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Bayville :: X-Men: Evolution RPG

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[03 Dec 2003|11:18pm]

[ mood | excited ]


Lance finally got to eat his meat. Joyous red meat that he could finally eat. Oh, how Lance had missed his meat. But not just any meat; steak. Pietro wouldn't eat it, Todd wouldn't eat it, but he still had Freddy. He wanted a red, raw steak. He wanted it to bleed as soon as he sliced it open, staining the inevitable side of mashed potatoes pink in the process. Hell, Lance wanted it to still be mooing on the way down.

Excitedly, Lance rubbed his hands together as he stepped out of the jeep and walked up the sidewalk to Freddy and Jeera's small apartment. It was on the first floor, which Lance counted as lucky for the landlords. Those stairs looked like farily cheaply put together black iron and cement - Freddy'd crush 'em with one foot.

Freddy had told him to go ahead and meet at their apartment - something about working late, chores, whatever. Lance had never been big on a chore schedule; he'd more or less taken care of himself, picked up after himself, things of that nature. He still wasn't entirely sure which car they were taking, though he assumed it was going to be his. After all, the truck did belong to Jeera and it wasn't like Lance hadn't driven Freddy around before.

Smiling cheerfully, Lance stopped at the number Freddy had given him, raising a fist to knock rapidly on the door. The corners of his lips quirked slightly, and he decided to have a bit of fun with the older boy. He lifted one finger and placed it over the eyehole of the door, preventing one from looking out and seeing who it was at the door. Not that Freddy really needed to worry about intruders or anything, but still.

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Emily Beth wants to RP... so here is an open post [02 Dec 2003|01:55am]

[ mood | excited ]

Ray had had enough!! Being stuck in the mansion and only leaving to go to school was taking its toll on him. He was insanely bored and sick of doing home work and training in the Danger Room all day long. Plus Logan seemed to be watching him like a hawk and it was really getting on his nerves. If Ray didn't leave now, he was going to electrocute anything that stood in his way. So he quietly made his way out the door, down the driveway and to the road. Freedom at last!!! Feeling great, Ray turned and began to head toward town.

After about twenty minutes of walking, Ray finally reached his destination. It was a small coffee shop he had seen a few weeks back but had never gotten the chance to visit. Smiling, Ray opened the door and all but ran to the counter. He placed his order (a cup of basic black coffee), paid the cashier and made his way to the comfy looking couches by the front window. He sat down and picked up the local paper, wondering what kind of anti-mutant news would be in it today.

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Transcript from the Bayville Radio Station KVET on Wednesday, November 12th. [12 Nov 2003|11:20am]

"It's time for your KVET News briefs. Our top story: At ten o'clock this morning, the President of the United States declared that Sacramento and all surrounding suburbs are under a State of Emergency. A pro-mutant protest that began at the steps of the California Capital building yesterday turned violent late last night. The National Guard has been deployed to the area and has reportedly begun making arrests of mutant instigators. Local law enforcement, not having the resources to contain individuals with these sorts of powers, had turned all policing duties over to the military. Mutants are being held in custody at military bases until their status can be determined."

"Wow, Sherry, this makes, what, two riots now?"

"Actually, three, Bob. San Francisco, Boston, and now Sacramento. Although, this one is said to be the worst so far. The White House released a statement this morning saying that this sort of rioting will not be tolerated and that they are prepared to take swift action to contain the mutant threat. The terror level has been raised and airports are being guarded for fear that these mutants may pose a threat to National Security."

"Whew. The world sure has changed, Sherry. Well, why don't we open up the phone lines and see what our listeners out there have to say about this. Hello, KVET, you're on the air."

"Hello Bob! Hello Sherry! This is Muriel. Long time listener, first time caller."

"Good Morning, Muriel. So, what do you think about this whole mutant thing?"

"Well, Bob, I think the government should have stepped in long before this. These people are dangerous. What if they're in our schools? Teaching our children? Our children have to be kept safe."

"I hear that. Hello, KVET. You're on the air."

"Hey, this is James. I don't see why we have to wait for them to start tearing a city apart before we get them locked up."

"So what do you think we should do, James?"

"Sherry, I think the whole country is under a state of emergency. I say we get the Army and the National Guard to sweep through our cities and get these mutants under control and out of the way. Lock 'em up in a desert in Nevada for all I care, just so long as they're not out and about walking the streets."

"Seems to be a common sentiment. Okay, we have time for one more caller. Hello, KVET."

"My so-called son's one of them freaks."

"... really? Well, this is interesting. What are your opinions on the matter, sir?"

