Walking through the halls, Jack is still on alert for pretty girls, but he doesn’t linger even when he spots them. In fact, he’s somewhat trying to practice his posture. Slouching ever so slightly and when the teacher opens the class for people to pile in, he makes his way towards the desks closest to the furthest windows and turns so that he can face the majority of the students so that when they come in he can look at them without needing to turn his body.

Taking one of the syllabi, he passes the remainder of the stack back and looks around at the other students when he hears the groan. Looking for those who aren’t groaning so that he can maybe pick a person or two as project partners in the coming year. Someone who feels confident would make for a good partner. Possibly.

Looking through the syllabus, he makes note of the opinion essay portion and the topic. He would use one of the ones listed, unless he could come up with something she apparently strongly agreed with. On Dan’s advice, that.

For that, he’d have to figure out a few seniors, possibly in his calculus class? From there, he could fish around for someone who’d had this class last year and figure out what topics she agreed with. His natural instinct is to write about something so obscure she couldn’t have an opinion, or for which she’d need to do research herself to learn enough to have an opinion.

But his gut instinct is to write about something he has a strong opinion about himself, so that he argues it more clearly. Metahuman rights, maybe?

As to the rest of her speech, he has no problem with “material” so he doesn’t even bat an eye at that. His problem is never material memorization, he remembers everything and reads a textbook in a few minutes when he pushes himself. His problem is translating literal to metaphorical, and metaphorical to literal, about seeing the meaning behind things, and picking up the emotions that an author puts to things, and most of all, it’s about seeing things like a normal person sees them. Pain? Pain is something apparently incredibly unpleasant.

Jack’s only pains are emotional.

He can’t see the world in the limited scope that normal people do, he has to force himself to move at a normal person’s speed, to open things with their strength, to focus intently on the people in his presence and not on the ones adjacent or distant. Every aspect of Jack’s existence is alien to the human experience, and it shows in his writing. The way he thinks. The way he creates mental charts to examine others, because he has so much ample room between thoughts, between the actions of others. Jack’s thoughts walk between the raindrops.

---

When he isn’t thinking about the teacher, the class, the essay, he looks around at his fellow students with a few appraising glances. One of the upsides of being him is that he can take in every person in the class with a single glance, and not seem to be lingering on anyone in particular.

Sorry for the repeated requests for NPC details. Upside of being on an AP track is repeating students, I suppose. In my experience twenty years ago, it was almost entirely the same students in every class.

In reply to Jack Sharpe (msg # 48):

No need to apologize at all.  One of my goals is to eventually give you a high school and neighborhood.  So I'm fine with NPC hunting.

There are a number of groaners.  One is the prettiest girl in class. Maybe in all the classes you've had thus far.  She's a red head.  Probably a natural one, as her roots are the same color.  Her skin is the color of cream, or at least the color cream ought to be.  And her eyes are the deepest green you've ever seen.  She wears jeans with holes in one knee and an old pair of boy's sneakers.  Instead of a shirt she wears a thin cotton hoodie which is a little baggy.  Looks like it might be a size too big for her.  She is eyeing the syllabus with a look of unfeigned trepidation.

Only two other people in class seem unconcerned.  One is a heavyset girl with large round glasses.  Her thick brown hair is tied up in a pony tail and she seems to have made an effort to have dressed somewhat nicely today.  She is making a few notes on her syllabus, and from what you can see, she's already making plans on how to tackle the paper.

The other one who seems nonplussed is again in the back row, farthest seat away from the teacher, and in this case closest to the door.  It's the pony tail guy from Zhao's class.  Looks like you both have the same English class as well.

Whitefalls hands out your books.  "Read the poem on page 25.  Be prepared to discuss it tomorrow."  Mrs. Whitefalls announces a second before the buzzer rings.

You glance at the page.  It's a short poem by Emily Dickinson.

I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you-Nobody-too?
Then there's a pair of us!
Don't tell! they'd advertise-you know!

How dreary-to be-Somebody!
How public-like a Frog-
To tell one's name-the livelong June-
To an admiring Bog!

---

As you head towards your locker, you notice a group of people standing further up the hall.  It's a large crowd.  You can hear them from here of course.  They're all whispering.

"Wow. That's harsh."
"Shit.  Not this again."
"Are we gonna have to sit through another dumbass assembly!"

As you get closer you can see what's going on.  Across one of the lockers, someone has spray painted PIGS FUCK PIGS.  A girl is standing in front of the locker, clutching a notebook to her chest.  You can't see her face.  She's wearing a rather plain brown skirt and cheap looking blouse.  She isn't making any obvious moves.  But you can hear her heartbeat racing and the way her breathing is uneven.  She seems to be holding back sobs.

Then she takes a deep breath, reaches out a hand, and twists the knob on her lock.  She opens her locker, puts her notebook inside, takes out another one, and shuts the door softly, locking it back up.  She turns slowly.  She's not a raving beauty but she's certainly not plain.  She walks towards the crowd slowly.  <Royalred>"Excuse me..."<Royalred> she mumbles.

The crowd parts and she turns left, heading towards the front of the buidling.

"Poor Sara," someone mumbles as the crowd breaks up.

Jack notices the red head and what appears to be an older brother’s clothes handed down, and decides that she either has an interesting sense of fashion or she’s as poor as he is. Maybe something to bond over. He tries to catch her name, but also tries not to linger on her too long.  He also notices Asian-Ponytail has persisted for two classes. That’s good! He doesn’t know the guy, but it could be really good to know someone in multiple classes. In fact, given the AP track, he’s somewhat amused that there aren’t more people in multiple of the same classes as him.

In the end however, he tries to pick people he should start getting to know, and focuses on class. Making sure nothing is overlooked.

Flipping open the book as he walks from the class, the bag hanging from his arm, he reads the poem in a glance so that he might try to digest it. Tucking it back into his bag as he walks out the door, he looks around at his comrades. Sliding his hands into his jean pockets as soon as his backpack is in place, he makes his way towards physics.

