The bus to St. George's smells like fried chicken.

That's because there's a guy in the very back of the bus noshing on a bucket...a whole bucket...of Kentucky Fried Chicken.  He's suprisingly buff.  You would estimate he must stand over 6'5".  And the mass on him doesn't look like fat.  So maybe a whole bucket of chicken makes sense.

Just eatting it on a bus...this bus...

St. George's was pretty adamant on this condition.  Every new student would arrive at the school on the bus.  No exceptions.  Each student was to arrive at the Louisville airport on August 31, no later than 4 PM.  They were to head to the shuttle station and wait for a blue van.  They would signal the van and show the driver the student ID that they had received ahead of time.  The student was to board the bus. They were not to assist in the loading of their luggage.  Two carry on items were allowed to remain with the student.  So a purse, a novel, a bucket of fried chicken, or a halberd made of polished black oak carved with runes and topped with a axe head made of a bluish looking metal that can't easily be identified at first glance would all be allowed on the van and then the bus.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves.  Let's get back to the ride in the black van.

You were the only student in the van when you took it.  The driver was a vague looking gentleman in shades and a pressed jumpsuit.  He was polite but firm.  He didn't make conversation but responded to any questions you had, though any answers he gave were vague and uninformative.

He drove you to a private lot near the back of the airport.  There, the bus to St. George's sat.

The van driver instructed you to board the bus and find a seat.  He would handle your luggage, other than your two items that is.

Whoever would be driving the bus was not present.  There were several others in the passenger seats, each wearing a St George's uniform such as your own:  a magenta and brown blazer.  A white button down shirt.  Either a skirt, slacks, or pants that matched the blazer.  Shoes that were acceptable but neither sneakers nor uncomfortable.  St. George's sent a list of acceptable shoes, including brand and make.

St. George's, it seems, is very particular about things.

You stand at the end of the bus aisle, having just walked up the stairwell on to the bus.  Because you have a practiced eye, you can quickly divide up the students present.

Of the 18 students, eight, besides yourself, are 'special'.  Probably meta.  At the very least of note. Starting at the back and moving forward, they are as follows:

The large young man with the bucket of chicken is obviously one.

The halberd mentioned before belongs to a gloomy looking boy staring out the window.  Other than the fact he looks sleepy, there is nothing about his person that sets him apart.  Only the halberd.  Though he sits one row up from KFC Bucket guy, they do not appear to be interacting.

There is the skinny young red head, apparently an actual red head and not a dye job, who has a canary perched on top of her head as she reads a copy of Fluers du Mal by Baudelaire.

The twins.  Both young ladies.  Almost identical judging by facial features.  But one has skin as blue as a clear sky and the other has skin that is in fact semitransparent.  Her skin seems to be more like a mist than actual flesh.

A familiar face after that:  Louise Telman.  You and she are not on speaking terms.  Honestly, you have never met in person. But like you, she has a fan club and has done quite well at the school she used to attend.  Just not as well as you.  If you recall correctly, she has light bending powers that she uses for a series of effects.  She is not the tallest woman in the world, but she is attractive.  Her honey colored hair is bound up in a braided tail that hands over one shoulder.

There is a rough looking young man sitting near the driver's seat.  He looks a bit scruffy, especially with the visible snake tattoos that run down the back of his left hand.  Whether he's meta or not is not readily apparent.  But he has an almost military type bearing about the way he sits.  He is at attention.  He is not relaxed.

Across from Mr. Dangerous is a pudgy looking younger girl.  She seems too young to be here.  You would guess she is perhaps 10.  Maybe 12.  Her thick glasses might be sterotypical.  The book on aspects of sacred geometry she is reading is not.  You would guess the girl is the 'genius' type.

The other students seem more honor student than 'special' student.  They sit together almost like they had been instructed to.  It seems they also knew who was 'special' and who wasn't when they boarded the bus to St. George.

There is a sign hung over the driver's seat.  It reads:

Welcome.

Please be on your best behavior.  Do not antagonize the other students.

Bus will depart at 4 PM.  If you wish to cancel your enrollment, please do not be on the bus when it departs.

Otherwise, your presence will be taken as agreement to enrollment.

If you need medical or emergency assistance, please press the button on your seat's armrest.

Otherwise, please exercise patience and restraint.

Thank You.

The Dean

There are several seats that are completely vacant.

You could also take the seat adjacent to any of the 'special' cases, other than the twins.  Or you can try to.

Your call.

I don't mind the strict rules. I'm used to arbitrary-seeming rules, and I've read enough martial arts manga to know that rules that seem stupid now are preparation for something else later. Not that my parents approved, but I get away with skipping class when I want to. Or at least I used to; I'll need to play my cards a little more carefully at St. George's until I find out how capable the staff are and how much they actually care about the rules. I anticipate that it will be like everywhere else; rules are for the little people.