"The kid's disgusting. He's a little monster. I should have drowned him at birth, saved me and mine a lot of trouble. We should wipe these freaks off the face of the earth. There ain't no sense in keepin' them around."

"I don't know if I'd go that far, but thanks for calling in. Well, we had quite a lively discussion this morning, didn't we Sherry?"

"We sure did, Bob. Now, onto other news. Rumors are flying that J-Lo and Ben may be setting a new wedding date and..."

Still Life [25 Oct 2003|01:01pm]

[ mood | worried ]

"We interrupt this station's regular programming to bring you a FOX News Update. As of one hour ago, the National Guard has been deployed to the Boston area to control a riot that began this morning at the Massachusetts Workforce Commission. Several mutants, in protest of the Mutant Screening Act, which was signed into law by the White House last week, began a demonstration against the screening which gives employers the right not to employ mutants in their workforce. The protest turned violent, when a group known as The Human Right began a counter protest and both sides clashed. Fires are burning all over the Boston Area and the violence has begun spreading throughout the city. The President has declared a State of Emergency and is due to make an announcement this evening at 6pm, Eastern Standard Time. All residents of the Boston area are encouraged to stay calm and remain in their homes and the major roadways leading into the city have been blocked to prevent further disruption. The National Guard has begun arresting all mutants suspected of... *click*"

Todd scowled at the radio, taking his fingers off the power button and walking back across the senior art room. The room was empty and he was currently organizing some of the supplies for Art I at Mrs. Littlefield's request, all too happy to help her out. His studio felt oddly small and confining today and he didn't want to spend any long amount of time in there. There had been too many small spaces in his life the past couple of days.

"Getting' closer," Todd murmured, casting a dark look over at the radio again before turning back to the new box of paint supplies. He slid the box open with a pair of scissors, taking out the fresh, clean bottles that would be splattered with paint in two days time. He dragged the box over to the supply closet and carefully began organizing the supplies neatly. They wouldn't stay that way long, but that really wasn't the point.

"Idiots." Todd put a bottle down harshly on the table. Starting trouble wasn't going to help the mutant cause at all, didn't they see that? True, it had started out as a peaceful protest, but it took at least two sides to fight. There were better ways - there had to be better ways. "We're all gonna get killed," Todd said softly under his breath.

The door to the art room flew open and Todd jumped and turned around, startled more easily than usual. He relaxed as soon as he saw who it was, standing up a little straighter. He wiped his dusty hand on his jeans.

"Hey, 'tro," Todd said, giving the older boy a warm smile. "Here for your sister?"

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The art room [18 Oct 2003|12:56am]

[ mood | excited ]

This was the day, Kurt thought excitedly. This was the day that he needed to bring the thing. The thing that he'd waited til the last day to bring, in fear that he might lose it. Todd had told him that today they were going to finish his painting, and he needed to come by during lunch with the necklace his mother had given him shortly before leaving for America.

Gingerly he removed the small, green velvet box from the stand next to his bed and opened it, inspecting the item glinting inside with a toothed grin. It was perfect, just like when his mother had given him. Not a scratch or scuff on it. Carefully he shut the box and slid it into the front pouch of his bag before heading out to catch a ride to school from Scott. Hey, showing up in a bright red car sure beat the bus. And the company wasn't too bad, either.

Shaking his head, Kurt decided it was definitely not a good idea to think until he got to school. Thinking about things like that were only likely to depress him, and Kurt hated being depressed.

His morning classes went without a hitch - turned in his homework, listened to his teachers lecture verbatim from the textbook they'd chosen to teach from that year, got his new homework assignment and headed towards his next class. The daily grind.

Finally the lunch bell rang, and Kurt smiled happily as he tossed his texts into his locker and headed down to the art wing, waving at random classmates in the hall and making vague commitments to things he probably should've been paying attention to. Reaching the correct door, he entered and smiled at the art teacher behind the desk near the right-hand corner of the room. She'd become used to seeing Kurt come in and out as Todd had needed him to come in. He'd contact Kurt and say he needed him to stand like so, hold up his tail while he inspected how the fur ran off it, get a feel for how his hips were shaped and how his arms angled naturally.

Grabbing the velvet box from his bag and opening it, Kurt checked for the millionth time that day to make sure the item wasn't in any way damaged. Kurt knew full well that the door was locked most of the time and always felt like he was walking into Todd's house when he went into that tiny room. One didn't just enter another's living space - it was rude. Satisfied that his necklace wasn't damaged, he walked to the back door and gave it a firm knock.

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"Great, another store I can never go into again, man..." [10 Oct 2003|02:50am]

[ mood | intimidated ]

It was finished.

