal, and a man who warped space would have no problems making class.
His next class would find him rather more energized, his appetite assuaged.
__________________

Heh heh heh. Mind reader, eh?

It felt so good to get his powers back that Reardon almost didn't make note of the mechanism of the suppressor. Soon, he'd have a suppressor-suppressor--but that was for another day.

Now, he simply gazed at the little mind reader's feminine form and indulged his mind. He deeply resented that someone might violate the sanctity of his thoughts, and this was the perfect cure. Not a word went through his consciousness. None were needed.

"Well, I'm free for the rest of the day. The way you describe it...I'll need to do some research on it. You sound like you've your senses well tuned, but that you have trouble filtering out the signals that you're not interested in. Not overly prevalent, but not uncommon. I'm sorry, but I know that I've seen this before. It's just...different for me. My mind has the toughest time remembering things about myself, of all things."

"Any help would be most appreciated," Delphina said, grateful. "I find it embarrassing to be teaching when my own skills can sometimes assert themselves."

ooc: dastardly, i take it that's aimed at me, right?

Min noticed a signal on her passive motion tracker, and looked out of the corner of her visor to where a very short -- more than a foot shorter than her -- boy walked silently and awkwardly, obviously in an uncomfortable situation. Turning her head completely, she ran a scan on him. Returning her sight to the forward position, she spoke when information appeared on her screen.

"Mathieu Jean Cavalier," she said mildly, making idle conversation, "alias 'Blue Knight'. Known evolutions include flight and erginesis -- mentally-controlled energy manipulation," she added offhandedly. "You were once -- wow." She whistled. "Is this story right? Did you really--"

Feel free to cut me off or respond, or allow me to continue, as you wish.

"No," Mathieu cut her off forcefully. "That's someone else...Mathieu Chevalier is dead. He died three years ago," he concluded. He looked miffed, "How'd you know all that?"

"No," Mathieu cut her off forcefully. "That's someone else...Mathieu Chevalier is dead. He died three years ago," he concluded. He looked miffed, "How'd you know all that?"

"I was provided a full dossier each of the other students at this humble institution when I was sent here," Min responded carefully. With what lay in his past... best not to cause too much tension, to say the least. God knew what might light this kid off*. "When I say full, I mean, so far as is known about any of you given metahumans to the Galactic Federation." She grinned at him, a useless gesture considering the helmet. "Yes, that is right, the Federation. Eyes and ears on every civilized planet, and some poor saps who live on empty dirtballs because one unique species or another makes it its home."

* Not meant to be a slight against your character, just the way Min thinks he ticks (right or wrong)

"I was provided a full dossier each of the other students at this humble institution when I was sent here," Min responded carefully. With what lay in his past... best not to cause too much tension, to say the least. God knew what might light this kid off*. "When I say full, I mean, so far as is known about any of you given metahumans to the Galactic Federation." She grinned at him, a useless gesture considering the helmet. "Yes, that is right, the Federation. Eyes and ears on every civilized planet, and some poor saps who live on empty dirtballs because one unique species or another makes it its home."

* Not meant to be a slight against your character, just the way Min thinks he ticks (right or wrong)
"Like, in Star Trek?" Mathieu asked, half in jest. "Hey...how come you always wear that helmet...is it because you can't breathe our atmosphere or something?"

Professor Phoenix

'Min hasn't arrived here within the last hour,' thought Professor Phoenix to himself as he alowed the illusion to go on for a moment. 'If she doesn't show up, she'll fail this subject and the exam even before its set. I won't track Min done but let the creature decide its fate,'

Lucus

Lucus left the room quietly as he headed down the hallway where the suit of armour was walking and somebody else. He wanted to stay clear of this creature since it had something to do with a Federation that thought it was top dog. There was still one thing that made him feel uneven. Why was a non-powered being on the station? So the suit gave her extra abilities, does that made any difference from Professor Phoenix? Maybe, he requires his armour where the suit of armour didn't. He was checking through his notes briefly as he pass by them and headed towards the arena.

Sareau saw Lucus, and swiftly checked to make certain his mask was secure before greeting him: "Lucus! Are you free? I need someone to spot me in the gym-got a bit of time before next class, and the rules require two students if unsupervised to use the equipment in case of an accident."
He picked up his pace to walk alongside the other boy:"It's rather silly, since the weight machines are totally safe, but rules are rules-plus, there's something I'd like to discuss with you."

"Sure," replied Lucus. "I'll follow you to the gym and I think I know why they've got those rules," finished Lucus as he waited Sareau to lead him to the gym.

Sareau lead Lucus first to the lockers, where he changed into his gym clothes. "I really liked that sandstorm you called up-good move." He began. "Do your powers extend to all silicon?
"The reason I ask is-well, the Guild of Calamitous Intent offers scholarships, and I think I know a way to cinch this year's. Your powers would be amazingly helpful in doing so."

"Thanks, I try and remember everything...I've being taught" replied Lucus as he felt a little unease. "What do you mean by sil...silicon? I'll have to think about the scholarship because I've being given offers in the League of Wolves back home and thats very hard to get into these days," contiuned Lucus as he took off his shoes and socks as he followed Sareau into the gym. "I have a feeling there's something else you wish to talk about?"

"Silicon-sand, albeit put into various forms of use to a high-tech society." Sareau replied, walking casually up to a pair of hanging rings and leaping up to them. As he began his routine, he elaborated: "If you can use your power to warp a silicon chip beyond use, we can pay a little visit to every financial institution on the planet-I get us in, you destroy the memory, and poof! Everyone's credit rating gets set to zero-poor farmers and first-time homeowners get their loans absolved, companies on the verge of bankrupcy find their outstanding debt doesn't exist, banks on the verge of failure no longer have that issue. The Federal government insures everyone's account to 100,000-so no one is really hurt, and all we have to do is appear on camera enough to convince the Guild we're responsible.
"The ultimate act of terrorism, and one no one will strike against, as it gives everyone a fresh start-a magnificent shakeup timed precisely right that exacerbates the current economic crunch while placing the light at the end of the tunnel right there." Having stated this, Sareau began to spin on his rings, drawing himself upright and slowly raising his paired legs at a ninety degree angle. "The question is if you can do your end-warp the bubble memory adequately to make any information stored either defunct or irretrievable-I know I can do my end."

"Err...you mean we're doing something good to banks that are going down hill?" replied Lucus as he looked confused. "Who would find out about the stunts? If the Vamperial Order or the League of Wolves finds out that I'm doing something terrible, I'll be stuffed up for the rest of my life..." finished Lucus as he suddenly felt unease. "Even worse, if Professor Phoenix finds out...I'll turn out like the last man he trusted. We are doing some good to these corrupted banks or in these corrupted times? The only problem is, Lynion Banks don't use sand anymore and my powers will be useless and worse, the Guardians have fire abilities,"

Sareau stopped, considering. "Listen, the world is headed for a second Depression-the deregulating of the banks pretty much ensured it, but the Reagan Economy-hell, that thing floated everyone for twenty years, and took twenty years to undo-all we're doing is setting everyone's bank rating to zero, and setting any single account to $100,000-no one gets hurt, and the economy gets to reset from Day One."
Sareau spun himself on the rings for a bit before continuing:"The old Roman Emperors used to do this exact same thing upon assuming their office-started with a bit of good press and the economy was then entirely their fault. All we'd be doing is the Emperor's job-reset the economy, and let the current leaders start from scratch-how is that a Bad Thing?"

"Ok, that makes more sense," replied a calm Lucus as he calmed his nerves. "I'll take part in this stunt. The only thing I'm concern is: how are we going to leave without raising questions? and also, I won't be able to do this in Lynion as the credit card system is very different from the others around the world," finished Lucus as he made sure Sareau wasn't going to have an accident. "I'll need at least 10 minutes to pull a stunt like this off in any of the banks. After that, we can walk out again,"


OOC: This is my last post for the night and I'll respond in the morning.

Sareau ceased his exercises briefly before answering:"We'll have to do homework-determine locations, so forth and so on-but there's no building that runs at peak efficiency 24/7-even the White House has a downtime.
"Ten minutes isn't so much-and I'll run interference when needed. Spatial Control isn't a great power, but it has uses. For one, we'll be in and out in a heartbeat when needed."

"Like, in Star Trek?" Mathieu asked, half in jest. "Hey...how come you always wear that helmet...is it because you can't breathe our atmosphere or something?"

To answer him, Min's eyes roved across the interface, following the procedure to unlock the helmet. The screen went black as the power to the helmet was cut, and a hiss sounded as the atmosphere stabilized, her ears popping slightly. Raising her hands, she removed the green-visored dome from her head and shook out her sandy-blond hair. She looked at the slight teen with an eyebrow raised.

"I'm only part-Chozo," she informed him, "and they're typical animate carbon-based lifeforms, too -- cell respiration facilitated by oxygen." She pursed her lips for a moment, studying him. "You wanna go grab somethin' to eat in the cafeteria?" she asked him.

To answer him, Min's eyes roved across the interface, following the procedure to unlock the helmet. The screen went black as the power to the helmet was cut, and a hiss sounded as the atmosphere stabilized, her ears popping slightly. Raising her hands, she removed the green-visored dome from her head and shook out her sandy-blond hair. She looked at the slight teen with an eyebrow raised.

"I'm only part-Chozo," she informed him, "and they're typical animate carbon-based lifeforms, too -- cell respiration facilitated by oxygen." She pursed her lips for a moment, studying him. "You wanna go grab somethin' to eat in the cafeteria?" she asked him.
"Cool," he muttered as her head popped out from the guise of the helmet. He didn't register her question for a second, and then, spent another second pondering a 'yes' or 'no.'

"Um, sure..." Mathieu answered, a bit nervous. He really did need to work on speaking with people again, he told himself.

"Actually," Don said, "now that you mention it, a quick something to squeeeeeeze into the stomach doesn't sound so bad. Mind if I join the procession?"

Min eyed the villain-in-training out of the corner of her eye. Just what she needed, an unwanted tag along -- and trouble, to boot. Whose idea was it, anyway, to allow two warring factions (or the equivalent thereof) to remain in unrestrained contact? However, careful not to say anything untoward, she nodded and continued the walk to the mess hall.

Grabbing some slices of pizza from the buffet (OOC: I decided it's a buffet), Min gestured for Mathieu to grab his own bite to eat and follow her to a table next to a window. The "Sphincter" she left to do as he wished, and she would not (unfortunately) stop him if he joined the two of them.

And he had thought that maybe, just maybe, they could set their differences aside for a time while in class. The girl's ice-cold stare told him otherwise. Oh well. Now, the only way to salvage the afternoon would be to tag along and look for weaknesses. Truce is such a fragile thing.

He'd lost his lackies back in the simulations. They simply couldn't cut it. They must have gone back to the dorm. No big thing.

Still, he had yet to tap the full measure of his capabilities, and this was a shame. He had looked forward to giving the world a taste of what he could really do if it chose to resist the proper order of things.

They were not threatening him, so perhaps he could get them to lighten up a little...by showing his gentle side.

He went along to the buffet, and made himself a salad with some cold cuts for protein. It looked quite trendy--but he did not let on that, with his digestive system as it was, he actually had to be careful what he ate.

"Awesome," replied Lucus as he fidled with some sand in his hands. "How many banks do you intend to...strike?" asked Lucus as he thought about the job for a moment.

Min eyed the villain-in-training out of the corner of her eye. Just what she needed, an unwanted tag along -- and trouble, to boot. Whose idea was it, anyway, to allow two warring factions (or the equivalent thereof) to remain in unrestrained contact? However, careful not to say anything untoward, she nodded and continued the walk to the mess hall.

Grabbing some slices of pizza from the buffet (OOC: I decided it's a buffet), Min gestured for Mathieu to grab his own bite to eat and follow her to a table next to a window. The "Sphincter" she left to do as he wished, and she would not (unfortunately) stop him if he joined the two of them.

Dastardly Stench;14304788']And he had thought that maybe, just maybe, they could set their differences aside for a time while in class. The girl's ice-cold stare told him otherwise. Oh well. Now, the only way to salvage the afternoon would be to tag along and look for weaknesses. Truce is such a fragile thing.

He'd lost his lackies back in the simulations. They simply couldn't cut it. They must have gone back to the dorm. No big thing.

Still, he had yet to tap the full measure of his capabilities, and this was a shame. He had looked forward to giving the world a taste of what he could really do if it chose to resist the proper order of things.

They were not threatening him, so perhaps he could get them to lighten up a little...by showing his gentle side.

He went along to the buffet, and made himself a salad with some cold cuts for protein. It looked quite trendy--but he did not let on that, with his digestive system as it was, he actually had to be careful what he ate.

Noticing that Min didn't like their Third Wheel, Mathieu walked between them, not wanting to instigate something. He followed her almost mechanically, somewhat excited and hesitant about how nice she was being to him.

"So, when you're not doing all this Federationy stuff," he began, picking up one of his pizza slices, "What do you do...?" His eyes went wide as he took a bite, and he quickly spit it out. "Sorry..." Mathieu said. Clasping his hands firmly, he began to pray quietly

"TE DEUM laudamus: te Dominum confitemur. Te aeternum Patrem omnis terra veneratur. Tibi omnes Angeli; tibi Caeli et universae Potestates; Tibi Cherubim et Seraphim incessabili voce proclamant: Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus, Dominus Deus Sabaoth. Pleni sunt caeli et terra maiestatis gloriae tuae. Te gloriosus Apostolorum chorus, Te Prophetarum laudabilis numerus, Te Martyrum candidatus laudat exercitus. Te per orbem terrarum sancta confitetur Ecclesia, Patrem immensae maiestatis: Venerandum tuum verum et unicum Filium; Sanctum quoque Paraclitum Spiritum. Tu Rex gloriae, Christe. Tu Patris sempiternus es Filius. Tu ad liberandum suscepturus hominem, non horruisti Virginis uterum. Tu, devicto mortis aculeo, aperuisti credentibus regna caelorum. Tu ad dexteram Dei sedes, in gloria Patris. Iudex crederis esse venturus. Te ergo quaesumus, tuis famulis subveni: quos pretioso sanguine redemisti. Aeterna fac cum sanctis tuis in gloria numerari. In te, Domine, speravi: non confundar in aeternum. IN nomine Patri, et Fili, et Spiritus Sancti, Amen."

ooc: translation is here (http://www.preces-latinae.org/thesaurus/Trinitas/TeDeum.html)

"Awesome," replied Lucus as he fidled with some sand in his hands. "How many banks do you intend to...strike?" asked Lucus as he thought about the job for a moment.

"Banks? Well, as many as it takes-credit card companies as well. It would help if some budding super-hacker were available, but I would get the only class without a super-genius or technical wizard." Slowly, he suspended himself upside down, and lowered his shoulders parallel to the rings, still upside-down.
"Way of the world-when you really need the super brain who throws off the curve, nowhere to be seen-rather like police." Sareau continued his exercises, slowly to test each muscle. "We have to work with what we've got-fortunately, most of the information is freely available-the financial institutions actually use it for advertising, to convince the public of it's safety-a few details left out, but the core information-a weekend on the Web should provide much of it."

"Ha!" laughed Lucus for a moment. "The net provides so much these days sometimes it makes me laugh. Anyhow, I'm sure the plan is going to go well," finished Lucus.

"Really? My grandfather always told me to walk in expecting everything to go absolutely batsh*t f*cking insane and prepare accordingly." Sareau was spinning and twisting with an odd grace as he spoke, his strange voice not even aspirating in tune with his activity. "Remember, no matter how good it looks on paper, or how successful the laboratory conditions make it seem, the real world likes to throw curveballs-assume it'll have to be tweaked in the field.
"Overconfidence is the first sign of failure-and not considering every possible method of failure the second.
"During my next study period, I'm going to start researching this-places to go, systems to disrupt. My electronics course will see me cobbling together enough material for you to practice on-once it's been graded and is of no further use, of course.
"I'll also look into programming sims if we can access the arena for private use. A few dry runs, then adding mishaps and roadblocks to ready ourselves for what could happen. I'm hoping we can pull it off without a fatality or even witnesses, but it's best to be ready for anything."

