---

---

Cal complacently thumbed through the stack of papers one last time. Her gaze found it's way to the man across the table. The act itself felt like a chore.

So. Many. Words. She would have much rather gotten to know these people in person, but if she was to be honest with herself, this was probably the most effective way. And she never would have gotten around to properly acquainting herself with everyone. At least not in the amount of detail outlined on these sheets. Height? Weight? Shoe size? Callan rolled her eyes, letting the cords of her sweatshirt fall from her mouth.

"Alright, can we maybe make this quick?" she sighed, "Lunch is almost over."

"...for real? How in depth are you guys wanting me to go here?"

"Why?" a look of anguish crossed her face, "I don't like forming hard opinions on people I barely know and I don't appreciate being forced to."

No answer-- just a look. Alright, well.... She rolled her shoulders and sighed with annoyance. There was no shame in bullshitting through something you're being forced to do if there's no good reason to do it, right? Well... then again maybe there was, but apparently she was meant to be left in the dark about it. She supposed she'd just have to trust them for now, though the whole exchange was going to make her feel extremely out of her element.

"S'not like I'm an expert or anything," she muttered, resting her elbows on the table as the questions began.

---

---

"Christopher Drake? Heh... straight out of a cheesy movie with a name like that, right? He's pretty decently tall for a guy... I guess."

"Huh?"

"No, it's not that important, it's just... it doesn't really matter, I just have a habit of noticing it first. I'll try to keep it out of my statements if that's what you really want."

"You told me to give you my first impressions. That's what I'm doing."

"Okay, thank you. Anyways... I guess he seems like the kind of guy that just wants to be left alone. Looking at his history, I would like to say that I can't blame him, but I don't know the full story. Either way, the fact that he shares his body with the monster inside him must mean they share minds, too. I think he's capable of having a lot more power over his... well, power than he seems to think."

"... uh. Sorry, I don't see the connection."



"She's the same age as my younger brother and something about that makes me feel kind of uneasy. Actually, just about everything about Savannah makes me uneasy."

"How? Well, as angry as the two of them are, if I had to choose between crossing paths with Chris or Savannah, I'd choose Chris any day. How can such a small body ferry so much rage? At least if I bump into Chris and he wants to throw hands for whatever dumb reason, I've got a few minutes to walk away. Somehow I get the feeling that if I so much as look wrong in Savannah's direction, she'll tap me on the shoulder with that ability of hers. I don't know how badly it'd mess with me, since it's magic-based, but why go through the trouble?"

"Hmm, if we roomed together, I would certainly give her her space, but... she seems like she's on the hunt for a reason to go nuts. She's still young though. If it's not wholly due to her stigma, maybe it's just a phase...."



"The thing I find most admirable about Angelique, besides her height, is her ability to cope with everything while still managing not to lose sight of her ability to sympathize. I can't relate to X's and their stigmas (and I'm probably gonna say that more than once by the time this is all over), but I know there are plenty out there that can't keep their shit together as well as she can-- so props."

"Yeah, that... was an accident, though, right? That's what it says. Seems like she's really sorry. I mean... obviously 'sorry' won't bring those people back, but I don't foresee something like that happening again."

"I can't tell the future, but yeah. I don't think it will."

"Sure, I wouldn't mind rooming with her even though she's an X. As long as she's willing to wear headphones. Can't say I'm a fan of her style music. It's a bit too intense for me."



"Siena seems cool. Her ability is definitely the most interesting in my book. It could be super awesome or super lame, though. Depends on how she uses it, but I don't think that'll be a problem. She's obviously no dummy."

"Heh, I feel kind of stupid around her, to be honest. I guess there's a part of me that wishes I put as much effort into my studies, but the larger part of me has a long list of other things I'd rather do. But hey, if you love reading and learning stuff that's not very useful, that's great, too. It's funny, every rich kid I've ever known has been like that."

"Hm? Oh, you know... 'bred for success'."

"You could say I'm a touch jealous, I guess. But I know it's not her fault her family's got cash to spare. I wonder what it feels like though... never having to worry about money. Is it liberating... or restricting in some way?"