I'm also not surprised that someone has a halberd. Many "normal" people carry dangerous weapons everywhere. I am, however, scandalized that I have to take a bus. With my family's wealth, and my ranking, I shouldn't have to do that. I do my best to take it in stride, greeting each new face with at least a little bit of pleasant attitude:

"Hello."

"Good afternoon."

"Did you bring enough for the whole class?"

"Nice halberd!"

I can be very charming when I want to, and first impressions are important. A sweet, mild smile and a feminine, soft voice can accomplish a lot. It's also part of being the prettiest and most charming, an arena of competition like any other.

Of course, I wear the uniform skirt. Every girl looks good in a pleated skirt, especially one as naturally gifted as myself, but it's a practical choice, too. The uniform skirt, like most of the skirts I own, ends a couple of inches above the knee and thereby offers more freedom of movement than pants or even shorts. There's a reason traditional martial arts uniforms are all tunics.

I've pulled my blazer slightly off my left shoulder and loosened my blouse collar. I don't feel like being completely indistinguishable from the masses. I've also put on subtle lilac perfume to complement the color.

I make sure to address the powerless students: "Hey no need to be so tense. I'm here to protect you." It's more a claim of territory than genuine, and people with actual power should know that. All part of the dance.

I sit next to the redhead with the book. She seems like she'll bother me the least.

"Seraphina," I say to her, to cause as little disruption of her contemplative reading as possible. Then I get out my phone, plug in my headphones, and start playing a game.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 2):

Thanks for coloring text.  It is appreciated.  Just as a reminder, any commentary from me in orage is OOC

The redhead glances at you, shrugs, and goes back to reading.

The canary on her head stares at you like it is eyeing a squirrel.

Most of the 'normies' nod at you distantly.  Many smile, though it looks more polite than anything.

After about twenty minutes, a guy walks onto the bus.  Nothing about him stands out.  Blonde.  Kind of a large nose.  Tall.  Has a sort of bewildered expression on his face.  You would guess a normie.

He looks around, reads the sign, and then takes a seat next to one of the other normie.

About ten minutes later there is a loud CHUNT sound from somewhere under the bus.  It sounds like a sliding door being shut forefully.  After a few minutes the van driver boards the bus and sits behind the steering whell.

"Finally" you hear someone mutter.

But he doesn't start the bus.

It is 3:27 PM.

Around 3:38 PM, muttering starts.  Some from the normies.  You believe Louise Telman also says something, but she is ahead of you, and you can't tell.

The volume of complaints about the bus not starting continues to gain some volume.  Until 3:42 PM when, from somewhere near the front of the bus, a masculine voice announces loudly, "Did you guys not read the sign?  Patience and Reestraint?  So can everyone shut up?"

The redhead next to you giggles, not looking up from her book.  "Also said not to antagonize other students..."  She says this softly.  You don't think she even means you to hear it.

Eight minutes later, precisely when the clock on your phone hits 3:50 PM, a woman boards the bus.  She is not dressed as a student.  She wears a cream colored blouse and dark colored skirt suitable for business.  Her blondish brown hair is tied up in a neat bun.  It appears her left hand, perhaps her left arm, has been replaced with a mechanical arm.  Her left hand is obviously state of the art cyborg tech.

"Good Afternoon Class of 2020.  My name is Amanda Welkes.  I will be serving as your class dean.  If you have any questions or concerns, either during the orientation period or during the academic year, my office door is open to you.  I will now be distributing your welcome packets.  Please keep your seats.  We can not depart until all packets are distributed. Please do not open your packets until instructed to do so."

She receives a box from the driver.  Where he came up with it, you aren't sure.  Ms. Welkes takes a stack of sealed manila envelopes from it and begins to pass it out.  But only to the normies.

She then heads back to the front of the bus, where the driver hands her another stack of sealed envelopes.  "If I call your name, please come up to the front of the bus, receive your packet, and return to your seat.  Do not open your packet.

"Adam Browoski."

The guy with the halberd walks forward and takes his envelope.  He brings the halberd with him, and returns promptly to his seat.  He has a bored expression on his face when he passes you, paying little attention to any of you or his envelope.

"Samantha Cullers."

The redhead shuts her book, placing it into the pouch of the seat back ahead of her.

"Excuse me," she says to you and gently moves past you to the aisle.  She walks forward, collects her packet, and returns to her seat, examining the front of the packet as she does so.  She places it in her lap, and folds her hands across it, shutting her eyes and seeming to meditate.

The canary stays on her head throughout the whole operation.

"I see we have two Adams this year.  Adam Duncan."

The last guy to get on the bus stands, and walks forward, still looking just as confused as when he got on the bus.  He takes the packet, glances at it, glances at Ms. Welkes, shrugs, and sits back down.

"Ahnia Guzman."