"Yeah, I know where your coming from," replied Lucus as he looked around for a moment. "I remember once, my uncle showed me an infantry manual he used to train a bunch of soldiers. One line said: If your advance is going too fast, too quickly and not checked, expect an ambush." smiled Lucus as he laughed for a moment before remembering something. "Getting the arena to ourselves is going to be a walk through the park. When I pass by his quarters, he was talking into a device of some kind. After that, he goes to his quarters at the same hour and on the dot. I reckon he talks to his friends on the surface. I don't think there's anymore classes until tomorrow," finished Lucus.

"Yeah-Professor Whately's course on teamwork probably won't happen today-Papau likes to set his room just so before starting." Sareau bounded off the rings and stuck the landing. "I think it's a feng shui thing, but then again, he's been very particular about his surroundings since his death."

"I think Professor Phoenix lost his fear of death during his years when he was part of the Lynion Assassin League. He even has a sentry bot somewhere in his quarters but he's taken out the weapon system. I find it odd why people have things that remind them of war," contiuned Lucus as he watched Sareau for a moment. "Then again, my uncle has all these war photos of his mates and he somehow knew Professor Phoenix. Anyhow, I think some people have a fear of death," finished Lucus.

"Perhaps-I know Papau took his option because there was so much left 'undone', but he really hasn't bothered to do much postmortem." Sareau replied. "And as far as pictures-I think that entire generation was camera mad. For all the bad-mouthing Papau does about the original Injustice Gang, he still keeps a photo of them nearby."
Sareau tilted his head. "I actually think he keeps photos of himself with every villain he's teamed or partnered with-quite an array, considering he was never part of any one hero's regulars-usually he was teamed up for this reason or that-probably a smart move, since he avoided the grudges and rivalries that fill this business."

"So, when you're not doing all this Federationy stuff," he began, picking up one of his pizza slices, "What do you do...?" His eyes went wide as he took a bite, and he quickly spit it out. "Sorry..." Mathieu said. Clasping his hands firmly, he began to pray quietly

"TE DEUM laudamus: te Dominum confitemur. Te aeternum Patrem omnis terra veneratur. Tibi omnes Angeli; tibi Caeli et universae Potestates; Tibi Cherubim et Seraphim incessabili voce proclamant: Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus, Dominus Deus Sabaoth. Pleni sunt caeli et terra maiestatis gloriae tuae. Te gloriosus Apostolorum chorus, Te Prophetarum laudabilis numerus, Te Martyrum candidatus laudat exercitus. Te per orbem terrarum sancta confitetur Ecclesia, Patrem immensae maiestatis: Venerandum tuum verum et unicum Filium; Sanctum quoque Paraclitum Spiritum. Tu Rex gloriae, Christe. Tu Patris sempiternus es Filius. Tu ad liberandum suscepturus hominem, non horruisti Virginis uterum. Tu, devicto mortis aculeo, aperuisti credentibus regna caelorum. Tu ad dexteram Dei sedes, in gloria Patris. Iudex crederis esse venturus. Te ergo quaesumus, tuis famulis subveni: quos pretioso sanguine redemisti. Aeterna fac cum sanctis tuis in gloria numerari. In te, Domine, speravi: non confundar in aeternum. IN nomine Patri, et Fili, et Spiritus Sancti, Amen."

"Attic Earthling," Min said when he finished, having replaced her helmet for the moment. "The Latin dialect. A very poetic-sounding language. Myself, I prefer the Antiquary language of Erasmus Prime, but I am sure that this language got its job done."

Removing the helmet, she folded her hands and tucked them under her chin thoughtfully, elbows resting on the table. "When I'm not serving the Galactic Federation?" she asked incredulously. "I'm a soldier in all but name, Mathieu. Oh, sure, I could be a bounty hunter like Samus Aran herself, but she also wasn't given the blood of an alien race and a highly advanced combat suit at the sufferance of a thousand bureaucrats. That honor falls to me." She flashed a grin at the kid. "Tell me something, yourself, Mat -- you mind if I call you Mat? -- : how does it feel to talk to an alien, if only by blood?"

"Attic Earthling," Min said when he finished, having replaced her helmet for the moment. "The Latin dialect. A very poetic-sounding language. Myself, I prefer the Antiquary language of Erasmus Prime, but I am sure that this language got its job done."

Removing the helmet, she folded her hands and tucked them under her chin thoughtfully, elbows resting on the table. "When I'm not serving the Galactic Federation?" she asked incredulously. "I'm a soldier in all but name, Mathieu. Oh, sure, I could be a bounty hunter like Samus Aran herself, but she also wasn't given the blood of an alien race and a highly advanced combat suit at the sufferance of a thousand bureaucrats. That honor falls to me." She flashed a grin at the kid. "Tell me something, yourself, Mat -- you mind if I call you Mat? -- : how does it feel to talk to an alien, if only by blood?"
"No, I don't mind," Mathieu said, though, to anyone else, he would have greatly minded. "I guess, I can't say much. I mean...I shoot lightning out of my body, but..." he returned her grin, "It's kinda cool. I mean, just a couple days ago, I was beaten up for being different, and here, right in front of me, is someone who's just as-maybe more-different than I am." He wanted to say more, but wasn't sure how to say it. He wanted to ask if she could ever stop being a soldier...if there was something that enticed her more than service, but felt he shouldn't pry.

"My friend," Reardon said, "I know exactly where you're coming from. In fact, we were probably experiencing the same torment at the same time, though obviously from different sources. Perhaps there is hope, then, that we can see beyond our differences and find the commonality among ourselves.

"If you wish to be the young lady's friend, though, I humbly suggest that you warn her that to put her differences on public display is not always the wisest choice. I'm certain that you could vouch for that as well as I."

Dastardly Stench;14306342']"My friend," Reardon said, "I know exactly where you're coming from. In fact, we were probably experiencing the same torment at the same time, though obviously from different sources. Perhaps there is hope, then, that we can see beyond our differences and find the commonality among ourselves.

"If you wish to be the young lady's friend, though, I humbly suggest that you warn her that to put her differences on public display is not always the wisest choice. I'm certain that you could vouch for that as well as I."
"I ain't gonna hide if I'm different or not," Mathieu said, "And I would never give someone else that advice. If someone's got a problem with me," he flexed his fist, showing off some scars Delphina hadn't removed, "I'll answer in kind."

Min watched the small skirmish in front of her with apprehension. "Stop it!" she shouted as Mathieu ended his talking with an ultimatum. "Now is not the time to be fighting. Mat, I thought you would've known -- and been -- better than that. And as for you," she said to Reardon, pointing at him with her cannon arm, which glowed slightly from residual energy even though she had not fired it. "If you've got nothing better to do than to try to win the hearts of others -- and what a tremendous job you do -- then you should just leave. You're damn right that I'm different," she ended authoritatively, "and I will tell you right now that Federation law dictates that I can arrest you on the spot if you violate it -- whether or not this planet is directly within its domain. I am a police officer, soldier, and 'superhero', all at once -- and don't ever forget it!"

Min watched the small skirmish in front of her with apprehension. "Stop it!" she shouted as Mathieu ended his talking with an ultimatum. "Now is not the time to be fighting. Mat, I thought you would've known -- and been -- better than that. And as for you," she said to Reardon, pointing at him with her cannon arm, which glowed slightly from residual energy even though she had not fired it. "If you've got nothing better to do than to try to win the hearts of others -- and what a tremendous job you do -- then you should just leave. You're damn right that I'm different," she ended authoritatively, "and I will tell you right now that Federation law dictates that I can arrest you on the spot if you violate it -- whether or not this planet is directly within its domain. I am a police officer, soldier, and 'superhero', all at once -- and don't ever forget it!"
What's got her knickers in a knot? Mathieu thought.

"Well, I won't be wronged, I won't be insulted and I won't be laid a-hand on," Mathieu answered thoughtfully. "I don't do these things to other people, and I expect the same of others...is that an okay philosophy to live by?" he asked.

ooc: mat wasn't threatening whats-his-face, btw...

Sareau peeked out at hearing the raised voices. "Die Raumnazi und der Shmerz in der Welt." he stated, in a hoarse whisper. "Do you think we'll be fortunate and they'll spend eternity in a Popeye/Bluto deathgrip?"

After Rufus put the projection dish back, and reconnected the wiring and testing the field to make sure everything was still operable, he offered his arm to Delphina. "Well, my class is over, shall we go and see about that stew? I feel like devouring something."

Rufus held the door open, his courtesy mostly ingrained from endless repetition. Still, for one that had been hired to teach the students how to get things done through getting people to work together, it would be bad form not to stay on everybody's good side. As he closed the door behind Delphina, he offered his arm. "So, to the food?"

After Rufus put the projection dish back, and reconnected the wiring and testing the field to make sure everything was still operable, he offered his arm to Delphina. "Well, my class is over, shall we go and see about that stew? I feel like devouring something."

Rufus held the door open, his courtesy mostly ingrained from endless repetition. Still, for one that had been hired to teach the students how to get things done through getting people to work together, it would be bad form not to stay on everybody's good side. As he closed the door behind Delphina, he offered his arm. "So, to the food?"
"Charmed," Delphina said, taking his offered arm. "I heard that the cafeteria has a buffet, but I'm not sure if there is a different one for teachers or not..." She tapped her temple, "I could find out, though," Delphina smiled.

"By all means," said Rufus. "No place or time like the here and now to get things done. So, start filtering the noise. That's always the first step. As each thought comes to you, decide if it is worth your concentration. Those that you don't need, are of no interest, are not useful, those are the ones to ignore. Treat it as you would another of your senses. If you hear it as words, filter it the way you ignore an annoying voice in the theater. If it's visual, put it past you the way you ignore the item on your desk that you clearly see, but aren't concerned with."

Rufus stepped back to watch Delphina as she worked. "As you filter one input source, move to the next. Just apply and repeat. You'll find what you're searching for soon enough."

"By all means," said Rufus. "No place or time like the here and now to get things done. So, start filtering the noise. That's always the first step. As each thought comes to you, decide if it is worth your concentration. Those that you don't need, are of no interest, are not useful, those are the ones to ignore. Treat it as you would another of your senses. If you hear it as words, filter it the way you ignore an annoying voice in the theater. If it's visual, put it past you the way you ignore the item on your desk that you clearly see, but aren't concerned with."

Rufus stepped back to watch Delphina as she worked. "As you filter one input source, move to the next. Just apply and repeat. You'll find what you're searching for soon enough."
Delphina closed her eyes and dropped her barrier she held to keep others' thoughts private. She was assaulted with the array of people's thoughts, and began to filter them as Rufus instructed, silencing the voices that were unnecessary as she honed in on the one she wanted...ah, there was something. Someone was discussing the menu...a student, damn...on to the next one. Here's another...teacher's lounge; bingo!

"I found it!" she said, her eyes opening in amazement. Delphina turned to Rufus, "There is a teacher's lounge...I'll lead the way." As she took off, happy about her first trial and the ultimate success she'd had, Delphina turned to Rufus. "Would you mind terribly if I...called you Janus...or *Jan, maybe. I really think it suits you."

*German pronunciation, soft 'J'

Lucus

"Anything is possible," replied Lucus as he suddenly felt hungry. "Err...I'm going to get something to eat," finished Lucus as he headed for the door.

Professor Phoenix

Rathma had finally finished all his classes for the day and he headed into the teahcers lounge where he was quietly having his dinner while his droid was sitting at his side. It wasn't doing much, but Rathma thought he do some repairs on it before he used it tomorrow. It was gift he had from the days he was in the military forces. He hadn't noticed the talking outside as his mind was deep in thought about his wife back home. He didn't miss her badly since they both kept contact, its just...he wasn't comfortable leaving her behind with the children. His friend had promise to keep an eye on her while he was away. His mind soon had a change of thoughts when he started to think about his droid as it stood up for a moment on its eight legs. It wasn't in a rolling ball like it used to get around but it was moving around trying to figure out where it was.

'367 has being quiet since I've got here,' Rathma thought to himself for a moment. 'It wasn't happy when I remove its primary function. Anyhow, I'll have to re-install the system when I get some time,'

Whately looked up from the stack of files he was reading. "Professor Phoenix, is it? I'm familiarizing myself with the student's dossiers-looks like an odd lot, really.
"Of course, they're all odd lots-I've seen several over my career-paired or teamed with more than a few, squared off against others." He set the file he was reading-Reardon's-down atop the stack. "My own associations have usually been for practical purposes, though I've have friendships and romances within our little culture as well. One or two rivalries, but one cannot avoid them.
"I notice our student body is very diverse-I'm thinking of organizing some sort of team sport for practical experience, plus the usual discussions on our subject matter. How do the students strike you?"

"That's right but teachers call me Rathma. Hmm..." replied Rathma as he looked up at Whately. "Its interesting. I was doing power harnessing and I put them in teams usually. When I did the class team, its when the class is one team against an over-powering enemy, I found Min was natural leader but I think he intended to hog the leadership role. There was a few they wanted to use their brute strength to complete the exercise only to find they were asking for more than they could handle," contiuned Rathma as he gave his point of view. "Though, I found...Lucus to be independent rather than depending on his team. He showed me that during a match where he played the villian against the rest of the class. Even though he was out-numbered he was determind to put up a fight and nearly won if he wasn't thrown aside," contiuned Rathma as he picked up a bone of meat and ate a bit of it. "However, I've thought of an idea that could put the students in a situation and it'll find out which person is independent and which is a team member. When I was part of the Lynion Assassin's and my platoon was training another Spec Ops, we often put them in situations and from there, we removed those that weren't strong enough to keep up, the arrogant and the ignorant. What I want to do is turn the lights and lock a few doors throughout the school while placing an enemy somewhere on the station. Simple exercise will determind which are natural leaders, ignorant, idoits, team base and independent thinkers," finished Professor Phoenix. "Another thing I found out about the class team exercise, not one of the students bothered to ask Lucus about the war they were involved in. They really helps teams when they take on an enemy," finished Professor Phoenix as he contiuned to cut the meat off the bone.

While Whately wondered exactly how Prof Phoenix's proposal would teach power harnessing, he decided that if the man didn't know his business, the school wouldn't have hired him. "Well, make sure the faculty is aware of when you intend this-part of necromancy is being able to shoot first and ask questions later. Perhaps we should run this by the others-there's two of them now..."

"That's true," replied Professor Phoenix. "I would like to clear one thing up which has come to my attention. Alot of people often think I'm teaching power harnessing. While its part of the subject, the subject is actually: The Arts of Offence and Defence not Power Harnessing alone. I feel students need to know other factors rather than power harnessing alone," finished Rathma.

Rufus followed Delphina as she led them to the Teacher's Lounge. "Janus sounds good. Though give me a chance to let others use the handle. I want to see how it feels. And would you prefer it if I used your handle? I'm afraid I don't know exactly what it is."

As they entered the lounge, Rufus's finely attuned nose caught the scent of the one thing that he could identify within seconds. Stew. Another whiff told him everything that he needed to know. Sheep, with carrots, onions, celery, and a separate potato cream soup to go with it. And best of all, it had been prepared in a dry stout. Rufus knew a lot of things. He also knew stew. He knew stew very, very well.

Rufus filled a rather large bowl with the thick stuff, savoring the smell as he ladled the material into his bowl. Whately and Rathma were both here. "Gentlemen, nice to see the both of you. I was wondering if you could help me out. Delphina has realized that I need a handle, so would one of you mind addressing me as Janus for an hour? We need to see if it fits, and I'd prefer to hear the full gamut of pronunciations and inflections."

*I'd use the hard J, as in English 'judge'.*

Rufus followed Delphina as she led them to the Teacher's Lounge. "Janus sounds good. Though give me a chance to let others use the handle. I want to see how it feels. And would you prefer it if I used your handle? I'm afraid I don't know exactly what it is."

As they entered the lounge, Rufus's finely attuned nose caught the scent of the one thing that he could identify within seconds. Stew. Another whiff told him everything that he needed to know. Sheep, with carrots, onions, celery, and a separate potato cream soup to go with it. And best of all, it had been prepared in a dry stout. Rufus knew a lot of things. He also knew stew. He knew stew very, very well.

