Plane of Emptiness (Subconscious Space)
No discernible time.

Suddenly, they appeared. Lacerations of incorporeal reality; long cuts that left jagged wounds on the flesh of a chaotic realm.
They were thousands of minds apart, separated by an ocean of pulsing static. For a time, they stared at one another; extending their greetings and formalities, as was their custom. Then, one by one, they would speak their piece. Their voices cut into the natural, screeching furor of the realm, demanding silence as they folded and bent the ethereal data around them. While their voices were different, in gender and pitch, they all shared a bored, monotonous rhythm and slow, void-entity vernacular.

"Well, we have to select a coherent point in the story to introduce the narrative."

"I am not certain that there IS a coherent point in this particular narrative."

"Of course there is. We, as a staging device, provide a certain ominous tone of mystery in the beginning of a story. As such, upon viewing us, one would be lead to erroneously assume that this world is being guided, by us, from afar. This alone should suffice in creating some form of consistency in a story."

"That doesn't make any sense, not to mention your bizarre suggestion in making us the first point of focus in what is supposed to be a coherent narrative. For us to be an effective staging device there would have to be a point of view that encompasses all of the characters, ensuring that they are somehow viewing this or no characters around at all; practically detached from the overall story. Making us, essentially, nothing more than a novelty to introduce how bizarre the realms are; not only this realm, but by association the realms we view at the point of our introduction."

"I agree. It sounds a bit forced."

"Perhaps we should take a break for a moment?"

Yet, it was by the nature of their divided plane that they could communicate so effortlessly, despite their differentiation in origin and levels of cosmic awareness. These beings were nebulous, yet dark in contrast to their shifting white and gray surroundings, with no discernible features to them; save for the fact that they were the scattering of ink left on a pristine page. Observers, they had come to call themselves; ancient they were, but with memories that were ever-fleeting. So nebulous were they, these sapient tears in reality, that they would appear and disappear at random; sometimes appearing close to their strange cousins, or in another uncharted section of unchartable Emptiness.

Peace stopped in to listen to them from time to time, as they plotted their course; a being so miniscule in the tapestry of their unending discussion that they had never once paused their meetings when she passed by. Today, she was on her way to school; trudging through the snowy static of Sub-space in hopes of making it to her classes on time. With each step she took away from the center, the Observers grew more quiet in the distance; and the white noise of subconscious human thought drifted down from above and up from below, whispering in her the back of her mind. She stopped and extended her hands, pressing her fingers between the whispering syllables and slowly spread them apart. As she did, with some effort, her own rift began to form.

It appeared in a close parallel to the nebulous Observers, a multi-hued cut in reality that bled forth bits and pieces of another place and time. She leaned forward, peering through the flowing barrier that separated herself from the world she knew best. Laughter and undecipherable chatter filtered through, accompanied by a quick swelling of the laceration. The tear surged forward, wrapping its self around Peace as she opened her mouth to gasp; before she had a chance to brace herself, it pulled her into the long drop toward the corporeal plane. Managing to snap her mouth shut as she passed through the water-like layer, she held her breath through the entire trek; through each pulse of maddening light and intermittent surges of darkness, until she was flung from the Limbo Tunnel and into her world.

Corporeal Reality (Bridge City High, Front Entrance)
September 15th, 20xx.
8:22 AM

She hit the ground with a hard thud and all the air rushed from her lungs. Students shuffled by, some even stepping over her as she lie there on her back, eyes open but without focus. For a moment, Peace watched as coherent shapes with no coherent meaning moved over and around her; listened to the senseless noise of the first day of school with her head ringing out the blistering bassline. A groan escaped her, through clenched teeth, and she pulled herself up; drawing in air with all the charm of an asthma attack. Readjusting to unexpected transitions into corporeal reality was difficult and most often came accompanied with an overwhelming sense of vertigo. She stayed there, for a moment, scooting herself against the brick wall of the school and closed her eyes; waiting for the sensation to pass. Her stomach did flips and her heart thudded steadily against her ribcage.

