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Shadows Looming


Sandman XI

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Mervyl sighed at the rest of the 'students'. One of them even looked as if he was going to pee their pants. Skittish. VERY skittish. Perhaps a bit of reality will show him just 'who' Mervyl can trust to stick around.

"What does the... 'screening' process entail?" Mervyl walked casually at the back of the group rather then the front. He liked to keep everything in front of him. I hear that some of the classes have a high injury rate."

He says this as if he was asking for a whopper no pickles.

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"Good question," the old man smiles at Mervyl with a nod. "Your first week here will be a proving grounds of sorts. It changes year to year. But the first week of school will challenge each and everyone of you. Like I said, some of you will not make it through. But when you're done you will be stronger for it."

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Listening to the answer that Mervyl already knew the answer too, he began looking for re-actions. Who was paying attention? Who was getting scared? Who was confident? Mervyl was already beginning to make predictions as to who would stay and go. So far, he already pegged two: The one in the armor since the man seemed to carry an air of determination and/or pride, and the ghost, he he recognized as the dancer who was with him during the scrap with the police. Stinger was a wildcard... she had the toughness... and some resourcefulness. But... there was something nagging him. Maybe it was how he had to save her? Could she take care of herself? Would she be a liability?

Well, if she passed the screening who was he to argue?

Mervyl said no more, as he merely looked at the old man, awaiting instruction.

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With her attention on the old man, it takes Stinger a moment to notice the quiet mime approaching her. She notices too late to see him phase though the wall and bookcase. She turns her head slightly towards him and raises an eyebrow. Mimes creep her out.

She only gives the other new arrivals a quick look. Only ten of them total. Small school.

She casually listens to the old man speak. After he’s done with his introduction, she follows along while he leads them on the tour. She keeps her arms folded across her chest as she walks. Her eyes habitually look around, noting each window, door, skylight, and other means of egress she comes across. A thief never knows when the cops will show up and she likes to know the quickest ways to make an exit in case trouble comes a calling.

She doesn’t react noticeably after the old man answers the question posed by the visor-wearing teenager. His answer doesn’t much matter to herâ€â€she’s here for the free room and board offer. She doubts it’ll be worse than living with her father, but if it turns out to be as bad or worse then she will just go back to living on the streets again.

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"Trial by fire as it were," Zealot murmered to the man's description of their first week. Zealot was no stranger to long hours of testing and conditioning. He was prepared for it and he was certain that nothing this school could throw at him could truly give him too much trouble. After all, the testing was designed for people unused to the kinds of physical exertions and mental fortitude. These were only children, after all, and most had probably not gone through the type of training and lifestyle Victor was used to.

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Unperturbed by the responses, Franz continues staring at the old man, he didn’t really want to be here in the first place, but his family was stout supporters of this silly organization, not that he was afraid of failure, such a thing was impossible for one such as he.

He did however note, with quiet satisfaction, that the woman to his right responding somewhat, negatively, to his presence, being a mime had its benefits, if not simply to creep out 99% of the world’s population. Fear was a powerful tool, capable of making even the most astute person act without reason; even better if that fear was irrational.

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Blackbird thanked Zealot with a smile as he set her straight, paying no attention to the fact that she wasn't ribbing him. She looked around the room while slowly rocking on her feet as she waited for the tour to continue. Nothing special here, she thought.

When they started talking about the upcoming challenges and some of them 'not making it', Blackbird wondered just what sort of testing they employed here. 'Villain school' sounded tough, but they wouldn't go to extremes would they?

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Zealot noticed Blackbird's apprehension of the coming week and something almost akin to sympathy went through him. Surprised, shocked, and thoroughly perturbed by it, Victor chalked it up to the lingering effects of whatever the old man had done to calm them down. Still, Victor couldn't help but move over to Blackbird and whisper "Don't worry, witch, I won't let you fail at this. You're mine to destroy, not this school's." Victor offered her a wink, but it's almost impossible to tell whether it was a joke, or a macabre truth.

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Pointing his walking stick towards a hallway, the old man beckons the group and walks that way. "This is the living areas," he says as he points to the doors in the hallway, "You'll note that there are only six of these living areas." He stops at the end of the hallway, "There's a reason behind this. We only ever have 36 students here at a time. You, as a group, will be sharing one room. Living together. Working together." He opens the last door on the left, marked with the greek letter Zeta. "And this is it." It looks like a small apartment in here. There is a living area, a small kitchenette, and two doors. One marked bathroom and the other marked bedroom. "Any questions?"

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Mervyl was taken for a loop. He has never lived with anyone before. NEVER. He has cooked for himself, cleaned for himself, never had to worry about sharing anything...

This will really take some getting use to. But he had to focus. Ask questions...

"What about curfew... who do we report to when we check in?" Mervyl liked walks and he especially liked time to be by himself. If both were impossible, he needed to know. Now.

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"The only 'curfew' you will have is during your first week here," the old man answers Mervyl, "Then again, it'll be completely arbitrary as I have seen. Depends on what you're doing that day. After the first week there is no curfew. Though, they don't take kindly to those who don't pay attention in class due to those who didn't get rest." He nods matter-of-factly.

