Whateley Independent Fiction (WhatIF)

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If I Had A Hammer (Part One)

by null0trooper

Let's have a warm Whateley Welcome for a nice young lady recently arrived from Kentucky. She's sure to meet interesting people while she's here! We've got the latest in classroom technologies, books, computer systems: welcome to the 21st Century.

Where is she going with that anvil?

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What's the Matter With You

Part 2

by Camospam, editing by Wendy K,
The third story in the ‘It Matters’ series featuring the adventures of Outlook.

 

 Berlin NH: January 1, 2008

 “I surrender!” announced Cameron as he spread his feet apart and leaned forward resting both hands on the counter.

 The State Police Officer rushed around the counter, and began to pat him down, checking for concealed weapons. Cameron was read his rights while being handcuffed, then taken into the cell block. It housed some hungover revellers that celebrated a little too vigorously last night.

 Cameron was handled roughly, since one of the charges against him was assault on a security officer he was viewed as one of the lowest of the low. He was placed into a cell with a big man wearing leathers and had little skin left not sporting tattoos. The arresting officer left the handcuffs on the boy and smirked while locking the cage door.

 The small cell had only a single bed, and it was also the only seat. The large man stood to display just how big he was.

 “You can stay sitting, I don’t need to rest just yet,” suggested Cameron.

 The man grunted a non verbal cue that he didn’t find the kid funny.

 “I am a little hungry thou, when is lunch? I’m Cameron by the way, I’d offer to shake your hand, but it would be rather awkward.”

 “Fresh meat!” was grumbled as the overweight man stepped closer. His tight t-shirt barely retaining his belly.

 “Okay Mr. Meat, if we’re going to be roomies, let’s get some ground rules established.”

 “You’re breathing my air!”

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What's the Matter With You

Part 1

by Camospam, editing by Wendy K,

 

The third story in the ‘It Matters’ series featuring the adventures of Outlook.

 

 December 19, 2007: Whateley Academy

 Virgil Cooper cranked the steering wheel to bring his garbage truck off the main road and onto the gravel driveway leading up to Whateley Academy. The snow had delayed him since the roads were a mess, and he’d lost time helping push a stuck car out of the ditch.

 He looked at the imposing entrance gates and swore that each and every time he passed by those freaky gargoyles …  their eyes followed the trucks passage - and then their noses twitched when the smell wafted past them.

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Judge, Jury, Executioner

by null0trooper

To fledgling Heroes learning their trade, the Twelve Jurors are an example of why one should think twice about hot pursuit when the other side holds a grudge. Bad Guys have bad hair days; who knew? Case closed. No one ever asks about the rest of the story.

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Chronicles of Fred, Part 2

The Freddening

by Kettlekorn

Chapter 1: Drick Drolled

September 20th, 1990

“Soon, we’ll be invincible!” Fred and his partner Tim pronounce simultaneously while the devise they’re monitoring hums to life. Betty and Wilma happen to be walking past the lab at the same time, and they pause to roll their eyes at their coworkers.

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It's a Matter of Death and Life

Part 4

by Camospam, editing by Wendy K,

 

 Whateley Academy, Kirby Hall: Monday Oct 15, 2007

 Louis Geintz had just wrapped up his famous Psychic ethics discourse, It’s a topic every student in his class would at some point need to face, and likely agonize over, because undoubtedly they’ll each need to decide whether to ‘cross the line’ or not.

 A psychic has an especially challenging approach when using their powers. While an exemplar might have limitations to their strength, if they exercise their ability; say by starting out lifting a Volkswagen - however, by pushing themselves they could build up to hefting a bus. Conversely, a psychic needs to practice not pushing the limits, to not explore what’s possible. Instead, it’s all about finesse and discretion.

 A truly skilled psychic is one that does no damage - to not leave footprints saying they'd been there, depending - of course, upon the decision of having ethics: to be good or bad.

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Chronicles of Fred, Part 1

Meet the Fredsons

by Kettlekorn

Chapter 1: Emergence

October 18th, 2007

It’s a Thursday evening like any other in the small town of Vinita, Oklahoma. Fred is standing in line at the Walmart buying milk so he can cook some off-brand mac ‘n cheese for his two kids. Used to be Wilma would cook, and boy did she cook, but she’s been dead for more than eight years now. The kids aren’t suffering from malnutrition yet, so Fred figures he’s doing something right.

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It's a Matter of Death and Life

Part 3

by Camospam, editing by Wendy K,

 

 Cameron opened his eyes and took in the early morning light, the suns first rays streamed through tall windows basking the room in brilliant colours. Outside the windows stood trees whose trunks framed a rugged mountain with snow dappled slopes leading to a sharp peak. Still with his head resting on the pillow he saw a white dress haphazardly strewn across a chair while another chair had a red uniform neatly folded upon it. A lithe arm was draped over his ribs with its hand intertwined with his own, the ring on the dainty finger caught the sunbeams the reflected light twinkled like stars on the ceiling.

 He felt himself being pulled into a gentle squeeze and the delightful press of lips on his neck: “Good morning love” was whispered into his ear like a caress.

“Good morning Mrs. Burke” he whispered in response while pressing the intertwined hands against his heart.