Todd sat back and grinned at the painting of Wanda. It was finished at last. All that remained was leaving it alone for a day or two so it could dry completely, then wandering down to the shop classroom and begging a few people to make him a frame. He could hand it over to Pietro shortly after that.

He couldn't wait to see the other boy's face.

Todd was very pleased with the way she came out. She looked just like he was hoping she would, almost reminiscent of a female Pietro, though the angles of her face were softer and her hair was dark, almost black. She looked at peace with herself, mind absorbed in the bouquet of flowers she held in her hand, eyes almost appearing to be full of thought with a touch of wonder. Todd had never met Wanda, of course, but he hoped he'd done her justice.

Leaving the painting on the easel, Todd gathered his things together, in an odd good mood. He's seen Risty about a half an hour earlier and was sharply informed that she was once again going to hang out with Rogue. Todd knew that whenever that happened, she'd come back to the apartment in a rare good mood, usually after six, and so long as he was quiet and stayed out of her way, he could usually escape any pain she might have otherwise planned for him.

He'd had lunch with Lance, met with John, stolen his wallet, finished Pietro's painting, and now he had nearly three hours all to himself and would no doubt make it through the night totally intact.

Today had been a good day.

Shouldering his backpack over his good shoulder, Todd left his studio, locking the door behind him and giving a little wave to Mrs. Littlefield as he passed her on his way out into the hallway. Todd had a vague plan of what to do with his free time. He needed to stop by the grocery store and buy several items for the Morlocks - not so much in exchange for information about John, but more just for the sake of doing it. He knew they often ate whatever they could find, a lifestyle Todd himself had grown quite accustomed to over the years, so he knew how much just a few cans of fresh food could matter. So lost in his musings as he drew up a mental shopping list, he didn't notice Duncan Matthews standing near his locker until he'd plowed straight into him.

"Hey!" shouted the much taller, much stronger boy, spinning around. He glared down at Todd like he was worth less than the insects he'd eaten for lunch. "Trying to steal my wallet, Toad?" he sneered and his ever-present chorus of jock friends laughed.

"Nah... I was trying to steal your brain, man, but then I remembered there ain't nothin' there." Todd slapped his good hand over his mouth as soon as the insult left it, but it was too little, too late as Duncan's face twisted in fury, two big, meaty hands grabbing the front of Todd's shirt. The sound of his body hitting the metal lockers reverberated down the empty school hallway and Todd winced.

Well, so much for getting through this day pain-free.

"What did you say?" Duncan said slowly, his face dangerously close to Todd's.

"If you didn't get it the first time, I ain't gonna repeat it," Todd said, somewhat disbelieving he was saying it at all. Maybe that last concussion from Mystique had been one too many. "I mean, what's the point, yo? I don't think I could use any smaller words."

This was probably going to hurt, Todd knew, and he braced himself as Duncan's eyes went very, very dark.

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The not-date [07 Oct 2003|08:41pm]

[ mood | giggly ]

Pietro was not nervous.

Nor was he giddy.

Because he was not about to go on a date.

Dates did not usually consist of sneaking out of school in order to go eat lunch at... somewhere that was not school. Date consisted of flowers and awkwardness and shy kisses at the end of the night.

So it wasn't a date. Because there wasn't going to be any of the date-like things. Maybe some awkwardness, but that was to be expected, right? And maybe there would be some kissing (or a lot, if Pietro had any say in it) but it wouldn't be shy because, well, they had gotten past that part.

Though, really, Pietro wasn't sure if heated making out in an elevator counted as a 'shy first kiss.'

So. As it had been stated many times, Pietro and St. John were not dating. And they were not about to go on a date. And therefore, Pietro was not giddy and nervous. He was, however, restless.

He checked his watch. Checked the clock. Looked at the chalkboard to see if he had missed anything in the last ten seconds. Checked his watch. Tore a small scrap of paper from his notebook. Wadded it into a ball. Threw it at the back of Risty's head. Looked forward again, completely innocent when Risty turned around to glare in his general direction. Checked his watch. Pulled his wallet fromhis back pocket. Took out the money there and counted it.

He figured that $75 would be more than enough money for whatever they decided to eat. Maybe a little too much, really, but having a little cash was never a bad thing. Pietro silently thanked all of the people who had kindly 'donated' to his cause today. Of course, they had not known that they were donating when Pietro had lifted five dollars here, ten dollars there from various people... But what they didn't know wasn't going to hurt Pietro, right?

He checked his watch again. Threw another paper ball at Risty. Tossed one at Rogue just for good measure. Checked his watch again.