Thinking about people he might try to meet and the poem, he pauses only when he spots the group of people all looking towards a locker.  He doesn’t want to stand there looking at her though, so he keeps walking. Trying to squeeze past the groups of people watching like it’s a spectacle. He feels sorry for the girl, but in a moment like that, he doesn’t imagine anyone wants to be watched by a huge crowd.

And he doesn’t know her in the slightest, so he can’t exactly walk up and offer her a hand with getting out of the crowd. He does pause by one group to turn in a slow circle and quickly looks through the backpacks and nearby lockers of everyone in the area. Looking for the spray paint. He could do one good deed if he could find the person responsible.

In fact, expanding his search a bit further, he tries to quickly look at most of the lockers in this hallway.

In the process, he finds the girl walking right past him and he says, “Sorry,” as he stands aside. Since he’d been lost in his search process.

Regardless of what he might see in the lockers, he continues on to physics a few moments later.

Lots of ground to cover.  So there will be two posts

The girl looks at you as she passes.  You see large, blue eyes that are pretty wet, and an expression that plainly says she will not break down.  And then she has walked past.

---

Dan is five for five.  Spriggins is an older guy.  Sol level old.  The oldest teacher you've had yet.  He seems affable enough.  But he stammers.  And his handwriting is shaky and hard to read on the blackboard.  Right now he's writing down the testing schedule which seems odd since it's in the syllabus he handed out.

The class is radically different from what you've had thus far.  Within moments, most of the people sitting around you had introduced themselves.  There's Kisha Livingstone, Al Daniels, Bill Puxley, Farzenah Ihara, and Cal Stone.

Also, while Mr. Spriggans is writing, everyone in class is talking, but most of them are talking about the class and physics.  You seem to have gotten the science nerd class.

Bill and Farzenah seem to be the most knowledgeable.  But the others aren't slouches.  As far as project partners, your cup runneth over in fifth period.

"What about the University trip?" Kisha asks.

Bill frowns and looks at the syllabus.  There's only one line about the trip there.  So he raises his hand.  "Excuse me. Mr. Spriggans.  What exactly is the field trip about please?"

Mr. Spriggans turns.  "Oh.  Uhm...that's...well.  Each October the...University has a...uhm...symposium.  And we go and listen in."

That actually sparks a discussion. Mr. Spriggans tries to reign it in, but soon he is talking about past trips as well.

It does not appear that Physics will be that structured of a class.
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:27, Sat 14 Dec 2019.

"Tere...uhm. I mean hello again." Darja laughs nervously and takes the seat to the right of you.  "I keep...uh...getting nervous.  And slipping back in to Estonian. Ha."

Physics went long.  The discussion about the symposium trip turned in to a discussion of the news that the discovery of a monster black hole was a mistake and how science progresses.  So you had to hustle to get here from there.  Well.  You had to appear to hustle.

You arrived with only two minutes to spare and may have been surprised.  There were only seven other students there already.  Oddly, all except one of them sat on the right hand side of the room.  At the back of the left hand side sat a solitary guy wearing a surgical mask.  Maybe he's sick and no one else wants to catch it.

Darja came in a moment after you sat down.  She visibly brightened when she saw you.  A few others follow her in and as the buzzer rings, there are fifteen of you.  Smallest class you've had thus far.

Mr. Casey walks in a moment later, shutting the door behind him.  Yep.  He has rabbit ears.  Rabbit like at any rate.  They extend up and back, ending just past the back upper corner of his head.  They are covered in a fine, fuzzy kind of hair, which is just as blonde as the hair on his head.  Other than that, he looks like a regular thirty-something guy.

He writes his name on the board and under that META STUDIES AND RIGHTS.

"Hello.  For those who don't know me, I am Mr. Casey.  No, I do not answer to Bugs." He waits, seeming to wonder if he'll get a laugh.  No one does.  He goes on.

"I am obviously a meta.  We have one other meta in class with us.  Colby.  Nice to see you."

In the back of the room, the guy with the surgical mask is writing something down. He doesn't stop writing but he gives Mr. Casey a mock salute with his free hand.

"Do we have any other metas here today?  What?  Really?  Wow.  Three in one class?  You are..."  And Casey points towards you.

At least that's how it seems.  He's actually pointing past you.  At Darja.  She's raised her hand.  Well.  She's got it half raised. Her head is bowed down and her shoulders are caved in.  But she nods.

"Uhm.. Yes.  I'm...I'm Darja Tamm.  And...well.  Uhm.  We came...here...To America...this summer.  And INS...they tested me.  And I'm...meta.  I'm not dangerous," she adds the last quickly, looking around at your classmates.

Mr. Casey nods his head.  "Thanks Darja.  As we go through the class, I'll be talking about my own experiences.  And Colby has already given me permission to talk about some of his.  I hope you'll allow us to talk about your experiences as well Darja.  And I don't mean to put you on the spot.  But.  What just happened right there.  When you did your introduction.  It's a great example of why I wanted to teach this class."

Casey waves a finger in the air and looks around at the rest of you.  "Anyone.  When Darja was introducing herself there, she said something almost every meta says when they are introducing themselves for the first time.  It's a single statement, but you hear it time and again, said in a number of different ways.  What was it that Darja said that seemed to have the most impact for you? It's one sentence.  Anyone?"

Not having spotted the can of spray paint in his glance around, Jack puts it out of mind for the moment. He can scan all of the lockers later, and more importantly, keep an ear out for the sound of it being used in the future instead of filtering it out like he filters out almost everything else.

---

Listening to Mr. Spriggans, Jack reads the syllabus in a glance and sets it aside, looking at the others beside him as they introduce themselves to himself and to others. “Jack Sharpe,” he introduces himself. He doesn’t know that either Farzenah or Bill are especially great options for study partners, but that they are all good options means he doesn’t worry too much about it. In fact, at this point he’s more concerned with not ending up with one of the slouches in the class.

