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The Micro-Scenes thread

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9 months 3 weeks ago #67229 by null0trooper
null0trooper replied the topic: The Micro-Scenes thread
Lunch, a couple of days later,
Euro-Promotional League table, Crystal Hall


Ayla listened to Harley's story, taking note of what was and wasn't said. He interjected into the silence of "this moron said what to Nikki?":

"According to some of my sources, threatening Nikki Reilly with fire makes somewhat less sense than aiming a charged firehose at Riptide."

Several people winced, remembering the underclassman's performance in the combat finals. Setting up a scenario allowing Poseidon's paladin access to working fire hydrants had been sadistic. Denouement's members may have understood that Shenanigan's would handle their own problems, but they sorely underestimated Poe networking. The combat simulations team had been under no such handicap.

Charmer openly mused "I wonder if the Crown Princess of Karedonia was equally impressed?"

"MEDIC!"

"Ah. I suspect that that may have been the answer to my question. Perhaps Lady Constance might be more amenable to his proposal?"

Forum-posted ideas are freely adoptable.

WhatIF Stories: Dream A Little Dream For Me

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9 months 2 weeks ago - 9 months 2 weeks ago #67283 by Schol-R-LEA
Schol-R-LEA replied the topic: The Micro-Scenes thread
As Victoria and Erin were dragging Elizabeth back to their table, while Becky and Renae did the same with Simone, following yet another of their periodic stare-downs, Ayla turned to Jadis and said, "Why is Judicator so upset that Arachne is using the name of one of her ancient rivals? That's more the sort of thing I would have expected from Counterpoint, not the supposed goddess of wisdom."

A snort from Nacht got both Phase and She-Beast turning to face her, only to see that Kate had returned to her normal impassive countenance. After several awkward seconds, Nacht final relented, saying, "It isn't really the codename thing. Let's just say that Arachne's spirit isn't who she usually says she is, and she and Athena don't get along at all."

Both Jadis and Ayla looked thoughtfully for a moment, before they both whispered, "Australia..." While neither of them knew much about The Dreamtime, they both immediately realized that spiders had to be a big part of the Native culture which existed in Simone's home country, and began scrambling with their smartphones to look up the topic.

Out, damnéd Spot! Bad Doggy!
Last Edit: 9 months 2 weeks ago by Schol-R-LEA.

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9 months 2 weeks ago - 9 months 2 weeks ago #67335 by Schol-R-LEA
Schol-R-LEA replied the topic: The Micro-Scenes thread
"What's crawled up her ass, anyway?", asked Hardbody, pointing to a crying cat girl, with all the tact and subtlety Alice had come to expect from her roommate.

With a sigh, Sagacity explained, "Drama just told her that she heard from Corrosive that Halfback..."

"You mean Shithouse!" came the snipe from someone in the hall. Probably Nantuko; the wealthy Southern psychokinetic had a lot of admirers, but a lot detractors, too, and Fantastico and his crew hated him for some reason.

Alice frowned, then continued, "Anyway, he's the guy Felicitations' been crushing on, right? Well, Bethany said that Corrosive said that Traduce told her that Brett was gay and that he's been banging his roommate Quarterdeck."

"Ah, Drama Queen's the one who ought be in the nuthouse, not those two guys. She's just pissy because 'cause she's dating Half's kid brother."

Alice couldn't disagree; every freshman in school knew that the Pollit brothers - whose parents were famous superheroes in Tennessee - hated each other with a passion. "Yeah, but that doesn't help Maggie..."

Out, damnéd Spot! Bad Doggy!
Last Edit: 9 months 2 weeks ago by Schol-R-LEA.