Rufus filled a rather large bowl with the thick stuff, savoring the smell as he ladled the material into his bowl. Whately and Rathma were both here. "Gentlemen, nice to see the both of you. I was wondering if you could help me out. Delphina has realized that I need a handle, so would one of you mind addressing me as Janus for an hour? We need to see if it fits, and I'd prefer to hear the full gamut of pronunciations and inflections."

*I'd use the hard J, as in English 'judge'.*
*The 'j' in 'Janus' is indeed a hard 'j', i meant for the abreviated 'Jan.' pronouncing the abbreviation w a hard 'J' makes it sound like a girl

ic:

"Um, actually," Delphina said, "I'd rather you didn't...I don't quite like it." she frowned and took a deep breath, "They call me...Deadlight."

"'Need a handle"?" Prof Whately smiled, an odd twitching at the corner of his mouth. "You know, that whole thing started because we needed anonymity-well, that, and I hate 'Wilbur'. Cliff was New York's DA and running every gang on the East Coast, Brainwave was AWOL after the military experiment opened his psychic potential-the other members of the Gang used their real names, not aliases.
"Heroes, for the most part, used their names or nicknames, unless they had families, though the media gave us all nicknames-once the Wertham Statutes were passed into law, codenames became de rigeur. Had I known people would be such sticklers for it, I would never have engaged in the practice."

Rufus listened to Delphina's explanation over her handle, and Whately's brief synopsis of the origin of the whole thing. "Well, I'd probably prefer the Latin pronunciation of 'Yanus,' and not bother with the shortening. Though to be fair, Delphina, you're not using your handle, Whately isn't using his, nor is Rathma, so what would be the point of me utilizing one when I previously didn't have one? It just seems like too much extra effort."

Rufus sat down with his stew, spooning it into his eagerly awaiting mouth. It was damn good stew. "Oh. Oh, that is some gooood steeeww. Guys, you have gotta get some. It is amaaaazzing." The next spoonful was swallowed much more slowly. "So, what were you two discussing before Delphina and I got here?"

"Professor Phoenix was proposing a massive assault on the students in their beds." Whately dolloped up a cup of the stew, inhaling deeply. "This is good-makes me wish I still ate, but I still enjoy the smell."
He sat, holding the cup under his nose. "Perhaps this will convince some of the value of teamwork, but I would be leary of the faculty's response to a supposed attack, and I shouldn't like to open the accusation we're using our greater power and expertise to bully or abuse the students.
"In my day, we would assign individuals specific targets, then play it by ear as combat situations rarely matched laboratory conditions or our suppositions. My own preferred stratagem is distraction and interference-never let the enemy know what you're really up to."

Rathma carefully listened to Whately's reply. Maybe he was going to hard. It wasn't like he was in the military again.

"Hmm...I doubt the school would let me pull off a stunt like that anyway," muttered Rathma as he sipped his coffee. "When I was part of the military, the common thing we did to swift out who was fantastic and all, we put them in combat situations. It usually works but I'm going to have to do something else as this isn't the military," contiuned Rathma. "I'll forget about the idea and concentrate on doing other exercise's. By the way, by handle I presume you meant nicknames? The only nickname I was ever given was The Grim Reaper," finished Rathma as he finished his coffee and took some stew. "Or do you mean something else?" Rathma had enough of talking and had convinced himself he was going to drop the idea. He placed the cup under his mouth and sipped it gently as he took out his spoon and ate the filling.

Rufus listened to Delphina's explanation over her handle, and Whately's brief synopsis of the origin of the whole thing. "Well, I'd probably prefer the Latin pronunciation of 'Yanus,' and not bother with the shortening. Though to be fair, Delphina, you're not using your handle, Whately isn't using his, nor is Rathma, so what would be the point of me utilizing one when I previously didn't have one? It just seems like too much extra effort."

Rufus sat down with his stew, spooning it into his eagerly awaiting mouth. It was damn good stew. "Oh. Oh, that is some gooood steeeww. Guys, you have gotta get some. It is amaaaazzing." The next spoonful was swallowed much more slowly. "So, what were you two discussing before Delphina and I got here?"
"Well, it's just...talking to the dead isn't a power you'd really want," she hung her head. "I understand though...it is a bit unfair of me to ask that of you."

"Anyone can talk to the Dead, dear." Whately replied softly. "Getting them to respond is the trick."

"Anyone can talk to the Dead, dear." Whately replied softly. "Getting them to respond is the trick."
"Are you a Necromancer, too?" she asked, a bit surprised and offended at his comment.

What's got her knickers in a knot? Mathieu thought.

"Well, I won't be wronged, I won't be insulted and I won't be laid a-hand on," Mathieu answered thoughtfully. "I don't do these things to other people, and I expect the same of others...is that an okay philosophy to live by?" he asked.

ooc: mat wasn't threatening whats-his-face, btw...

"You take me wrong," Reardon said, ignoring the girl's cannon. If only she knew how little time it would take me to melt that tiny speck of a toy of hers! "I did not suggest that you hide, merely that you do not parade yourself as a peacock in a thicket. And, while I have no personal quarrel with your...choice of bailwick, I think it only fair to warn you that, if you were to say the same thing to the agents of the state who brought me here, they would immediately attempt to arrest you for practicing police work without a valid license. A diplomatic incident would probably ensue.

"I, personally, have no desire to cover myself in so much red tape for such a paltry gain. Thus, I am no threat to either of you, and may yet, as a demonstration of my largess, be persuaded to come to your aid should the situation arise where you feel that it is needed.

"Again, a word of humble advice: think big. If you're going to risk conflict, make sure that the spoils of the conflict are worth what you might lose."

Response to Delphina:
"I am undead, and by my own will-that takes me a bit deeper than communication. I can traverse the Realms of Dead physically, reanimate remains, and quite a bit else.
"There are few fields of magic in which I have not at least dabbled."

Dastardly Stench;14311755']"You take me wrong," Reardon said, ignoring the girl's cannon. If only she knew how little time it would take me to melt that tiny speck of a toy of hers! "I did not suggest that you hide, merely that you do not parade yourself as a peacock in a thicket. And, while I have no personal quarrel with your...choice of bailwick, I think it only fair to warn you that, if you were to say the same thing to the agents of the state who brought me here, they would immediately attempt to arrest you for practicing police work without a valid license. A diplomatic incident would probably ensue.

"I, personally, have no desire to cover myself in so much red tape for such a paltry gain. Thus, I am no threat to either of you, and may yet, as a demonstration of my largess, be persuaded to come to your aid should the situation arise where you feel that it is needed.

"Again, a word of humble advice: think big. If you're going to risk conflict, make sure that the spoils of the conflict are worth what you might lose."
"Yeah, thinking is good, but you can't overthink...gotta make your choices in the space of seven breaths and all," Matheiu said, taking a bite of pizza. "And as for loss and gain..." he patted his chest, "This is all I have to lose."

Response to Delphina:
"I am undead, and by my own will-that takes me a bit deeper than communication. I can traverse the Realms of Dead physically, reanimate remains, and quite a bit else.
"There are few fields of magic in which I have not at least dabbled."
"I see," Delphina said, getting a headache from the sudden psychic charge. "I didn't mean any offense...but, as a three year old, you can imagine what being assaulted by living thoughts and dead communications was like..."

"Talking about the undead," interuppted Rathma. "Would a vampire be considered an undead being?"

"I see," Delphina said, getting a headache from the sudden psychic charge. "I didn't mean any offense...but, as a three year old, you can imagine what being assaulted by living thoughts and dead communications was like..."
"My father was an eildritch horror from a fractal dimension." Whately replied. "My interactions with the Dead were somewhat soothing in comparison with my father-son telepathic communions."
"Talking about the undead," interuppted Rathma. "Would a vampire be considered an undead being?"

Whately sniffed. "Depends-some are, some aren't. There are living vampires, psychic vampires, even political vampires-the term is terribly generic."

"My father was an eildritch horror from a fractal dimension." Whately replied. "My interactions with the Dead were somewhat soothing in comparison with my father-son telepathic communions."
"Talking about the undead," interuppted Rathma. "Would a vampire be considered an undead being?"

Whately sniffed. "Depends-some are, some aren't. There are living vampires, psychic vampires, even political vampires-the term is terribly generic."
"Well, I suppose it is your upbringing that factors in on how you cope," Delphina said, "My parents were normal, and didn't know how to deal with me...and then I was orphaned...haunted by them..."

"Well, I suppose it is your upbringing that factors in on how you cope," Delphina said, "My parents were normal, and didn't know how to deal with me...and then I was orphaned...haunted by them..."

Whately reached over and patted her hand, smiling patriarchally. "You should take solace and comfort that they remained-spirits are only bound by strong emotions like Love.
"You are fortunate your power allowed you such contact-strikes me as much better than not knowing at all about them. Are they still with you?"
He could have reached out, felt their presence, but it seemed more polite to permit her to reveal such as she desired...

Whately reached over and patted her hand, smiling patriarchally. "You should take solace and comfort that they remained-spirits are only bound by strong emotions like Love.
"You are fortunate your power allowed you such contact-strikes me as much better than not knowing at all about them. Are they still with you?"
He could have reached out, felt their presence, but it seemed more polite to permit her to reveal such as she desired...
"No," Delphina said. "They left me...about a year after I entered the orphanage. And most of the spirits I met afterwards...weren't as nice." She smiled back, feeling at ease with the friendliness of the rest of the staff.

"I was just thinking, Lucus is an undead vampire by what I've picked up by his status," answered Rathma as he looked at Delphina. "I know whats it like to be an orphan. I grew up without parents, siblings, uncles, aunts and cousins. The only thing I know about where I came from was from the Forests on Lynx Island. I only remember things since the age 12," finished Rathma as he noticed there was a hint of love going on between Whately and Delphina.

"I was just thinking, Lucus is an undead vampire by what I've picked up by his status," answered Rathma as he looked at Delphina. "I know whats it like to be an orphan. I grew up without parents, siblings, uncles, aunts and cousins. The only thing I know about where I came from was from the Forests on Lynx Island. I only remember things since the age 12," finished Rathma as he noticed there was a hint of love going on between Whately and Delphina.
"Maybe I could...scry for you?" Delphina asked. "I've done it once, for an amnesiac back when I worked in the hospice..." she fiddled her fingers, "I mean...it's just a thought."

"I presume you mean to scan my memory and find a clue?" replied Professor Phoenix as he suddenly felt he might find his parents. "If you do, don't go into the years I can remember. The last time some try that found something that made them go insane," finished Rathma.

"No," Delphina said. "They left me...about a year after I entered the orphanage. And most of the spirits I met afterwards...weren't as nice." She smiled back, feeling at ease with the friendliness of the rest of the staff.

"The Dead are obsessive-it takes quite a bit of will and focus to drag yourself out of the grave." Whately replied. "Not all of them can pull everything back-only those most focussed, obsessive aspects of their personalities. It can become...unpleasant."

"I was just thinking, Lucus is an undead vampire by what I've picked up by his status," answered Rathma as he looked at Delphina. "I know whats it like to be an orphan. I grew up without parents, siblings, uncles, aunts and cousins. The only thing I know about where I came from was from the Forests on Lynx Island. I only remember things since the age 12," finished Rathma as he noticed there was a hint of love going on between Whately and Delphina.

"I'd very much doubt that Lucus is undead, though one of his parents might well be." Whately replied. "The technical term is dhampyr, a living vampire. They're both rare, and powerful-though Lynion has a sizable vampire population, so perhaps not so rare there."

Whately leaned back, smelling his stew again. "There are tests-if Lucus is of undead descent, he will have abilities requiring somewhat specialised training."

"I presume you mean to scan my memory and find a clue?" replied Professor Phoenix as he suddenly felt he might find his parents. "If you do, don't go into the years I can remember. The last time some try that found something that made them go insane," finished Rathma.
"I'll take that into account," Delphina chuckled to Phoenix. "I think I should prepare a bit, before we proceed."

---
"I know that now," she said to Whately with a weak smile.

"You don't need too," replied Rathma. "Sometimes, the scanners want to go through the 'door' that has my memories from when I was 12 and onwards. That's where they found the creature. As long you don't go through that 'door' you should be alright," finished Rathma as he turns to Whately. "There has being a combination of undead vampires and living vampires. However, in recent times, the undead vampires aren't as common as they use too. Most of them are in the colonies rather than the homeland islands,"

"I'll take that into account," Delphina chuckled to Phoenix. "I think I should prepare a bit, before we proceed."

---
"I know that now," she said to Whately with a weak smile.

"I should prepare extensively, and bear in mind that amnesia is often a coping mechanism-you could find Professor Phoenix's subconscious using his abilities against you to protect his secrets." Whately advised. "Just...be careful. I should hate to lose half the faculty in this undertaking."

"I should prepare extensively, and bear in mind that amnesia is often a coping mechanism-you could find Professor Phoenix's subconscious using his abilities against you to protect his secrets." Whately advised. "Just...be careful. I should hate to lose half the faculty in this undertaking."
"I would hate that too," Delphina giggled. "Aside from my teaching degree, I also have one in psychology and another in sociology," she explained. "I think I can manage...though I do appreciate any advice or help anyone can offer."

"When your ready Delphina, please inform me so we can get it under way," finished Rathma as he contiuned with the stew. "This stew is nice,"

"When your ready Delphina, please inform me so we can get it under way," finished Rathma as he contiuned with the stew. "This stew is nice,"
"Right, I'll do that." For the first time, she tasted the stew. "This is nice..."

ooc: just to satisfy my curiosity, why stew?

ooc: why stew? Because I recommended it, and my chef of an Irish grandmother (rl) made the best damn stew in the world. I grew up on the stuff, and passed the trait to Rufus for the RP.

Rufus had been steadily consuming his bowl in silence while the others talked about possible training exercises, as well as the classification of various beings into the alive, dead, or undead categories. The thick stuff was that important to him. But there was a question that he wanted to put to them.

"Alright, now here's something to give you all headaches if you try to go at this one. I've never really counted myself as dead, mostly as a result of my constant travelling through the living world. But I have seen the realms of the deceased, if only for a little while, and things that normally affect one or the other are equally irrelevant when considering me. Does that make me alive, undead, dead, or do you have some other term that you'd prefer to use?"

ooc: why stew? Because I recommended it, and my chef of an Irish grandmother (rl) made the best damn stew in the world. I grew up on the stuff, and passed the trait to Rufus for the RP.

Rufus had been steadily consuming his bowl in silence while the others talked about possible training exercises, as well as the classification of various beings into the alive, dead, or undead categories. The thick stuff was that important to him. But there was a question that he wanted to put to them.

"Alright, now here's something to give you all headaches if you try to go at this one. I've never really counted myself as dead, mostly as a result of my constant travelling through the living world. But I have seen the realms of the deceased, if only for a little while, and things that normally affect one or the other are equally irrelevant when considering me. Does that make me alive, undead, dead, or do you have some other term that you'd prefer to use?"
ooc: ok, just curious

ic:

"I think, the latter," Delphina answered. "Since the things that affect others in either realm don't affect you, you wouldn't be alive or dead...and you have to have been alive and dead in order to be undead..." she smiled meekly, "My philosophy is mostly ethical, though, so..."

"Yeah, thinking is good, but you can't overthink...gotta make your choices in the space of seven breaths and all," Matheiu said, taking a bite of pizza. "And as for loss and gain..." he patted his chest, "This is all I have to lose."

That's not what I meant, Reardon thought, but why trouble this simpleton with the truth? He is happy enough in his limited little world. I would be a fool to ask him what he thinks would be worth risking his thick skull for, and I am not a fool.

He smiled. "Yes," he said. "In the end, isn't that true of all of us?"

"It is -- when death is the end," Min said quietly, eying the Sphincter. "But for some races, another dimension of existence lies beyond the hereafter. The Chozo are one of those." She took a bite of her own pizza, chewing it thoughtfully. Swallowing, she added, "It might even be said that it is only then that your life truly begins." She locked gazes with the villain-in-training. "Are you afraid of death, Reardon? Because I am not."

