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Shadows Looming


Sandman XI

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Evanier Preparatory School is one of the most prestigous boarding schools in the United States, if not the world. Graduates have gone on to successful ventures in high ranking colleges of their choice. Though their student list is private, their graduate list is very well known. By invitation only is someone invited to Evanier Preparatory School. At least, that's what they'd have the public believe. Sure they have well off graduates that go on to do many things, but their are two sides to that story. The ones that actually go to college are false. Things that the Labyrinth cooks up to make their investment look good. The ones that tend to go through with the true purpose are here today.

A group of students stand in a plush looking lobby. They have been instructed to wait for the arrival of their teacher.

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Emperor

This was the first day to the rest of his life, Mervyl Masters stepped away from childish things and became a man. But not just any man, but the man who is destined to lead 'Beta' group. It was the first time he EVER lost sleep, cause now... now things were for real. No simulations. No reading. No hypothetical situations. Sure, he was still a student, but the problem is that _they_ don't see him as one. They saw him as the second coming. And anything less would be a failure.

But moping wasn't his style, planning was. As he took out his magnatized silver dollar out of his pocket, he began to plan. It was the first step of an effective leader.

So here he was, 20 minutes early, awaiting the first to arrive as he began flipping the silver dollar. His eyes, hidden behind his visor, focused on the door...

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Zealot

Victor looked around the room as he strode purposely into the room. It wasn't exactly necessary to make an entrance looking like he wanted to rip someone's face off, but better safe then sorry. Surveying the other "student" gathered, he mentally searched for the presence for magic inclination but came up empty so far. Victor narrowed his eyes and continued his scan. The lack of magic users so far was encouraging, but that did not mean the rest of the coming students were trustworthy defenders of God, or even on the level. Zealot hadn't survived a massacre of his order by being naive. Some would call it paranoid, Victor saw it as informed prudence.

Victor looked over the guy flipping the coin. He was shorter than Victor and not nearly as physically intimidating but Victor knew that didn't preclude the boy being dangerous. Victor kept his face guarded, careful not to show emotion or give his thoughts away. The lack of pupils that the character had was a bit disturbing, but it wasn't the first dead glance he'd seen. Victor remembered the look of the blacksmith that crafted the scourge he now wore at his waste and how he looked in a pool of darkening blood. Witchbreaker was a comfortable and familiar weight on his side. He idly tapped it as he continued to study the only other student in the room.

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Witch was there, of course, but not visible. She had her eyes on the one that said he would kill her. Having forgiven him of the slight, she watched him as she snuck up behind him and put her invisible hands over his eyes. "Pssst, guess who," she whispered in his ear.

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Emperor

Mervyl didn't like being stared at, especially the wy Zealot was doing. His clear eyes narrowed and for a few seconds, Mervyl stopped his coin flipping.

"I'm sorry, is something on my face?"

It was a very cliced statement, but it carried with it an air of intensity. Mervyl merely wanted this guy to back off him, the last thing he needed was for a guy to try and intimidate him of all people.

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Zealot was taken aback by the boy's brashness and steely demeanor. He was trying to stammer out a reply when he felt the warm, invisible fingers close around his eyes and his magical senses screamed at him. Zealot seethed in a breath, slapping the hands away and back flipping over his invisible "assailant."

"You!" Zealot curses. This was not something he wanted to do right now. He did not like being flustered by the likes of a tainted one. "You are a witch! I knew my instincts were correct." Zealot took a second to settle his nerves and stared in the girl's general direction. "What exactly are you doing here, Child of the Tainted?"

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Stinger peeks through a window into the lobby when she arrives there. She presses her face against it and forms a shield around the sides of her eyes, using her hands to block out any outside glare. She wants to check out the room before she steps in.

She looks inside just in time to see the testosterone stare down. It reminds her of how high school jocks test each other on their first day to establish social dominance. She doesn’t notice the invisible girlâ€â€just the armored teenager’s sudden odd reaction. Armored as he was, he was surprisingly agile to do a back flip.

She steps away from the window and in through the entrance. Avoiding the commotion, she walks in casually and finds a wall to lean back against. She folds her arms across her chest and rests one foot flat against the wall. She watches the others around her only so much as to be alert of any trouble directed her way.

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"I couldn't let the one who would kill me get away," Blackbird kept her hushed tone, still staying in her invisible form, but tracing her finger across Zealot's back to his chest. "That and I can't help but notice your fear of what's his name over there. You aren't going to let him get away with that, are you?"