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9 months 2 weeks ago #67340 by Erianaiel
Erianaiel replied the topic: The Micro-Scenes thread
Arrivals
(or overtime sometimes is its own punishment)


Ms Carstairs looked the girl, young woman really, over as she sat rigidly on the chair across the small desk. Trying to work out what to do about this ... unusual ... problem that had arrived in her lap. Security had intercepted the girl, heard out her tale and decided that this was a matter for student services. Since she was the only of that staff currently at Schuster hall, it became her problem by default.
Given that the girl represented an unknown quantity one of the security officers was not so casually standing at guard just out of earshot, no doubt overhearing every word that was spoken anyway.

"Did I understand correctly miss ..." she let a silence fall but the girl did not take up the invitation to introduce herself.

With a mostly mental sigh Elaine let it pass. Security had not had much to report before making this her problem, only that the girl had not caved under the pressure of their interrogation either. 'Not cold, exactly' was how it had been phrased 'but rather, an iron spine'. Seeing the girl sit ramrod straight on that uncomfortable chair made her believe it.

"That you walked up to the front gates and demanded to be enrolled in this school?" she continued and both women pretended the silence had never stretched into slightly uncomfortably long.

"This is not how things are done. At any school. We are a private school and we only accept certain students who are a ... good fit for the education we offer."

Anybody who was not familiar with the true nature would have logically concludes that ms Carstairs was politely pointing out that Whateley was a school for privileged rich children and that the girl looked like she had been living rough on the streets for years. Which to be fair, apparently she had.

"You also are quite a bit older than the students who enrol here."

Again, there was a bit of a pause to invite the girl to say more about herself. Elaine thought that this problem really should have gone to Mrs Shugendo, or better yet, to Mrs Hartford. She was not exactly a gopher or clerk, but she had no official authority either, to have an intake meeting that should not happen at all.

The girl narrowed her eyes and gave the minutest shake of her head as if she had come to some conclusion herself, though ms Carstairs did not notice, not having the kind of experience that came from dealing with teenagers trying to cover up their misdeeds.

"I have a name," she said her voice soft and measured. With a strange lilt to it that spoke of an accent that was almost trained out of her but not yet quite. "but if you are going to kick me out again, you do not need to know it. And it would be better for everybody if you didn't."

The girl paused, perhaps to gauge how her words were received or to try and read a reaction of how this would play out.

"I also know of Whateley and that I meet the most important and secret qualification."

To emphasize she gave her head a little shake and both ms Carstairs and the security guard had to suppress a shudder of discomfort. Mutants often had strange hair and eye colours as a result of their activation, but this girl's hair was not just black, not even pitch black in a way that human hair could not be. It was as if light itself did not want to touch her hair; turning it the black of the absence of everything in a way that the void of space did not quite achieve. As she shook her head after images of her hair broke off and then evaporated into wisps of black smoke that quickly evaporated.
Her eyes had the same afterimage effect, and were even harder to look at for more than a few seconds. While it was not immediately obvious that the girl was a mutant, it would not remain a secret for long with anybody who looked at her.

Elaine wove that aside. She was not going to decide on this anyway, only if she should direct it higher up or if she should dismiss this girl. Which, she realised, she could not do. Dismissing her from Whately that was. The girl knew about the school so at the very least both security and Mrs Hartford would want to know how she had learned about the school and why she had walked, God knew how long, to get here. If she had heard from a hero he or she would have at least warned the school, if not sponsored the girl instead of allowing her to walk across the country for months. Most super villains, except for them most psychotic black mage's and deranged devisors, would have done the same, and the later would not have let the girl walk away.

Ms Carstairs did not know how to proceed. Students simply did not arrive at school without the proper paperwork, background checks and so on being done first and approval had to be obtained from parents or legal guardians. The MCO after all would love nothing more than credibly accuse the school of kidnapping minors.

"I can fill out your forms," the girl offered. "if that lets me stay here."

Elaine almost jumped at the 'out' that she was offered.

"Not that the nice rent-a-cops did not make it clear that they didn't want me to leave."