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Amid the group was a young man who had yet to speak, to even acknowledge that he was surrounded by nine other student-candidates, himself deep in thought and uncaring for the shenanigans that had taken place in the lobby. He wore a pair of black BDU pants tucked into black combat boots with a long-sleeved Children of Bodom shirt, and he carried a military-grade duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He took in the older man's words, the mannerisms of the other teens as he explained what was to be expected of them. Of all the others, he took note of the armor clad warrior, and saw in him a kindred spirit: not just a gifted teenager posturing for attention, but a trained warrior, someone well aquainted with fear and discipline.

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Stinger quietly follows along. Her arms remain folded across her chest, but her eyes actively roam around. She listens and observes the others around her and goes about learning the layout of the building.

So far she finds the orientation tour rather uninteresting, but it’s good to know the basics. She’s not too thrilled with the room accommodations though. Having to share a room with one other girl? Sure. That was to be expected. But five roommates? And some of them boys? Some girls might like it, but not Stinger. Still, it beat living in a cardboard box on the streets.

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Mervyl would've sighed in relief if he didn't felt confident that it would weaken his image amidst the others. He was glad that he would still be able to take walks at least. Being cooped up with five strangers would have been... rough.

But he still have to get to know them...

Mervyl fell silent again, noting the metallic objects in the room.

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Victor scowled slightly at the mention of sharing living space. Not because he wasn't used to the idea, more because he didn't know the hygeine habits of his fellow bunkmates. Then it dawned on him... some of those living with him would be girls. That particularity had never happened before, and that did fluster him a bit. Being around the precocious Blackbird was enough to make him itch in his armor. Having to sleep within scourge-shot of her would be the only real test to Victor's skills as far as he was concerned. This, wasn't going to be easy.

Keeping the emotions from his face as best he could he scanned the room till he noticed a student he hadn't seen before. His easy posture spoke of feline grace and his militaristic clothing also spoke of a life of hard training. He could tell right away that the man was capable, probably as capable in combat and stealth as he was. Suddenly the thoughts of sharing a room with five other students didn't bother him so badly. He had another predator in his den. Most times that would be a source of conflict, but Zealot found that finally finding one like mind in a group of misfits a comfort. He had met no one as of yet that could truly understand his mindset, having not come from a life of hard training, body and mind, for a specific purpose.

Perhaps, Victor thought, this won't be so bad after all.

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Blackbird smiled. It was oddly comforting that she wouldn't die at the hands of some training routine, but at the hands of someone who cared. Man, this was weird. She tried to keep her eyes off of Zealot as they walked down the aisle. She wanted to disappear and poke and prod him some more and be in control. But the tour guide probably wouldn't take kindly to that.

When she entered the room that they were to stay in, she didn't say anything, but when she found out that they would be living together, she froze for a split second. She would be sharing a bedroom and a bathroom with five other people. At least one that wanted to kill her. It didn't frighten her, weirded her out. As quickly as she froze she unfroze and grinned wickedly, elbowing Zealot. "Hey," she whispered to him, "Wanna play 'Let's See Who Goes To Sleep First'?"

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Franz couldn’t help but smile at the comment, in fact, had he be capable of making a sound, he’d be giggling right about now, as was, he merely shook rhythmically. He didn’t care about staying with these people, despite the fact that they were likely, nay, destined to get on his nerves. It was a test, like everything else in this place, and he intended to pass, he had to.

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A chill ran down Franz's spine, someone was watching him, carefully he let his eyes search about the room, and there he was, one of the students separated from the line, staring quite obviously at him. A made a motion with his hand, as if he was holding up a little sign, pointed towards the guy, [CAN I HELP YOU?] would pop up in the guy’s head in a split second, and Franz would enjoy his confusion as there was no voice associated with the words.

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The old man looks to the group with one wary eye, waiting for the commotion to die down. When it does he leads the group out of the room and back into the hallway. He leads the group down a few more halls, quieter than usual. The group finally reaches and outside area that looks more like a verdant park than a school ground. There are basketball and tennis courts, a few brick buildings, and beautiful artistic landscaping in the very large area. "Welcome to the Courtyard, folks. This is your entertainment area. Out here is where we try to give you recreation." Pointing to one of the larger buildings, "We have an Olympic-sized pool and some private hottubs for those acclimated to the water." Pointing to a subway-like entrance, "Under it we have a racing track. For foot races, car races, animal races, we've had all sorts of races there." Pointing to a smaller building across the way from the pool bulding, "Over there you have two places. One being a school shop. They sell academic items mostly, but I'm sure if you pony up the cash they can find you anything." He smirks. "The other building has pool tables and pinball machines. It's really not used much, but hey, I get a kick out of it." He smiles wistfully. "Finally you got whats in front of you. The Couryard. A place to relax and hangout." He looks to his watch, "It's about lunch time. Usually you'd have to fend for yourself with food, but they're feeling generous today." Beckoning the group to follow him again they walk to the middle of the Courtyard. When they get there they fond there is three fully catered tables surrounding a few park benches It seems that a few students have already arrived at the festivities early. Six students dressed in school uniforms. One a 10 foot tall giant of a man. Another looks like a male android. The third one looks like a red skinned demon with small vestigal horns. The rest are "normal looking" teenagers. One looks like a male surfer punk. There is a small girl who cant be but about 14. and another girl who looks the age of the tour group, though her school uniform is altered to show the tattoos on her stomach and small of her back. The six are conversing when the tour group approaches. They stop when they notice the calming aura of the old man in their midst. They greet the group with quiet nods and smiles. "This is where you meet some one the old guard," the old man say pointing his stick at the group. "I'll be back in an hour and a half, You kids have fun." And with those words he is gone. As is the calming aura.