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Mervyl smirked as the man was taken aback. Yet his attention was adverted when he saw a familiar face enter the room. He remembered her.

The car theft attempt. The stbborn hero, and the lesson of pain Mervyl had to put him through. The night still gave him goosebumps.

"How's the back? Feeling better?" Mervyl resumed with the coin flipping, ignoring Zealot and his conversation seemingly to himself... unless he was in comunication with something that he was yet unaware of...

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Victor sneers and lets out a low growl.

"I am not afraid of him, his reaction simply took me by surprise. As for letting him, or you, get away with the actions you two are perpetrating, I would rather not have to explain to the Headmistress why two of her students lay bloody and scourged on her nice hardwood floors here." Victor let his sneer and steely gaze settle onto where the witch was. "I can feel your magic taint in my head, sorceress. Know that I can find you anywhere, anytime. I have your scent now, and if you wish to continue this banter, I propose it be at a later date, where there are not so many prying eyes."

Victor let the threat, mixed slightly with a more base undertone carry the message to the unseen temptress. Apparently he wasn't going to be run off this time.

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"I am not afraid of him, his reaction simply took me by surprise. As for letting him, or you, get away with the actions you two are perpetrating, I would rather not have to explain to the Headmistress why two of her students lay bloody and scourged on her nice hardwood floors here."

"I'm sorry, what you just mumbled?" Mervyl eyes turned away and if Stinger responded to him, it fell to deaf ears. "I'm not, never has, or never will be a bloody stained on the hardwood floor... nor will you be..."

Mervyl stood up. "...since there won't be any remains left. This isn't a threat, but a promise... drop the holier then thou attitude. It helps NO ONE in here and it's ultimately make you look like a jerk."

Mervyl didn't know he could get rattled so easily. It was times like this that reminded the collective universe that even with all his power and maturity, he was still a teenager. A teenager who didn't like being looked down upon.

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Stinger replies to the visor-wearing teenager, "It got better."

She looks away from the two boys as they challenge each other. She certainly doesn’t intend to step in regardless of how it plays out. If they want to fight, that’s their business.

Small, silver earrings decorate her earlobes and upside down on her left wrist is a cheap, digital watch. A white belly shirt reveals her cat belly ring lying flat against her firm tummy. A belt holds up her worn blue jeans around her thin waist. White ankle socks and black and white sneakers adorn her feet. Unlike her other clothing, her sneakers appear nearly new.

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"Hmph," Blackbird scoffed with a wickedly happy tone, "Fine then. Shake in your greaves." She walked behind him and rubbed the back of his neck with her finger, "I'll just have to find someone brave to kill me."

Taking a step or two back from the knight, Blackbird revealed herself to the others with florish of magical silver energy. She was still wearing the same style of clothes when Zealot saw her first, but she was a lot less bloody.

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Victor glared at the man, though there was evident apprehension behind the stare. Despite the slight tremble in his hands he seemed only seconds away from violence.

"I wasn't talking to you, boy." Victor then turned back to the now visible Witch.

"As for you, I suggest you take care in what you wish for. Others might not be as tolerable as I am at this junction."

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Once before, someone turned his back to Mrvyl in a sign of disdain. For all he knew, that person was still handcuffed to a lamppost over in Westside.

Mervyl was like a statue, but his hands balled into fists. And as shield rose, the familiar crackle of ionized air began to dance all around him. Only one person had a chance to realize what this meant.

"...boy?"

Mervyl cracked his neck before clasping his hands behind his back.

"...boy?"

He repeated to himself before looking up to the woman behind the soon to be corpse. "I suggest you move. Now."

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Stinger raises an eyebrow as the other girl fades into view within a cloud of silver sparkles. She thinks.oO("Cute. Looks like a tease. Girl’ll probably try to wrap the boys around her little pinky with unkept honeydew promises. I wonder what the deal is between her and that knight guy anyway. Guess they already know each other from somewhere else.")

She looks at the armored guy as she thinks.oO("And what’s the deal with that guy wearing clunky metal armor like that anyway? Stand out much?")

She looks at the visor guy and thinks.oO("What’s up with him? He just seems to go around blowing crap up in a temper-fit all the time.")

She lets out a little 'Cheh' noise of disapproval and looks away. She has no intention of being their babysitter. If they want to beat the crap out of each other, that’s their problem.