Elaine bit her lips and decided that this situation had to go way above her pay grade. Mrs Shugendo was out of state and could not be reached. Security clearly already had vetted the girl and decided that she was not exactly a security risk but also could not be allowed to leave without some kind of leash on her. And she refused to call back Mrs Hartford and subject herself to years of the woman's enmity. Which left only one person and she likely was already on her way to school if security was its usual efficient self. Maybe not, the officer was from the third platoon and that had a bit of a reputation.

"I can make no promises," she finally said to the girl. "But filling out an admission form that I can let you do. Do you have a name we should call you?"

Perhaps the direct request paired with a hint of cooperation would get the girl to open up more.

"I go by the name Pandora these days," she said. Whispered really.

"You have a code name?"

The girl grimaced fleetingly. "It is not a code name. More like a warning."

"A warning?" Ms Carstairs felt chilled and the security officers visibly tensed behind the girl's back.

"Do not take the box away from the nice girl. Very bad things will happen if you take the box away."
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9 months 2 weeks ago #67343 by ShadowedSin
ShadowedSin replied the topic: The Micro-Scenes thread
Somewhere in near Skyrne, Count Meath, Republic of Ireland

The stone was tall, perhaps two and a half meters, and it was old. A ringed walkway surrounded it as smaller pieces of slate fitted in three rows splayed outward like a sunburst from it's base. Anyone who saw the stone would say its just a rock, and that's what it was. Centuries ago, the High Kings of Ireland declared themselves a this rock, and from this they claimed their marriage to the land.

A woman, dressed in dark blue evening dress was the only one upon the hill, and she was not happy to see that rock. Its lone rough surface was visibly marred by blade strikes and pitted with age. Her hair was the color of sable, and her eyes the deepest blue one could think of. As she drew closer her dress swirled around her ankles as her ballet flats shuffled in the short green grass.

"Ai know yer in dere Fódla," she hissed. Her eyes narrowing as she snarled. Sharpened teeth whiter than ivory revealed to the new day as she took three steps towards the rock.

"Yer laid dere ye bitch, an' now, aim hare dancin!" she chortled. Her hair swung widely around as her curved figure moved with almost inhuman precision.

"And there's nuttin ye can do." She chortled as she twirled around letting her dress flight around her legs. Pale skin the color of alabaster gleamed as her legs moved to a beat only found in her head. Her foot work rattled onward as if dancing to a phantom bodhran or hand drum. Upon finishing she stood before the stone and pressed her hand to it. A flush of essence poured from her form as the stone vibrated and a spiral emblem appeared on it's surface.

""Beidh an Chùirt Gheimhridh agat, mo chol ceathar, go luath!" she crooned to the stone. As cracks of energy began to slowly seep away from the spiral.

"Go han-luath!" she growled.

"I can only conclude that I'm paying off karma at a vastly accelerated rate."
-Commander Susan Ivanova, Earth Force, Babylon 5
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9 months 1 week ago - 9 months 1 week ago #67355 by E!
E! replied the topic: The Micro-Scenes thread
Carson strode through Doyle medical complex ICU, until she came to a room with the lights out. Inside the room the young man was awake, and in pain. Just fresh off the butchers block of the spring Combat Final. He would be out in a few days, as with most of the other students here. A graceful combination of medicine, magic, and his own regeneration factor. Hence the pain and knowing that, Carson strode in. Turning on the lights, and shutting the door in one fluid motion.

"Hello, Mr. Jaeger. I watched your Combat Final today. I watched your lackluster performance, and I wondered how a veteran of that many wars and conflicts could survive, with such poor combat skills." Carson grilled the patient in the bed. "Then it all clicked, you were helping your opponent. Your rival, Johnathan Tremblay. I thought you had a feud with him, so please clarify, why you intentionally sabotaged your future in this school for a young man who you hate."

"I don't hate him." Max grumbled through what remaining teeth he had. "Not any more."

"Oh, so your feud is over now. Just like that." Carson continued to sear the boy. "Was it the absolute thrashing he gave you in the arena, because you let that happen."