But for now, he can be confident and try to sit by either Bill or Farzenah at the beginning of classes to increase his chances of not getting paired with a potato.

Slouching slightly, he scratches his ankle and goes through some of the motions, his eyes switching from student to student and then finally back up to the teacher when he talks about the trip to the university. Having been home schooled, Jack doesn’t really feel that a field trip is all that great of a treat, but movies and television have taught him otherwise. Apparently, a field trip is like school sponsored vacation.

 

---

“Hey Darja,” Jack says and glances at the clock just once before looking aside at her. “You’re fine, maybe I’ll learn Estonian,” he proposes with a smile and in that brief gap before class starts, he asks her about the classes they don’t share with each other, just to make a bit of idle conversation.

When they start to talk about metas, and Mr. Casey asks whether anyone else is a meta, he has a compulsion to share but only for a moment. He isn’t about to break a life of silence just because a guy with rabbit ears asked him. He’s hear to learn and participate, but not to share things he shouldn’t. That said, he’s a bit surprised that Darja is a meta as well.

He’ll have to ask her more about that later.

In the meantime, he listens and reflects back on what Darja had said, replaying her words in his head he gives a moment of pause to see if anyone else will say anything. When nobody else does, he raises his hand and says, “I don’t know if it had an impact for me, but I’m guessing it’s that she said she’s not dangerous?” It makes sense to him that people in this class would be meta-inclusive, so he would find it surprising that anyone was excessively wary of others.

Then again he’s fairly certain that Colby isn’t dangerous to others either, and they’re acting a bit squeamish about him.

In reply to Jack Sharpe (msg # 53):

"Exactly!"  Casey steps towards his desk and pulls out a pack of colored markers.  He starts taking caps off as he talks.

"The one thing every meta says, even without prompting, when they make their admission is to say 'I'm not dangerous'.  It's well documented and studied.  Most people call it the Gray Mare Effect.  We'll talk about that more later.

"But what I want to talk about is how is it determined that a meta is dangerous?  Most world governments, except for the European Union, use the Gransy-Moller Scale, or GMS.  We'll talk about that more later as well.

"What you're all probably familiar with is..."  On the white Board he writes MTI

"The Meta Threat Index.  It's not an officially recognized scale by the way.  No government or insurance company gives it credence.  But the media does.  In fact the MTI was the result of American newspapers and magazines in the 1950s and 60s trying to make sense as the first Superteams began to organize themselves."

He writes BLUE.  "The biggest categories are Blues.  I'm a blue.  Basically it is metas whose powers are minor or are suppressed in a manner authorized or recognized by the Government.  My ears let me hear in certain frequencies most people can't hear in. That's my power.  Big whoop, right?"

Next comes GREEN  "Greens fall into two categories.  First, they are 'advanced people'.  That is people whose intelligence is high enough to be able to build a killer robot.  Or someone so well trained in the martial arts they could conceivably take on a SWAT unit and win.  The second category are what most people call 'Pretenders'.  Metas who have a power that can be used offensively but have decided to not use them. Most pretenders only want to live normal lives.  This whole group is often called the 'Wannabes'.  They either are normies who want to be metas or metas who want to be normies.  That definition by the way came from Obama's Secretary of Meta Affairs back in 2011.  Not me."

ORANGE "Metas who can not control their powers.  It's at this level that insurance companies label a meta as potentially dangerous.  Colby there is an Orange.  Colby, tell everyone what your power is please."

Colby shrugs.  "Whenever I sneeze, someone within earshot turns invisible.  Usually for a day. I can't control who."

"And that is what it takes to be considered a danger to yourself or others.  Thanks Colby."

YELLOW "Here is where things start getting good.  Yellow is for active Capes.  Superheros."

RED  "If Capes are yellow, most villains are red.  This includes any meta who uses their power in a destructive or potentially destructive manner without being authorized by a governmental agency.  It's that last part that separates a Cape from a Cowl.  Good intentions don't mean squat.  If you're not approved, then you are just a vigilante and no better than a Hood."  He writes Cowl=Vigilante, Hood=Villain.

"There is of course one more level.  Black.  Black is reserved for metas who have powers that could threaten large numbers of people in one go.  Doesn't matter what your intentions are.  Doesn't matter if you just want to live a quiet life as an insurance adjuster. If you can control gravity.  If you can set off a nuclear reaction.  If you can turn people you look at to stone.  You are Black level."

He caps the markers and sets them down.  "That's more than I wanted to cover today.  But we'll get in to more details in the days to come."

He chats with everyone and then the buzzer rings.

As you pack your stuff, Colby walks up to Darja.  "You okay?" he asks her.

She seems surprised.  But she nods.  "Jah...I mean yes.  Thank you.  I...I was really nervous."

Colby seems to be waiting for her.  He probably means to talk to her a while.

Not sure Jack wanted to hang around for this.  If not, he can 'listen in' of course.  Let me know.

Outside of a few wrap up items, that is Jack's first day at school.  Any feedback/wish list items? Let me know.  Thanks
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:59, Tue 17 Dec 2019.

You used Colby’s name instead of Casey at the top.

Jack listens and wonders if he’d introduce himself by mentioning that he isn’t dangerous. No, he wouldn’t, or maybe he would? Contextually, maybe? Would it be disingenuous to say he wasn’t dangerous? He isn’t dangerous unless he wants to be, and he never has? Even as he is thinking about it, he listens to Mr. Casey, and thinks about how things might apply to him.

Listening, he doesn’t feel the need to take any notes, since he’ll remember the individual terms, but he does pay more attention to the nuances than he usually does. He’d have to read the textbook later.

Hearing what Colby’s power is, he glances over in consideration and then looks back to Mr. Casey.

When he explains what black on the meta threat index qualifies as, he realizes he’d be labeled that way. He’d have to find out what that means, too, does that mean he’d have a hard time getting insurance? Will the government want to contain him somehow?