Ooh, look! It was time for the bell to ring!



Pietro yawned. Glared at the clock.


Hah! Glaring worked! No doubt the bell had been intimidated by him.

Pietro shoved his things into his backpack and stood quickly, pulling the straps over his shoulder. He twitched slightly and shifted from foot to foot a few times while he waited for St. John to finish packing his things up.

He wasn't nervous though. Because it wasn't a date.

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Being nice, take one. [06 Oct 2003|02:45pm]

[ mood | sleepy ]

So. Seventh period, and St. John was in the art wing, wandering around aimlessly from door to door. This was ... highly annoying. Not annoying in the sense that Scott ordering him to practice was annoying, or annoying in the sense that Tabitha was annoying, but ... this was starting to come pretty close to it.

Okay, so it wasn't like he was missing anything important -- he had journalism, which was a total and complete waste of time, but still. He was in the art wing. The art wing. Among all the ... visual people and their creepy visual things.

St. John was not a visual person. St. John was most definitely a ... well, wordy person. Words were good. This place was ... not wordy.

Okay. So Tolensky had said the art wing. This was the art wing. And Tolensky had said his studio.

Where the hell was Tolensky's studio?

After much aimless walking, he finally managed to come across a door that seemed to be the right one (at least if the numerous directions from various creepy people had been correct), and paused as he scrutinized it.

So. Fine. This was easy. Just walk right in and talk to boy that would be friend of boy that he was sort of something with, even though he had no idea why first boy wanted to talk to him about second boy in the first place. Great. And be nice to boy too, as if St. John wasn't a nice person to begin with.

Of course he was. Really.

Impatiently, he reached out and wrapped his fingers around the doorknob, tugging firmly. He just wanted to talk to the guy and get the hell out of here as quickly as possible, and back to his smoking and annoyed lurking and --

Oh. Locked. So that was a bit of a problem. He rattled the doorknob a few more times, then sighed, now knocking impatiently on the door.

"Hey -- Tolensky? Y'in there?"

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An apple a day keeps the doctor away, especially if you have good aim. (Monday Afternoon) [04 Oct 2003|10:39pm]

[ mood | artistic ]

"Make sure you wash out your brushes, people! They cost money, you know!"

The bell marking the end of third period was just about to ring and the art students in the painting class were hurrying to clean up their work stations. For a change, Todd, too, was in a rush, but not to get to lunch - he had an appointment that afternoon down at the Marilynn Clinic and Lance was driving him. The sooner they got there, the sooner they could leave, and the sooner Lance could get back to school. Todd hated making him miss classes, especially when he knew how important it was to him. A hand came down on his good shoulder and Todd jumped a little turning around, then relaxed when he saw the smiling face of his art teacher, Mrs. Littlefield.

"So, Todd, have you thought about the City Art Contest?" she asked him, getting right to the point. "The winner goes on to a State level, you know. I think you would do really well."

"Actually, yeah," Todd said with a half-shrug, finishing up washing out his personal brushes and putting them back in their smooth, leather case. It had been a gift to him several years ago from Mrs. Littlefield. He slipped it into his backpack and smiled at her. "I figure, what the hell, right? Nothing to lose. If I win, it's a little extra money in my pocket, you know?"

"And excellent name recognition," his teacher reminded him, but Todd shrugged that part off. It wasn't like he was ever going to be famous anyway. Noticing he was actually getting ready to leave the art room, Mrs. Littlefield put a hand over her heart and glanced out the window. At Todd's confused look, she grinned. "Just checking to see if the world was ending, dear. Are you really going to lunch?"

"Nah, I gotta go off campus. I gotta doctor's appointment... for my shoulder," Todd quickly bluffed. Mrs. Littlefield seemed to buy it, for which Todd was grateful.

"Make sure you eat something, too," she called to him as he left the room and Todd just waved at her over his shoulder.

It was slow going to the parking lot. The halls were crowded and Todd had to walk carefully to make sure no one jostled him. He looked fondly up at the ceiling and wished he could just crawl across it to get out of the school, but coming out as a mutant didn't seem like a good idea right now, given everything that had been on the news lately. Not that people didn't already suspect, he guessed. He'd gotten a few very nasty letters shoved in his locker which he quickly destroyed - no way was Lance ever seeing those.

At last, Todd reached the parking lot. Lance wasn't there yet, which wasn't surprising given that his class was on the opposite side of the world, so he climbed up on top of the hood of the jeep, stretching his legs out before him and putting his good hand behind his head, just soaking up the pale sunlight just breaking through the slightly cool, cloudy afternoon.