"I let it happen, because I know EVERYTHING!" He gasped out, the monitor beeping to his rising heart rate.

"What do you know..." Carson asked, her eye narrowing.

"I know, Naomi and Johnathan...are the same person." Max coughed. "I know you signed the no contact form with the in loco parentis powers that Whateley has. I know that you use your Headmaster power to protect the Poe Cottage."

"What do you plan on using that knowledge for, Mr. Jaeger? Leverage? You'll find blackmailing Whately is not a wise move." Carson's gaze that could melt ICBM's in flight settled on the boy. Who only started at the ceiling.

"Nothing." He replied as if sloughing off a huge weight.

"Nothing, Nothing." Carson repeated before continuing. "Your year long feud with Jonathan ends with this revelation that he was your sister. The one you crawled out of wars to find, and then you find out that I protected him from you. I hate to say it Mr. Jaeger, but with your predisposition to violence I think that you're lying to me."

"I'm tired." was Max's only response.

"Tired of what?" His answer had pique Carson's interest.

"Of fighting." he sighed. "At first I was angry, I felt my blood boil. When I put it all together. Then...Then it hit me. How didn't I notice? How much had I forgotten about my own sister? How much was wiped away when Rhodie got in my head?" Max paused to sob. "And how could a great person like that. A person that wants to save people be even remotely related to me. A killer, a violent angry, killer." The sobs turned into painful cries.

Carson was unsure of what to say at this moment so she just held her tongue. Offering only the comfort of human contact to the boy, before speaking. "I have seen many killers Max, many. With that knowledge I can safely say you are no killer. Killers enjoy what they do. You may have done things, but those were out of survival. Those things, that you still refuse to talk about, they are your bane. They will destroy you if you allow them. You need to speak to someone."

Max only shook his head no. His jaw clenched, tears still streaming down his face.

"I can help you Max, only if your help yourself." Carson pleaded with the boy squeezing his hand. Only to be met with more silence. Patting the boys hand Carson began to take her leave to set up appointments with the counseling department.

"Mustard and Chlorine Gas. It was used on us, and with Rhodie appointing me head medic I had to preform triage. I had to value who could be saved and who couldn't. All of them, I had to look at all of them. I had to remove any personal connections, and make a decision." Max forced the words out like molasses.

"I'm sure you saved all you could." Carson said clenching her fists.

"I didn't save enough" Max's words burned with self hatred. "I didn't save Regis."

"I'm sure he, knows you did everything you could."

"I don't know if she did."

"She." Carson corrected herself seeing the jigsaw pieces of Max's life in a new light. "She did Max. She did."
Last Edit: 9 months 1 week ago by E!.
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9 months 3 days ago #67515 by Katssun
Katssun replied the topic: The Micro-Scenes thread
Dickinson Cottage, Early November 2016, Afternoon

Viola redid her makeup for the third time today, and thankfully for once, her idiot roommate Darcy was still in class, instead of humming to herself and chatting with her bitch friends or babbling on and on and on about some other girl's hair.

Viola took a deep breath. She wouldn't let thinking about Darcy ruin today for her.

A couple of deft strokes and she had finished her eye liner. It was lighter and meant to blend into her skin tone. She was aiming for about eighteen today, far older than her real fifteen. Natural, not overdone, invisible even. Professional.

The internship she had hoped for was starting today!

Daddy…no her father…didn't think it was right for her. Viola frowned deeply, pausing in her routine.

She'd overheard her parents talking at the beginning of the year. About her. They were arguing. Her mother argued it would be fine after some counseling maybe even a few sessions with Dr. Bennett, her mother's therapist. Father said from his professional opinion, being a nurse was impossible for Viola. She "lacked empathy." He wanted to stop her from her dream. That it would never happen. Which was bullshit of course. She had aced her CPR training in Girl Scouts!