Raising his hand, he decides to just ask: “Mr. Casey, let’s say someone is MTI black, able to uh..” he acts like he needs to think of something, pausing for a moment for dramatic effect, “Punch down skyscrapers. What does that mean for that person? Are they on a watch list? Do they quarantine the nuclear man?” he asks.

---

After class, Jack looks over at Darja, he gives her a smile and says, “See you tomorrow, Darja,” and makes his way towards the door and from there to his locker. As he walks, he listens in as much as just to make sure that Darja is okay as out of curiosity.

Getting to his locker, he spins the dial a few times and pulls out all of the books. He’ll read them all tonight. Once he’s sure he has everything, he rests his bag in the locker for a second and pulls on his hoody over his head, and then throws on the backpack over his shoulder. Careful not to clip anyone. Bag on, hat on, he starts to make his way out of the school.

I’m guessing that if nobody was mentioned in a class (like Mr. Casey’s class there at the end of the day, or the first class, with the exception of Darja,) that Jack isn’t thinking that any of the girls are particularly gorgeous/shapely or any of the people are friend worthy/study partner potential? Or will that continue to expand as the days go by?

I think besides him trying to figure out who he might approach and how and for what reasons, everything is looking clear.

Wishlist: An increasingly comprehensive list of terms like MTI, Gray Mare Scale and the MTI-levels, etc. all on one setting post. For my personal use (so maybe just PM) a list of NPCs and what Jack might think of them, I can actually get that started here myself, I'd just have you chip in any additional details.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:13, Mon 16 Dec 2019.

In reply to Jack Sharpe (msg # 55):

Casey taps the MTI label on the white board.  "That's a good question.  But remember:  the MTI is really just a convention used by the Media.  Governments and insurers don't look at it.  And as we'll find out, they're the ones who make the rules about who gets labeled what.

"We'll discuss that question in more detail when we get in to Gransy-Moller scaling.  But the short answer is:  Black...or Omega VIII using GMS...level metas are given a short list of choices.  They can either submit to voluntary suppression of their powers, join a sanctioned Cape team or guild who take responsibility for keeping that meta in check, or they spend a lot of time on the run.

"There are only seven known Omega VIIIs in the world.  Two of them are members of Cape teams.  One is incarcerated.  The other five are MIA.  And those five are all four considered Hoods."

---

Darja smiles at you.  "See you tomorrow Jack."

Colby kind of considers you as you walk away.  Then he turns back to Darja and continues once he thinks you're out of earshot.  "Just so you know...everyone in class is gonna tell all their friends about you.  You're gonna be very well known by tomorrow."

Darja hesitates.  She sounds nervous, but resolved though when she says, "Jah.  I mean yes.  I figured.  But...well.  Things were...difficult for me back in Estonia.  That's why we moved to America.  My mother figured they would catch me when they did the screening.  And she was right.  But that's fine.  I...I don't want to pretend to be something I'm not.  Not anymore.  I don't think I'm special or anything.  But ...I can do these things.  And so I want to consider what I can use them for is all.  If I have to do that while hiding them..."

Neither of them says anything for a moment, then Colby asks, "So.  If you don't mind me asking...what can you do?"

Darja's voice is very low.  "Well.  I can fly-"

"Holy Frosty The Snowman!  That's hot!  Do you realize how insanely sexy that power is?!"

Darja must be blushing.  "Well I...uhm...no..."

Colby laughs.  "Oh man.  They are all gonna be spittin' nails out of the envy over you.  Everyone wants to be able to fly."

"I...guess I never really thought about it like that."

"Well you should.  C'mon.  Let's get something to drink and we can talk about it more on the way home."

You head out the back entrance since it's closer, following the crowd as you listen to Colby and Darja.

The crowd ahead has stopped.  There's an altercation going on.

There is a small crowd of people you automatically identify as BEs.  Four guys and five girls.  They are clutched together, the guys in front, the girls bunched up behind them.

Facing the BEs are three guys. The gamer you saw on the way in today.  One of the gamers is pushing one of the BE guys.

"What the hell man?" says the gamer, the largest one of that group, as he grabs the front of one of the BEs shirts in his hand.  "What is with you creepy assholes anyway?  Was I standing there, saying 'gosh I hope some creepy asshole touches me?'.  Huh?"

"Friend," says the BE who is being held by the collar.  "It was an accident.  I am sorry.  We are just on our way home from a long day of education-"

"Who the hell talks like that?  What is wrong with you?"

All three of the Gamers have increased pulse rates.  You can hear their hearts starting to hammer away in their chests.  The BEs seem calm.

Jack listens to Mr. Casey as he explains about the Omega VIIIs and idly writes on his notebook, reminding himself to find out more about the Gransy-Moller scale if it isn’t in the textbook. Though he expects that’s covered by the book as well, it’s a normal sized textbook and they need to fill their pages with something. In fact, in consideration, he thinks this might be a college textbook by design, since meta studies aren’t a normal high school topic one has a full year of study about.

In any case, as he makes his way through the halls, he actually pauses for a second and then grumbles silently to himself about Colby cutting her off. She had clearly said ‘these things’ in what sounded to him like a plural sense and then he’d stopped her after just flying. Like, yeah, that’s pretty neat if you can’t fly, but now he’d have to find out for himself. Not that that was the end of the world, but he didn’t want to ask too much and have her start to wonder why he was so curious. Or is it normal to be curious about people’s powers?

Yeah, maybe it is.

As he walks along with the crowd, a few inches taller than most, he ends up standing on his tippy-toes to get a clean line of sight without needing to look through everyone and shakes his head. Part of him thinks the BE kids can probably handle this themselves, they outnumber the boys being bullies, but screw that.

“You’re the ones being bullies!” he calls out over the top of the crowd, not nearly 1/10th full volume, but loud enough to be heard even opposite the crowd. He wants to be normal, but he isn’t going to do that at the expense of others by letting the weird kids get picked on.