"We've only been rooming with each other for a few hours, but she seems nice enough. For all I know, I have yet to see any of her... um... well, you can't quite call it lying. I don't know. It doesn't really concern me that much. As long as she has her facts straight on the battlefield."



"Zoe is a badass. She's totally got the whole Jean Gray power going-- just to a more limited degree. I'm not in love with the whole mean and green exterior slash soft and caring center thing, but-- that being said... if there's anyone I would want fighting monsters next to me, it'd probably be her."

"I can get behind how trustworthy and loyal she is-- and I'd kill for her height. I think we can both appreciate a good adrenaline rush as well. Though she seems to prefer getting hers by starting fights with people. I wouldn't go starting fights over nothing. Not only do I consider it a huge waste of time, but with my ability, it just... I mean, it probably wouldn't be a very long fight. Not unless I was fighting another ma-- uh-- majorly strong subnatural.

"Who knows? Probably has something to do with her past. That might just be her stigma though. I can never be sure about X's... about which part of them is their stigma and which is just them being themselves."

"I mean... no, I don't think she's not trying. She could do so much damage with her ability, I think we'd all know if she lost it and started using it on people."



"She's so short!"

"Haha, no, I'm sorry. I know. I've just... never met anyone my age that's so short. Anyways... moving on, I think Lily is... uh... well, I think she's...."

"I don't know. I've never met anyone that's bipolar either. Or if I have, they didn't have it as bad as she does. Also never met anyone with such terrible amnesia. It's hard to get a read on someone who has personalities that are on two different sides of the spectrum. And for a healer, working with her sure is a gamble, isn't it?"

"She has to impair herself to help, might not even do it depending on her mood, and if she temporarily heals you before you take a bunch more damage and then decides to UNheal you.... She's like the epitome of a false sense of security. I don't dislike her, but I feel like I can't depend on her at all and... honestly, I wouldn't recommend that anyone else try to either."



"One of those people that always has their shit together... he's not very tall, but man-- that hair. I appreciate that hair."

"Nah, I've tried blonde before-- for like three months. Wasn't my color. Looks great on him though."

"I admire his dedication. I'd kill to have the motivation for that kinda daily routine."

"Oh... yeah. Kind of put my foot in my mouth there. I get it. It's to help with his Stigma... but still-- you don't see many aberrations trying that hard. ...Or knitting, either. Interesting hobby. Whatever helps I guess."

"Uh, I don't know anything about that stuff-- besides sewing on a button maybe. Anyway, he seems cool. Doesn't like to waste time and it seems like he knows exactly how to use his. I respect that."



"Sophia has a pretty intense look about her. I get that she's shy, but I think there's a chance she might bring out my less patient side. She's got a good heart, but she's still just a kid."

"Yeah, okay. I know I'm not exactly an adult either, but hear me out. At least Savannah won't waste time letting you know how much she hates your guts. If I ask Sophia something, I don't want to wait several minutes before she gives me a reply. I don't have time for teammates like that. Throw her stubbornness and sarcasm into the mix and it's like the perfect storm."

"No, I wouldn't say I hate her-- that's too strong a word. I would just... rather not be on the same team as her. She reminds me of my little brother. And not in the good way."



"He seems pretty cool. Almost like a less-athletic, extroverted version of myself, actually. Almost."

"Well, firstly he seems like he's a good level above casual when it comes to gaming-- he sure was fortunate with his power. I wonder if our abilities were chosen to sync up with who we are... sorry, I won't derail. He also seems to enjoy reading a lot more than I can say I do? I dunno."

"While I do like his "keep moving forward" life motto, I think it's a little unfair to try and force that on other people. This school you guys set up for us is nice and all, but we're not here under the greatest circumstances. People died this morning. Everybody copes differently...."

"I think we could be good friends, but come to think of it, I guess we're really only similar in the whole chill and optimistic aspect. And even then... this whole situation has been giving my optimism a run for it's money. You guys don't exactly make it easy."

"I didn't mean that as an insult, but it's true."

"No, yeah, I'm done."

"Please do. Like I said, I'm hungry."



"Uhmmm, I really don't know what to say about Hazel to be honest. After reading this I feel like... like I just read an item description. "

"My initial thought... would be... that she's a product of the government. She's what the government wishes all of us subnaturals were like."