Through the wall she could feel the reverberations of some kind of sound system, amplifying a momentary blare before there was the soft clearing of a throat.
"Your attention," a man said in a tone smooth enough to make crushed velvet blush, "principal Rizzo is about to begin his speech."

Murmurs came over the wall, more indistinguishable chatter under the surface of passing babble and a cacophony of feet against concrete. Peace rose, against the wall, placing her palms against firmly against the coarse brickwork as she finally managed to stand up completely straight.

"Thank you very much."

This voice was sterner and spoke with vigor, accompanied by very proper enunciation. Peace took her place, filling a gap left in the crowd and matching the pace of the person in front of her as they came to the front entrance's high arch. For the first time, the beauty of the day struck her. The Sun lingered just above the horizon in the distance, casting rays onto the glinting bridge and tossing flares of diamond-shaped light to play on the shifting surface of the lazy river that cut through the center of town; the sky cast in the bleeding yellow-indigo of a new morning, though it was hardly visible behind the school's bulk. Slight winds licked at the air, carrying the crisp chill of autumn across her flesh and across the grass growing on the other side of the arch.

She was pushed, in a polite kind of way, by unseen hands, through the arch and then bothered no more as other students shuffled past, broke into groups or found a place they could be relatively unmolested by the crowd. Peace simply stood her ground, just inside the courtyard of the high school; probably still a bit in the way, for folk trying to squeeze away from the crowd.

The man standing on the makeshift stage was nearly as broad as he was tall, wearing a pinstripe suit and glaringly red tie that he absently adjusted as the student's turned their attention to him. His hair shifted and danced in the breeze, white as snow and nearly reaching down to the man's feet. He had a jovial smile on his face, dark eyes glinting as he stared out over the crowd.

"I am principal Drydest Rizzo and what I am about to say is mostly for the freshmen, so the rest of you can go on to classes if you'd like." He waited for a moment, massive hands adjusting the microphone all the while. Students moved and shifted, the upperclassmen disappearing, leaving behind a large gathering of freshmen; who were either staring up at Principal Rizzo or quietly talking amongst themselves. Once the others were gone, he slowly spread his arms wide; flashing white teeth to the crowd.

"Welcome to Bridge City High School," he thundered out, made louder by the speakers, "as you know, we are contending, this year, as we have over the last several years, in the F.S.N system for our school district. As freshmen, your duty to the school and yourselves is to strive ever forward in your academic and martial studies. We, the faculty and student council, have high expectations for this year's underclass and have been awaiting your arrival anxiously." Rizzo's massive arms lowered quickly and he cast a quick glance at his gleaming, golden watch "You will be representing your class and this school in the upcoming battles, so we all expect you to do well. Now, classes are starting soon, but today is something of a special day for freshmen. Today we test your abilities. Break off into couples and we'll get this show on the road!"

"Darkness, those that sow seeds of fear, grant my plea, lend me your ears..."

Tiny flames danced upon the wicks of candles, glowing softly, providing the only source of light in the black room. A circle was apparent on the floor, the dark violet candles placed evenly around the edges. Runes were transcribed along the rim and on the inside, with shapes and criss-crossing lines intersecting each other in both meaningful and meaningless ways, all giving off a luminescent aura, although faint.

"Bestow upon me evil thoughts, hate and greed and lust and rot..."

The gleaming light upon the circle began to pulse like that of a heartbeat, and the flickering embers danced upon their candles as an unseen wind began to blow. With the dark aura casting its light upon the floor, it became obvious that a cloaked figure was kneeling in the center, a book open before it and a bowl filled with an unidentified liquid.

"Grant me strength to desecrate, thine enemies I'll eviscerate..."