In fact, they are increasingly obviously weird. If he doesn’t find out what their deal is soon, he’s going to have to just see if they’re secretly robots himself, it’d only take a peek and to really pay attention to what he is seeing and he’d have a general sense if their anatomy was wrong, alien, partially mechanical, etc.

But he’d rather not violate their privacy, he’s trying not to do that.

In reply to Jack Sharpe (msg # 57):

Almost as one, everyone in the crowd turns to stare at you.  Including the BEs.

The large gamer guy gapes at you.  He shakes his head and, with a somewhat incredulous stare, says, "What the hell?  This ain't a special episode of Lizzie McGuire fuck face.  Who the hell says 'bully' anyway?"

One of the other gamers, the shortest one says, "Jared.  Stop."

Jared turns on his compatriot.  "You gotta be nuts Andy.  What the hell did I do wrong but say what everyone is thinking?"

"Jared."  Andy's voice is soft.  You wouldn't be able to hear it without your abilities.  "Enough.  Let.  It.  Go."

Andy is the shortest of the three.  He wears a black knit cap, and his unruly strawblonde hair pokes out from under it in odd places.  He doesn't look very intimidating.  Jared probably has a good fifty pounds on him and is at least eight inches taller.  But Jared stops, and giving you and the BEs a quick backwards look, storms away.

The crowd disburses.  Many of them give you odd looks.  A couple give you admiring looks.  And then, one of the BE girls is standing in front of you.

She's smiling, but it looks odd.  Like her mouth is just used to doing that.  Her eyes are open wide.  But there's not a lot of light in them.  She does an odd little curtsey.  "Thank you. But we'll BE all right.  I'm Annalee.  If you ever get lonesome, come down to the Friendly's Ice Cream shop on 3rd.  We're always there! SPECIAL KISSES!!!"

And saying that, she steps forward, stands on her tip toes, and tries to give you a kiss.

Homeschooling! Jack didn’t realize that bullying wasn’t still the phrase for it. He’d need to talk to some others and figure out what the new word was. ‘Being assholes’ doesn’t really explain as well as bullying. Bullying is self-contained explanation and description. He doesn’t really think anything of the power dynamic between friends. Maybe Andy is the level headed one and Jared relies on him to know when he’s being hot-headed, size is rather irrelevant. They are irrelevant, and he can promptly put them on the rubric as ‘not worth knowing.’

He waits for the crowd to part and finds himself now looking down at a girl, Annalee. “Thank you for the offer, but I’ll be fine,” he answers and when she starts to step forward toward him, his eyes narrow slightly and then seeing her intention, he steps backwards smoothly, holding out his hands to ward her off. “That’s quite unnecessary, have a nice day.”

And he starts to walk off, taking the long way if necessary, to avoid running in to the BE people again. He doesn’t care for bullying, but he also doesn’t want to be seen as some sort of BE-adjacent kid. That’d be social suicide as far as he can tell.

Making his way the roundabout way, he starts to make his way home again.

In reply to Jack Sharpe (msg # 59):

Speaking of the BEs, you use your phone to check the Reddit thread you had started.

There are a few responses.  Most are from people outside the area who think you're either talking about a fat girl in a bumblebee costume from a 90s music video or Bea Arthur, late star of the Golden Girls.

But you do get a few more solid hits.

Ugh.  Those guys.  They're nice but weird nice.  My hubby manages a shoe store and they'll sometimes gather outside and stare in at the displays for like an hour. Creepy.

I know one of them.  We grew up together and Kim was always a bright girl.  Lots of fun.  Then we went to different schools in sixth grade.  Next time I saw her, she was one of them.  Tried talking to her but she just laughed and ran away.  Her folks sold their house and moved them in to that apartment building they all live at.  I wish I could have stopped whatever it was that happened.

I lived across from that apartment building for my last year at UM.  They were really odd.  They'd do things like pick up trash or shovel the sidewalk.  But if you tried to help or thank them they would just stare at you.  And it wasn't just one of them.  They'd circle around you and stare at you until you went away.  Glad I moved.

A reply to the last.  Which apartments was that?

A different user responds.  It used to be St Anthony Village over on SE7th.  Someone told me they bought it and renamed it.  Blue Eaves or something.  If you know where the Friendly's is on 3rd and 7th, it's a block away on 7.

"Blue Eaves." A location too, Jack decides that unless he can come up with something by the end of the week, he'll be using his powers of perception on the ice-cream shop, the apartment building and a few BEs. That should put their odd behavior into a new light. But for right now, he'll sniff around a bit more. If at the end of next week he hasn't found anything unusual in either places or on them, and no other clues turn up? He'll make a trip to Friendly's and see what happens.

He'll trust in his abilities to keep him from becoming Stepford'd.

Though maybe before he does that, he should entrust someone like the Minneapolis Monkey with the plan. He'd approach as 'Mr. X' or something, and not reveal who he is beneath the mask? Then be like, "Hey dude," or.. no, "Monkey." All full of vigor! Deep voice.

"I am MR. X! I intend to infiltrate the BE guys! Er.. BE complex! Base! BE Base! And discover what they have been doing to people.."

Thinking it over, he shrugs to himself as he walks through the piles of leaves fallen on the sidewalk. His mind on the tasks he has ahead.

To-do for the week:

• Make headway on the BE problem issue assuming they aren't just weird people in a cult, potentially speak to mom, the Monkey if I can find him.
• Find the Monkey (maybe)
• Normal weekly: One hour of listening lab for Chinese, go early tomorrow, also begin self-training. Should have Fluency fairly quickly, I'd think?
• Identify research topic for history, check out books and write initial draft--tentative topic: Metahumans in the World Wars, could then share that paper with Mr. Casey for extra brownie points? Just need to ask Mr. Calico if we can pick a topic if it's a good one? I suspect he wants to assign topics so people don't pick easy topics? Maybe he can at least give us a topic in that direction?
• Math: Do regular homework.
• Read all textbooks and assigned reading, two readings. Should take about twenty minutes if at full speed.. do at lower speed to maximize content absorb and comprehension -- maybe get some additional books on content that isn't immediately obvious, like a book that discusses the metaphors and content of various poet's works. Regurgitate famous author's opinions on other's works? Harder to catch verbal plagiarism on command? Mom might not approve.
• Continue to refine mental charts to identify most likely compatible girlfriend, friends and study partners.
• Spread required sleep every night, one hour per night, in case we want to stay up on weekend night unexpectedly.