The pudgy girl just rises in her seat, as she is right next to Ms. Welkes.  She takes the packet and sits down quickly.

"Seraphina Martel."

Ms. Welkes is fairly well groomed, even more so on closer inspection.  Her ensemble is high end.  All exclusive brand names and all probably tailored to fit.  She hands you the envelope.  You can fell at least one sheet of paper inside.  And also...something else?  A cord of some kind maybe?

Running out of space, so continuing in a new post in a moment

"Robert Rutherford."

It's KFC guy's turn.  Looks like he has polished off the bucket as he leaves it behind.  He fills the entire aisle easily, and has to walk down sort of at a slight angle to make it.  His big hand swallows up the envelope.  He turns, with some difficulty, and tromps back to his seat.

Oddly, the bus doesn't shake at all from his passage.

"Louise Telman."

Louise stands, all bright smiles and sunshine.  She walks gracefully to the front of the bus, gives Ms. Welkes a slight bow, and returns to her seat, as grand as a parade.

"Let's start with Tuyen Truc..."

The twin with the smoky kind of skin rises and retrieves her envelope with little wasted movememt.  It's hard to tell what her facial expression is.

"And Giang Truc..."

The blue skinned twin rises.  Her facial features are more evident.  And she looks irritated.  She snatches the envelope and moves quickly to sit back down.

"And lastly Saul Zachius."

Mr. Scruffy stands.  Like Ahina, he just has to stand as Ms. Welkes is quite close.  He frowns as he takes the envelope but then sits back down as well.

It is now 3:59 PM.

"The bus will start in one minute.  This is your last chance to disembark."  Ms. Welkes waits.  No one rises.

Your phone clock flips to 4 PM.

The driver turns on the bus's engine.  The door shuts.

Ms. Welkes raises both hands.  "Welcome to St George's Academy.  Please open your  envelope."

Inside your envelope is a sheet of paper with your name.  The sheet lists your class schedule, has your room assignment, and a code to use the workout room.  On the back of the paper is a map of St. George's.

The other item in the envelope, what you thought was a cord, is a length of red cotton cord.

I will stop here so as to give you a chance to react, ask questions, etc.

Obviously I have some set up to do, so there will be some longish posts like this one intially.  As we get past orientation, things will even out.

Don't feel obligated to return a lengthy post.  Just react as you wish and let me know if there are any questions/concerns.

Oh.  I did add a '2020 St George's Class' thread specific to your game as well.  I will list the NPCs there, mostly so I can keep them straight as well.

Thanks
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:54, Wed 26 Aug 2020.

You're welcome! ^3^

Your posts so far are really fantastic. I'm impressed and amazing at the level of care and detail. Thank you for working so hard, and doing so well, for me and by me. I don't mind the long posts at all; I just hope I'm giving you enough to work with on my own posts. ^_^

I stick my tongue out, playfully, at the canary.

Perhaps the baselines don't know who I am. It doesn't matter; once the inevitable contests for status, position, and hierarchy begin, the whole school will very quickly come to know who I am. Hopefully they will both respect and fear me simultaneously; it is the best I can look forward to. The top of the mountain is lonely, but it is glorious. It is my place, and I wouldn't have it otherwise.

I'm surprised I'm not the center of attention for my good looks. Of course, the guys can't help but sneak peeks when they think I won't notice, and I enjoy the worshipful looks. Usually, though, it's more pronounced. I suppose they're all nervous; very few people are strong enough to feel safe in strange places.

Even so, I flash the new guy a smile as he gets on the bus and wave at him, just a bit. Polite and charming. That's not at all me, but it's expected.

When the CHUNT shakes us out of complacency, I stop time, get off the bus, and go to look to see what made the sound. It's an unusual noise, and I'm curious. The grey, washed-out world between the ticks, with no one and nothing moving but me, gets boring after a few subjective minutes, so if I don't see anything interesting, I get back in my seat and re-enter the timestream.

I'm not very good at waiting, but I brought my phone and earbuds, along with my wallet, onto the bus, so I have some games to play and while away the minutes.

I slip the stylus from the side of my phone and take notes on the names and basic descriptions of the students as they're called up to receive packets. When my turn is called, I also get my packet without any fuss.

"Thank you, Ms. Welkes," I say, politely but without deference, when I take the packet. Another smile. Is she afraid of me? She should be. Actually, it's refreshing that the people on the bus aren't frightened of me. I don't want to be normal, not at all, not even a little. I do, however, want to be accepted as part of the group.

Class schedule and room assignment? I raise an eyebrow at the paper. I've never had a "room assignment." I'm used to having my own suite in the family manor. Maybe it will be a private room. Hopefully it's a private room.

I peek over at Samantha's packet. Does she have a cord?

"Any idea what this is for?" I ask, holding the red cotton string up.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 5):

The canary cocks its head when you stick out your tongue.  It clearly is puzzled by the behavior.