Nod @ the Metroid Prime series, and the... undead faculty.

ooc: ok, just curious

ic:

"I think, the latter," Delphina answered. "Since the things that affect others in either realm don't affect you, you wouldn't be alive or dead...and you have to have been alive and dead in order to be undead..." she smiled meekly, "My philosophy is mostly ethical, though, so..."

"Different realities have their own laws as immutable as this entelechy's physics." Whately winced at how pretentious that sounded, but there was little to unsay it. "The Realm of Perpetual Thursday, for example. Our friend, Rufus, is the Anomaly-the exception to every rule. Classifying him on the basis of the standard would be folly.
"In the various realities I've encountered, some things simply are, and should be accepted on that level-in other words, go with your gut and don't overthink. Classifying our anomaly would largely require making up a word that fits his description-and since he answers to 'Rufus', I do not feel a need to classify him further.
"Besides, I conjecture that assigning him any name would alter him as his anomalous nature would act to bely any classification. The Power inherent in Names has no sway on him." Professor Whately raised an eyebrow as he regarded Rufus.

"There is no need to classify someone into a cateogray," replied Rathma. "Its like villians and heroes. We do this classifing to make people put into place. Its like what's the difference between Freedom Fighters and Terrorists? The best answer I've heard is: Depends what side your on," contiuned Rathma as he contiuned his strew. "Classifing someone into the dead, undead or the living is just to put them into place. Lynion only has two speices. We don't care if the bloke next door is undead or living. Many nations have requested we do that sort of thing but we don't see a point in it so we never do it. Sure it gets them annoyed but when we attempted it, we found there was so many sub-species, we just classified into speices. Personally, your name, Rufus, is what makes you and not some classifiction," finished Rathma.

"It is -- when death is the end," Min said quietly, eying the Sphincter. "But for some races, another dimension of existence lies beyond the hereafter. The Chozo are one of those." She took a bite of her own pizza, chewing it thoughtfully. Swallowing, she added, "It might even be said that it is only then that your life truly begins." She locked gazes with the villain-in-training. "Are you afraid of death, Reardon? Because I am not."

Nod @ the Metroid Prime series, and the... undead faculty.

"Not death, per se," Reardon replied, taking a fork to his salad. "I am going to die, and there's relatively little that I can do to alter that fact. It's a natural part of life. Rather, I fear that the precious moments that I spend as a living being will come to naught--that I will end up another tiny cog in a huge wheel, neither making a memorable contribution to this world nor particularly enjoying myself in my ineffectuality. Also, you will recall that, in the Trojan War, when Achilles was given the choice of living a long, happy and very obscure life or dieing quickly and being remembered forever, his first impulse was to return straight into the loving arms of his concubines. Not an altogether unwise man, Achilles.

"So...what is it, my dear, that you do fear, if not death itself?"

My dear. Just as this punk had started to get interesting, he threw a wrench in the works.*

"My only fear is that I fail while in duty," Min responded in answer to his question. "It is not the failure that would strike me hardest, but the people or beings who were relying upon my success. Be it something as simple as a message which I asked to take, or as complex as a planet which has nothing between it and its conquerors but me, my failure would be unfair to them. Why should they suffer because I couldn't do my job properly?" To be honest, though, to herself (if no one else)... Reardon's talk of being forgotten in the annals of history struck her, practically, as a silly point, but in her heart she felt the same way.

*Not personal, you realize, and all that jazz.

Rufus listened to both Whately and Rathma explain why he wasn't classifiable. But something about Whately's comments bothered him.

"Whately, I agree with your assessment of me being, well, me. That is, Rufus is Rufus. But as you point out, I answer to it, but the inherent nature of True Names, the concept that one thinks of themselves when considering the sum total of their own being, you point out it doesn't really apply to me. Thus, I am Rufus, and at the same time not Rufus." Rufus had to pause, tapping himself to make sure that he didn't suddenly vanish from existence. He hadn't.

"You know, I'm just going to go with what Rathma and Whately agreed upon. Go with the gut, and not over think it. If we go into this any further, I fear not only that I may end up thinking myself right out of existence, but I might give myself a killer headache in the process. I won't be around to worry about the latter should it happen, but the former could be problematic for me. I F#$&ing hate it when I get headaches." Rufus had finished his stew, and was about to move onto his potato soup. Another, infinitely more important thought came to him.

"Whately, you mentioned that place where it was perpetually Thursday. How do we get there? I always liked Thursdays."

OOC: No 'blem. I don't get offended when someone insults a fictitious character... ;) ...and Rear End didn't hear that one, so you're home free. But Reardon said that he feared EITHER being forgotten OR not getting his share. And we know what he thinks his share is...that's why he's a villain. (But...in case you haven't noticed, he sorta fancies himself as an Ubervillain, a leader among villains. That's why I wish someone would make up an excuse for him to learn about those guys trying to shut down the world's economy...so he can (heh heh) cut himself in.)

IC:

Reardon's homemade antipasto and his glass of milk were both well inside of him now. He hadn't had to particularly extend himself today--his goggles remained high on his cap, well out of his eyes. It was when they came down that things got interesting.

And he had learned that all three of them had something in common: the fear of failure. It took many forms--they had very different definitions of success--but it was, in end, all the same thing. Still, these two had nothing that he wanted--or, if they did, it came at far too high a price. The simpleton was simply not trainable, and would make an insufficient lackey, while the stormtrooper, though not so dull of wit as her accomplice, was simply not able to see her own interests as independent of the fascist state that sponsored her--someone else had already broken her in. Right now, Reardon had no time to relieve them of their foolish inhibitions, and saw no profit in treating them harshly.

"Well...I've got more classes to attend," he said, rising from his seat. "I shall look forward to more time with both of you." And with that, he departed.

OOC:

I hope you're laughing as hard at Rear End's characterization of the other two as I am. ;)

Dastardly Stench;14314634']"Not death, per se," Reardon replied, taking a fork to his salad. "I am going to die, and there's relatively little that I can do to alter that fact. It's a natural part of life. Rather, I fear that the precious moments that I spend as a living being will come to naught--that I will end up another tiny cog in a huge wheel, neither making a memorable contribution to this world nor particularly enjoying myself in my ineffectuality. Also, you will recall that, in the Trojan War, when Achilles was given the choice of living a long, happy and very obscure life or dieing quickly and being remembered forever, his first impulse was to return straight into the loving arms of his concubines. Not an altogether unwise man, Achilles.

"So...what is it, my dear, that you do fear, if not death itself?"

My dear. Just as this punk had started to get interesting, he threw a wrench in the works.*

"My only fear is that I fail while in duty," Min responded in answer to his question. "It is not the failure that would strike me hardest, but the people or beings who were relying upon my success. Be it something as simple as a message which I asked to take, or as complex as a planet which has nothing between it and its conquerors but me, my failure would be unfair to them. Why should they suffer because I couldn't do my job properly?" To be honest, though, to herself (if no one else)... Reardon's talk of being forgotten in the annals of history struck her, practically, as a silly point, but in her heart she felt the same way.

*Not personal, you realize, and all that jazz.

"There is an old saying that, The Way of the Warrior is fulfilled in death; when it comes to either/or, there is only the quick choice of Death." Mathieu chuckled. "I'm very much into chivalry and bushido," he explained. "You can only do your best and let Fate decide." He looked over at Reardon before turning back to Min, "An old chivalric motto is Fides et Armes; faith and arms."

Dastardly Stench;14314694']OOC: No 'blem. I don't get offended when someone insults a fictitious character... ;) ...and Rear End didn't hear that one, so you're home free. But Reardon said that he feared EITHER being forgotten OR not getting his share. And we know what he thinks his share is...that's why he's a villain. (But...in case you haven't noticed, he sorta fancies himself as an Ubervillain, a leader among villains. That's why I wish someone would make up an excuse for him to learn about those guys trying to shut down the world's economy...so he can (heh heh) cut himself in.)

IC:

Reardon's homemade antipasto and his glass of milk were both well inside of him now. He hadn't had to particularly extend himself today--his goggles remained high on his cap, well out of his eyes. It was when they came down that things got interesting.

And he had learned that all three of them had something in common: the fear of failure. It took many forms--they had very different definitions of success--but it was, in end, all the same thing. Still, these two had nothing that he wanted--or, if they did, it came at far too high a price. The simpleton was simply not trainable, and would make an insufficient lackey, while the stormtrooper, though not so dull of wit as her accomplice, was simply not able to see her own interests as independent of the fascist state that sponsored her--someone else had already broken her in. Right now, Reardon had no time to relieve them of their foolish inhibitions, and saw no profit in treating them harshly.

"Well...I've got more classes to attend," he said, rising from his seat. "I shall look forward to more time with both of you." And with that, he departed.

OOC:

I hope you're laughing as hard at Rear End's characterization of the other two as I am. ;)

ooc: not laughing

ic:

"Glad that blowhard's gone," Mathieu said. "I got the distinct hint he thought I was some kind of simpleton or something...excuse me for being in exile for years and only having a 5th grade education..."

"Whately, you mentioned that place where it was perpetually Thursday. How do we get there? I always liked Thursdays."
"Only because they end." Whately replied. "When it's always Thursday, that drags on a bit. Perhaps one day I'll take you there-for an hour or so, as if we're there past midnight, we'll be stuck there for a week, and timekeeping is overly complicated there.
"However, I believe it is time I met the students-I'm thinking of taking them to Kaiju for mid-term exam, and best to guage them first..."
He rose and bowed before leaving to his classroom.

"Different realities have their own laws as immutable as this entelechy's physics." Whately winced at how pretentious that sounded, but there was little to unsay it. "The Realm of Perpetual Thursday, for example. Our friend, Rufus, is the Anomaly-the exception to every rule. Classifying him on the basis of the standard would be folly.
"In the various realities I've encountered, some things simply are, and should be accepted on that level-in other words, go with your gut and don't overthink. Classifying our anomaly would largely require making up a word that fits his description-and since he answers to 'Rufus', I do not feel a need to classify him further.
"Besides, I conjecture that assigning him any name would alter him as his anomalous nature would act to bely any classification. The Power inherent in Names has no sway on him." Professor Whately raised an eyebrow as he regarded Rufus.
"I agree," Delphina said. "Perhaps trying to give him a name would change his very nature. For...as a wise lady once said, Would a rose by any other name smell as sweet?"

The door back into the class area was jammed.

Pfffffwhap!

The door blasted open. Problem solved.

"Ahhh," Reardon said as he continued down the hall, "would not a fart by any other name still smell as sweet?"

Dastardly Stench;14316489']The door back into the class area was jammed.

Pfffffwhap!

The door blasted open. Problem solved.

"Ahhh," Reardon said as he continued down the hall, "would not a fart by any other name still smell as sweet?"
ooc: ha...

Professor Whately did not look up from his material, nor respond in any way save stating:"Destruction of school property is frowned upon, Mr. Reardon-you will contact Maintenance, report your damage, and pay for it? Excellent-you may take your seat after you have corrected your error.
"I will remind you this school contains materia and adjuncts dangerous to non-Empowered, and many of these items will explode or go caustic with minimal disturbance-safeties not being common in Empowered technologies. Many of my alchemical experiments scattered about this room are prime examples-as you will discover the next time you destroy the door to my classroom."

At the entrance to the school
The school vehicle had just left, dropping off the newest student. He wasn't very tall, about 5'8". He was of a light build, and wearing jeans and a jacket. He didn't look very happy to be there.
Looking around, he sees lots of students, and a few faculty members. One other student had gotten off the vehicle with him. Ziyo took a glance at him. He was wearing a black trenchcoat, and looked like trouble.

Seth Mahone, Steward and Master of all the Tocrowkian Reich stood in the entrance of the facility. He was dressed rather more formally than the rest of the students - A dark long sleeved shirt with white buttons and a folder collar underneath an expensive silk suit jacket. His dark, military-dress like pants were tucked into a pair of expensive jack boots. And he covered it all in a long, black trench coat. All together Seth's outfit probably cost more than a house payment...not that it mattered. He looked around, sensing all the 'special' individuals around him in the station. Like an all you can eat buffet, really. He tuned and noticed one certain individual looking right at him.

"Can I help you?"

Ziyo glared at him.
"Probably not. The government can't, neither can scientists."
After his accident involving high electrical currents and near Absolute Zero temperatures, he had been changed forever in ways science didn't understand.

Seth shrugged, stepping forward. "Your scientists, and your government couldn't help. But maybe mine can. Maybe I can. But first tell me...what can you do that's so terrible that you need 'help'?"

"First off, I know why you're here. You're here because you can do things other people can't. Now, like most people I've met, you were probably born that way. I wasn't." he said, retracting his arm inside his sleeve, where sparks began to fly between his fingers.

Seth nodded watching as the new arrivals moved into the academy, leaving the two of them alone at the entrance. "I've always been able to take the things I've wanted. And that became a lot easier when my ability manifested. Do you believe in destiny, Mr...?" Seth began, but remembered he hadn't introduced him self. He slipped the leather glove off his right hand and extended it to shake. "I'm Seth."

Ziyo shook his head.
"My life was finally turning the right way, so I don't believe in destiny. My name is Ziyo, and I'd shake your hand, but my ability isn't very well refined yet. The reason I'm here is because I was arrested for accidentally killing a bus full of people."

"Nice to meet you, Ziyo. And I assure you...you can't hurt me." Seth continued to hold out his hand. "Not much can, truth be told."

OOC: Please don't kill him right away...

IC:
With a doubting look on his face, Ziyo reached out his hand and grasped Seth's. He could feel the huge rush of electrical energy leave his body and transfer to Seth's.

Professor Phoenix was the last to leave the teachers lounge as he was carefully trailed from behind by his droid that had rolled into a ball. He wondered through the hallways as he pass by empty classrooms. The mood was quiet as he decided it would be best to meditate before turning in for the night. He headed further down the hallways until he came to his quarters.

'Err...those students are going to be easy to train,' thought Rathma to himself as he took out his whisky flask and took a few gulps before sitting on his bed. 'Should've stayed in the military instead of being a teacher,'

The Steward grunted, but clinched his teeth to prevent him self from crying out in pain. He steadfastly maintained his grip, even as his skin on his blackened and crisped in Ziyo's electric grip. When the onslaught finally subsided, Seth stood breathing heavily...but looked up with a grin and nodded toward his hand, which instantly began to regenerate it's charred flesh. "Very good. Very impressive. That's some ability you have there. Now...if you don't mind, I'd like to show you mine."

Still grinning, he began the process of draining Ziyo. A sudden dizziness would come over him, followed by a lack of breath and the feeling like something heavy was pressing down on his chest...

The Steward grunted, but clinched his teeth to prevent him self from crying out in pain. He steadfastly maintained his grip, even as his skin on his blackened and crisped in Ziyo's electric grip. When the onslaught finally subsided, Seth stood breathing heavily...but looked up with a grin and nodded toward his hand, which instantly began to regenerate it's charred flesh.
Ziyo had never seen this before. He wondered how far it went.

"Very good. Very impressive. That's some ability you have there. Now...if you don't mind, I'd like to show you mine."

Still grinning, he began the process of draining Ziyo. A sudden dizziness would come over him, followed by a lack of breath and the feeling like something heavy was pressing down on his chest...
Ziyo began to pant. This was something he had definitely never encountered before. The only way he could think of to save himself was to convert his entire body to electricity, and escape like that. So that's what he did.

He reassembled himself about 10 yards away, panting.

Mahone gasped again as his grip slipped away and his hand was once again exposed to raw electricity, this time far more powerful than the shock he had experienced last time. He stumbled but managed to keep him self from falling onto the ground. He looked around and located Ziyo, and smiled innocently. "A shame." he began.

"A few more seconds, and I would have had all of it."

"You're gonna regret that. Say good bye to electricity in everything you do. I will make your life here miserable." Ziyo said, converting himself again, and trying to find the Admissions office.

"If you say so." Seth replied non-nonchalantly. For a moment he second guessed his decision not to bring any of his guards along during this little adventure, but he also realized he was strong enough to handle this alone. Still wearing a smile, he began to walk down the corridors, deeper into the school, toward his destiny.