And then his only personal to-do for the week that isn't school related:

• Run up to Saint Cloud to see mom. Sober for the first time in years.

Checking his list, he looks it over and nods a bit to himself. He could check off several parts in a single evening, he just needs to make sure he does the stuff that can only be done during the day without sneaking out, is done during the day. He isn't sure he wants to start wandering out of the house late at night.

He probably will, but if he can manage his time appropriately he can save homework for the hours after midnight and focus on his adventures in town during the day. Like a trip to the various libraries to pick up extra books, his examination of the various BE properties, etc.

With a self-satisfied nod, he pauses at a cross-walk and spend a long moment looking around the neighborhood. Looking not just at any other students walking home, but at the people in the area, the businesses.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:15, Thu 19 Dec 2019.

In reply to Jack Sharpe (msg # 61):

Can you give me five perception checks please?  Just B flat checks.  I'll add the modifiers that may apply from your character sheet.  Just want to have some on hand as I go though the next bits.

You 'observe' from the apartment that night.

The Friendly's seems to do a decent business, but as you watch it's almost entirely BEs.  They compromise about 85% of the customer base.  The few who aren't get their ice cream or burgers and leave quickly.  When a non-BE is in the place, all the other customers go completely quiet.

Except for one visitor.  It's a young man, college age apparently.  He seems to know one of the BEs and as soon as he arrives, a small crowd of them gather around him, chatting with him, hugging him.  They seem happy to see him.  They spend about an hour speaking with him at one of the booths.  At one point, one of them asks him,

"So were you still thinking about it?"

The young man is quiet for a moment and then says, "I...I think I'd like to.  But I need to settle things with my Dad."

"We all have to settle things," the BE says cheerfully.  "But remember:  it's easier to settle once you leave it all behind."

The others start singing a song.  You have to research the song online, but it's Dolly Parton's Jolene.

Everyone in Blue Eaves is...well.  Quiet.  The BEs seem to be grouped in to apartments by family.  At least that seems to be dominant theme.  The families gather at the dining room table and eat bowls of Cheez Its and drink cold milk.  They then take turns telling each other about their day.  A lot of the men seem to work at the power plant.  A lot of the women seem to work for temp services. Most of the kids go to your school or the local grade school.  Only a few people are college age, but of those that are, they seem to attend UM.

After' dinner, the families play a board game.  Most play Parcheisi.  Then they break in to smaller units and do chores: both inside their apartments and cleaning the halls. ]

There are three areas you can't access.  There's no sound and the walls have been lined with something you can't peer through.  Apartment 208.  The janitor's closet on the back left corner of the first floor.  And the basement.

You scan the city for signs of the Monkey.  You don't see anything. Tonight at least.

Of course, it’s going to be the basement Jack thinks as he idly glances out the apartment window, his hands idly moving as he flips from page to page of the book he’d been reading when he’d decided to jump the timeline and start snooping. It was something he’d have to break himself of, eventually, the urge to use his powers when a bit of plain detective work might work instead. Thinking of the basement, he attempts to ascertain its size and looks for signs of excessive bandwidth or plumbing going into the basement. Anything out of the ordinary.

Looking back at the textbook, he resumes reading, flipping through the pages at a speed that might appear to simply be riffling the pages to an outsider observer. His eyes rapidly reading the content of each page, doing his best to actually absorb the content and not just memorize it.

Math isn’t meant to be absorbed at this speed, he needs to practice the formulas as well.

With that in mind, he pulls out a piece of paper and flips to the work table and precisely writes out the formulas, and then the answers. Each checked mentally against his mental calculator, he idly begins to do the workpages from the following chapters. Taking the time to try to absorb the content in the hours of spare time that his lack of sleep and endless endurance provide him. Not a single bit of sleep forming in his eye, no buildup of fatigue in his muscles, he simply works effortlessly.

As it approaches midnight, he listens to the sounds of Aunt Marlene sleeping in the adjacent room to make sure she isn’t going to come in and say something, and then tucks in an earphone and starts to watch Netflix with one eye, even as he works through all of the workbooks.

Some of the concepts take several read-throughs to really start to see how they click, and when around chapter five he runs in to something a bit more troubling, he looks up a Youtube tutorial and listens to the instructor playing at double speed.

Once he finishes the first half of the book, he pushes it aside and starts to go through the next textbook. Absorbing. Doing his best to not just read the content, but really chew down to the gristle with it, and make sure that he can understand its particulars. History is mostly about memorization, and about getting a general gist of who did what to who, and when. It clicks more easily.

By two in the morning he starts with the Meta textbook, and chews through it in a similar manner. Reading it for the fourth time, he takes the time to make some flash cards out of the glossary and then quizzes himself with them. Rubber-bands them together, and tucks them into his bag.  Maybe it’s his enthusiasm and pre-existing knowledge of the subject, but he feels like he has the subject matter in hand well enough to pass the course on discussion topics alone. He’ll need to write some stuff for it after.

Finally, around three in the morning, he cracks open the book for English and reads the content. Looking at the poem he was tasked with reading, he also locates a study guide online and memorizes the talking points. Trying to really understand what the author is saying.

Something like: https://www.coursehero.com/lit...who-are-you-summary/

With that in hand, he pushes the last of it aside. He’d need to find similar study guides for all of the poems and creative works Mrs. Whitefall assigns, so that he can perhaps pick up the knack of understanding how to read poetry and creative works. It must be something a person can learn to do. He can solve half the workbooks in a calculus textbook in an hour! He can certainly learn to read artistic pieces and decipher their codes.