The CHUNT does seem to have been just the driver shutting a large storage door under the bus after loading the last passenger's luggage.  You don't see anything suspicious.

Adam Duncan a/k/a 'Bewildered Guy/Last One on the Bus' smiles back at your wave.  But his confused look seems to be sort of a natural expression.  He falls right back into it as soon as he sits.

Ms. Welkes doesn't blink or look away.  Nor does she stare you down.  She simply meets your gaze, smiling politely, and nods to acknowledge your thanks.

Samantha glances at you.  She holds up a cord the same color as yours.  "I got nothin'."

Her voice is a little raspy. Like she's a heavy smoker.

The canary clucks.  Doesn't know...Doesn't know... it says in imitation of its owner.

Ms. Welkes finishes the packages and holds on to a post as the bus driver puts the bus into drive and pulls away from the airport.

Ms. Welkes waits until the bus has cleared the lot, heading out to the interstate, before she continues.

"Thank you all for your patience.  As I said before, welcome to the 2020 class of Saint George's Academy for Excellence.  Both of our programs are very exclusive.  We take only the best of the best.  While you should all be proud of having met our criteria, you should remember that getting here is only the start.  Whatever you have faced before, whatever you overcame before, it is nothing compared to what you will face going forward.

"So you know, Saint George's has a 32% failure and withdrawl rate during its first year classes.  That rate increases to 67% for the second year.  The last two years are much smoother sailing."

She smiles at you all, informing you that it is likely you will either fail out or withdraw from the program in the same time she might announce lunch is being served.

She continues.  "Now.  Let us begin.  Orientation and Education starts now.

"Lesson one.  The importance of observation.  Please recall everything I have said since handing out the envelopes.  What did I say that needs more elaboration?"

I reach out and tap Samantha's bird on its beak. "Cute bird."

When the "class dean" asks for something that needs elaboration, I don't raise my hand or my voice. I also don't make a query.

Instead, I make a statement: "You just said there are two programs."

I fix my gaze on her. This "What color was the ribbon?" test isn't just about what she says it's about. There's always more to things like this. Her appearance, expensive clothing, body language, tone of voice, timing of approach, every detail could have meaning, but then again it might not.

What's important is what she says and what she does with her hands while she says it.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:21, Sun 30 Aug 2020.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 7):

Ms. Welkes smiles and nods.  "Correct Ms. Martel.  There are two programs."

The canary hops back a little bit, surprised by the tap.  But it ventures forward again.  Samantha is frowning, but it seems it has something to do with the class schedule or room assignment.  She isn't paying attention.

Ms. Welkes continues.  "We operate a program for metas and for non-metas.  Those of you who received a red cord are in the meta program.  Those who received a yellow cord are in the regular program.

"The two programs are run side by side.  In academic classes, there is no distinction between meta and normal.  Both are integrated into the same classes.  Both follow the same rules of conduct and code of ethics as it relates to those classes.  The rules for the academic classes are simple.

"First, each student must earn their own grade.  While you are allowed to assist each other through usual procedures, like study groups or sharing notes, you may not assist each other during tests or exams.  Cheating is cheating.  It will not be tolerated.  And if you stoop to that level, trust me.  You will be caught.

"Students who become aware of another student's cheating are also expected to inform the teacher or myself about the activity.  Staying silent is tantamount to assistance.  Those who keep quiet will be punished along with the cheater.

"Bullying inside a school building is not permitted.  In any way shape or fashion.  Telepathic contact or mental control of other students inside a school building is not allowed.

"Vandalism is not tolerated.  Any willful destruction or causing someone else to willfully destroy school property outside approved facilities is prohibited.

"Any questions on the rules thus far?  If not, please tie your cord around the bicep on your left arm.  We will need it displayed for our next exercise."

I'll let you ask any questions and then we will proceed.  Thanks.

I take notes, not that many notes need to be taken.

The academic rules are straightforward and more or less the same as at every respectable school I've ever heard of. On the other hand, I can't help but snicker at the concept of "no bullying." All of society is built on bullying, institutionalized on various levels. I don't vocalize an objection, though; I have no desire to argue with Ms. Welkes and even less desire to throw a faculty member through a wall before classes have even started.

"What about outside of school buildings?" I ask. It's rather specific to only forbid bullying and violence in school buildings. Maybe they just want to preserve property values.

The state secret police shtick, with every student expected to spy and inform on every other student, strikes me as a test in itself. Every student strong enough to get away with it won't follow that rule, and every student too weak to resist the strong will knuckle under it and quickly become pawns in an ever-escalating game of tattle-chicken. I relish the thought of imposing order and stopping that kind of nonsense.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 9):

Ms. Welkes smiles and shrugs at your question, keeping her palms pressed against each other in front of her.  "What we can't see, we can't do anything about, now can we?"