Professor Whately did not look up from his material, nor respond in any way save stating:"Destruction of school property is frowned upon, Mr. Reardon-you will contact Maintenance, report your damage, and pay for it? Excellent-you may take your seat after you have corrected your error.
"I will remind you this school contains materia and adjuncts dangerous to non-Empowered, and many of these items will explode or go caustic with minimal disturbance-safeties not being common in Empowered technologies. Many of my alchemical experiments scattered about this room are prime examples-as you will discover the next time you destroy the door to my classroom."

"Ah, yes," Reardon replied, a cheerful, malevolent grin on his face, "maintenance. Aren't they the ones who should've kept the door working so that I didn't have to...intervene...to avoid being late for class? Isn't lateness also frowned upon?"

OOC: Don't worry. He's just being a pain in the you know what (pun intended).

Dastardly Stench;14317651']"Ah, yes," Reardon replied, a cheerful, malevolent grin on his face, "maintenance. Aren't they the ones who should've kept the door working so that I didn't have to...intervene...to avoid being late for class? Isn't lateness also frowned upon?"

OOC: Don't worry. He's just being a pain in the you know what (pun intended).

"In my day, Mr Reardon, we had an ancient technique for such situations-on occasion, an individual would seal a door for privacy or some other reason, and it would appear jammed, so we would rap sharply on the door with our knuckles to alert those within we desired access. We called it 'knocking'. If you should like some additional time to be taught this ancient secret, I shall be willing to comply."

"In my day, Mr Reardon, we had an ancient technique for such situations-on occasion, an individual would seal a door for privacy or some other reason, and it would appear jammed, so we would rap sharply on the door with our knuckles to alert those within we desired access. We called it 'knocking'. If you should like some additional time to be taught this ancient secret, I shall be willing to comply."
Mathieu walked in to class after excusing himself from Min. He wanted to stay and chat with her, especially after that jerk, but there were still classes to attend. Walking up to the door, he noticed it was...malfunctioning. What the crap happened? he asked himself, shrugging as he took a seat in the back. Mathieu noticed that bastard mouthing off and sighed inwardly.

Lucus had finally arrived in class and pass by the bastard mouthing off to the professor. Lucus shaked his head gently.

"Then you wait for a reply," whispered Lucus to himself as he went and sat down at the back.

"Well, Mr. Endis, Mr. Chevalier, and Mr. Lington, since we are all here-Mr. Sareau, please do not teleport into class in the future-we are going to begin with a base overview, then I will take questions.
"Any group will have five basic types within it-in the cases of less than five members, you will find one or more of these types will be divided among the members.
"Firstly, we have the Leader-every group must have a leader, and in heroic groups, every member must be capable of filling this position. The Leader is not the core of the group, but gives it direction. Heroic groups rotate the leadership position to avoid conflict, vigilantes tend to have a stricter command structure, while villainous groups have the greatest difficulty with this position.
"Secondly, we have the Rebel-this position is a sort of back-up leader, who provides a different outlook from the leader's. He provides the group with cohesion, and often plays Devil's Advocate during times of dissent. Villains often overlook the uses of a Rebel, and many villainous groups lack one entirely. This is foolish, as the Rebel is sort of the steam valve of the group-he sounds off, everyone feels the leader has heard their position, and the group survives.
"Thirdly, is the Powerhouse-in combat situations the Point Man. Usually possessed of great strength and some sort of armor, the Powerhouse is the guy who finishes his opponent first, then kicks in to help another member. The Powerhouse's role in the group is almost strictly strategic, but many are also the soul and conscience of their groups.
"Fourth is the Romantic-usually the only member of the group of the opposite sex(hence the nomenclature), the Romantic is the heart of the group, supplying such emotional outlets as the group needs, through kindness, understanding, and often that most ruthless of emotions, Love.
"Lastly, we have the Geek-the technical support member. Often involved in his or her field of expertise to the extent they are socially stunted, Geeks aid their groups by being the one who understands the technology the group faces.
"These five basic roles are needed for a viable group, and do not change from heroes to vigilantes to villains.
"I will now open the floor for commentary and questions."

"Has this ever worked before?" asked Lucus as he wanted to know that these things have being pulled off before.

"Yeah, I got a question," Min said as she opened the door and stepped in. She had just caught the tail end of his lecture with her enhanced auditory sensors, talking about roles in a group. "Which of those roles belongs to a person of authority who neglects those under his or her charge?" she asked sarcastically. "I can see at least one of them in here." Her goading was probably not the wisest thing, but his starting the class when all of his students were most assuredly not present seemed somewhat wrong to her -- and for good reason.

"Has this ever worked before?" asked Lucus as he wanted to know that these things have being pulled off before.

"Most assuredly, Mr. Lington." Whately replied. "Indeed, every successful group in our field follows this template. It is my observations of such teams, in fact, that permits me to devise this template and pass it on to you."
"Yeah, I got a question," Min said as she opened the door and stepped in. She had just caught the tail end of his lecture with her enhanced auditory sensors, talking about roles in a group. "Which of those roles belongs to a person of authority who neglects those under his or her charge?" she asked sarcastically. "I can see at least one of them in here." Her goading was probably not the wisest thing, but his starting the class when all of his students were most assuredly not present seemed somewhat wrong to her -- and for good reason.
"Ms. Okan, if you were conversant with the school's schedule, you would observe class begins on the hour. If you desire to be fashionably late, it is certainly your perogative, but do not expect me to rearrange my day because of your desires-class begins and ends on the school chronometer, which I suggest you synchronise with."

"Most assuredly, Mr. Lington." Whately replied. "Indeed, every successful group in our field follows this template. It is my observations of such teams, in fact, that permits me to devise this template and pass it on to you."

"Ms. Okan, if you were conversant with the school's schedule, you would observe class begins on the hour. If you desire to be fashionably late, it is certainly your perogative, but do not expect me to rearrange my day because of your desires-class begins and ends on the school chronometer, which I suggest you synchronise with."
"Burn," Mathieu said quietly to himself, chuckling. He liked Min, but that was pretty good ownage on the Professor's part. He looked down at his notes; which one was he? Definitely not the Geek, and not the Romantic, either...probably the Powerhouse or Rebel, Mathieu concluded.

After retrieving his schedule from the Admissions office, and dropping off his small sack of belongings, he took a good look at his schedule again.
"Professor, Waitly?" he said as he glanced at it. "Whatever."
Converting his body back into electricity, he moved into the nearest outlet, ensuring to only move small parts of his body at a time to avoid overloading the circuits.
In about 10 seconds, he had reassembled his body outside the room.
"What the hell?" he said, noticing that the door was missing.
He knocked at the side of the doorframe.

"In my day, Mr Reardon, we had an ancient technique for such situations-on occasion, an individual would seal a door for privacy or some other reason, and it would appear jammed, so we would rap sharply on the door with our knuckles to alert those within we desired access. We called it 'knocking'. If you should like some additional time to be taught this ancient secret, I shall be willing to comply."

"First, I knocked first. Second, my sirname is 'Endis.' My given name is Reardon. If convention holds here, you should address me as 'Reardon' or 'Mr. Endis,' but not 'Mr. Reardon.' If you need additional time to learn the ancient secret of getting your facts straight, I'm sure I can...squeeze some out somewhere." The so-called instructor was getting presumptuous.

As Reardon corrected things, the simpleton--Mathieu, he believed, was his name--entered the room, and, soon after that, a lecture began...and the stormgrooper--her name was Min--entered, brashly giving the instructor a dose of the presumption that he deserved.

Of course, Reardon knew his place in any group. He was the Leader. That was just...the way it all seemed to air out. It was interesting to note that the instructor thought that the unity of what he referred to as villainous groups was a weakness. Not always so. It was not easy to find a Rebel whose loyalties were undivided.

Still, this information was of little practical use. Should he succeed in his attempt to revive the Fraternal, Infernal Legion for Terrorist Hegemony, Reardon would have greater concerns than which category its individual members belonged in.

----------

OOC:

Just staying in character. (Blow Hard? LOL!!! I LOVE it!)

Dastardly Stench;14320103']"First, I knocked first. Second, my sirname is 'Endis.' My given name is Reardon. If convention holds here, you should address me as 'Reardon' or 'Mr. Endis,' but not 'Mr. Reardon.' If you need additional time to learn the ancient secret of getting your facts straight, I'm sure I can...squeeze some out somewhere." The so-called instructor was getting presumptuous.

As Reardon corrected things, the simpleton--Mathieu, he believed, was his name--entered the room, and, soon after that, a lecture began...and the stormgrooper--her name was Min--entered, brashly giving the instructor a dose of the presumption that he deserved.

Of course, Reardon knew his place in any group. He was the Leader. That was just...the way it all seemed to air out. It was interesting to note that the instructor thought that the unity of what he referred to as villainous groups was a weakness. Not always so. It was not easy to find a Rebel whose loyalties were undivided.

Still, this information was of little practical use. Should he succeed in his attempt to revive the Fraternal, Infernal Legion for Terrorist Hegemony, Reardon would have greater concerns than which category its individual members belonged in.

----------

OOC:

Just staying in character. (Blow Hard? LOL!!! I LOVE it!)
"Hey, asshole," MAthieu said for the class to hear, "How 'bout the professor is in charge and he can call you whatever damn thing he pleases?"

Min sidled next to Mathieu and whispered into his ear, "Let him go. Better for us if he gets himself thrown out of here."

Ziyo knocked on the door frame to Mr. Whately's classroom again.

Min sidled next to Mathieu and whispered into his ear, "Let him go. Better for us if he gets himself thrown out of here."
Mathieu jumped a little, he hadn't noticed her so close to him.

"Um..all right," he said, blue static passing between his fingers. He looked down, "Sorry, when I get pissed...sometimes..." he chuckled softly.

Kagetora;14320124']Ziyo knocked on the door frame to Mr. Whately's classroom again.
ooc: since he's not online right now, just walk in and sit down, i suggest

Lucus smiled and laughed quietly to himself at the humlilation Reardon was given by Mathieu. It was good to see the idoit was getting a taste of his own medicene. Then a thought came to his mind: what would've happened had Professor Phoenix being incharge? Lucus put that thought out of his mind as he focused on the class.

"The lady is wise, Mathieu," Reardon replied, eying his new quarry, "and so is the instructor. Neither of them wish to make this personal. You could learn from their candor."

Dastardly Stench;14320156']"The lady is wise, Mathieu," Reardon replied, eying his new quarry, "and so is the instructor. Neither of them wish to make this personal. You could learn from their candor."
"Oh, this ain't personal," Mathieu replied. "When it is, you'll know..."

Professor Whately casually looked out the open doorframe. "Mr. Ziyo, I am pleased to see you've finally waded through the Admissions bureaucracy. Please, come in and take your seat-one of you will share your notes with Mr. Ziyo, please?
"In future, Mr Ziyo, I must ask you not use your powers to arrive to class in a timely manner-it breeds laziness of thought." Whately pointed at the desks.
"I can forgive tardiness, provided it is coupled with personal responsibility-there's always vicious rivals attacking, alien invasions or apocalypses to avert-" he permitted himself a brief smile. "Or bureaucratic red tape to untangle.
"Just for future reference, class, if you should find yourselves running late, just get in when you can, take your seat, and arrange to borrow a classmate's notes for what you missed. I am not a stickler for punctuality, as the life of the Empowered makes it difficult to maintain, which is why I shall allow an extra point or two for those of you who do arrive on time.
"Now, Ms. Okan, Mr. Ziyo, I just gave a brief description of the five templates required of a successful team-the Leader, the Rebel, the Powerhouse, the Romantic, and the Geek-and opened the floor for commentary and questions."

Professor Whately casually looked out the open doorframe. "Mr. Ziyo, I am pleased to see you've finally waded through the Admissions bureaucracy. Please, come in and take your seat-one of you will share your notes with Mr. Ziyo, please?
"In future, Mr Ziyo, I must ask you not use your powers to arrive to class in a timely manner-it breeds laziness of thought." Whately pointed at the desks.
"I can forgive tardiness, provided it is coupled with personal responsibility-there's always vicious rivals attacking, alien invasions or apocalypses to avert-" he permitted himself a brief smile. "Or bureaucratic red tape to untangle.
"Just for future reference, class, if you should find yourselves running late, just get in when you can, take your seat, and arrange to borrow a classmate's notes for what you missed. I am not a stickler for punctuality, as the life of the Empowered makes it difficult to maintain, which is why I shall allow an extra point or two for those of you who do arrive on time.
"Now, Ms. Okan, Mr. Ziyo, I just gave a brief description of the five templates required of a successful team-the Leader, the Rebel, the Powerhouse, the Romantic, and the Geek-and opened the floor for commentary and questions."
"Here's the notes," Mathieu passed his notebook over to Min. "It's pretty straight forward."

Ziyo nodded. Looking around, still not saying anything, Ziyo found himself somewhat pleased with the class. It seemed his aversion to so called 'experts' wasn't an anomaly around here.
After a quick scan, Ziyo placed himself in a seat off to the side of the main part of the class, where he continued where he had left off in college. Listening intently while pretending to look bored and nonchalant.

Min glanced over the scrawled text quickly, absorbing the information in a flash. "Powerhouse," she said in a final sort of way as soon as she had finished. "I fit the bill. Although officer school gave me some leadership training," she added nonchalantly.

"What about the people that don't fit into these categories?" asked Lucus as he felt he was going to be the odd one out.

"Those of you who will be heroes will find you must be capable of filling a leadership role-for some reason, it seems every member of a hero team ends up as Leader at one point or another." Professor Whately replied. "Villains and Vigilantes are not so flexible, possibly one reason why hero teams tend to last longer.
"There are exceptions, of course-the Rag-Doll Cult has continued since Rag-Doll's death in the thirties." Whately replied. "Now, why a serial killer contortionist has such a cult, especially so long after his demise, is another point to consider-any hypotheses?"

Seeing Lucus as one of those people who take very detailed notes about anything the Professor said, Ziyo got up and moved a few seats to sit within a good talking distance.
"Can I see your notes?"

"What about the people that don't fit into these categories?" asked Lucus as he felt he was going to be the odd one out.

"Mr. Lington, you will find everyone fits under one or more of those categories-but not everyone is a team player. The Geek category, for example, is a convenient reference for the socially awkward expert in his field-just because that field is usually technological doesn't mean it must be-the Invaders had a lovely young girl who was a trivia buff."

"Now, why a serial killer contortionist has such a cult, especially so long after his demise, is another point to consider-any hypotheses?"

"Cult of personality," Min replied. "He has become a symbol to unite behind, like counterculturists with--" She checked her database "--Che Guevara."

Min glanced over the scrawled text quickly, absorbing the information in a flash. "Powerhouse," she said in a final sort of way as soon as she had finished. "I fit the bill. Although officer school gave me some leadership training," she added nonchalantly.
"So I'll be the rebel, then," Mathieu smiled a bit... "Whatcha think?" he asked Min.

"Cult of personality," Min replied. "He has become a symbol to unite behind, like counterculturists with--" She checked her database "--Che Guevara."

"Excellent. Ms. Okan-and of course, having a leader who never issues edicts from on high to annoy the rank-and-file doubtless helps." Professor Whately nodded. "You should also realise that postmortem leaders are often preferable, as they can represent anything the organisation desires-look at President Kennedy's popular image versus his actual governance and stance on issues."

"Sure," replied Lucus as he handed his notes to Ziyo. He listened to the Professor speak as he took out his over book and wrote down a few notes about the response. It made him feel a bit at ease as he listened to the conversations.

"So I'll be the rebel, then," Mathieu smiled a bit... "Whatcha think?" he asked Min.

Min longed to tell him to embrace his true role -- the geek -- but instead, she simply smiled in return. "Great!"

"Now, would anyone like to bring up their favorite team for analysis?" Professor Whately asked. "I think seeing these terms actually applied to known factors may help you to understand better. Anyone?"
(OOC:I have to run out-be back in fifteen-twenty minutes to respond)

Min longed to tell him to embrace his true role -- the geek -- but instead, she simply smiled in return. "Great!"
Mathieu returned the smile, and listened to her reply to the question. "You're pretty smart...all I know is that Guevara is someone not liked in my nation..."