"Hey, I thought we were talking about Hazel. I'm not about to talk government conspiracies with you people. Do I look stupid to you?"

"Altogether, Hazel's just a depressing topic. I look at her and it's like... it's like there's no hope. No hope for any of us.... I mean, look what they did to her. They might've messed her up for good. It's not right... Can we move on?"



"I promise I try my best not to hastily broach things that aren't any of my business, but I'm just so damn curious about those scars."

"Nah. Even though he's my roommate I don't think I'll ever feel comfortable enough to ask him about 'em. When someone's got a thing that obvious, they either tell you what happened or hope you never bring it up. The fact that he's always smiling and cracking jokes whenever things start heading in a solemn direction convinces me even more."

"That he doesn't want to talk about it. He shouldn't have to, either, y'know?"

"Well... if he ever does, I suppose I'd feel honored."

"I thought his jokes on the truck were hilariously clever. I probably would have been laughing my ass off if I hadn't fallen asleep. It could be a problem if he doesn't take things seriously in the middle of a fight, sure. But just because he cracks jokes doesn't mean he won't make a good teammate.. Unless I'm reading him wrong, it seems like he genuinely gives a shit."

"Just in general. About himself... the people around him...."

"Well... yeah, I guess he could be faking.... Tch, what the hell? You guys are such downers."



"If I hadn't read all this stuff and met Ernest in person, I think I probably would've taken him for a pretty cool person. At least as a first impression. But it seems like I inevitably would have found out about his less pleasant side. Having said that... does anybody actually like this guy?"

"Ernest seems like a prime example of what it's like to let your stigma drive you. I'm trying not to judge him too harshly-- especially because I'm not an X, but... well, I can't decide if I would want him as a teammate. I believe there's a deeper meaning to why people like him are the way they are, but even so... I feel like he's the kind of person I'd have to constantly be watching out of the corner of my eye. I would classify him as undependable. Even more so than Lily."

" The way he mentions his association with the Senators makes it sound like he almost... misses them. Like he's talking about 'the good 'ol days' or something. Am I the only one that finds that a little disconcerting?"

"No, I don't think we'd get along very well-- especially as roommates. On account of his obsession with cleaning and my lack of abundant tidiness. I think I'd find myself on his bad side rather quickly and that's a place I definitely don't want to be."



"Lawrence... is... well, he's the oldest out of all of us. Not that tall for a guy, but taller than me. He's been here for a year and he was there at that orientation fiasco with Director Zhang...."

"Alright, alright. Sorry. Maybe I'm just getting burnt out. Let me think...."

"I think it's really cool he uses his ability to help people out with their stigmas. I don't know if I'd do the same thing with my time if I were in his position, so... I admire him for that. I think his whole mastery of self thing is pretty cool, too. Though it's a little intimidating."

"On account of how it seems like he genuinely wants to help people out, yes. I think he's really dependable and would be a great team player."

"Rooming with him would be cool. I'd actually like to talk to him."

"Because it looks like he has perfect control over his ability. Or, he at least understands what it is and what he's capable of. And he knows so many people around campus and does so much reading.... I dunno. If anyone could help me out with the problem I've been having lately, I think it'd be him. I know I'm an arbiter, but it'd probably be okay for me to go see him sometime... I think."



"Invulnerability always comes at a price, I guess. For Sanders, I can say his is definitely steeper than mine. Plus, he's got a stigma to worry about, so... he really drew the short end of the stick there. I feel bad for the guy.... He's nice and tall, too...."

"When I look at Sander, I get the same feeling as when I look at Hazel, only... worse. They're like... polar opposites of what the government can do for you as a subnatural. Or maybe just as an aberration...."

"Either way, he's had his power for years and he still struggles to keep himself under control. Makes me wonder how much progress I'll ever make because it's sure as hell clear you guys won't be helping out anytime soon."

"No, I'm not upset. I'm just stating the facts. Why? Are you gonna teach us how to use our powers?"

"Didn't think so...."



"I think Brent and I would gel together pretty well. But then... I think he'd gel with just about anyone. He works out and studies a helluva lot harder than I do and seems to be a lot more interested in making friends."