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Girl's Night Out [03 Oct 2003|05:01pm]

[ mood | confused ]

The Bayville shopping center (whatever it may be called) is currently occupying two young girls, who, taking a day to ignore the rest of the world, have magnificent plans to deplete their funds as much as they can.

It's Friday night, what else can you except two teenage girls to do?

Kitty holds up a bright red top up to her chest, quickly taking inventory of her coloring in the mirror. Okay, so this brings out my eyes but makes my skin look kinda pale, but they'd be so awesome with those pants I bought a month ago and never did anything with, and, besides, pale skin is kinda in! Okay, if you're Rogue or something . . . She makes a face, very concerned. Because there was an enticing tank top a few racks over . . . Of course, did she really need a tank top? I mean, summer did end a few months ago.

Frustrated, she turns to Jean. "Ugh . . . Do think this would be worth it?" she says, holding out the shirt for Jean to see. "Or is it, like, really ugly and just wouldn't look good on me at all?"

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In the Art Wing [03 Oct 2003|04:34pm]

Bobby walked into the art wing and set down his book bag. Hrm. . . no one was there, which was unusual for after school. He went to his art locker and pulled out his apron and put it on. He rumaged through his backpack and pulled out his CD case, then put his backpack into his locker and closed it. He walked over to the cd player in the corner and flipped through his CDs, finally selecting Jekyll and Hyde, and popped it in.

*In each of us, there are two natures. If this primative duality of man -good and evil - can be housed in two separate. . .*

He went over to the pottery wheel and pulled out a lump of clay and stared at it, not sure what to make. Knowing that no one else was in the room, he started singing, absentmindedly, unaware of the bad notes he'd occasionally hit.
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(Monday Morning) [02 Oct 2003|03:49am]

[ mood | sore ]

Lance woke up the next day with a migrane like you wouldn't believe. Damn.. I don't remember using my powers.. when did I.. ? Oh yeah. When he and Todd had sex on the couch. Earth moving. Right. But that still didn't explain why his head felt like Mystique had taken a bat to it repeatedly, then done a Mexican Hat Dance on it for good measure.

Groaning, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, searching in the dark for a clear space to put his feet down so he could make his groggy way towards his closet and get ready for school. In his search, his toes encountered something cold that went 'clink.' He frowned. What did he have on his floor that would go 'clink?'

Turning on the lamp beside his bed, he hissed and covered his eyes. Yep, light wasn't helping his migrane at all. Once he'd finally adjusted to said fluorescent light, he looked down.

It was a beer bottle. Next to a couple others. Hence the 'clink.'

Oh yeah.

He'd had one beer last night, and it had helped some. But it wasn't enough; he could still feel the guilt, the depression, gnawing away at the back of his head. He'd gone back to that same convenience store and bought a six pack of the stuff, brought it home, and downed all six. In less than an hour and a half. Lance'd had to pee like hell right after, but he certainly felt better. He was happy for the first time in a long time; all his pains and fears were completely forgotten. All he could think about was how funny his brown-themed room was, and how ironic it was that brown had always been his favorite color.

Shit, did his head hurt. He'd have to see if there was a way to avoid this part of drinking.

He slowly pulled on his clothes and laced up his books, grabbing his backpack full of textbooks he'd forgotten to study, and headed downstairs. Pietro had apparently already left for school, according to the quickly scrawled note and toast he'd thoughtfully left out for Lance as an apology. The two usually talked a little first thing in the morning, or as close to 'talked' as two high school boys could at 6:15am. Shoving a piece of toast in his mouth, he pulled his keys out of his pocket and headed out, tossing his backpack in the back seat before pulling out of the driveway and driving down to Bayville High School.

As per usual, he was one of the first cars in the parking lot. Parking in his usual spot, he turned off the car and reclined a little, yawned, and waited. This was his daily Todd time - they'd tried to find any time in the day where they could just have alone time for the two of them, but this had been the only time they'd been able to come up with. Oh well, Lance shrugged. Better than nothing. They had an entire hour, just to themselves every morning. It was the only part of the day he really looked forward to, and certainly made mornings more bearable.

Lance was worried, though. He was worried what Todd was going to look like when he arrived this morning, worried about what Mystique had done to him. He hadn't called last night, and that'd worried Lance, too.

So Lance sat and worried in his Jeep, leg fidgeting nervously as he waited for Todd to arrive.