"Thanks." said Ziyo, quickly skimming the notes and adding everything that looked like it was one of the main points of the lesson. Then he handed the notes back.

"Now, would anyone like to bring up their favorite team for analysis?" Professor Whately asked. "I think seeing these terms actually applied to known factors may help you to understand better. Anyone?"
(OOC:I have to run out-be back in fifteen-twenty minutes to respond)

"The Avengers -- or rather, the New Avengers," Min answered. "Their membership has drifted, but there was a strong core at one point. The indisputable leader was Steven Rogers -- Captain America. Luke Cage, born on the streets, grew up to be a cynical but trustworthy guy, making him the perfect secondary leader. The definite powerhouse is the one named Wolverine -- almost unstoppable with his exoskeleton and regeneration. Tony Stark*, perpetual lady's man, was the romantic, in form of Iron Man; with the nerdy Peter Parker as Spider-Man -- and the geek."

* Note that the use of the word 'romantic' means, in this case, the one in the group INTERESTED in the opposite gender, rather than a member thereof.

"Personally, I prefer the Power Rangers," Mathieu said, suddenly looking up. "That was incredibly geeky to say...wasn't it?"

"The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. Led by Allan Quartermain, an English hunter and adventure. His second would probably be Captain Nemo, seafarer who plays on the opposite side often times. Their powerhouse would be Dr. Jekyl, whose opposite personality being Mr. Hyde. Their romantic would definitely be Mina Harker, who is the only female of the group. Lastly, the geek would be Rodney Skinner, who usually comes up with the plans and seems to know more than he should." offered Ziyo

"Err...I like the Dark Guardians. They're a Lynion base group that protected the colonies during the times when the Pirate Alliance was at large. Now a days, they help bring order to some of the troubled colonies. Allan was their leader, his second was Cornith, their powerhouse was..." started Lucus as he tried to think of the name of the brute. "their powerhouse was Nicholas and their romance was the Countess," finished Lucus.

Professor Phoenix

"Sir, I've got a message for Lucus," started 367 as the droid stood before Rathma as he was trying to fix something in his quarters.

"Lucus is with Professor Whately I think," replied Rathma. "When class is over go see him,"

"Sir, Protocol Dingo states...I need to inform you first," replied 367 as it sent a cold breeze down his spine at the protocol. "Union was bombed five hours ago and his father was was killed and his siblings are dead,"

"I'll tell Lucus," replied Rathma as he threw something into the hallway because of his anger. "Don't tell him 367."

"Excellent, class-you have all identified these templates within your favorite groups, demostrating a working knowledge of the base theory.
"Now, the Power Rangers and Avengers both have been through multiple permutations, making a complete analysis problematic, but the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen...
"Many of you are doubtless more familiar with the recently released film than the League's casefile, so we will make allowances. Within the core group, and as a five-man team, they illustrate well.
"The Leader was, in fact, Mina Harker.
"The lady had no powers nor abilities beyond an astounding presence of mind-having faced the Vampire Lord Dracula, no member of the group could terrify her as was their wont, and as often as not, she was the disciplinarian-the mum of the League.
"Allen Quartermain was the Romantic-he was the spiritual center of the League, in no part due to his illustrious past-by the time he joined the League, he was a despondent drug addict who required constant nursing and counseling, but his presence drove the League to it's heroics. The Romantic is the Ideal Hero more than the exception in sexes-the miscommunication was entirely my fault, as most Romantics are the girl or in predominently female groups, the male-Alex of Josie and the Pussycats comes to mind, though Fred of the Scoobie Gang also filled this role-Captain America is both Romantic and Leader, as many of the team 'do it for Cap'. With the Fantastic Four, this was the Invisible Girl(later, the Invisible Woman), with the original X-Men, Marvel Girl.
"Mr. Hyde was the Powerhouse of the League-only Ms. Harker could keep him in line, through the rather original expedient of treating him like a gentleman and expecting him to behave accordingly.
"Captain Nemo was the Rebel, and an exemplary example of the template-easily as competant as Ms. Harker, he provided a counter-point to the Leader, hating the Empire he served as he did, argued when he felt he could gain advantage within the League, and capable of going toe-to-toe with any member of the League. This Wolverine fellow fits the Rebel template for the New Avengers, as he is the biggest badass in the team as well as the common voice of dissent.
"The Geek of the League would have been the socially stunted Griffen, or the inept Dr. Jekyll. While Mr.Quartermain and Ms. Harker lacked the technical expertise that defines the Geek, the League was largely a think-tank of advanced technology, making them all Geeks in their respective fields, but I believe Griffen takes the field here-he was recruited while hiding out in a girl's academy, where he was acting as a poltergeist while observing the young ladies during their ablutions.
"These templates, while useful, are not absolutes-bear in mind there is more to an individual than a single term can encompass, and these are simple classifications-I am certain you can classify each member of your favorite team under more than one of these terms.
"These personalities are necessary to the proper functioning of a team-can anyone answer why?"

"Who was the geek among the Decepticons?" Reardon asked. "I'll grant you that Megatron was the leader, and, though it was a villainous group, Starscream was its rebel. Who was their geek?"

Dastardly Stench;14320565']"Who was the geek among the Decepticons?" Reardon asked. "I'll grant you that Megatron was the leader, and, though it was a villainous group, Starscream was its rebel. Who was their geek?"
"Possibly Shockwave-he lacked the social skills to meet his ambitions, and provided the team role of the Geek." Professor Whately was bland as he answered. "However, these creatures were robots, provided with programming from an unknown source-most groups utilizing robots use them as cannon fodder."

OOC: You really know you're superhero world(s) don't you? lol

Seth, after wandering the station a bit decided to drop in on one of these "classes" the facility offered. He had of course graduated from an extremely prestigious university in his own country, and had real desire for any more lectures, or essays, or anything of that sort. But being in the middle of a class full of specials let him see just what powers were with absorbing. Walking in, he noticed Ziyo again. He smiled.

"Welcome, Mr. Mahone-if you would familiarise yourself with the information as presented at your leisure, that would be appreciated. I have just put to the class a question-how do the diverse templates of a group form to a cohesive whole?
"While I apologise for putting you on the spot, might I ask your views on the subject? As the only member of the class not corrupted by my own views, you may help me immeasurably..."

As soon as Seth walked in, Ziyo stood up and pointed his right hand like a gun at Seth's head.

"Mr. Ziyo, while rivalries are part of this business-they add that personal touch-it is not the view of the school that such should disrupt the learning process." Professor Whately pulled out his pocketwatch. "As this is currently my time, may I impose the rule you refrain from threatening Mr. Mahone until after class?
"I will also take this opportunity to inform you all this class will have a PG-13 rating, and only the instructor may open a discussion beyond G. You will kindly behave as etiquette demands while class is in session, please?"

Still glaring, Ziyo sat down.
He mouthed to Seth
Don't forget what I said earlier.

He looked at Ziyo for another moment, then turned away to answer the question. "Diverse templates form together in a group because there is always one template stronger than the others. Rather through physical power, or it's ability to carry others along with it. The glue of the group, if you will." Mahone offered his theory with a shrug.

"An exemplary response, Mr. Mahone. Now, what occurs to fissure this, and how do successful groups respond?"

"Excellent, class-you have all identified these templates within your favorite groups, demostrating a working knowledge of the base theory.
"Now, the Power Rangers and Avengers both have been through multiple permutations, making a complete analysis problematic, but the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen...
"Many of you are doubtless more familiar with the recently released film than the League's casefile, so we will make allowances. Within the core group, and as a five-man team, they illustrate well.
"The Leader was, in fact, Mina Harker.
"The lady had no powers nor abilities beyond an astounding presence of mind-having faced the Vampire Lord Dracula, no member of the group could terrify her as was their wont, and as often as not, she was the disciplinarian-the mum of the League.
"Allen Quartermain was the Romantic-he was the spiritual center of the League, in no part due to his illustrious past-by the time he joined the League, he was a despondent drug addict who required constant nursing and counseling, but his presence drove the League to it's heroics. The Romantic is the Ideal Hero more than the exception in sexes-the miscommunication was entirely my fault, as most Romantics are the girl or in predominently female groups, the male-Alex of Josie and the Pussycats comes to mind, though Fred of the Scoobie Gang also filled this role-Captain America is both Romantic and Leader, as many of the team 'do it for Cap'. With the Fantastic Four, this was the Invisible Girl(later, the Invisible Woman), with the original X-Men, Marvel Girl.
"Mr. Hyde was the Powerhouse of the League-only Ms. Harker could keep him in line, through the rather original expedient of treating him like a gentleman and expecting him to behave accordingly.
"Captain Nemo was the Rebel, and an exemplary example of the template-easily as competant as Ms. Harker, he provided a counter-point to the Leader, hating the Empire he served as he did, argued when he felt he could gain advantage within the League, and capable of going toe-to-toe with any member of the League. This Wolverine fellow fits the Rebel template for the New Avengers, as he is the biggest badass in the team as well as the common voice of dissent.
"The Geek of the League would have been the socially stunted Griffen, or the inept Dr. Jekyll. While Mr.Quartermain and Ms. Harker lacked the technical expertise that defines the Geek, the League was largely a think-tank of advanced technology, making them all Geeks in their respective fields, but I believe Griffen takes the field here-he was recruited while hiding out in a girl's academy, where he was acting as a poltergeist while observing the young ladies during their ablutions.
"These templates, while useful, are not absolutes-bear in mind there is more to an individual than a single term can encompass, and these are simple classifications-I am certain you can classify each member of your favorite team under more than one of these terms.
"These personalities are necessary to the proper functioning of a team-can anyone answer why?"
Mathieu didn't like how his example had been shot down. Anyone knew that only first few seasons constituted Power Rangers. Anything after the original cast was just not Power Rangers. He kept his ideas to himself though, and took notes about the teammembers and their functionality.

(OOC: I did not shoot down Power Rangers, only declared it was too problematic to address in one class-quite frankly, Power Rangers falls under a failed group, as without Austin St. John, it quite lost it's impact.)

(OOC: I did not shoot down Power Rangers, only declared it was too problematic to address in one class-quite frankly, Power Rangers falls under a failed group, as without Austin St. John, it quite lost it's impact.)
ooc: i understand that. hence, mathieu's solliloquey that only the original cast PR can be considered as the epitome of a group.

note: this isn't meant as argumentative, and I'm sure i spelled soliloquey wrong...

OOC:Actually, Austin St. John's role in the Power Rangers illustrates Prof. Whately's point-as Red Ranger, he was both Leader and Romantic. When he left the series, the Green Ranger stepped up as Leader, but no one filled the Romantic role-the group fails to grab interest at this point, and the later insertion of Austin St. John had him fulfilling neither role as Leader or Romantic-the Rangers suffered, and an incomplete understanding of each role lead to the dissolution of the team-at least from a fan-base perspective. However, as no team of Power Rangers had a Romantic, no further incarnation bore the impact of the original. Each role has a part in the cohesiveness of a team-I'm just avoiding failed teams for the first class.

OOC:Actually, Austin St. John's role in the Power Rangers illustrates Prof. Whately's point-as Red Ranger, he was both Leader and Romantic. When he left the series, the Green Ranger stepped up as Leader, but no one filled the Romantic role-the group fails to grab interest at this point, and the later insertion of Austin St. John had him fulfilling neither role as Leader or Romantic-the Rangers suffered, and an incomplete understanding of each role lead to the dissolution of the team-at least from a fan-base perspective. However, as no team of Power Rangers had a Romantic, no further incarnation bore the impact of the original. Each role has a part in the cohesiveness of a team-I'm just avoiding failed teams for the first class.
ooc: you realize i don't really care, right...?

ic:

Mathieu sat silently in class, waiting for the next lesson.

ooc: i understand that. hence, mathieu's solliloquey that only the original cast PR can be considered as the epitome of a group.

note: this isn't meant as argumentative, and I'm sure i spelled soliloquey wrong...

OOC: You also used the word in a manner that is inconsistent with its meaning. A soliloquy is a compound statement of the form:

All A are B.
C is an A,
therefor, C is a B.

or

No A are B.
C is an A,
therefor, C is not a B.

P.S. I don't know how to spell it, either. I just use Firefox. It's got a spelling checker built in. ;)

IC:

Mr. Endis smiled. This was a topic with which he was personally familiar.

"There are two primary means of fracturing a group," The Sphincter said. "First, you remove one of its members. You pointed out that the Power Rangers degenerated when a linchpin member left the group. Successful groups respond by restoring or replacing the missing member. This can be done through physical assassination or through character assassination.

"Second, you sew dissent--aggravate conflicts of values that exist within the group, exacerbate minor wedge issues until they become intolerable fissures within the group. Successful groups respond to this by retaining their sense of proportion."

A soliloquy is actually a lengthy speech by a single character in a play, usually performed alone on stage (other actors either leave or go off to the side). FUS actually used the term relatively well.

What YOU just described, DS, is a transitive relation (wherein a first quality equivalent to a second quality is equivalent to a third if the second is equal to the third).

So, no, FUS did have it right.

"He answered it rather succinctly," Min said flatly. "I have nothing to add."

Dastardly Stench;14321748']OOC: You also used the word in a manner that is inconsistent with its meaning. A soliloquy is a compound statement of the form:

All A are B.
C is an A,
therefor, C is a B.

or

No A are B.
C is an A,
therefor, C is not a B.

P.S. I don't know how to spell it, either. I just use Firefox. It's got a spelling checker built in. ;)

IC:

Mr. Endis smiled. This was a topic with which he was personally familiar.

"There are two primary means of fracturing a group," The Sphincter said. "First, you remove one of its members. You pointed out that the Power Rangers degenerated when a linchpin member left the group. Successful groups respond by restoring or replacing the missing member. This can be done through physical assassination or through character assassination.

"Second, you sew dissent--aggravate conflicts of values that exist within the group, exacerbate minor wedge issues until they become intolerable fissures within the group. Successful groups respond to this by retaining their sense of proportion."
ooc: don't go trying to define words to me! I was reading Beowulf, Morte d' Arthur and Homer when you were still in diapers!

ic:

"Same here," Mathieu agreed with Min, basically ignoring the other one...

OOC: I'll have to write my college English teacher a sharp note! Oops. Can't. She died about 5 years ago...oh well. :) :) :)

Methinks there may be a bit too much floccinaucinihilipilification--the action or habit of writing something off as totally useless--going on here.

OOPS! Just defined a word! Sorry! :) :p :)

IC:

Reardon sat back and reveled in the glow of his superior knowledge. Of course, he had held something back: one can remove a member of a group also by breaking them through physical or psychological abuse. This allows the member to be returned to the group, ineffective, with its corresponding affect on morale. Of course, this was all for a reason: one should never give away one's best information for free.

Still, the memories that this brought back were so delicious that Reardon himself couldn't help but smile...just a little.

'Hmm...' thought Lucus to himself as he looked at his timetable. 'Power Harnessing again,' concluded Lucus as he looked around the classroom for a moment. 'I think today's lesson is going to be interesting, then again, it could be a horror,'

"Very good, very good." Professor Whately nodded. "Now that we have the basics, we can begin applying this information.
"Tomorrow, we will gather in Bay Five-at that time, you will have formed up into groups yourselves for the next phase. Dress in work clothes and have five pages on whatever team you fancy for my perusal.
"Mr. Lington, you will report to Professor Phoenix's office as we disband here-you are exempt from tomorrow's assignment.
"If there are no further questions, you may retire to the media center to begin research on your assignment and assembling your respective teams. Codenames and slogans are optional."

"What do you mean by exempt from tomorrow's assignment?" asked Lucus as he stayed behind to talk to Professor Whately.

"I mean I shall not require a five page report on the team of your choice, Mr. Lington." Professor Whatley was bland as he packed his papers into a small leather valise. "Do you require an escort to Professor Phoenix's office? The faculty offices are not on the station map, but the layout is simple enough. Still..."

"Ok," replied a stunned Lucus as he was trying to figure out what was going on. "Yes please, I wouldn't find an escort. Why don't I need to do the report like the others?" asked Lucus as he followed Professor Whatley out of the classroom.