"No, that's not a bad thing. I'm just pointing out--"

"The obvious, huh? Okay, well... Less obviously, I guess I could "hypothesize" that he seems... almost... too perfect?"

"N-no! I don't mean it like that! I mean, like... nothing ever seems to bother him. But that's probably just how it appears. There are a few people here that are kind of like that, actually..."

"Uh, Marcus... Lawrence, maybe... that one girl-- Emma. Possibly. I dunno. Everybody's got something that bothers them, right? Some people are just better at hiding it-- even from themselves."

"...uh. Sorry, I don't see the connection."



"You think we're kind of similar? Uh... I guess, but not really."

"Well, first of all, I'm not a huge bitch when it comes to authority. ...agh, sorry. I don't actually know the guy, so it's unfair of me to judge so harshly, but... really? I guess I can understand being distrustful of authority here, but any parental figure at all? Wonder what makes him that way...."

"Well, yeah. I can be lazy. I'll admit. But he's, like, on a whole other level."

"He doesn't seem like a person that'd be willing to pull his own weight. Not as a roommate and not as a teammate, either. Maybe not even as a friend in general, I dunno. I would really have to get to know him better to say whether or not I think we'd get along. At the very least, I can envision vegging out with him for a movie marathon or something. But if he makes me pay for all the snacks, we're gonna have a problem."



"Almost as short as Lily, and a year older, too... Sorry, uh. So, this is the guy that has a snrk blue ribbon in his hair. He's... well, he's... I think he's kind of adorable actually. I just... I don't know how to say that in a way that doesn't sound insulting, because really I don't mean it that way."

"We're almost like opposites, since I'm not really afraid or anxious about anything--"

"What?"

"...uh. Sorry, I really don't see the connection. Now you're just grasping at straws to try and relate to me. C'mon, guys."

"Yeah... anyway, I think he'd be fun to hang out with. Seems like he could learn a thing or two about relaxing. But if he prefers to be involved with bigger groups, I guess I'll never really get much of a chance to get to know him. "



"It's people like Allison that make me grateful for who I am. I'm glad I don't let stuff get me too riled up, because it seemed like she specializes in the ruffling of feathers. That stigma of hers doesn't help things either."

"Ehh, I don't feel that strongly either way. She can do whatever she wants. Doesn't concern me."

"If she hit on me? Uh... well, I mean... if I didn't want her around, I could handle myself. But if she gets really annoyingly persistent-- not that she would-- I'm not sure what I'd do. Might make me pretty angry...."

"I don't think we'd get along very well anyway. We've got different... interests. I'll just avoid her."



"Emma's really pretty. She always looks like she's got her shit together. I would probably put her in the same boat as Christmas-- in that she could learn to relax. Though I think I could stand to learn more from her than she could from me. "

"Most importantly, I want to talk to her about her tulpas."

"Yeah, there could possibly be a connection there. But that's not the only reason I'd want to hang out with her."

"Yeah-- I mean. Look at her! I'm a little envious of how perfect she always looks. Maybe I should put a bit more effort into my appearance.... Maybe she could help me find something to wear other than athletic hoodies, leggings and shorts. And learn more about how make up works."

"...what's that supposed to mean?"

"...can I be frank?"

"You guys kind of suck."



"Overall, Kusari seems like she's just plain unpleasant to be around. My guess-- I mean, according to that sheet-- is it's because of her mother. Her backstory's pretty sad."

"Fuck, come on. I'm trying my best here and I'm starving, you guys. I'm starving. Kusari looks like she's starving. I'd take her to lunch and show her what a proper meal looks like, but instead I'm stuck here. Doing this."

"Yeah, yeah. Her power's cool. She's albino, right? So if we were roommates, she probably wouldn't go out much, which means she'd probably stay at the dorm all day, which means that no matter how much I try not to bother her, she'd probably give me flak for being such a slob. I'm not opposed to tidying things up to appease my roommates, but I'd be lying if I said constant, mean-spirited badgering makes me a whole lot less enthusiastic about it."



"Alright. Yeah, so if I take my time with this one, right? All right. I'll accept your bribe."

"This is gonna sound a little cheesy. Alexis is the me I wish I could be."