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Jamie likes people. (Monday after school) [01 Oct 2003|10:19pm]

[ mood | bouncy ]

"Bye, guys! See you tomorrow!" Jamie waved happily as he parted ways with his friends. Carefully he made his way to the front of the high school, smiling to himself. It wasn't every seventh grader that got to ride home with the older kids. Jamie was going to miss getting free rides once the junior high was finished with the asbestos cleaning. He was pretty sure that it was supposed to be finished in about a week.. but he could enjoy it while it lasted, right?

Not many people were hanging around outside; mostly students waiting for their rides or simply hanging out because they could. That was, Jamie thought, a good thing. Easier to avoid people. Not that Jamie didn't like people... he just didn't like getting bumped while he was around people. Jamie getting bumped meant Jamie making lots of himself, and that was never a good thing when he was away from home.

Blue eyes scanned the parking lot for the familiar red convertable... Just in time to see it pulling out of the lot and driving off.


Jamie wanted to kick something, but there was nothing around to kick. Instead, he cursed.

"Damn it!"

Oh yeah. That felt good.

He looked around again, and finally spotted an older boy standing next to a green Jeep. A very cool-looking Jeep. And the guy looked nice enough. Jamie made his way over to the Jeep and cleared his throat, attracting the older boy's attention. "Hi! Uhm, my ride left me and I don't know anyone else, but you look like a really nice guy and your Jeep is really really cool, so do you think you might be able to take me home because I don't live very far, just in that big mansion right over there," he pointed in the general direction of the mansion.

He grinned brightly, "Oh yeah! My name is Jamie! Hi!"

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[27 Sep 2003|05:38pm]

[ mood | guilty ]

Pietro chewed on his lower lip in thought. He was, once again, skipping seventh period. He was hiding out in the nurses office this time, having faked an upset stomach just before class started. He did not want to talk to Lance.

Todd had obviously told Lance about the little shopping incident, and Lance was, understandably, pissed off. Ok, so Pietro had slept with Lance's boyfriend and then banged him around a little. He could see why Lance would be upset.

But Pietro hadn't known that Lance and Todd were exclusive! He'd thought that they were all together still! All of them were free game, and...

Ok, so it wasn't so much about the sex. Pietro was pretty sure of that. He'd told Lance about the sex, and Lance had been upset, but had let it go. Pietro had not told him about slamming Todd's head against a wall. That part.. probably wasn't too ok.

"Ok, Mr. Maximoff, I think you've been in here long enough. Why don't you get on back to class?" Mrs. Black, the nurse, stood over the cot Pietro was laying on and gave him a small smile. At his pout of protest, she patted his legs aside and sat down at the edge of the cot. "Pietro. What's wrong, child? I know you're not sick; you've been in here five times since school started. That's three more than you were in here all last year."

Pietro sat up, shrugging lightly, "Nothing. I just don't like classes much. They're slow and boring." Pietro liked the nurse; she was in her late fifties, and reminded him of a grandmother, with her kind smiles and constant scent of peppermints. She offered him one of the said candies that she always had on her, and he took it, popping it into his mouth with a small smile of thanks.

"You're a good boy, Pietro. If something bad happens, you come talk to me, ok?" She patted his knee fondly, "Go on then, get out of here. Class is over in about ten minutes, yes? Go on home. And don't let me see you in here again until you're sick, hmm?"

Pietro nodded and stood, smiling faintly, "Thanks, Mrs. Black. I'll keep that in mind." he grabbed his bag and sauntered out, eyes scanning the empty hallways. Ok, so I've got ten more minutes before Lance beats the hell outta me for hurting Todd. Nice.

He spent the next nine minutes wandering around the school, peeking into random classrooms and making faces at anyone who happened to look up. Mmm, entertaining. He was not looking forward to talking to Lance. The day had been great so far; he'd had a bit of a fight with St. John, but that had ended in kissing and cuddling and a rather impressive, though small, display of fire.

Pietro blushed faintly at the memory. ...Ok, so maybe Lance was right. Not that Pietro would ever tell him that. He kicked at a locker. Stupid Lance. Stupid Todd for telling Lance.

He made his way to the parking lot, nodding to the security guard as if he was doing absolutely nothing wrong. Nope, nothing wrong here, sir. Just out of class early. Really. he heard the bell ring, and the almost-instant sound of people talking and chattering, all happy to be out of school for the day. Pietro was happy, too. Really.

Pietro wandered past random cars, kicking the side of Scott's as he passed it. Because, well, he could. That was what the bad guys did, right? Kicked cars and stuff? Or was that puppies? Whatever.

Ok. So. There was Lance's Jeep. No Lance yet. Not surprising, as class had just gotten out.

Yep. Jeep.

Pietro tossed his bag into the front seat, then leaned against the hood, waiting. This was going to be... interesting.