In the final hour of the late night, he crawls in to bed and sets an alarm for an hour later, and then like a machine, simply shuts down and lets his body begin to recuperate. Almost like he's meditating, he lets himself fall asleep, going from full-wakefulness to sleep in moments.

17:26, Today: Jack Sharpe rolled 10 using 3d6.
17:26, Today: Jack Sharpe rolled 12 using 3d6.
17:26, Today: Jack Sharpe rolled 16 using 3d6.
17:26, Today: Jack Sharpe rolled 6 using 3d6.
17:26, Today: Jack Sharpe rolled 13 using 3d6.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:55, Mon 23 Dec 2019.

Another exciting day in the life of your average guy.

Thanks for your patience while we rolled through Day 1.  I'll start on the 'Who's Who in Minneapolis' thread we discussed over the next couple of days.  Give me this week to add in all the NPCs please.  Then, if you want to add your own notes to each entry, please do.  Just add a reply to the entry and I can edit the post to add your comments.

Also, I'm going to add a 'To Do List' as the first entry of the Who's Who thread.  I'll add in notes related to class projects.  Again, you may edit that as you see fit.

Going forward, I'm not going to be running through each school day period by period.  Instead I'll be focusing on chunks of the day.  If you wish to run through any other period I don't cover, just let me know.

And again, if you have any questions or concerns, please let me know.

Thanks again.  I'll have your next story thread post up in a little while.

In reply to Editor-in-Chief (msg # 64):

"Olen suur vapper koer...olen suur vapper koer...".  Darja is muttering in Estonian under her breath.  You can hear as you come down the hall to room 248 for your second day of school.

She must have come in very early.  You didn't 'see' her on your own way to school.  She's seated in her chair, studying her textbook.  She's at the halfway point in the book for some reason.  Maybe she's like you and likes to get a head start.

<Periwinkle>"Good morning," she says with a smile as you take your seat.  You can see her eyes glance past you towards the door.

A couple of your classmates come in.  They look at Darja, notice she's looking back, look away, and then say something between them.  "That's her?  She doesn't look..."

"Well how's she supposed to look?  Maybe she's got like a third nipple or somethin'."  Probably a good thing Darja can't hear what they're whispering to each other.

"Where the hell did that come from?"

Darja sighs and look back at you, smiling weakly.  "Word travels fast.  If you want, I can switch seats."

Coming in to school, Jack had briefly debated whether he wanted to try to take the bus or look for Darja. Those were his options. The first might let him meet the girl who had the locker next to him, but he figured he’d be watchful for her in the meantime and see if she was as obnoxious as she’d been at the locker in other situations.  He’d also studied a bit too late to stick to his hour-a-day plan of rest, and still make it in for the listening lab.

Checking his mental checklist of projects and plans for the week, he focuses on his plans for the day, and then, hearing Darja again, he wonders if he might try to memorize the language.

Taking a seat next to Darja, he smiles over at her and then says, “Good morning.”

“If you want, I’ll switch, but I’m okay?” he mentions, showing her that it’s no problem for him either way, though he’d switch if she felt like it’d make things easier for her.

As he waits for class to get started, he pulls out his book and notebook. Realizing that he finally has a moment with the pencil sharpener, he gets up and goes over to it with a handful of unsharpened pencils. Putting each into the sharpener in turn, he spins the handle and quickly gets a handful of sharpened pencils.

Returning to his desk a few moments later, he drops most of the pencils into his bag and finally looks at Darja again.

“So, what’s up?” he asks.

In reply to Jack Sharpe (msg # 66):

Darja exhales, smiling as she does so.  "Sorry.  Thanks.  I was just...well.  Word seems to have already gotten around about me admitting I'm meta.  Lots of people staring at me.  Or saying somethings.  Mostly it's stupid.  Like if I had a third nipple or an extra big toe."

She laughs, but it has a nervous sound to it.

"Anyway. I guess it's got me spooked.  I didn't know if being seated next to the newest meta in school might make you nervous.  I'm...I'm glad it doesn't seem to matter to you.  Thank you Jack.  That really means something to me."

You pretty sure she couldn't have heard the remark about the third nipple from where she was seated.  Unless acute hearing was another of her powers.

Darja wipes her hands on her jeans.  "A year and a half ago...back in Estonia...my powers came out.  It...things didn't go well.  When the Soviets still controlled our country, they used meta forces to...well.  Metas are not very popular in the Baltic states. It's really why we moved to America.  So...I have been scared about coming forward.  But I wanted to do it.  I didn't want anyone to say I was trying to hide who I am. Sorry.  I sound like a preacher. Anyway.  It really means a lot that you do not seem to mind.  Thanks again Jack."

Curiouser and curiouser.

He smiles slightly when she laughs, but doesn't laugh with her, he squashes even the slight humor in it and instead makes a conscious decision to show a smile instead. Something that shows empathy for her situation without appearing to take any humor from the comments of others. She can laugh it off, but he won't.

Or is that the wrong approach?

"I'm guessing your meta-power isn't extra body parts, I actually assume that people who have fun colored eyes and unusual hair colors generally don't announce the fact that they're meta, since this is the response. Better for everyone to just assume it's contacts or hair dye," he reasons in the way that he does.

While some small part of him had been curious if she was somehow his mirror in powers, with the apparent possible hearing, flight and speed reading all being potential powers-- but the fact that she'd left the Baltic States out of fear is something telling, he doesn't think that a cornered feeling Darja would have been allowed to leave, and if she had been forced to fight her way out, the news would have shown the damage she could inflict.

In any case, he had might as well ask, "So, what can you do?" all sotto voce, he leans in so that she can speak her answer privately between the two of them.

In reply to Jack Sharpe (msg # 68):

She sort of grimaces, her shoulders hunching forward and her hands disappearing between her knees.  Her eyes cut around the room and then she answers in the same tone.