Professor Whately looked oddly at the young man, placing an arm on his shoulder and guiding him gently to Professor Phoenix's office. "Mr. Lington, I am a sorceror of some skill, and plucking information regarding an individual is a simple matter, once their name is known. I do it almost by instinct these days, which is why my grandson tends not to use names when he speaks-though I still hear when he speaks of his Papau.
"This is how I know, for example, that Mr. Endis is roundly despised, that you and my grandson are planning some extracurricular activity to gain the Guild of Calamitous Intent scholarship, and sadly, that Professor Phoenix needs to speak with you.
"It's your family, Mr. Lington-I'm afraid a terrorist strike has claimed them. Professor Phoenix has all the details, and we should gather them from him. You may be taking a hardship leave to deal with this-I am unfamiliar with Lynion custom regarding these matters, but I do know you will need time to collect yourself, make arrangements, and, most important of all, to heal.
"This matter takes precedence over mere schoolwork, Mr. Lington, and we must now get you safely through this sad occurance."

OOC: Roundly despised? Well...that's what I was trying for. :) :) :) Now that I've established that the bloke is an egotistical asshole and a blowhard, I'm going to lay off on that stuff a little. (You can use "asshole" in this forum? Heck! If I'd known that, the character would have a different name!)

Remember: The people who sent Reardon to this school thought that it was going to be a form of reform school. He came here from jail. He still has quite a bit of the prisoner's mentality.

So...

IC:

One last minor detail remained: an appropriate response to the disrespect that another student had shown. The instructors, at least, had not deliberately mocked him. The one who did would need a lesson in manners: specifically, he should not not attempt to arrogate authority in another's cause.

Of course, credible deniability would be an integral part of this exercise. In fact, it could prove crucial to its success. Therefor, when Reardon stood up from his chair, he merely bent over and made it appear that he was picking up some school supplies.

pssssssssssssssssssssssssssssst.

So quietly that it could barely be heard, if at all, a thin layer of invisible gas spread out on the floor in front of the simpleton. Quickly, it dissipated, leaving behind it a clear and very nearly undetectable substance on the floor itself that was, among other things, very, very, very...slippery.

OOC:

Again, apologies to any characters whom this villainous moron I write for may cause to come to harm.

IC:
A few minutes after the class had ended, Ziyo had already finished his essay*. Pretty much right after he had identified his ability, he had worked out how to travel through the computer. Using electrified versions of his fingers, Ziyo had gone online and triple checked sources, and typed out a 6 and 1/2 page essay on the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.

*We don't have to really write them do we? I'm too lazy

OOC:Not at all-I don't expect anyone to actually perform the assignments-consider them a plot device-what Hitchcock called a "MacGuffin"-they move the story forward without having anything to do with the plot.
I'm rather looking forward to the thread moving outside the school, and hearing the remark "Paris can save itself-Old Whately expects an essay on dimensional fissures!"

OOC: Or for my character, "Done. Let's see what trouble NY has gotten itself into this time.."

OOC:Given the Spincter's prank, one can only wonder what the poor object of his revenge will slide into-a classroom where a lich keeps mystic gewgaws isn't really a place to go sliding around in, and the soap opera interlude regarding Lucus' family...
Let's say, I anticipate events picking up soon.

OOC: Agreed, but let's not clog up the IC thread

OOC:Suitably chastised...
IC:Sareau tapped into the Internet from the media center-fortunately, the station was well-equipped. His paper on the Bestiary, a group of super-soldiers from the Vietnam era-took little time, and he could readily begin researching various credit card companies and various financial institutions.
The information was largely there-opening a sizable enough account would get all revealed, to ease his mind his money was safe.
The world of finance was a confusing morass-navigating would be troublesome, but what was easily gained was less esteemed...

Dastardly Stench;14322975']OOC: Roundly despised? Well...that's what I was trying for. :) :) :) Now that I've established that the bloke is an egotistical asshole and a blowhard, I'm going to lay off on that stuff a little. (You can use "asshole" in this forum? Heck! If I'd known that, the character would have a different name!)

Remember: The people who sent Reardon to this school thought that it was going to be a form of reform school. He came here from jail. He still has quite a bit of the prisoner's mentality.

So...

IC:

One last minor detail remained: an appropriate response to the disrespect that another student had shown. The instructors, at least, had not deliberately mocked him. The one who did would need a lesson in manners: specifically, he should not not attempt to arrogate authority in another's cause.

Of course, credible deniability would be an integral part of this exercise. In fact, it could prove crucial to its success. Therefor, when Reardon stood up from his chair, he merely bent over and made it appear that he was picking up some school supplies.

pssssssssssssssssssssssssssssst.

So quietly that it could barely be heard, if at all, a thin layer of invisible gas spread out on the floor in front of the simpleton. Quickly, it dissipated, leaving behind it a clear and very nearly undetectable substance on the floor itself that was, among other things, very, very, very...slippery.

OOC:

Again, apologies to any characters whom this villainous moron I write for may cause to come to harm.
Mathieu sighed at the prospect of a paper. One of the good things of being a wanderer was that he didn't have school assignments. As he got up to leave, however, he slipped, falling backward. His sudden lapse saved him, though, as he ended up floating mere inches from the floor. Mathieu sighed, electric discharges arching between his body and the floor below. Righting himself, he gained altitude and landed several meters away, his feet testing out the traction of the floor before landing firmly. Mathieu glanced at Reardon...he couldn't prove anything, of course.

"Do svidonia, dolboeb," he said to Reardon before shouldering his pack and leaving the room.

Mathieu sighed at the prospect of a paper. One of the good things of being a wanderer was that he didn't have school assignments. As he got up to leave, however, he slipped, falling backward. His sudden lapse saved him, though, as he ended up floating mere inches from the floor. Mathieu sighed, electric discharges arching between his body and the floor below. Righting himself, he gained altitude and landed several meters away, his feet testing out the traction of the floor before landing firmly. Mathieu glanced at Reardon...he couldn't prove anything, of course.

"Do svidonia, dolboeb," he said to Reardon before shouldering his pack and leaving the room.
The discharges flowed along the near-invisible stream, illuminating it briefly as the electricity coursed steadily to a leaden jar carefully labelled "Custodes" in Professor Whately's swirling hand.
The jar expanded and contracted, it's movements almost organic and unnoticed, until the first cracks appeared and a moaning howl issued from within, a chorus suddenly stilled as mouths dissolved in the black liquid suspending them, a liquid now seeping from the jar.
The sheer quantity that poured out as the jar shattered with a loud crack! seemed impossible, but not so impossible as the clutching hands that reached out and pulled the fluid across the floor before dissolving into the inky substance.
Eyes bobbled up towards it's surface, glaring with an insane malevolence as it sought it's prey. The Marterkind had been imprisoned for decades, and now it was hungry...
(OOC:You didn't really think horseplay in a lich's den would go by unremarked, did you?)

The discharges flowed along the near-invisible stream, illuminating it briefly as the electricity coursed steadily to a leaden jar carefully labelled "Custodes" in Professor Whately's swirling hand.
The jar expanded and contracted, it's movements almost organic and unnoticed, until the first cracks appeared and a moaning howl issued from within, a chorus suddenly stilled as mouths dissolved in the black liquid suspending them, a liquid now seeping from the jar.
The sheer quantity that poured out as the jar shattered with a loud crack! seemed impossible, but not so impossible as the clutching hands that reached out and pulled the fluid across the floor before dissolving into the inky substance.
Eyes bobbled up towards it's surface, glaring with an insane malevolence as it sought it's prey. The Marterkind had been imprisoned for decades, and now it was hungry...
(OOC:You didn't really think horseplay in a lich's den would go by unremarked, did you?)
ooc: no, but neither was i letting that dolboeb's prank go on unhindered. saving face v. painful death...? saving face

ic:

Mathieu heard something eminating from the classroom. He remembered the Professor's warnings about dangerous objects, realizing the folly of his ways. Dropping his book bag to the side, Mathieu jogged back, ready to meet whatever it was he'd conjured.

A puddle of black fluid covered the floor, pulsating with horrid life. It seemed a pool of foul-smelling liquid, but it seemed capable of loosening it's surface tension, as was revealed by the smoking remnants it made of all it encompassed. Body parts formed and collapsed into the main mass constantly, giving it glaring eyes, clutching fingers, and an aura of malice palpable.
Madness seemed a part of the horrid ooze, and madness surrounded it--Mathieu found himself thinking the most bizarre thoughts, and these thoughts became sensations the closer he got to the thing-Reality warped, the light folded and the dark broke-this thing was a Horror, and it ripped Logic, Causality, and even Coherent Thought as it approached. It's own perceptions were slow, Mathieu thought-or was it someone else's thought?-he giggled incongruously as the pool spread...

A puddle of black fluid covered the floor, pulsating with horrid life. It seemed a pool of foul-smelling liquid, but it seemed capable of loosening it's surface tension, as was revealed by the smoking remnants it made of all it encompassed. Body parts formed and collapsed into the main mass constantly, giving it glaring eyes, clutching fingers, and an aura of malice palpable.
Madness seemed a part of the horrid ooze, and madness surrounded it--Mathieu found himself thinking the most bizarre thoughts, and these thoughts became sensations the closer he got to the thing-Reality warped, the light folded and the dark broke-this thing was a Horror, and it ripped Logic, Causality, and even Coherent Thought as it approached. It's own perceptions were slow, Mathieu thought-or was it someone else's thought?-he giggled incongruously as the pool spread...
ooc: isn't the Prof here somewhere...?

ic:

Mathieu clutched his head and shook it, trying to clear his thoughts. In a sudden burst, he formed a blue orb around himself. As the field intensified, he felt his head clearing, arches of energy sparking across the surface of the orb.

"Um, someone...help!" Mathieu called out to anyone that could hear him.

ooc2: i'm supposing the effects are by physical means, and an electric field would create a barrier for gases to pass through.

OOC:Professor Whately is currently dealing with a student-particularily, the loss of Mr. Lington's family-when Lynion is back online, I'll post Professor Whately's noticing the disruption of one of his wards-until then, you're on your own-Prof. Whately is more concerned with Mr. Lington's loss and getting him to cope with it
On the bright side, most of the class is still there, except for Whately, Mr. Lington, Mr. Sareau, and Mr. Ziyo-who have all posted themselves elsewhere-this IS a class on teamwork, after all...

OOC:Professor Whately is currently dealing with a student-particularily, the loss of Mr. Lington's family-when Lynion is back online, I'll post Professor Whately's noticing the disruption of one of his wards-until then, you're on your own-Prof. Whately is more concerned with Mr. Lington's loss and getting him to cope with it
On the bright side, most of the class is still there, except for Whately, Mr. Lington, Mr. Sareau, and Mr. Ziyo-who have all posted themselves elsewhere-this IS a class on teamwork, after all...
ooc: so, any tips...? or will you rp the 'mass' for now?

I shall play the Marterkind, as I am alone in knowing it's abilities and limitations.
My advice? Don't get eaten....

I shall play the Marterkind, as I am alone in knowing it's abilities and limitations.
My advice? Don't get eaten....
ooc: ahha...also, i posted in the ooc thread...

ic:

Mathieu looked around frantically, trying to determine his options. He couldn't just run away and let it consume whichever hapless student it wandered upon.

OOC:As did I-only fair
IC: The pool spread, desks and chairs sinking into it's seemingly limitless depths-only the shelves holding Professor Whately's momentos seemed inviolate-the leaden casks marked "Materia" and "Custodes" slowly sinking into the pit of foetid horror, it's clutching fingers drawing it forward as it spread before sinking into the pit it had formed...

OOC:As did I-only fair
IC: The pool spread, desks and chairs sinking into it's seemingly limitless depths-only the shelves holding Professor Whately's momentos seemed inviolate-the leaden casks marked "Materia" and "Custodes" slowly sinking into the pit of foetid horror, it's clutching fingers drawing it forward as it spread before sinking into the pit it had formed...
ooc: guessing that's bad...also, last post, got work in the morning

ic:

Mathieu couldn't chance unsealing his shield, but neither could he let it grow anymore. He thought long and hard...what would work? before remembering something he'd read about medical lasers. And...a laser was basically just concentrated energy...

He focused, harnessing all his control and concentration as a searing beam eminated from the front of the orb that surrounded him, hitting the mass dead-center.

ooc2: read my ooc post...i'll reply tomorrow afternoon

Being electricity allowed Ziyo some, unusual, hobbies. At the moment he was busy watching the screens in the security area, when he happened to glance at the screen showing Prof. Whately's classroom.
"What the hell?" he said/thought to himself, before transfering himself through the outlet outside of the room.
"What the hell?" he asked again

Kagetora;14323186']Being electricity allowed Ziyo some, unusual, hobbies. At the moment he was busy watching the screens in the security area, when he happened to glance at the screen showing Prof. Whately's classroom.
"What the hell?" he said/thought to himself, before transfering himself through the outlet outside of the room.
"What the hell?" he asked again
ooc:zomg! that's from Gremlins2...ok, ok, going to bed this time...

The mass bubbled and burned-and drew itself away from the searing beam. It formed a hole that shifted and moved about the beam-it didn't like burning, apparently...

ooc:zomg! that's from Gremlins2...ok, ok, going to bed this time...

OOC: What..? Never seen/read that book/movie

The mass bubbled and burned-and drew itself away from the searing beam. It formed a hole that shifted and moved about the beam-it didn't like burning, apparently...
Mathieu had a revelation at that. He began to fire small bursts. Long enough for the mass to begin to shy away from the beam, before firing again on another random area. He kept this up, hoping his idea worked.

Kagetora;14323197']OOC: What..? Never seen/read that book/movie
ooc: you've never seen gremlins??!! you don't remember Gizmo, the original furby?? oh, well, ignore the comment, then. it takes a while to explain...

OOC: Sounds familiar... I think I know a picture, but I've never seen the movie.

IC:
"Hey Mathieu! What the hell is going on?" yelled Ziyo

Kagetora;14323203']OOC: Sounds familiar... I think I know a picture, but I've never seen the movie.

IC:
"Hey Mathieu! What the hell is going on?" yelled Ziyo
"Stay back!" MAthieu warned. "It makes you start to think funny."

From another room, Delphina sensed the psychic field of the mass. She ran quickly over to the classroom, seeing Ziyo and Mathieu against the...thing. At once, the psychic field hit her, and she blocked it away, walling her mind against it. But Delphina knew the other two wouldn't have a defense. Focusing her strength, Delphina pushed against the creatures own psychic attack, trying to shield the students.

ooc: forgot i had a telepath, lol

Mathiue's blasts caused the thing to withdraw, only to fill the area again when his blast subsided. Fingers at the edge of the mass clutched, drawing it outwards, into the halls-the burbling substance was hungry, it wanted food, not conflict-though the time for conflict would come...

Mathiue's blasts caused the thing to withdraw, only to fill the area again when his blast subsided. Fingers at the edge of the mass clutched, drawing it outwards, into the halls-the burbling substance was hungry, it wanted food, not conflict-though the time for conflict would come...
"It's okay," Delphina told them, "I'll block it."

With her assurance, Mathieu tried something he'd never attempted before. He folded the shield outwards, it's edges encompassing the walls, cieling and floor. Using arm movements to accent the shields movements, he closed his hands together, the shield moving inwards on the mass. Mathieu closed his eyes and concentrated, the shield glowing a brilliant blue as it sizzled against the surface of the blob.

ooc: see my pm

"Heck, the AZN accident made me think funny. Be right back." said Ziyo, converting himself into electricity, and darting into the outlet.
An alarm began to go off.
Coming out of the outlet again, he said
"So what makes this thing squirm?"

Kagetora;14323219']"Heck, the AZN accident made me think funny. Be right back." said Ziyo, converting himself into electricity, and darting into the outlet.
An alarm began to go off.
Coming out of the outlet again, he said
"So what makes this thing squirm?"
"I dunno...it absorbs stuff and grows..." Mathieu explained. He grunted in concentration, "I'm trying to burn it away," he informed Ziyo.

ooc: ok, seriously, g'night

OOC: lol

IC:
"Let's see how many watts it can take." Ziyo said. With that, he stretched out his right arm, and braced it with his left, and began to pulse electricity into the creature

"Who...?" replied Lucus as the door was opened to Rathma's office. Inside the office stood two men and a sentry droid being re-arm by the vistor. Lucus waved at the stranger for a moment before the man looked up and gave a warm smile to Lucus.