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The Bayville Times [27 Sep 2003|12:16pm]

House Passes Mutant Screening Measure
By Elinor Rayne Smith

On Friday, September 26, 2003, the House passed a measure that allowes for the screening of mutant genes in job applicants. Employers of many Fortune 500 companies and insurance companies have been pushing for this right since the mutant situation was made public back in early June of this year.

Much like drug testing currently allowed by employers, all persons applying for positions, particularly those in the manufacturing and public service sector, will be required to submit to a blood test at the discretion of their employer. A new testing system, called the MG-342 advanced screening process, allows for the quick identification of an anomaly in an individual's genetic make-up that, according to recent studies, accurately identifies a mutant 98% of the time. Many employers are hailing the new measure, but civil liberty advocates consider it a bad move.

"This is like any other form of discrimination," said a spokesman for the ACLU, who asked not to be identified. "It's an invasion of privacy. Just because a person is a mutant does not mean they can not perform their job just as well as anybody else. As we do not allow for discrimination based on physical disability, nor should we allow for discrimination based on genetic anomaly."

Civil rights advocates and many mutant rights organizations, such as the Mutant Rights League, say that this measure will lead to a "slippery slope" that will continue to erode away at the rights of mutant citizens, encourage continued violence like the Mutant Massacre in San Francisco last July, and increase discrimination.

Employers, however, claim the measure is necessary to protect their workers. "A mutant presence in the workplace creates an increased risk to the safety of other workers within the company," said Marcus Tetch, owner of Airedale Manufacturing and a major proponent of the current legislation. Insurance companies agree, claiming the liability of mutant workers will raise costs and make it difficult for them to provide service to companies that do not test or allow mutants to be employed.

The measure is set for vote in the Senate next Tuesday. The White House, which has been backing the measure since it's inception, is expected to give final approval if it passes in the Senate.

[22 Sep 2003|09:09pm]

[ mood | worried ]

Lance and Todd made their way outside to Lance's Jeep, parting hands only long enough to get into the car before reclaiming hands again. Todd was quiet, again. This time Todd couldn't deflect with "we can't ruin Fred's night," because Freddy's night was over. They were alone, and even though he told Pietro he'd be right back, he knew the boy wouldn't be worried if he took a little longer than planned.

The night had gone well - he and Pietro were getting along well. Better than they had before they'd started dating, in fact. Lance really liked Jeera. She was nice, fun, and didn't suck. She wasn't weak and wussy like most girls, but wasn't a bitch like the few who weren't weak and wussy. And above all, she liked laser tag. She could've had six arms, drooled, and been missing all her front teeth and he'd still love her for liking laser tag.

Now, there was just this little "Todd is really upset and won't tell me why" thing to deal with.

He backed out of the driveway and shifted the Jeep up to third again. "Todd... what's wrong? And don't give me any of that 'I'm tired' bullshit that you tried to feed us earlier; I know better." He cast him a worried look. "You've been quiet and detatched all night. What's up?"

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[22 Sep 2003|03:57am]

Bobby woke up dreading school today, for no apparent reason what so ever. Spending most of the morning was bad enough, but then he had to deal with Pietro during Flower Arranging. Not that that class is queeny enough without the Sonic Tiara throwing his personal flair around the room, but for some reason, Pietro was in unusual form today.

*Joy and rapture. Bitch probably got laid or something, Bobby thought as he attempted to incorporate the textbook's philosophy to the wilting bouquet in front of him. He bit his lip and glared at the disobediant spray and the jealous thoughts of Pietro actually getting any were quickly ousted by thoughts of getting A's on his next test.

The morning passed uneventfully, until Bobby was walking down the hall, going to keyboarding. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and watched as The Flaming Queen grabbed the human flame, and sped down the hall towards the science wing bathroom. His eyes widened, and suddenly, lots of things made sense. . .and didn't. Bobby paused for a moment to think, not sure of what he just saw.
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Monday morning (next day), third and fourth period. [21 Sep 2003|10:16pm]

The weekend had not been high on St. John's list of happy-days, and Monday wasn't looking particularly good either as the blonde boy stabbed a pen annoyedly into his spiral notebook and scribbled something down about whiskey rebellions and George Washington. What the two had to do with each other, he wasn't quite sure, but ... he was going to write it down because hell if he was going to pay attention to Pietro's continual pokings.

True, the other boy usually prodded him about once every ten minutes or so, but this was getting a bit ridiculous, and St. John wasn't sure if it was because Pietro was just odd, or because he'd been pointedly ignoring the other boy for the last two hours rather than his usual returned smirks and crumpled notes. Pietro was poking him every. Five. Minutes.