The rythmic glowing of the circle began to beat faster, and the wind grew violent, one by one extinguishing the candles. The bowl began to boil and slosh about, and pale hands from beneath the robe reached inside, dipping slender fingers within the bubbling brew and bringing them beneath the hood of the robe. A low hum broke the room of its silence as the robed one rose the bowl into the air.

"Foul blessing sinister one, I heed! Pray I go forth and accomplish-"

"Lissaaaaa! Breakfaaaaast!"

Light of a different kind filled the room as the door flung open, casting the morning sun's rays upon the robed figure and shedding light into the dark room. The walls were painted a dark violet, covered in posters from metal bands with a plain wooden desk housing a laptop computer and a bed neatly made up with deep purple sheets, and for demonic magical runes painted in the center it was suspiciously clean. The hooded being in the center of the circle picked up a hand to shield its face from the blinding sun, and in doing so spilled the contents of the bowl over the floor, washing out some of the runes and lines. The strong wind turned into a tempest, knocking the candles onto their sides as the magic circle glew ever brighter, exploding with arcane energy in a crackling fizzle. The robed figure promptly stood and pulled back her hood to reveal a grey-skinned adolescent girl of raven hair with dark makeup and vaguely asian features.

"Mooooom! You broke the incantation!" she whined accusingly. Standing in the doorway was another robed woman, although in a completely different robe. A bathrobe. She was much older, with salmon hair, a round face, and almond shaped eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry sweetie, but even vassals for the devil need to have a healthy breakfast if they're going to have enough energy for their first day of high school!" the older woman exclaimed as she stepped over the lines of the circle to give the girl a big squeeze. She fought free of the hug and glared at her.

"Get out of my room, Mom! I'll be down later! And I'm not Lissamarie, I'm Bloody Mary!" the girl screeched as she pushed her mother out the door.

"Whatever you say, sweetie. Just make sure that you clean up this mess before you leave for school!" Lissamarie gave no hesitation in slamming the door behind her and pressing her frame against. She let out a large sigh and began to pace back and forth in annoyance before finally digging through the closet to grab a towel and scrubbing the floor free of the liquid and chalk.

Lissamarie Angelica Hawthorne, or rather, Bloody Mary, one of the many new Freshmen at Bridge City High School, clomped down the steps of her modest middle-class home with a deep set frown upon her face. She often frowned, that was just how her face looked at rest, but the morning wasn't looking too good as it happened. Nevertheless, she was anxious and excited for her first day. Lissamarie only recently came upon her Striker Witch class a few months ago and dove head first into the Gothic clique, and it showed. Her outfit was composed of a crisp pair of tight-fitting black jeans feeding into black buckled boots that went up to mid-calf. A sinister looking black corset with red trim covered her athletic frame, leaving her shoulders bare. Fingerless mesh gloves adorned her hands, ending just before the elbow, and thin wristbands with archaic symbols wrapped over those. Around her neck a black, hooded cloak hung, with a violet interior and gemmed clasp in the design of a claw, ending just past her waist.

Her hair was as black as her outfit, with mauve streaks running throughout and at her roots, although not by choice. It was her natural hair color, inherited from her mother along with her violet eyes and asian features. Those purple eyes looked set in with the generous amount of eyeliner she applied that morning, and matching her dark motif came a pair of skull studded earings.

"Well someone looks positively dark today Lissam- I mean, Bloody Mary! Excited for your first day?" came an excited response from her mother, now in a navy blue pantsuit, long salmon hair now done in a french braid. Lissamarie rolled her eyes and engaged her HUD in an attempt to ignore her as she came to sit across from her parents. A breakfast feast lay before them, from pancakes and waffles to eggs and cereal and halves of grapefruit. Lissamarie simply grabbed a single piece of toast and nibbled on it as she checked her newsfeed for info about the Fighting School Network. Rumor had it that with the new school year came promises of a grand tournament, with the winner earning a wish. Lissamarie didn't know what she would wish for, but a wish was a wish. Couldn't pass that up. How hard would it be to pound some kid's face in with this new class? She hadn't seen anything like it so far, and designed it for exactly that: to overwhelm and surprise.