"Lucus my favourite nephew!" shouted the man as he hugged Lucus for a moment before Rathma realised he had to introduce the stranger to Professor Whately.

"Uncle David!" replied Lucus as he hugged his uncle for a moment.

"Professor Whately, meet Captain David Longshanks, 3rd Lynion Assassin Brigade," introduced Rathma as Lucus realised something was wrong.

"Where's dad?" demanded Lucus as he noticed the droid was in its ball hidding in a corner. David looked up at Rathma while looking for help.

"I'm sorry Dave," replied Rathma. "I...I can't do this," This didn't help David as he turned back to Lucus.

David removed his slouch hat as he knelt down to Lucus' height and placed his hands on Lucus' shoulders.

"Your father was killed in action five hours ago on Union beaches," started David as Lucus started to shake his head while repeating no.

"Wha...why? What happened? What about my sister?" whimpered Lucus as the thought of his sister came into his mind.

"10 hours ago Union was bombed by the Air Pirates of Jin. When I arrived on the scene, your father was trying to get your brother and sister off the beach as the landing boats started to arrive. He was hit by mortar fire and your brother and sister were seriously wounded. I managed to get your brother and sister to safety but I...I..." contiuned David as a tear came down his cheek while Lucus started to cry gently. "I couldn't get to your father. He was killed during the first of the landings," finished David as he tried not to cry.

"Wha...*sob* what about my bro and sis?" sobbed Lucus as tears streamed down his cheek.

"Your brother died from his wounds three hours ago," explained David. "Your sister survived and is making a recovery," finished David as Lucus started to cry onto his shoulder. There was nothing that could be done as David hugged Lucus gently.

"What's going to happen to me?" sobbed Lucus as he looked at David. "What's going to happen to my sis?"

"Your sis is going to be in hospital for awhile and I'll become her guardian," replied David as he looked up to Rathma. "What can we do for Lucus Rathma?" asked David.

"I've arranged transport for the us head back to Lynion where your sister needs you more than ever Lucus," started Rathma as he pulled up his bag from behind his desk.

"Whose us?" asked David.

"I've got a message from Woff and they need my service again," replied Rathma as he looked at Whately. "I've arranged for another professor to take my place and he'll arrive for the lesson today. Whately, if you can, can you inform the students that power harnessing has being post-poned to this afternoon and inform them there's being a change of teachers," explained Rathma as David looked up. "Expect Professor Mavis to arrive by lunch time today to take my place. I'll be gone for maybe five months at the most. Don't worry Mavis is a capable teacher for the students," finished Rathma as he looked up at Whately. "If anyone asks where we're gone. Lucus has to go home due to family requirements and I've being enlisted again," finished Rathma as Lucus started to calm down in Davids arms.

"You're damn right, you're burning it away," Min said as she turned the corner, cannon raised at the mass. "Get out of my way." Without waiting to see what the others did, she began firing her power cannon, the energy spheres blasting into the thing. Keeping her advance steady, she ceased when AZN began charging it with electricity.

"Allow me to assist," she said, charging the power beam until a large sphere of energy was coalesced on the end of her cannon. Drawing her arm back, she smashed it into the creature in an energized punch, releasing all the energy right into its body, such as it was. "I wish I was granted the Plasma Cannon by the Fed," Min added angrily, blasting more energy into the being. "That weapon would torch this thing in seconds."

"Hold your fire for a moment," The Sphincter said. "Let's give this thing a taste of chemical weapons."

Pffrrrrrrrrhhhhhhttttttt ht ht ht!

A hairy green cloud slowly descended around the thing.

"You may fire when ready," he said, knowing full well that any spark in the vicinity of that cloud would cause it to detonate.

((OOC: Sorry for lack of postage. Been working. Where is Seth?))

Professor Whately inclined his head slightly. "I wish we met under better circumstances, Capt. Longshanks." He extended his hand, then tilted his head as the clarion sounded. "Sounds as if I'm needed..." he furrowed his brow. "Oh, dear-they've released the Marterkind."
"Marterkind?"
"Yes-in the later days of the War in Europe, Germany sought out a solution to the Empowered flocking to the Allies. Ubermensch was amazingly powerful, but he was just one man-their other Empowered tended to be one-trick ponies. Eisenkreuz was a tactical whiz, but he was just a flier with a pistol, and the Allies were dropping German Empowered like fourth period French.
"Mengele created the Marterkind-an absorbative entity designed to destroy the Allies' Empowered and turn on the Allies with the powers of it's own heroes. The Thule Gesellschaft pulled some strings, ensuring the creature would be vulnerable to magic, and thus controllable, which is how I got it."
He nodded slowly. "Now it's loose, and I'll have to bottle it up if I ever want to get to study it. Do me a favor-cut into the school's sound feed with 'Yakety Sax'-that'll calm everyone down until I can corral my errant project."
With steady strides, he waved a farewell and headed for his classroom.

Dastardly Stench;14325169']"Hold your fire for a moment," The Sphincter said. "Let's give this thing a taste of chemical weapons."

Pffrrrrrrrrhhhhhhttttttt ht ht ht!

A hairy green cloud slowly descended around the thing.

"You may fire when ready," he said, knowing full well that any spark in the vicinity of that cloud would cause it to detonate.

The surface tension of the puddle rippled and burbled as the cloud was sucked into the boiling mass, rivulets of power dancing along it's surface. A section of the mass heaved up, revealing a spontaneously formed anus, aimed right at it's attackers....
phhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhht
A mist of stomach acid and bile filled the air, bringing with it a noxious stench.
As the diluted acids ate through flesh, psychotropics invaded the bloodstream, bringing welts, rashes, and erratic behavior...

Min, within her suit, watched her shields begin boiling down, the toxins unable to enter her suit but the acids burning at her protection. Without wasting a moment, she grabbed the others, one at a time, dragging them out of the room and down the corridor a significant distance, no matter their protests, getting them away from the toxic atmosphere. Finally, the Sphincter was left, but she hesitated. She could simply let him be ended now...

"We'll get Lucus bags and head for the shuttle," started Rathma as the trio walked out of his office.

"What do you think broke into the school?" asked Longshanks as he pulled out his assault rifle and checked its clip for a moment.

"We won't bother about the creature unless we get attacked," informed Rathma as the trio headed towards Lucus' dorm.

Lucus was quietly sobbing gently as Rathma stood behind Lucus while Longshanks took the front. They quickly went pass the rooms as they came to Lucus' dorm and packed what few things he had. Lucus was holding onto a photo of his father, brother, sister and himself. He held onto it as the trio headed to the shuttle with their belongings. As they boarded the shuttle Mavis had finally arrive earlier than expected.

"Thanks for doing this," thanked Rathma as he shakes hands as 36 stayed behind to act as a guide to Mavis.

"Ahh, don't worry about it," replied Mavis as he was stuck in his werewolf transformation. "Rathma, Woff has intel on your parents. He'll inform you once you arrive on the surface," added Mavis as Rathma waved goodbye as the shuttle left the school. Rathma felt his heart sank but he felt enraged that his parents might be still alive. Why the blazes haven't they contacted him for 70 years? Were they dead? Were they alive? Did they betray him? Was he disowned? He put those thoughts aside as he headed back to the surface.

Mavis looked around as he headed into the school. He stood 6 foot 4, weighed about 80 kilograms, he was jammed in his werewolf transformation meaning he can never be a Human again and he was a pure Unionist Faction Fighter. This meant he had practice the Vampire Supernatural Martial Arts and the Werewolf Supernatural Martial Arts. He was slightly more pwoerful than Rathma but he still had much to learn about his powers. As he ventured through the school, he came across a class dealing with a threat.

"Must be a class exercise," said Mavis to himself as he watched the area come alive.

The surface tension of the puddle rippled and burbled as the cloud was sucked into the boiling mass, rivulets of power dancing along it's surface. A section of the mass heaved up, revealing a spontaneously formed anus, aimed right at it's attackers....
phhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhht
A mist of stomach acid and bile filled the air, bringing with it a noxious stench.
As the diluted acids ate through flesh, psychotropics invaded the bloodstream, bringing welts, rashes, and erratic behavior...
ooc: um, glt, gonna do something you may not like...

ic:

Mathieu shrugged off Min's grasp with a deflection of his energy shield, grimacing as he had to drop his field around the mass before encasing it again in his energy projection. He concentrated on the attack, pressing to burn it away as he had before. Mathieu was using all his strength, a trickle of red spilling from his nostril.

Delphina, meanwhile, began to go around to the others, healing them from whatever effects the toxin had had on them.

ooc2: you realize that my field was encasing the mass to begin with, right?

Fine, Mat was the last one I tried to take out. And obviously, Ordo Drakul decided that its abilities stretch beyond your shielding

(OOC:I think ooc2 slipped by all of us-sorry about that)
IC: The clarion bell didn't disrupt Sareau much-the school had a faculty of super-beings experienced enough to teach, and further instructions would follow if required, but when "Yakety Sax" began filtering over the sound system, he saved his work and shut down his station.
He knew his grandfather well, and "Yakety Sax" was a bouyant little tune the old man used to allay fears that a situation was well in hand. No matter what one observed when hearing "Yakety Sax", one anticipated a punchline rather than an atrocity.
That Papau would stoop to such indicated an emergency, so Sareau 'ported to the hall outside the classroom.
"What the ----?" He took in the scene-a massive amoeba ringed by odd blue arcings, the students lying out in the hall, the Spa...Min, flying overhead.
"Hey, Min-what's the sitch?"

(OOC:I think ooc2 slipped by all of us-sorry about that)
IC: The clarion bell didn't disrupt Sareau much-the school had a faculty of super-beings experienced enough to teach, and further instructions would follow if required, but when "Yakety Sax" began filtering over the sound system, he saved his work and shut down his station.
He knew his grandfather well, and "Yakety Sax" was a bouyant little tune the old man used to allay fears that a situation was well in hand. No matter what one observed when hearing "Yakety Sax", one anticipated a punchline rather than an atrocity.
That Papau would stoop to such indicated an emergency, so Sareau 'ported to the hall outside the classroom.
"What the ----?" He took in the scene-a massive amoeba ringed by odd blue arcings, the students lying out in the hall, the Spa...Min, lying overhead.
"Hey, Min-what's the sitch?"
ooc: so, does that mean my shielding is working...? because, on top of that, I'm also burning it...

ic:

Mathieu tried to keep up the fight. He knew that it's spreading would be disastrous. If only he could keep the shield up...if only he could press the attack...

"Good work, Mr. Chevalier-but only maintain that energy field-if you keep peppering it with smaller blasts, you're going to teach it to adapt to your energies." Professor Whately remarked more loudly than he usually spoke. "Ms. Okan, if you've cleared the room, I can seal it with fire until a suitable container is readied-is everyone out?"

"Good work, Mr. Chevalier-but only maintain that energy field-if you keep peppering it with smaller blasts, you're going to teach it to adapt to your energies." Professor Whately remarked more loudly than he usually spoke. "Ms. Okan, if you've cleared the room, I can seal it with fire until a suitable container is readied-is everyone out?"
"Yessir," Mathieu grunted, resetting his focus to maintaining the field. "I can hold it for as long as you want," he sniffled.

"Excellent, Mr. Chevalier-constrict the field, please-I'll need to salvage it's container unless you someone here can provide enchanted lead quenched in the blood of demons thrice-damned?" Professor Whately looked about. "Anyone?"

"I can wrap it in null-space, even send it outside-freezing should keep it under control." Sareau offered.

"Work on getting me it's container, Mr. Sareau-and be careful-some of the greatest minds in history are in the other jars. And don't grab up anything in the Marterkind-each cell has the capacity to become this-or worse." he huffed. "It's bigger than last time-what did you feed it?"

"Excellent, Mr. Chevalier-constrict the field, please-I'll need to salvage it's container unless you someone here can provide enchanted lead quenched in the blood of demons thrice-damned?" Professor Whately looked about. "Anyone?"

"I can wrap it in null-space, even send it outside-freezing should keep it under control." Sareau offered.

"Work on getting me it's container, Mr. Sareau-and be careful-some of the greatest minds in history are in the other jars. And don't grab up anything in the Marterkind-each cell has the capacity to become this-or worse." he huffed. "It's bigger than last time-what did you feed it?"
"Um, I just found it here," Mathieu said, deciding it was best to follow instructions and constrict the field. He flexed his muscles, compressing the field around the Marterkind.

"It seems you have the situation under control," started Mavis as he watched the creature become trap in some form. "Does this usually happen around here?"

"It seems you have the situation under control," started Mavis as he watched the creature become trap in some form. "Does this usually happen around here?"
Mathieu smiled a bit at that. If anything, he was usually considered the guy out of control.

"This is not under control, Professor Mavis-merely contained for the moment." Professor Whately replied. "Your powers are largely physical, yes? Perhaps this situation would be best served by your evacuating the injured to the medbay?
"Don't try psionics on it-it hasn't enough of a mind for that-fire will destroy it, other energies it will adapt to eventually-I can contain it, but I'll need a jar of enchanted lead, quenched in the blood of demons thrice-damned-or someone versed in the Thule Gesellschaft's hlaut magic.
"If it eats someone, it will incorporate it's powers into it's matrix-it is a construct as much spiritual as physical-it didn't eat a student, did it?"

"This is not under control, Professor Mavis-merely contained for the moment." Professor Whately replied. "Your powers are largely physical, yes? Perhaps this situation would be best served by your evacuating the injured to the medbay?
"Don't try psionics on it-it hasn't enough of a mind for that-fire will destroy it, other energies it will adapt to eventually-I can contain it, but I'll need a jar of enchanted lead, quenched in the blood of demons thrice-damned-or someone versed in the Thule Gesellschaft's hlaut magic.
"If it eats someone, it will incorporate it's powers into it's matrix-it is a construct as much spiritual as physical-it didn't eat a student, did it?"
"No, not that I know of," Mathieu answered.

"Is there any of that lead here?" Delphina asked. "I can get it if you know where it is..."

"Spiritual?" questioned Mavis as his eyes scanned about the creature. "How well does it suit to Dark Magic?" asked Mavis as his fingers created a ball of darkness in his hands. "I'm more of Dark Mage than physical attacker,"

As soon as he had come in contact with the stomach acids and could feel the burn, Ziyo had converted his body to electricity and fled the scene, heading for the nearest men's shower to wash off the acid.

"Spiritual?" questioned Mavis as his eyes scanned about the creature. "How well does it suit to Dark Magic?" asked Mavis as his fingers created a ball of darkness in his hands. "I'm more of Dark Mage than physical attacker,"

"Then you can understand." Whately grasped Mavis's arm and shared his sorceror's sight with the newly-arrived instructor. The thing's spiritual essence-it's soul-was growing, forming a darkling foetus that was being fed from the mass of the thing. "What is it eating?"
Sareau held up a fragment of jar he'd retrieved. "Offhand, Papau, I'd say the greatest minds in history-this was Franklin's, wasn't it?"
Breaking contact with Professor Mavis, Whately snatched up the shard. "No, this was Scipio Africanus's. And it's Professor Whately in front of the class, Mr. Sareau."
He hurled the fragment on the ground, cursing in Enochian. "All right, not to worry-we have a blob situation-it eats and incorporates, but it's contained. Mr. Sareau, take someone to my sanctum to retrieve a spare jar-Ms. Okan, see if you can round up the psychics-the Marterkind is growing a mind, which means we can psychically lobotomise it if we're swift.
"We're on a timetable now, people-quick suggestions, thoughts?"

Mavis had seen enough and he decided the best thing to do was to sheild himself until a fire substance...fire...napalm...fire as a weakness...Mavis stretched into his bag and pulled out a magazine and checked the rounds. Sure enough, they were new prototype napalm bullets he had got his hands on.

"You said fire is its weakness?" started Mavis as he turned to Whately. "Do you need it dead or alive?"