Someone near the front mutters, "Then what's the point in announcing what we already know?"

Ms. Welkes glances in the direction of Saul Zachius.  "Just stating what we all know to be true."

She studies everyone and then claps her hands.

"Now.  Let's move on.  Your first assignment.

"There are 10 yellow cords and 10 red cords.  In three and a half hours, we will arrive at St. George's.  By that time, two of you, one from each group, will trade in your cords for brown cords.  And two of you, one from each group, will trade in your cords for blue cords.

"Blue cords will become monitors for the dorms.  They will be in charge of maintaining order for their group in each dorm.  In return for their work, the monitor will receive a larger, private room....in case you didn't know, students share a suite with at least one other student, though they may not be in the same class as you.  Blues will also receive other perks, depending on their job performance.

"Brown cords become the class gophers.  Their duties lay in serving the other members of their group.  Once a week, the gopher will be responsible for going to town and doing the shopping for their classmates.  The gopher will also have other duties such as collecting the laundry, keeping the group hallway clean, and washing the windows on the floor once a month.

"The Brown Cords do not share a suite.  They share a room.  A single bedroom with bunk beds.  Complaints about the Brown Cords job performance can lead to punishments.

"Each group, red and yellow cords, will vote twice.  Once for a Blue Cord and once for a Brown Cord.  Your cell phones will be used for voting.  Thirty minutes before we arrive I will send a link to each of you so that you may access a website for the voting.

"Make sure you pay attention to what your class is doing.  Once we park the bus in the St. George's parking lot, the voting will be closed.  Anyone who has not voted by then will lose their right to elect anyone to a position.  In cases of ties, roles will be assigned by lots between all parties with the equal number of votes.

"How you go about making your determinations is up to your class.  The bus is considered school property.

"I will not repeat these instructions or answer questions.  If I issue any orders, they are to be obeyed immediately.

"The election process starts now."

Halberd Boy, Adam Browosky, seems like the type to go after 'quests.' Why else bring a medieval weapon with you? He'd make a decent gopher.

Of course, it's not at all surprising that hierarchy would be imposed immediately.

There is also no way I can lose. There are 10 people in my group, so I need 6 votes to win without contest, 5 besides myself. I would rather win without using my power to stop time, but I am not about to lose the first major contest in my years at St. George's. So, if it looks like it might not go my way, I can simply step out of linear time as soon as I see someone from my class take their phone out and put in their password, then take the phone, vote for myself, confirm, and hand it back. They won't know the difference.

Of course, I'll need to check the website to see if votes can be changed after they're submitted. If so, then I can do the same, just the moment before the bus enters the parking lot instead of right when phones are retrieved.

Of course, I'll be taking power and responsibility on myself, but isn't that what I'm supposed to do? Isn't the point of power to use it, to be responsible, to marry strength with social welfare?

I hesitate. Would it be better to be a regular student? Probably not. The outcome is less certain. I could make friends either way, right?

"Well, what do you think of that?" I ask the Samantha, while looking at the bird.

Then I put my phone away, stand up, and walk to the front of the bus, just in front of either the yellow "Do Not Stand In Front of Line" line or Ms. Welkes, whichever is closer. Despite being a teenage girl, I have the easy confidence and gravitas that comes with a lifetime of being powerful and obeyed, which means I project calm authority without trying to do so.

I turn to the bus in general and declare, "I am Seraphina Martel." I smile pleasantly, but without being schmaltzy. A fine line to walk, for a girl. It's taken a lot of practice to master that technique.

"We all know that hierarchy is established through violence. It's my hope that we can be friends, but I assure you, if you're at all concerned for your safety at St. George's, I will be able to maintain peace and order as our dorm monitor."

There isn't much more to say. I may have to provide a demonstration. Indeed, I would be pleased as punch if someone wanted me to show off.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 11):

Samantha frowns.  "I think I'd rather stay out of it.  I'm happy in the middle."

The canary squawks.

Ms. Welkes steps back, allowing you to take her spot as it affords a view of all the seats, except the driver's.

You see Saul's mouth twitch into a sneer as you make your statement.  And you see the Twins exchange glances.

Ahina seems to look thoughtful, her hands clutching into fists.  Yes.  If anyone here seems sensitive to safety and bullying issues, it's probably her.

The Normies all sort of glance at each other or check their room assignments or lean over to whisper to each other.

The other metas seem to be more in line with Samantha's reaction.

Well.  Most of the others.

"But isn't the dorm a school building?"  Louise Telman doesn't walk up front, but she does stand, hands clasped together in front of her, game show hostess smile firmly in place on her perfectly rouged cheeks.