And he didn't want to talk to Pietro, thankyouverymuch. If he was ignoring him, he was ignoring him for a reason.

Sulkily, he studied his pen as he busily wrote out something on precedents for strengthening the Federalist government. Fa la fa la fa la ... not listening ... Another quick tap against his back, this time with a pen by the feel of it, and he deliberately forced himself to stay still, every muscle going slack. Not going to listen to him. Not going to, because you're. not. that.

St. John wasn't sure what 'that' was, but he was sure he wasn't it.

He was starting to wish he'd never even looked at the downstairs computer after he'd gotten back last night. It would have been easier simply to come back upstairs and go straight to bed, flipping through new books, or perhaps packing, but ... but no, he'd had to go and look at the computer and check journals, and now his bad weekend had suddenly gotten much worse.

At least he had calculus after this class, he thought, not particularly finding much comfort there. Lunch could be skipped, as it was a waste of time, but ... European History and Chemistry were still there, hovering over his head, and he was certain Pietro would be able to find some way to corner him there, especially given the fact that they sat next to one another.

His stomach twisted sharply, and he stared down at the paper again, not quite sure why he was so upset.

Another poke from Pietro, and he twitched slightly. Please. Let. The. Bell. Ring. Now. He wasn't sure what he was going to do if it didn't, but ... there was going to be something involving fire alarms and lots of screaming. He didn't want to talk to Pietro now, and couldn't the other boy bloody understand that? The fact that he hadn't said a thing to the other boy all day might have been a pretty good clue ...

He wasn't going to talk to Pietro. Nope. And what was the other boy going to do, force him to talk? St. John could keep his mouth shut almost infinitely, and he was just ... going to proceed to do so, because it was a hell of a lot better than the alternative.


He was up and out of his seat quickly at the sound of the bell, bolting for the door and determinedly in the direction of calculus. At least he would have two hours without the other boy's constant attempts to get his attention.
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The Bayville Times [20 Sep 2003|11:29pm]


McClardy ~ Dukes

Mr. and Mrs. Paul C. McClardy announce
the engagement of their daughter, Jennifer Era,
to Frederick Dukes, the son of James and Nancy
Dukes of Ballinger, Texas.

The bride-elect is a graduate of Bayville High School.
She is a pharmacy assistant at Randy's Drug Store in Bayville.

The prospective groom is a senior at Bayville High School.
He is a construction worker with Simon
Valley Construction in Bayville.

The couple plan to be wed May 23, 2004, at the County
Courthouse in Bayville.

OOC InformationCollapse )
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A Day in the Big City [20 Sep 2003|03:21pm]

Bobby parked his bike at the train station and walked up to the counter, where he got a ticket to NYC. Ah. The Big Apple. Plenty of action there. Lots of tourists to annoy . . . cute boys in the Village (even if you DID have to deal with the occasional dirty old man) . . . great knockoff shops in Chinatown. He had been tempted to just . . . borrow . . . Logan's bike for the day, but he didn't want to get on Mr. Claws' bad side, again. He also couldn't find the keys to the jeep. Not to mention it was also broad daylight and the cops might notice a 15 year old boy driving into the city.

As the train pulled out of the station, Bobby sighed and stared out the window, looking at Bayville as it rushed by. For a moment, he wished someone else was there. Preferably someone strong. . . with big arms to hold him . . . and firm lips. And maybe eyes that shot out laser beams. You never know. Happens all the time, right? He put in a CD that Matt had burned for him, and pressed play. After a few seconds he gave the CD player a look, bit his lip as he changed CD's. It's like Matt was an entirely other world that was fading away. He found a CD that he hadn't seen in a long time and put it in. Even though it ended up being the Air Force Band playing syphonic music, that he stole from his dad, it fit his mood. He relaxed into the seat.

The train pulled into Grand Central Station, and Bobby ran out. The ceiling was always his favorite thing to see right when he got off the train. After standing in the main hall way for about 5 minutes, looking up, he scuffled off to the subway. He glared at the woman in the booth, even though he knew that it wasn't her fault that the fair had been raised and that you could no longer use tokens. He waited on the platform for the familar breath of stale air that signalled the arrival of the train. He kinda hoped that he could have all day to himself, but at the same time wouldn't have minded seeing a familiar face.

The train sped on into the dark.

Bobby curled up in a chair at the famed coffee joint, and put his cup on the table, so it could cool down. In the mean time, he had a trashy magazine full of ads with gorgeous half naked boys to fawn over. Ah, today was gonna be a good day.
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