Well, Daddy was wrong, and when she manifested a few months later, Viola knew she had been right. She was destined to help others. But their interference ended that same day. Viola was on her own now, and they could rot for all she cared. Her father hadn't defended her when her mother lost her fucking shit and tried to kill her.

Viola glanced over to the box under Darcy's bed. The random gadgets and devices that would fund her education after the grants to attend Whateley were done. Med school. "Clinical detachment," was what you were after if you were a doctor, right? Nurse? Doctor? What's the difference when you had an exemplar brain?

Whateley was the perfect place for someone like her. Dr. Tenent, one of the best healers on the continent, worked here. And she was a magic user too! But Viola would have to work her way up to that first. No rush. She had four years, and there were plenty of other students in the way for now. The Headmaster himself had approved her internship application!

A little finishing spray, a quick sloppy bun secured with a huge clip, and Viola shimmied out of uniform's skirt and into the tailored scrubs she'd had that woman in town fix up. The cargo pants were fitted to show off the curves she did have, but also were still loose or flexible enough for whatever the clinic staff asked her to do. A matching top and a carefully maneuvered pullover kept her makeup pristine and her hair functional. Also tailored. She dashed out the door, down the stairs, out of the cottage and off toward Doyle.

Viola breezed through the doors in high spirits and practically skipped to the reception desk.

"I'm Viola Hartigan, I mean-"

The receptionist held up a hand, "No need for codenames today Miss Hartigan, we'll all know you're coming. I'll page Clifton for you. You can wait here if you like, or have a seat in the waiting area."

"I'll wait!"

"Good to see some enthusiasm from a student around here instead of the regular glum or grim faces."

Minutes passed and a tall man with deeply tanned skin, and what she assumed was a permanent grin slathered on his face strode up to her and introduced himself.

"Viola Hartigan? Clifton Smithfield, paramedic."

"Can you, could you call me Viola?"

"Sure. I'll go over the details the program while we walk to my station."

Clifton ran through the expectations of the internship. She would shadowing him and a few of the other medics for the first two weeks, largely be on clipboard duty in the first few days, before they would let her do some of the routine and simple checks like temperatures, but they weren't going to let her check blood pressures. She would practice on the medics during downtimes and they might let her do wraps if she passed.

Viola would be rotated through each of the areas in Doyle until the end of the Spring semester, typically in support duties due to her age and lack of any formal certifications. After that, the Doyle staff would assess her performance with Dr. Mazarin and Dr. Tenent would personally provide the recommendation whether or not they wanted to extend Viola's internship over the summer and then into the fall. Viola had every intention of making sure that happened. She didn't really have anywhere else to go anyway.

"Any questions for me?" Clifton asked.

"I heard you are a veteran?" Viola had picked it up somewhere and already knew the answer.

He laughed. "Nothing like Pararescue, but yes, I was the combat medic for my unit. Glad to be out of it, to be honest, though I thought working for a private school would be a lot less exciting than it is. It's probably going to be harder on you, helping patch up your friends, but I know the feeling."

That wouldn't really be a problem. She didn't have any friends. Just her boyfriend Andrew. Viola responded with a calculated laugh before shuffling her feet awkwardly. "So…should I practice or read something?"

"No. It's seventh period, and you were right on time so I got through all the orientation bits. We'll get a call any minute now."

"Huh?"

As if the Gods themselves answered her, a soft thump could be heard through the walls. Likely shaking buildings across the whole campus. The intercom blared and requested an immediate response and for the nurses to prep any available rooms.

"Like I said, it's seventh period."

Viola just stared at him blankly.

"It means that a certain Miss Myoujin is in Mrs. Braithwaite's Home-Ec class. Let's go kiddo."
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9 months 18 hours ago - 9 months 18 hours ago #67544 by ShadowedSin
ShadowedSin replied the topic: The Micro-Scenes thread
Somewhere past the looking glass, in the late 1700s.