"While safety and order are important, is that really all that should be considered?  After all, the school is apparently guaranteeing that to some degree.  What's perhaps more important is what happens outside the dorm?  Or," she pauses for effect.  "Perhaps besides issues of safety and order there are issues related to co-operation and camaraderie that need to be addressed. Maybe we can organize study groups that cross group boundaries.  Or develop a system to insure students who miss a day of class due to illness are covered by fellow students who will share notes.  But, let's get back to safety.  How would you propose to handle the hazing of one of us by upperclassmen in the public areas between our dorm and class buildings.  Those are spaces after all that are outside school buildings and may be wide open."

She gives you a friendly smile, just waiting to see how you react to the bait.

Louise's excessive verbosity reveals her weakness. Very few people understand, rationally, that she who speaks less is in the dominant social position, because that plays on human instincts. Yet, because it plays on instinct, it doesn't need to be said. It just is.

Little Miss Sunshine is a talker and those who are weak talk to compensate for their weakness. I enjoy philosophy and dialectic, because, when properly applied, they arrive at the truth, and the truth is powerful. Rhetoric, however, is weakness distilled into sound: I know. Oh, how I know, on a very deep level. I tried every set of words I could think of to earn my parents' esteem.

I smile right back at Louise, but my smile is genuine. Instead of arguing with her, I turn her rhetoric into my weapon and reinforce the authority I have already claimed.

"Cross-group study sessions are a great idea, Louise. We can handle that when we've got safety and order down."

I then address the issue of order and safety directly. I speak with the calm, collect tone and straight-backed posture of someone who has the strength to back up what she says."As for upperclassmen, or anyone else, hazing our class, I am more than capable of handling those situations. If it makes you feel safer, I'll give you my number, and you can call me any time you're in trouble."

I am completely sincere when I say that. I do, in fact, enjoy using my powers to assert my dominance, and the most satisfying way to do that is to grind a bully's face into the dirt with my foot and make them apologize for being jerks.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 13):

The two of you are interrupted when Saul stands up.  Mr. Scruffy gets up on the seat of his chair and sort of sits on the top of his seat.

He holds up a hand. "Sorry.  Just wanted to get a better view.  Don't mind me.  Please go on."

He crosses his arms, grinning like this is fun on a bun.

Louise rolls her eyes at him and then turns back to you.  "Anyway...so you are saying you will protect the whole class?  All by your lonesome?  I know you're powerful. I'm not disputing that."  Her smile broadens.  "But are you saying you can handle protection for the entire class over the whole term on your own?"

Lovely, another one who's too cool for school. I ignore Scruffy. He thinks he's showing off; by ignoring his antics, I make myself a prize he must chase for approval.

I am tempted to answer Louise truthfully. No, of course I can't protect the entire class for the entire term. That's ridiculous; I'm not omniscient. I can protect the entire class as long as I know when they need protecting.

But that's not how politics works. How rhetoric works. Over-promise, under-deliver.

I find it interesting that Ms. Welkes, or whoever designed this scenario, did so in such a way as to prevent the use of force to solve disputes. That's the usual pattern; the weak defer to the strong. I realize, in that moment, that this is a test. A test for me specifically: can I take charge without smashing someone's head in? Can I adapt to a situation that people so rarely encounter, where hierarchy is established with words rather than with direct power?

I relish a challenge and can't help but grin. Hopefully it's not too predatory.

"Could I? Of course. My powers are very well-suited to the task. And I will, so long as you're all willing to trust me and let me know what's going on."

Truth. Since I can stop time, I can get anywhere I'm needed in what the rest of the world perceives to be a fraction of a moment. Then, with my strength and durability, I can hit like a truck. Up to "kick it into orbit" if I go all out and accelerate my fists or legs to arbitrary velocity by stuttering time, but I prefer not to do that when I don't have to. It's quite painful.

I'd like to help everyone learn to use their abilities to the fullest, meta and non-meta, so that I wouldn't be needed everywhere.

But I want my own room, dammit.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:35, Tue 01 Sept 2020.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 15):

Louise raises her eyebrows.  "Really?  Well.  You certainly got my vote."

She looks around at everyone.  "Then it's decided?  Ms. Martel will be our new monitor in return for keeping us all safe?"

She raises a hand and looks around, trying to urge other people to raise theirs.  You notice her smile is now a grin.  She seems to be enjoying this.

Saul/Scruffy pshaws, rolling his eyes.  "C'mon.  Is that it?  Waaaay too easy."

He looks at Louise.  "I kinda see where you're goin' with this.  But do you really think it's gonna work?"

Louise bats her eyes at him. "I'm sorry Mr. Rebel-Without-A-Clue, but if we need your opinion, we've obviously not tried hard enough to solve the problem ourselves.  Go back to sleepy town, 'kay?"

"Yeah.  Sorry to interrupt a bunch a' shit no one cares about," Robert puts his bucket of chicken aside and stands.  It's like watching a hill get up and turn out to be a mountain.  He's even larger vertical than he is sitting.