"Well, first of all there's her height. She's 6'2". If I wasn't... well, if I wasn't stuck here, I'd have colleges calling me left and right. 130lbs is definitely too light for a center, though. But bulking up isn't too difficult."

"She's also got this unwavering positivity about her. Even in spite of everything that's happened she's just... nothing seems to dissuade that mentality of hers. I wish I could say the same."

"I wouldn't mind rooming with her at all. I'm really interested in her ability, actually. I need to remember to talk to her soon...."

"I just... I wonder if there could be some correlation between our powers. I know every power, like every person, is unique, but... it'd be worth a shot."

---

---

Lasrever coughed into her hands as a car sped past her seat on the sidewalk bench, scattering dust and exhaust as it broke the speed limit by about 40 miles per hour. Rubber screamed against asphalt as the driver rounded a corner like he was reenacting a movie chase scene, except no one seemed to care enough to chase him. It was just as well, she figured, since she’d much rather see the bastard crash and burn before the police could save him.

Would save her the work of killing him herself.

Sitting on a bench was supposed to have been therapeutic (more than slamming lecherous faces against unforgiving hardwood counters at least), but here she was wondering how many ways she could kill that asshole of a driver before nature ran its course.

12, she decided. There were 12 satisfying ways and 37 unsatisfying ways given her current equipment: a half-finished latte from Peet’s Coffee, car keys and temporary apartment key, fake ID, the knife strapped to her left calf, underneath the flared hem of her slacks and upside-down with an easy-release latch, smoke grenades in an inside pocket of her thick wool coat, and her G43 pistol nestled snugly in the shoulder holster.

Thoughts to entertain her wandering boredom while the target sauntered through the city at some unknown intersection, completely unaware of the hit that had been ordered. How could he be, after all? He had done nothing wrong. By all accounts, he was a generous man who donated often to the local soup kitchen and even volunteered to help in his spare time. Saintly, really, and entirely too good for this world. How a rich philanthropist and his burgeoning presence in politics managed to piss off the more corrupt elite was a question with an obvious answer: by existing. For a man who could give Jesus Christ a run for his money, the hit ordered was quite spectacular.

They wanted a crucifixion with trails leading to the local bishop so they could wash their hands of two influential problems at once. “Make it look like a falling out and an extremist reaction” they had requested, and it couldn’t just be the usual suicide bombing with an unwilling participant. No. It had to be sensational. Something to get the public riled up and ripe for the reaping.

Fine, she supposed. But that costs a hell of a lot extra.

Half now and half later, they had promised, but she wasn’t born yesterday. She had overcharged them to make sure the first half was the full price she normally would have charged. Lasrever had no intention of collecting the second half. No doubt by now a second assassin had been hired to kill her, with little information to avoid any leaks.

“Isn’t that right, buddy?” she had asked exactly 13 hours ago from the current 8 PM, standing over the young man’s broken body while he wheezed and gasped up at her.

Two days. She had two days before they noticed his lack of communication, because two days was her time limit to take care of her own target.

But these fools really had to stop making themselves so obvious, even though communications had been through a proxy and never in person, either. It wasn’t exactly hard for her to figure out who would benefit most from the untimely demise of one politician and the following public fury at the bishop.

She was waiting in front of the man’s apartment complex. The bright building was a swanky place filled with guards and gates and overpaid dog groomers preening the animals to perfection. Her real target’s apartment was the penthouse suite, because decadence and moral decay seemed to walk hand in hand more often than not, in her experience. She smiled to herself at the judgment—as if she had any right to speak on moral decay, given her profession of choice.

But he would soon sneak out of his own accord, because she had left him the incriminating photographs of his various under-the-table affairs with his fellow corrupt. He wanted the negatives? He’d step outside alone. Anyone else within a mile of him and the negatives are sent to the largest news network in the nation.

Right on time, the tall Adonis of a crook took his leave, fearful blue eyes scanning the road for anything suspicious (and deciding the unassuming woman tapping away on her phone across the street was perfectly innocent) before walking down the sidewalk as ordered and turning the corner towards a crosswalk that led to the nearby eateries and brand-name boutiques.