A woman with skin the color of alabaster and dressed in leine the color of indigo. Her dress tunic flowed around her body as she ran barefoot down a vaguely laid forest path. Tall thick and black barked oaks lined the path as their long leafless branches reached out toward the sky. The woman's skin was so pale it almost appeared bluish in the tint it held. Even her lips were blue, and as she ran she panted revealing sharpened predatory teeth. Resting for a stop she leaned against a large dark color rowan tree and shivered at the increasing cold of the forest around her. Each nail on her fingers and toes were blackened and dark. Every one ending in a fierce-looking point.

"Dammit, why is his fort so far!" she croaked. Her eyes opened wide dark-blue sclera and green pupils hinting at her alien nature. She flicked her hand and sent a chill wind spinning in front of her as the essence whipped out as an extension of her will. The wind spun faster until a small dervish began to pick up the dead leaves littering her way.

Again she ran down the path. This time twisting and turning as bushes and underbrush threaded the path back and forth again. A small glen caused her to jump as she sailed over the dent in the path's level and landed on the other side. Only gentry could show such vigor in the lands of winter, and only one born of the cold could travel so quickly. The dervish danced in front of her kicking up the leaves so that her path was clear. A few roots from the massive forest trees caused her to watch her footing and finally after an hour of running she arrived.

The fort was simple. A large tall wall made out of thick rocks fitted together and reinforced by a wooden palisade. Her eyes narrowed as she walked toward the gate where a single sentry stood.

"I come to call upon the King," she growled.

"Lady!" the lesser spoke as the guard shook in place. He was pale like her, but had tufted ears like a lynx. The smaller body also reinforced his lesser status as she towered over him in all her glory.

"Yes, open the gate, for one of the blood has come!" she growled. The guard shuffled in his high conical helm and brass colored scale armor. His nearly barefeet made no noice as he banged his small buckler against the door.

"Open! Open and make way, the Lady has come! Daughter of Branwen, and Lady of the Isles!" called the sentry as the large wooden door began to creak open.

"Finally, I can speak to the old bastard," she murmured under her breath."

"I can only conclude that I'm paying off karma at a vastly accelerated rate."
-Commander Susan Ivanova, Earth Force, Babylon 5
Last Edit: 9 months 18 hours ago by ShadowedSin.
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9 months 17 hours ago - 9 months 17 hours ago #67545 by Schol-R-LEA
Schol-R-LEA replied the topic: The Micro-Scenes thread
Walking past Mischief, who was still outside the room sitting up against the hallway wall crying, Liz Carson strode into the 'secret' studio where she found Imp, sitting on a stool before an unfinished painting. Tears in her eyes, she groaned, "I... she wasn't supposed to see me this way! I actually told her I'd need the room to myself for a few hours and not to disturb me! I..." with a sigh, she added contritely, "I guess I brought this on myself, didn't I?"

"We all make mistakes, Christine. What I want to know is, why couldn't this have waited until you were back at your studio in New York?"

Imp stood up, leaving her 'paint brush' dangling from the harness at her waist. "Sometimes inspiration is the strangest thing. I mean, I'd heard of Pricasso 's work before, but for some reason, seeing the painting Miss Good'n'plenty brought in just sorta got me thinking, and the next thing I knew..."

Out, damnéd Spot! Bad Doggy!
Last Edit: 9 months 17 hours ago by Schol-R-LEA.

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8 months 4 weeks ago #67560 by Schol-R-LEA
Schol-R-LEA replied the topic: The Micro-Scenes thread
"Archy," interjected the hot sophomore in a boys' style uniform as she passed their table.

"Huh?" chittered Paul, as they all turned to look at her.

"I overheard what you were saying about the codename 'Samsa' already being taken. If you want a different literary reference which is just as appropriate, try 'Archy the Roach' from archy and mehitabel, which was series of magazine columns in which they were used as a foil for discussing society in the 1910s and 1920s." The older student then walked away with an air of aloofness.

Out, damnéd Spot! Bad Doggy!

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