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As the team bickers amongst themselves, an elderman walks down the staircase. He is stout for his almost 6 foot build. He dressed in brown dress shoes and socks, navy blue slacks, a white long-sleeved button up shirt, and a pair of black rimmed glaas. Unnotied by the group he follows their conversations. Tapping his walking stick on the ground, the whole room feels a bit calmer. As if no hard feelings are there or have vanished. "Alright, I want everyone of you to line in a row. Shoulder to shoulder."

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Stinger isn’t paying much attention when the elderly man starts to step down the stairs, but the noise of his cane and footsteps on the staircase draws her attention as he makes his way down.

Her eyes follow him as he moves with determined purpose. She wasn’t sure about this place when she was first approached, but the offer of free room and board drew her interest. Of course she knew it wasn’t truly free, but it didn’t cost her any money and that was close enough for her to give the place a try. Although she was suspicious, she oddly feels at ease after he stops and taps his cane against the floor.

It feels kind of nice to not be alone for a change and to have a place to stay at that’s not a cardboard box on a rooftop. So she’s willing to see where it goes.

She casually walks over and stands where the elderly man indicates. Her arms remain folded across her chest and her hips shift to one side. She looks at him, as if expecting him to say something more after everyone is assembled.

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As always, Chimérique had impeccable timing, just as the old man came down the stairs, he emerged from the bookcase, walking straight through mortar, wood and paper. Taking a series of slow steps seemingly measured out to be an exact fraction of the distance between him and his target, Franz strode nonchalantly to where he had been requested, taking up a space, shoulder to shoulder, to the right of the young woman who had been the only one with enough wits to do as she was being told.

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Mervyl didn't hear, or care to hear what reponse Zealot gave. He merely walked towards and ultimately past him, standing in front of the oldman. He replaced his shades and just looked at him, hands clasped behind his back.

The anger was melting away now, and Mervyl realized just how foolish he looked seconds ago. How the heck could he call himself a leader is he looses his cool so easily? Focus. Calm down. Controlled breathing through the nose...

He was himself now. His eyes, impossible to follow thanks to the shades and lack of pupils, began to scan the room yet again, realizing that a newcomer entered. Including himself, that makes five. Was there going to be a sixth?

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Zealot was somewhat relieved with the arrival of the old man, and calmed by his gestures. Zealot didn't want to fight the smaller boy, not because he was scared, but because either way, whether he won or lost, it would ultimately be a waste of energy. Some creepy upstart boy was not Zealot's enemy, the tainted were, and to fight someone for no other reason than pride would have been wasteful and downright idiotic.

When the man gave the order Zealot moved without much hesitation, coming to stand on the left side of the girl who first took up position. Which, coincidentally, put him as far away from the boy with the glasses as possible. Zealot stood at perfect attention. His feet were together at the heels and spread at a forty five degree angle, his back was completely straight, his eyes facing directly to the front, not looking the old man in the eyes, just staring off into the distance in front of him. Throughout his days at the monastary, Victor had learned to not question orders and how to follow them. Despite his fanatic behavior, Victor had no intention of rocking the boat with the staff.

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Zealot's eye twitched slightly, but if he felt any discomfort or aggravation at her presence other than that, it wasn't readily visible on his face or in his manner. Victor thought back to his days in the monastery, as the formation brought familiar pangs of homesickness and nostalgia. He remembered days on the practice field, perfecting his use of his chosen weapon, the nights studying scripture and treatise on witchcraft and witchhunting, and the few hours of respite provided for sleep when he lay looking through his slit of a window out onto the stars, wondering what the future held and whether an enemy so prevalant in the world could be defeated. It was taken as a matter of proof to Victor that the fact that his order was so outnumbered made them right, the good guys. In his studies of history and wars it was often if not always said that the smaller, less imposing force was always in the right, for example: the American Colonists in their Revolutionary War, the Jews fleeing Egypt, any number of Allied forces in World War II. It all added up to one thing, the smaller countries were the morally correct, whereas the invaders, the pretenders to power, were always the wrongdo-ers. It was a small comfort to Victor, but considering his recent defeat at the hands of the vampire, he needed all the comfort he could get.

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The old man watches the ten students line up. When they get all straightened out, he speaks up. "Welcome to Evanier Preparatory School. You have been chosen to train your abilities to the fullest here at our facilities." He starts at the beginning of the line, looking at each of the students with a bit of what would seem like solemness as he passes. "We only take the cream of the crop here. Some of you will not make it. You will give your best, you will try. If you try hard enough you will succeed." He stops at the end of the line and chuckles. "I'm not here to be a fortune cookie, I'm here to give you the tour. This is the lobby. High class stuff here. You've seen enough of this area. Any questions? If not we'll move on."

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