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It's a Matter of Death and Life

Part 2

by Camospam

 

Tuesday, September 25, 2007. Whateley Academy: Schuster Hall

 Elizabeth Carson’s face almost touched the muzzle opposing her, she felt the hot breath being exhaled in bursts as it washed over her nose, her vision was blocked by the nearness of the snout prominent on a wide furred face; the blackest black nose indented by flared nostrils met bristle ends of short fur running up the bears face. The beasts eyes where big and menacing, Mrs. Carson was checking those dark pits in hopes of seeing something of the girl: Elaine. Some indicator of the intelligence, compassion, any hint of the humanity that the teacher had come to love about the student. She found nothing; and that thought scared her most.

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It's a Matter of Death and Life

Part 1

by Camospam
Sequel to "A Matter of Fact"

 

Friday: September 24, 2007; Whateley Academy: The Quad

 A rising sun is normally an indicator of mornings arrival, unless you’re talking about teenagers; who honestly are completely oblivious. In fact most parents believe that an alarm clock needs to have the most obnoxious noise imaginable set at maximum volume to even begin to be effective at wakening a sleeping teen, that or any Brass Monkey tune will suffice.

 However, the insistent tapping of a truncheon against Cameron’s foot did manage to get the boy’s attention, the act of raising his eyebrows dragged open a single eyelid which revealed a uniformed man standing above him.

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Jayden 6

Dirty Business Done Cheap

A WhatIf story by Crazy Minh 

I smiled as I walked into my cottage, Biskit riding on my shoulder. It had been several weeks since the library incident, and things were going really, really well. I had just made a business transaction, destroyed a potential terror threat, and managed to get filthy rich all in the space of a single day. In retrospect, the detention I had just received from Carson was kinda a damper on my good mood. But, there was a story to all of the above things…

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Jayden 5

Enter the Shadows

By Crazy Minh

 

“Everyone here???”

 

My friends gave their assent as we sat round the table in my underground lab. As part of Devisor Workshop, I had been assigned a personal lab in the tunnels to work on projects in. Seeing such a space available, I had installed a Replicator cabinet from the Star Trek universe, a workbench with plasma cutter assembly and a toolchest, a large free-standing console, a couch and TV and a large, round table at which me and my friends were currently sitting at. On the table were five bags of polyhedral die, four core rulebooks for Shadowrun: Fifth Edition, three plastic cups, two bottles of Sprite, a pile of Pizza boxes from a pizzeria in Boston, four trays of Tim-Tams, a folding screen, and a assorted collection of character sheets, paper, rule supplements and pens. In essence, all we needed for a late-night session of tabletop gaming.

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Jayden 4

Code Whateley: Jayden of the Rebellion

By Crazy Minh

In anticipation for Code Geass: Lelouch of the Resurrection (coming April 2018)

Hi. My name is Jayden Reynolds, and I’m a mutant. I suppose you already knew that, seeing as you had the guts to poke your nose into my private vlogs, but meh, not as if I have much to say that would be interesting to a big-nosed drekbag like yourself.

On that note, you have around 55 second to leave the room now before my computer immobilises your arse and calls security. Failing that, you have a additional two seconds to have your life flash before your eyes before you are unceremoniously shot by me, as I enter the room you are in, and shoot you in the face.

However, if you are me (or a alternate version of myself with the same admin password, DNA, voiceprint, BMI, biosignature, thought patterns and appearance) then Congrats!!! You earn a cookie. <Nom>. Ahh... that was a nice cookie.

Anyway, this is my first person account of the events pertaining to, and leading up to my training team’s first official sim match. Listen carefully children…listen.

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Author’s note: Sorry about the wait for this chapter; been busy with other things over the Christmas holiday. Also, ignore the ‘call to arms’ from the previous chapter: got my knuckles rapped by the mods about that. Sorry guys!!! Anyways, enjoy part 4/4 of WoW!!!

 Jayden 3

Whateley of Warcraft Part 4 of 4

By Crazy Minh

When I got back to my bedroom that evening for the clan meeting, I managed not to smile to hard when I found Biskit trying to hack my computer. He had his paw hovering above the keyboard, and a cluster of black wires branching down into the gaps between the keys. He didn’t see, or hear me come in, and I watched for a bit as he struggled to hack the complex encryption of my Laptop.

 

“Biskit…what are you doing???”

 

He jumped, inadvertently opening my email as he did, and quickly retracted the wires that were connecting him to my computer.

 

“I’m very sorry,” said the small robot, looking down in what I assumed to be his apologetic expression. Even though he was programmed with dog expressions to make it easier to understand what he was expressing, he obviously had done some recoding. I prayed to whatever gods may or may not exist in this dimension that I hadn’t inadvertently created Skynet or the beginnings of a Borg Collective. Robots reprogramming themselves is not usually a good thing in any circumstance.

 

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Light's Promise (Part 6)

By Erisian

Chapter 21 - Aleppo

Fred hit a ramp that veered off to the right and the helicopter swung around to be seen clearly from the passenger window.

“Hey, the chopper is the other way!” I said more shrilly than intended.

Derek snorted. “Fourteen kilometers of proper highway versus eleven through the Old Quarter and possible crowds? Chill. Fred knows what he’s doing.”