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Mervyl walked through the tour group and found himself a nice spot near some shade. As he lifted a plate, he mentally grappled the metallic silver ware, gathering the food onto his plate in organized heaps.

Fend for ourselves for food? Gather enough money for equipment outside academic? I can read between the lines.

The absence of the man released the blockage on Mervyl and the slight nervousness returned, only it reverberated as he now saw more unfamiliar faces. And looking at how they were dressed, these must be upper classmen (part of the reason he sat 'away' from them. It's never a good idea to mingle with the upper-tier until you 'proved' you belonged).

Mervyl began to eat, scooping the macaroni and cheese onto his spoon and mistakenly puting it in his mouth, before forcifully swallowing the hideously under cooked cheese sauce. Ew.

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Taken back by the manner of The Clown's communication, Kristian finds himself growing uneasy in his presence. No words, no sounds, but he cold swear he "saw" the painted-faced teen holding a sign, the message clear in his mind's eye. He was certain that if it came to blows, he'd drop The Clown with little effort, but there was obviously much more to this guy, and he hadn't survived this long by underestimating those he didn't fully understand. He would keep a close eye on the mime...


Following the older gentleman and the other cadets through the hallways at a healthy distance, he came out to the middle of the Courtyard, his trained gaze falling on the group of students that wore the formal school uniform. The smell of food brought his attention to the catering tables, and he thought to use this to his advantage. Stowing his duffel at the table where the young man that plated his meal without using his hands, Kris walks over to the tables of food and grabs himself a tray, slopping mounds of chow on to his plate. Taking a seat with the young man in the hooded shirt and the shades that allows him a direct line-of-sight to the two tables where the upperclassmen sat, he begins shoveling food into his mouth in typical military fashion (i.e. inhaling without tasting) while examining the "old guard".

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"Team Alpha, they have to be." Mervyl didn't have to look over to know that the man was looking at the upperclassmen... cause most of the others were. That group was the center of attention. He casually ignored the rest of the macoroni and began on the other food. With a wave of his finger, he drew the metal salt shaker to his hand. "If we're lucky... we'll be 'half' as good as they are. And by lucky, I mean survive."

Mervyl sprinkled the salt on his food and looked over at the newcomer. "Mervyl Masters. What brings you here?"

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Zealot eyed the upper-classmen and then turned his attention to the food in front of him. It looked edible enough, though a bit on the unhealthy side. This is not proper food for trainees. Victor thought before getting a bottle of water and a few rolls. Victor wasn't particularly hungry but if he knew militaristic settings he knew you ate when you could. There wasn't any guarantee they wouldn't be made to run 50 miles in the next five minutes so he ate light.

While quietly munching the spartan meal Zealot took a longer look at what he could only guess as Alpha team. They looked somewhat competent, though the demonic student caused Zealot wariness. Where demons roamed, magic followed. Zealot instinctivle kept his hand near his scourge.

Zealot approached the boy he had almost got into an altercation with earlier, who was now speaking to the newcomer. The predator Victor had noticed before.

"So this is to be the example we live up to. They aren't too impressive at first glance, but their manner speaks of easy confidence. Notice how they survey us and the surroundings, making plans in case of violence even though they still eat their meal. The training here will be exceptional. Probably difficult for most of us. Also notice how they rely on their teammates near them to fill the holes in their vision. They trust one another well. They are a team. We will need to be one too."

With that Victor looked the metallicly inclined boy in the eyes. "To that end, I suggest we put aside our differences. I apologize for my rude behavior earlier. I am wary of strangers, and maybe spoke too harshly." Victor, though he did it grudgingly, extended his hand to Mervyl. "If not friends, let us at least be allies." Victor attempted a smile. It was probably one of the coldest, frightening things Mervyl had seen in quite some time.

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Kristian had never been much for words, but proper communication between a squad was a must. Putting his utensils down for a moment, he looked at the hooded teen, Mervyl as he introduced himself, and spoke. "Kristian", he said, his voice suprisingly low and soft for one with such a hardened demeanor, but there was a strength of personality within it that could not be mistaken. Taking in the armor-clad youths words, he looked at him and nodded sagely. "This guy has it together", he thought to himself.

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