"Honestly?  I'm not sure.  See, when I was growing up I thought everything I did was normal.  Like I can hear everything going on around me.  And...well.  I'm tough.  Nothing seems to cut me.  I was hit by a car when I was seven.  It was going pretty fast.  Knocked me back about ten feet.  But I was fine.  It felt like a hug honestly.

"It was when I started flying I found out I wasn't like other people.  Yeah. The flying was new.  It just happened one day.  To be honest, it scared me.  I didn't know what was going on.  But a lot of people saw me.  It was...well...

"Anyway.  Sorry if it sounds like I'm bragging.  I just...don't know how to explain it.  The stuff I can do...it's like blinking.  Or breathing.  It's just always been like this."

“That’s cool, do you have designs to join some sort of team or something, eventually?” Jack asks. He’d never heard of any sort of school for Gifted Youngsters or anything of that sort, but he had to imagine there was something out there for people like them. Capes willing to take young Capes under their wing? Apprenticeships? The only thing that held him back from looking into it was the warnings of his mother and father.

“Anything else?” Jack asks, he had always figured he was unique, but perhaps his uniqueness wasn’t in the breadth of his abilities but in the overwhelming depth of them. He’d never heard of anyone quite like him, and the similarity is striking. Kismet. He has to wonder how indestructible she is, how fast, and if she has any of his energy or strength. In the end however, he just smiles at her and seems pleased.

Hearing that she grew up with it as well, he starts to consider telling her his secret.

He’d have to clear it with his mom first, and really “friend” Darja, to see what sort of person she is. To test how much she can be trusted, and to see what is up with her talking to herself so much. If her powers are making her unstable, he’d avoid it. Not for his safety, but for his secret identity.

In reply to Jack Sharpe (msg # 70):

Darja seems surprised by your question about becoming a cape.  "Ma pole sellele kunagi...er...Sorry.  I keep forgetting to speak English.  Uhm.  Well I...never really thought about it.  It's not an option back home you see."

She opens her mouth to say something else, but Calico comes in.  She smiles and shrugs and the two of you flip on your student switches.  The first real class, Calico runs through some material on Stone Age cultures.  He really gets in to it because he keeps talking for a few minutes after the bell goes off.

Darja crams her notebook in to her backpack.  "Sitt!" she mutters.  "My second period is all the way at the other end of the school.  See in sixth period!"

And she hurries out the door.

---

Zhao runs you through forms of address today.  The class mostly mouths along.

Everyone has to introduce themselves.  So you do get some names to put to faces though.

The Filipino girl is Rosamie Lea.

The redheaded guy, who seems to catch on very quickly to the language, is Ronald Harbors.

The ponytail guy from your English class turns out to be a Korean.  He gives his name as Jae Bim.  Though from what you know about Korean, both those are part of his surname.  Jae-Bim.  He's not giving his family name.

The BEs give their names as well.  Alex, Rhoda, and Jim...something.  You realize you didn't catch their last names.

Zhao reminds everyone to sign up for a language lab before the end of the week.

---

Ms. Friendly is at her locker when you walk up.  She glances at you, makes a face like your creamed Alpo, and shuts her locker door loud enough to make a point.  She walks away, heading in the opposite direction.

As you turn you see Sara from the other day walking down the hall.  She has a notebook clutched to her chest, like it was a shield.  A few people stare after her.  But the comments being made are mostly sympathetic.

"Ugh.  I can't believe someone's pulling that on her again.  Poor Sara."

"I don't care if it's true.  She's hot.  I'll break someone's legs if they screw with her again."

"The things you see when you don't have a gun.  Bitch."

'Mostly' being the important word there.

The voice commenting about the gun sounds familiar.  It was the same voice that said Soup's on yesterday.

Jack is about to talk about what he knows about such things from reading the book and his research prior to that, and even recommend that she might take a trip and visit with some known Capes, or maybe there is some sort of registration protocol or something to find a tutor or team? In a way, he feels like he might learn a bit about his own situation and his future by helping her with hers, and not be breaking with any promises his made to his mother in the process.

Looking up at Calico, he quickly recaps the chapter the teacher is now speaking about in his head. Bringing to the forefront his understanding of the evolution of agriculture, cave paintings, cuneiform, and a hundred other tidbits that the book had offered. He felt more than competent in the subject, and even as the teacher talks, he listens. His eyes shifting over those present, but inevitably drawn back to Darja.

Such a coincidence.

"See you later."

---

Jack’s memorization of language seems to work rather well, especially when he is called upon to answer questions and speak to specific words. It’s conversational fluency that will throw him off, as he needs to actually consult his mental-compendium of language to really get a grasp on every phrase. Though to an outside observer he might appear to be nearly fluent, since the pauses are microseconds in length, he isn’t truly fluent.

He’s a guy who can read a dictionary for a language in an hour, and regurgitate words on command. The language book he’d been given was full of short phrases like:

“Where is the bathroom?”

And his accent is still atrocious, but as he calls up the phrases in his mind, he might seem like a bit of a wunderkind.

Introducing himself, he looks around at his fellow students as he talks, making eye contact, and trying to look a bit less stiff. Not that he is thinking Rosamie is the best option of those he’d met so far, but it didn’t hurt to be seen as more normal. Normal is good.

"Nǐ hǎo! Wǒ jiào Jack Sharpe," he introduces himself.

---

Ms. Locker-girl is removed from any potential running for inclusion in his life, and struck from the rolls. All looks, no personality. He'd be cordial, but that was as far as anything would go. Even if her home life was awful, she was far from pleasant.

Hearing the voice talking about having a gun, Jack lets his eyes swiftly roam over the crowd. Taking in every face, trying to match things up. The gun thing is troubling, not for him, but perhaps he could report said student to the principal. “I heard him talking about bringing a gun to school..” might be highly effective, if this person was dangerous to others.

Even as his eyes roam, his hands open the locker and he switches out a few books. Acting on memorized positions and textures without looking.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:08, Wed 01 Jan 2020.