"Don't be too anxious, Lissa. With a new school comes new opportunites. I'm sure you'll make some good friends on your first day. Why, I met one of my Nemeses on my first day! Vex the Conqueror! Hell of a guy, little too deep into the using draconic slaves to conquer the Outerrealm, though. Wonder what he's up to lately?" Her father went into his own HUD as his inspirational peptalk segwayed itself into messaging someone from high school. He was a tall, mountain of a man, bespectacled with short auburn hair. He was clad in his familiar, white silver armor and golden cape, causing him to make a clinking noise everytime he picked up his coffee mug to take a sip.

"Bloody Mary, Dad," Lissamarie seethed, taking a particularly vicious bite of her toast in protest, "I'm the Queen of the Arcane and vassal of Asmodeus. Lissamarie doesn't stand up to my reputation."

"Princess of the Arcane, sweetie! Your mom might be an old lady, but I think I'm still the queen of magic in this house!" her mother teased.

"Old lady? I thought that the rightful Queen was a beautiful young woman with a particularly dashing husband?"

"Oh, stop!" her mother squealed as her father swept her over on his massive arm to give her a kiss. Lissamarie stuck out her tongue in disgust and turned her body away from them as she grabbed another slice of toast and attempted to tune out the mushiness.

"I think that the Queen of the Arcane is going to be late for school!" Lissamarie rolled her eyes again.

"No, mom, I've still got- Damn it!" As her eyes drifted up to the corner of her head, she witnessed that she only had a handful of minutes to make it. Both her parents began to laugh as she bolted from her seat and out the door, toast between her teeth, muttering "damn it" repeatedly before slamming the door behind her.

"She really is your child, you know," her father remarked as he nuzzled his nose against his wife's.

---

She was floating up a waterfall made of flowers. It smelled like honey and cinnamon, but other than that, it was quite incorporeal. It felt as if she were being carried up by some languid spirit force. Her wits weren't quite about her, either. They were as if dulled by the current of petals. From behind a shroud, her mind told her looking down wouldn't be a wise idea. She had no intention of doing that. Finally, she reached the top of the waterfall, and beheld a chromatic landscape, mostly dominated by pink. Strange creatures danced on giant flower-petals, and the clouds were playing harps. Bizarre, but she couldn't shake a creeping sense of anxiety. There was something wrong about the angles and planes of the garden. Something inconsistent, as if it would vanish suddenly, and she'd plunge down, down to her death.

Alice yawned out of bed. The clock read six-thirty-two. Not bad. Blearily, she stumbled to the bathroom and took a rigorously cold shower. Slightly less bleary but more shivery, she stumbled out and opened the wardrobe, to the side, by her bed. The clothes she had selected yesterday -- her favorite star-wars t-shirt and skinny jeans -- were hanging neatly. She put them on. Turning to the desk, she grabbed her bag, also already prepared. Let's see… train tickets, bus tickets, money, a notebook, pencil case. Alice shrugged and grabbed her sketchpad, too. You never know.

Feeling ready enough, Alice tip-toed down the stairs, not wanting to wake her mother. Once in the kitchen, she made herself some toast, and grabbed a glass of milk. Alice noticed it was vibrating slightly, a sure sign her dad was still in the studio, and probably working on some rather violent dubstep, or something. She finished her toast, gulped down the milk, put the glass in the sink and tossed the plate, and made her way outside, grabbing her coat on the way. She checked her phone. Seven o'clock. Provided the train was on time, she'd make it for sure. Putting on some Lightbearer, Alice skipped down the driveway.