"But I wanna volunteer to be the gopher guy.  That's me."

"Uh...no.  I got that one."  Saul/Scruffy says, pointing a thumb at himself.  "So no need to worry about it.  I got it covered."

Robert smiles in the kind of way that makes you glad violence is not allowed.  "No.  I got that one."

They glare at each other.

Samantha suddenly raises her hand, her canary squawking loud enough to make everyone turn her way. "You know what.  After thinking about it...I'd like to be gopher."

"Sorry little lady.." says Robert.

"Ah hell no," says Saul.

Will pause here in case you want to jump into anything going on at the moment.

Thanks

I nod at Louise when she asks her rhetorical question. I didn't expect her to side with me like that, and I also don't expect people to start fighting over the brown cord position. I feel like I've missed something important, but whatever that might be, I'll get a private room, which is what I wanted from the situation.

On the other hand, I'm not surprised that the non-metas are keeping quite. Baselines have a hard time in general, being so weak. I wink at them collectively. I was going to go back to my seat next to Samatha, but now there's about to be a brawl over the gopher spot. Why would anyone want that? Volunteer for the low man spot? That's a good way to get the crap kicked out of you every day.

I slip out of linear time and into the greyscale world between Planck instants, and I walk over to Louise. Standing directly in front of her, I tap the end of her nose. Color flushes back into her and she joins me in the time outside time, where no one and nothing else moves or acts; the whole universe is frozen in a moment except Louise and I.

"Boop," I say, with a smile. It's only a little menacing.

"I expected you to put yourself up and argue with me. So, what was that all about? What does Saul think he's clued in on?"

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 17):

Louise gives a small start when you 'boop' her.  Her fist starts to glow.

But she frowns and shakes her fist, as if trying to shakes something off it.  The light dissipates.  "Sorry.  Force of habit."

You did 'boop' her by surprise.  It makes some sense, given the world you live in, she'd call up her powers at first.  But she seems to have caught on pretty quick.

She sighs.  "I don't know what Mister Breakfast Club there is talking about.  I think he's just trying to stir the pot.

"As to why I am acting as I am...why do I have to explain myself to you?"

She cocks her head, matching you smile for smile.  "We are in competition after all."

"You've got a lot of composure, for somebody who could be trapped here. Forever."

I grin wolfishly, then giggle and kiss her on the cheek. I whisper into her ear: "Kidding."

I take a step back and shrug. "You don't have to explain yourself to me. I think, though, it would be a good idea to tell me if you suspect anything of Scruffington. If I'm to be taking care of your safety, I don't wnat anybody messing it up, and he seems like the type of person to love causing trouble."

I walk back to where I was before I left linear time and give Louise a few subjective seconds to respond. If she doesn't say anything, I restart time to resume observing the festivities and potentially intervening if things start to look like violence.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 19):

Louise sighs, wiping away the kiss. "If you're going to make threats, make sure they make sense.  Leaving me here would be a form of violence now wouldn't it?  And you are on school property."

She glances towards Scruffington.  "If you're asking me what he's up to...I really don't know.  He just seems the type to like to cause friction.  You can probably see the chip on his shoulder from the moon."

She seems to think about it seriously and then shrugs.  "I've never seen him before.  So I really have no idea."

She doesn't seem to have anything else to add.  The two of you step back into real time.

Samantha hasn't stood up, but the canary is flapping around the bus, squawking away.

Robert waves it aside.  "Keep it off me."

Samantha whistles and the canary returns to his perch.  "You guys acting up scared him.  Sorry.  But I don't see why the two of you get to decide who is and isn't the Gopher."

Saul shrugs. "Fine.  Then we can put it to the vote.  You dumbshits can certainly handle voting on an ap, can't you?"

Samantha rolls her eyes.  "Don't try to piss everyone off so they'll vote for you."

Robert smirks. "As she said."

Louise suddenly claps her hands twice in a loud fashion.  Everyone looks at her.  "This is getting us nowhere slowly.  Since this is a dispute, it should be settled by the one who is in charge of keeping order.  Ms. Martel?  Why don't you arbitrate?"

She gives you a stewardess kind of smile and then sits back down.

Everyone else looks at you.

Louise is clever and full of bluster. I do like her, somewhat. I respect her tenacity and spunk. In fact, I wanted to be friends with her, to meet her in person when I first heard about her, but she was set on competing with me. And my parents were set on me competing with her.

Before I restart time, I look at my feet, then back up at Louise. I want to try and take a page from her book, to be as brave as I think she is. I smile as genuinely as I can. "Louise, I know we haven't gotten along very well. I...I wanted to be friends with you. I still do. I admire how strong-willed and brave you are, and I hope I can learn from you."

Then back to the chaos.