Lasrever waited until he had fully turned his back, then stood up and walked in the opposite direction. The people who hired her always assumed she worked solo, but she liked to think Mary and Jane would disagree, their weights comfortable against her calf and inside her shoulder holster. Once she was clear of the complex’s external security cameras, she circled around the block, darting into the nearest alley that opened towards the road lined with expensive stores. He would be waiting behind the Fear of God outlet, which she had decided was an appropriate place to kill him.

As promised there he was, though Lasrever held back, keeping herself hidden behind the nearby dumpster. As expected of amateurs, he was looking towards a distant window like he was waiting for something. Probably hired a sniper. Who did this man think she was?

She was motherfucking Lasrever, the terror of Uzbekistan, the wraith of Syria, and the scathefire of Egypt--the woman responsible for plunging the world into a third global war. Taking on easy side jobs was just a personal preference and this small fry? He thought one sniper was all it took to kill her after the armies of Syria had tried and failed.

It was insulting, she thought, as she threw a smoke bomb and heard him panic immediately. Pretty fucking insulting, she reaffirmed mentally as Mary’s razor edge slit his throat and arterial spray arced across the nearby wall. He put up a good struggle, as any man his size and physical fitness would, but no amount of stamina staved off blood loss and though she took a flailing elbow to the head, Lasrever wasn’t worried about the cranial damage just yet. It would set in later, but not now. Now she could still finish her job. And she certainly wasn’t done with him, yet. While the smoke hid the area and garnered the attention of local law enforcement, Lasrever put her knowledge to use in record time, tearing through his clothes with deft precision and a trusty knife. Piping and a telephone pole let her scale just high enough to tie his arms to either side of the alley with the knotted, elongated lengths of shredded clothes. His body hung in the center of the alley when she was finished in less than 3 minutes, naked and bleeding out just like a crucified Jesus. The blaring of sirens in the near distance was her cue to leave, and Lasrever took off, throwing the stained wool jacket into the dumpster and wiping off the flecks of blood on her face with the scarf, letting it join the jacket in the trash as well.

It still wouldn’t do to head out in public now, but with the police attention on the thick cloud of smoke in the still night air and the growing crowd around the area, she was free to take a quick detour into the open back door of a nearby restaurant, shocking the part-timer washing dishes there. The gangly teen’s eyes widened at the bloody smears on her face, and Lasrever placed a finger to her lips curled in a conspiratorial smile.

When he seemed ready to turn away, she pulled the gun on him and he froze. “Good boy,” she whispered, keeping the weapon trained on him as she stepped quickly into the employee bathroom while the head chef seemed to have run out to the front of the store with the rest of the customers, no doubt staring at the noisy scene two stores down.

She escaped through the bathroom window and down another alley, leaving the scene behind quickly.

By the time the police force began searching in earnest for the killer, Lasrever was long gone, her getaway car tearing asphalt as she sped down the highway out of town, feeling the first signs of a headache coming on. She decided if the driver from before had been speeding after delivering justice, she might forgive him.

And, really, she’d deal with it all later, after the exhilaration wore off and she was far enough away that no one would notice until it was too late.

It was funny, she mused as she popped off the cap of a prescription bottle with one hand and swallowed two pills of codeine dry, how she always managed to make the victims fork over ridiculous sums of money for their own demise.

Sepulcher would pass it off as a different source’s hit and their reputation would rise. She would get her own warped ideals of justice. A win-win for all involved. Well, all who mattered.

Never let it be said she left loose threads hanging, though.

She had already sent the images to every major news site in the country, and uploaded them to various websites around the internet for good measure, all from the throwaway phone now smashed to pieces and buried in the dirt beneath a bush on the side of the road.

Let people come to what conclusions they would, but it looked now like an internal affair gone wrong. Her specialty, after all, wasn’t killing people per se. It was manipulating the blame with minimal effort.

But she’d revel in her latest country-enraging work later. Now she wanted a quick nap on the side of the road before continuing on her way, because an outlaw’s work was never finished and rumor had it the kingpin of Russia’s mafia would be visiting a nearby town soon.

An old memory hummed in the back of her mind as the concussion finally overpowered her senses just as she parked the old Mustang alongside a desolate stretch of road. Someone had once asked her what she would do to make things right, and she thought of freshly brewed coffee and a policeman’s failing resolve.

“I’d set the world on fire,” she had answered.