---

Bloody Mary came to a landing in front of the entrance to Bridge City High, looking strikingly different from when she left. Clawed hands and feet, a pointed tail, black horns, red cat-like eyes, and sharp teeth set her apart from that morning, but it was the wings for which she transformed. As part of her Core Ability, Bloody Mary could transform into a half-demon almost at will, and the wings were very convenient for getting around. But it came with a small side effect. As she began to walk inside, her demonic features faded away into embers, drifting away on the wind. She crinkled her nose. Transforming always made her smell like smoke. It was brimstone, so she'd been told, but as far as she considered it was smoke and it made her smell nasty for an hour afterward. The chill bit at her skin and shivers went up Mary's spine. She regretted not wearing something with actual sleeves, but she hadn't gotten around to setting up her Combat Attire and if she wanted to fight someone she'd rip her shirt if she wanted to use her wings. The cloak helped a bit when the wind was blowing, which was off and on today.

Her stomach held butterflies today, nervous for her first day at school. Last year in middle school she was a Nobody, and was relentlessly teased for it. Her pact with Asmodeus just made her look weird to everyone else, as they'd see her talk to her "imaginary friend" and study the occult, so she didn't make too many friends. This year would be different... at least she tried to tell herself that. She took a deep breath before walking through the arches to the courtyard and instantly regretted it. First day and she smelt like burnt, rotten eggs. Fan-freakin'-tastic! As she stalled, she heard a far away voice on mic, and students began to leave through the way she was going. Her eyes widened in fear and her heart hit the overclock button. First day, smelling like smoke, and late? She hustled forward, sliding and shifting through the Upperclassmen unapologetically as she made her way into the courtyard. The principal was giving his speech, much to her relief. She was almost late, but not quite.

"You will be representing your class and this school in the upcoming battles, so we all expect you to do well. Now, classes are starting soon, but today is something of a special day for freshmen. Today we test your abilities. Break off into couples and we'll get this show on the road!"

Good, so she caught the important part. As soon as the announcement came, the students began buzzing, weaving among the crowd to find their perfect opponent, and some of them had already cleared out a space to begin as they initiated Battle Mode. Mary was lost, and began to eye through the crowd of Freshmen for someone worthy of her skills to pound into the dirt.

---

Upon arriving at Bridge High, Alice had realized she was one of the first ones there. It looked ominous, deserted and apparently still closed. Fortunately, a nice janitor had pointed her in the right direction, and so she'd been sitting in the indicated courtyard, watching other students trickle in slowly, wondering what the makeshift stage was for. It was quite embarrassing, really. Alice dismissed the thought soon enough, though. She was where she was supposed to be, and everything was going smoothly.

Soon enough, a man in a pin-striped suit walked up onto said stage. Alice guessed it was the principal. He seemed, from his movements, like the kind of man that would, when in a room full of people, create himself a stage, and other people would immediately be drawn to him.

"I am principal Drydest Rizzo and what I am about to say is mostly for the freshmen, so the rest of you can go on to classes if you'd like."

Much of the people assembled drifted off, still leaving a good number of people. Alice saw a green-haired girl, another girl with very colorful hair, a guy with very intense red eyes, staring into the sky. Meanwhile, the Principal was continuing his speech.

"You will be representing your class and this school in the upcoming battles, so we all expect you to do well. Now, classes are starting soon, but today is something of a special day for freshmen. Today we test your abilities. Break off into couples and we'll get this show on the road!"

As he said this, another girl, goth-looking, entered the courtyard. Alice's lips curled into a frown.

---

Scanning around the chaos of the courtyard/battlefield, Mary locked eyes with another girl her age, and time slowed to a crawl around them, as if no one else existed and certainly weren't punching the crap out of each other. White hair, pale skin, freckles, nerd culture T-shirt. She kind of reminded herself of when she was a Nobody. But something was off... this other girl was giving her the look. A look of scorn with which Bloody Mary was all too familiar with. The look someone gave their shoe when they stepped on a piece of gum, or when they got their steak back too overdone. That look. This almost set Mary off. Who was this girl to think that she was better? Her own frown intensified to almost a glare. Not this time. Losing her cool wouldn't look favorably to her reputation on her first day. Besides... it was now socially acceptable to beat the ever-loving snot out of this girl's face. As long as she accepted the terms to a "friendly" fight.