I take Louise's cue and look back and forth, once, between Robert and Saul, Fried Chicken and Mr. Trouble. I don't smile like Louise did. Instead, I adopt a neutral expression. Radiating authority, command, and power are as natural to me as breathing.

I speak at a slightly-lower-than-normal volume, staring down each young man in turn. Short sentences. Absolute fearlessness. Robert's size means nothing; I can snap him in half in an instant. Saul's attitude is pointless; I am the queen of this realm, and my power is absolute.

"Robert. Saul. Samantha. Tell me, tell us, why you want to wear the brown cord for our class. One at a time. Samantha first."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:29, Sun 06 Sept 2020.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 21):

You see the three contenders exchange looks with each other.  In an odd way, it is like they seem to come to some kind of understanding.  You see Robert nod his head slightly.

Whatever they've agreed to, it seems like they each still want to compete for the job.

Samantha scratches her chin.  Her canary dances back and forth on the back of the seat in front of her.  Then Samantha finally says,

"I have my reasons.  But I believe I am the best candidate for the job because I am better than anyone else at communications."

She holds up a finger and the canary hops on to it.  "For those who don't know, my power involves telepathy and control of birds.  I can set up a network of personal messengers so any student has access to me right away.  Want to put in an order for my trip to town?  Or want to let me know if you are expecting a package at the store?  Then you can send the bird I will assign to you my way.  There's a number of benefits to such a system.  And I will only put it in place if I am elected Gopher."

Robert guffaws.  "Well.  I'll tell you all. I want the job so I can see to my own needs."  He holds up the KFC bucket.  "I have a much higher than normal calorie need.  Yeah, I know.  All metas do.  But mine if off the charts.  This bucket is not even a snack.  So unless you want to be moving a metric ton of groceries a week, best leave the job up to me.

"Of course I won't slack when it comes to all my duties.  I'll have to work hard for all of you so I can retain it."

He shrugs.

Saul clears his throat.  "Well.  I'm not going to give my reasons per se either.  Though I will throw this one out there.

"I want to piss off our two princesses."

He smiles at you and Louise.

"I mean.  Am I the only one who finds the sacks of wet brownines they call egos kinda disgusting?  I don't think I am.  If you vote for me, trust me in saying I will not mess with your shit.  Just theirs. And won't that be entertaining?

"Thanks."

I watch and listen impassively. I wait until they are done speaking to reiterate what they said and build sympathy, empathy, and goodwill from them and from the onlookers. I look at each candidate in turn.

"Samantha wants to use her powers to communicate with and control birds to benefit us all and to stretch and practice her abilities. Robert wants to avoid inconveniencing anyone with his grocery needs. And Saul wants to cause trouble."

And now I look at the audience and say, again looking at each potential vote individually. "So, we now each have choices to make. We can choose to benefit ourselves by benefiting others," I look at Saul for the next clause, "Or we can choose to tear others down in order to boost our own egos and, in the end, gain nothing."

I spread my hands to include everyone on the bus, even the baselines.

"These decisions will color our entire experience at St. George's. We have all worked hard to get here, and it's up to us to make the most of our time. Does anyone have anything else to add?"

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 23):

Saul looks amused.  "Nice speech.  Way to go.

"But there's a couple of things I think Princess A here forgot to mention."

He nods at Samantha.  "Let's start with the birds.  While that sounds nice in principal, and I'm sure you don't have any ulterior motives...now at least.  But wouldn't a cell phone text be faster?  Even as the crow flies?"

He sits up.  "The disadvantage of having a bird on hand is that it means you also have a pair of eyes on you.  I'm sure Samantha doesn't have any intentions of spying.  But what if someone demands that she does?  Is there anyone here who hasn't been under some kind of microscope before?"

You see a couple of people shift uncomfortably in their seat.  Saul goes on.  "Again, Samantha, no disrespect is really intended.  I'm sure you have good intentions.  But road to hell and all that..."

He considers Robert a moment.  "I get where you're comin' from.  And I'm willing to concede."

He shrugs.  Then turns to smile at you.  "Do I need to yield the floor to our self-appointed moderator?  Or do you have a little ceremony you want to go through to let us all know we're free to go?"

I look over my shoulder at Saul. Sternly, but softly, I reply, "No. You are done making an ass of yourself." It isn't a question; it's an order.

People who know me, and I'm sure there are at least some on the bus who know who I am, know that "quiet but stern" is the attitude I adopt when I am starting to get angry. People are likely to get very badly injured when I am angry. I don't want to hurt him, and I won't unless he makes me, but I will not tolerate his attitude any further. If he won't shut up, I will make him.

I flip my hair over my shoulder and address the bus in general again. I deliberately raise my voice to normal level and tone to be more friendly. "Does anyone, other than Saul, have any questions or concerns they want to ask or raise?"
This message was last edited by the player at 01:17, Tue 08 Sept 2020.