Mary simply squared off to the judgy girl and opened her HUD. She used the infrared option to find her profile picture among a few other students between them. Alice it said. Whatever, she was dead meat as far as Mary was concerned. With a few taps in the air, the HUD closed. A text box popped up in front of the other girl.

"Bloody Mary has challenged you to a battle! Will you accept?"

Mary stood expectantly, cracking her knuckles and hopping up on her toes, anticipating the karmic justice she was about to dish out as she stared down the white-haired girl.

Alice blinked. She checked her HUD, then looked at the girl in front of her. Then back at her HUD again. The girl was staring at her with fearsome intensity, as if she'd slapped her, or something. She sighed. The Principal had wanted the students to fight, after all.

Alice accepted the invitation and stood.

"I don't like people who are late," she said, quietly.

PREPARE FOR BATTLE!

So read the floating text box blinking between the two girls. It hovered there for a few moments like a checkered flag, and Mary was anxious for it to finally descend. This would be it: her first battle. She wouldn't let herself lose, couldn't let herself lose. Losing is what Lissamarie did. Lissamarie was a Nobody, a loser. She earned this. She would introduce the blonde girl to the dirt beneath their feet and walk away like a somebody. She glared at her past the translucent text box, violet eyes narrowing at her. This girl, Alice, was all that stood in her way between her first step towards anything her heart desired... and suffering for the next four years of her life as a Fight School Network wannabe reject. And that wasn't about to happen. Even after the text box faded she stood glaring at the her, as if the courtyard had gone still just for the two of them. This wasn't going to go down like last year. Over her dead body.

Red X's formed a ring on the outside of them, flashing in harmony with a few caution signs sprinkled in for good measure. Students began to clear out of their battle space as grid lines layered themselves across the ground, setting the stage. Soon enough, the caution signs lifted and the X's straightened into posts, projecting energy between themselves. The stage was ready. It was about to...

BEGIN!

Bloody Mary didn't react immediately at the appearance of the official text-box to start the fight. In all honesty, outside of her tough exterior, it was all a facade. Butterflies flapped and fluttered in her chest, and her mouth grew dry. Her muscles trembled slightly, hopefully going unnoticed by the other girl. She'd never been in a fight before, but it was too late now. Supposedly her class would come with a pre-set fighting style, and she could hazily grasp what she was capable of but was still unsure. Most people said it naturally came to them, like they'd been fighting all their lives up to that moment. This didn't make Lissamarie feel anymore comfortable, because she definitely wasn't feeling it. Twitching a hand, hesitating, she reached up to her neck and unfastened her cloak, tossing it dramatically behind her. Swallowing hard, she began to make circles on the ground with her boot, muttering a curse under her breath. A literal curse. As she stared down emptily, her bodily jolted quickly and violently as she stomped the ground she had been kicking at with her toe. A dark ring with an insignia snapped into view, and her body was consumed in a jet of flame. After half a second it was over, and Mary looked down at her body. Her entire self was on fire, but it didn't burn. It was kinda warm... and it felt really good! She felt... better. Like she could really take on the blonde girl now! Her mouth gaped in awe as she admired her flaming form, twisting her arms to examine them from all sides. A sickeningly bloodthirsty grin cut its way across Mary's lips, and she clenched her fists. Breathing in deeply and out slowly, she settled backward into a fighter's stance, flames licking upon her as if she were a doorknob in a fireplace. She took a step, and then another... and broke into a run towards her opponent.

---

Aura of Hellfire - Grants +Intelligence modifier to all melee attacks. 3 posts remaining.

He lifted his head, barely catching the last of the principal's words as they echoed in the quiet chill of the morning; blaring and vapid. Hazard Star was nowhere to be seen, at least not from his vantage; far in the back of the crowd, another late, forgotten arrival. Tim would have spit, if his cowl did not prevent him from doing so. Instead, he merely shifted on the balls of his feet and strained his weak eyes to observe the blurry, shifting silhouettes of his peers.

If I can even call any of them 'peers'.

Bitter mental spittle broke through the shifting darkness of his mind. A resounding, silent defiance against the world that exploded into gradient misanthropic hues. This thought rolled through the spectrum of abandonment and woe, touching the singular chroma of malice; dull and gray. Timothy Granwall had never been more offended in his life. Today had begun without a single word spoken to him, not from his family nor his only friend. The lonely walk to school is what had made the thought palpable; placing the taste of blood on his lips.

Tim, my dear, foolish boy...you do not need them. You only need me and I only need you. We only need each other.

It was a voice akin to his own, reverberating through the shell of his skull, tracing wicked fingers along his spine. He had come to fear this voice, in a distant way and the dark tidings it often brought. It had been with him for some time, though he was unsure if it was a product of his own splintering sanity or a creature sent to him as an unending torment. Either way, it was a part of him; he could not ignore it.

Shut up, Tim commanded, shaking his head, If you keep talking, I swear to God I'll drive a pencil into my heart.

God, it responded with faux concern, since when do you believe in God?

I...I don't know if I do, but that's not my point!

Then what is your point? I merely wish for you to rise above your glaring inadequacies and...well, you know...

Burn everything in sight?

Yes, but that will take time. For now, dear boy, I wish for you to prove yourself.

"Fine, fuck it," Tim whispered in his small, boyish voice. The boiling apathy of his cauldron-heart seeping through the tenebrous reaches of his mind, painting the darkness red as his inner voice broke into a screeching crescendo of countless abrasive, vile thoughts. Behind his mask, Tim bit down on his lips to keep himself from screaming aloud. The taste of blood was real, now and sweeter than he remembered; perhaps it had been too long since it had touched his lips. Something in him quivered with excitement when he thought of new blood touching his tongue.

With his hidden eyes, he watched the students break away and fall into their groups. Envy smoldered in his chest and tickled the base of his throat, setting his breathing on edge. His eyes widened, though it was lost on those around him, and his fingers closed into a fist. Before him, the gathered students engaged in combat; some serious while others merely wished to go beyond this foolish formality. A few, however, remained stationary; their eyes wide and uncertain.

Nobodies, his inner voice cooed, fearful and weak. Worthless, I would say. Are you a Nobody, Timothy?

"No," he said simply, his fists uncurling and his arms hanging limply at his sides. Tim lifted his right hand and held it aloft, scanning the crowd as he prepared to launch his first attack on an unsuspecting victim.

COMBAT INITIATED!

From his palm came a quiet flame, thin as a whip and quick as a serpent, that darted in strange undulations toward the back of his chosen foe. When it struck, the fire spread into dancing, licking tongues of ire; setting his opponent alight. The Nobody danced in his mounting pain, forfeiting his turn in a futile attempt to swat away the embers that gnawed on his flesh. Tim patiently awaited for his next turn and shot forth a bolt of ethereal pressure to strike the Nobody's shoulder.

He briefly considered biting the Nobody on the cheek, tearing away partially seared flesh with his bare teeth. However, it was his first day at Bridge City High and showing yourself to be a budding cannibal was not a good way to earn the notice of your classmates; this much he knew. Instead, he watched as the Nobody twisted; clutching their shoulder. The battle was over.

If I could even call that a battle.

His veiled eyes turned again to the stage, where the principal stood; towering over the procession of violence with an oafish grin on his face. Tim shrugged. It was good enough, he supposed. Without further thought, he adjusted the straps of his backpack and began making his way through the crowd.