Hound55

Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - [CLOSED]

Dickishness on the way out the door ain't really necessary. Just saying.

Beyond the insane amount of work that has gone into this initially, and the added work put in since it started...

And I would like to remind people he did give people a choice as to whether continue for however much free time he still had, rather than taking the easier, more dickish path himself, dropping this on everyone come September and bailing.

I'm also saying this as someone with two kids of his own...

Still, future plans going ahead are in the works in the Discord #Roleplays thread

Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - [CLOSED]

Better Get A Lawyer Son - Part 3

"A year..? I'd have to go to prison for a year?"

It was always difficult doing this part. No matter how good the deal. If it involved a term of imprisonment, it never came easy. Understandably so.

"Yes. But given the maximum is nine years for your sentence, if found guilty, one year is pretty-- well, I'm hesitant to say it's a great deal, because I'm not the one doing the time. But it's beyond what would usually be considered reasonable given the circumstances."

"It-- it is?"

"Like I said... he had to change his pants." Banjo tried to offer a warm smile.

"Well... what happens now?" Edgar asked.

"Well, assuming he gets clearance to sign off on the deal, he calls me back and let's me know it's on. Then, assuming this is what YOU want, there's paperwork and documentation to fill out that becomes activated upon your submission of a guilty plea, which would take place at a preliminary hearing. At which point you'd be taken into custody and transferred to prison from where you're being held, and go through processing. With the year's penalty starting that date. Since it's part of plea bargaining, there'd be no knocking time off on time served, but a year's also considerably less time in the first place than you'd likely get if found guilty."

Edgar looked nervous. A whole year in prison. Could he-- what would that even be like? Could he make it through that?

"Do you-- do you think I could make it through that? A whole year?"

Banjo sighed, there was no easy and honest way of doing this. Any effort to spare the client in one way would be sacrificing the other. It was not a situation where compromise was possible.

"I've had clients do thirty days. I've got clients doing multiple years. I'm not going to lie and say it's ever easy... or like a really bad summer camp, or the worst school you've ever attended... but I can honestly say, for shorter termed sentences - and this is all relative - the bigger reason to not take it is the question of what will happen when you get back out, than the horrors when you're in. And don't take that wrong. It will be horrible when you're in." Banjo kept his voice down, and it almost seemed muffled beyond the pair of them behind his hunched shoulders.

"When you come out, there's no return to the status quo. You'll be treated differently everywhere. You're going to have even more trouble finding legitimate work. Taking this deal... what you get back from the years you'll have taken off your sentence, they won't be the same as your existence before you got arrested. They just won't. If you're scared of potentially having to be in there and ACTUALLY SURVIVING for five to nine, then yes. I get it. On paper it's a fantastic deal. A single year, when you could have been serving nine. But it doesn't factor in everything that comes with telling society that you're guilty."

"You don't think I should take it?"

Banjo tried to arrest the way the conversation was going by raising his hands up, palms out.

"Whoa... that's not what I'm saying. What I AM saying is that this isn't the kind of decision you can make just seeing the number one, the number nine, and thinking 'this' is a Hell of a lot bloody better than 'that'. Even if it is. Because there's still pain that comes immediately with 'this' that would outright not be felt with an acquittal or positive verdict."

"If I served nine, when I get out wouldn't I have the same problems? And they hauled bag after bag from my own car. What are the odds you could even get me an acquittal or positive verdict? At least when I get out, I could help my Moms, man. I go for nine years... she might not even make it that long. She just lost Pops already."

Banjo shrugged. An honest gesture, if somewhat callous. "But that's what I'm saying. I can't make this decision for you. Has to be by you, what's right for you, based on your knowledge of what the different options mean and their consequences."

"So if we get the greenlight for the one, what do YOU want?"

Edgar hunched over thinking. In the end it was the thought of his own mother which made the decision for him. Just as it had made the other decisions which led him to where he sat right now. In the 'Visitation Room' in stir.

"I mean-- I've gotta take the one and done, man."

---

_{Location: Bernalillo County Metropolitan Court, Metropolitan Courthouse, Albuquerque, New Mexico}

Better Get A Lawyer, Son: 1.03 Get Yourself a Suit And Tie

---

_{Interaction(s): Nil}

Previously: Get Yourself A Lawyer Son

"A year?!? I don't get it, I thought you said you had a clean bust, clear case."

"I do. But--"

The younger Assistant District Attorney was following an older colleague around the office whilst he made stops at various desks and the photocopier.

"Then what's the problem?"

"Well, it's this slimeball defense attorney..."

"Isn't it always..."

"Says he's got evidence to walk back the charge for crossing the Mexican border..."

"So drop the Fed charge."

"Yeah, but I papered the charge. It's already gone to the judge. He says when he makes me walk it back he's going to dress me down in front of the judge, with his stupid shitbag accent..."

The older man stopped in his tracks and his neck straightened up.

"Wait-- accent..?"

"Yeah, it's weird. He's got this Mexican name, which he even mispronounces with this stupid accent from like, Britain, or Austra--"

"Banjo de Leon..? Fuck that. Take the opportunity he gave you. Call him back, he'll drop it to six months. Doesn't matter. Take the plea." The older man turned and faced him, and actually got animated with his advice. His hands a quick flurry of gestures, before he went back to what he'd previously been doing.

"Wait, what--? What happened to clean bust, clear case?"

"Don't care. You're not ready for the kind of buzzsaw you're staring down. Hell, you don't even have the sense to realize that's what you're looking at. Not this early in your career, you don't want any of that. Make him plead it out. Shit, three months if it gets you out of that woodchipper." He handed back paperwork to someone working behind a desk, and moved on, before noticing the younger man wasn't still following.

The young ADA had stopped in his tracks, barely able to believe what he was hearing. He snorted derisively.

"What?" The elser statesman of the prosecution asked.

"You're scared of him. Make it sound like he should be wearing a cape. Acting like he's Superman or something."

"I am scared of him. For you. You've nowhere near the level of experience necessary to be dealing with this guy, ESPECIALLY with a case that looks open and shut from the outside. This guy will embarrass you. And he's not Superman..." With an 'onwards' nod of his head he gestured for the new ADA to keep walking.

"...Superman has a moral code." He finished after the younger man was once again by his side.

"He's more like-- I dunno-- Nineties Michael Jordan. You don't give him any reason to be pissed off. Hope he tries to sleepwalk his way to a breezy twenty-five... thirty-five points... and then hope you can sneak up on him and steal a game here and there where he's not looking. In your case... Make him plead it out. Build your career around him until you're established. Hope you catch him on a breezy day later once your reputation is solid."

"I did call him an asshole. I think my exact words were, 'some slick little asshole defense attorney'..."

"Or you could kick the hornet's nest and call him an asshole..." He looked up to the sky as if he couldn't believe the stupidity of the younger man.

"It's a car full of cocaine, though..."

"It's a two-bit driver, with no apparent connection to his higher ups. The actual dealers or cartel will replace him by the end of... well this sentence. They'd have already replaced him."

"You want me to take the plea bargain?"

"I think it would be best if you did. And I'll explain it up the chain. You wouldn't be the only one to have dodged him early. But a lot of the people who didn't-- don't work here anymore. So, your choice."

"Yeah. Alright."

The older man still sensed resistance. "Look... how old are you?"

"I'm twenty eight."

"Exactly, you're twenty eight. And how many other Assistant District Attorneys are operating in major US cities under the age of thirty five?"

"And how am I supposed to know that?"

The older man raised his eyebrows, refusing to give that response any dignity whatsoever. The young wunderkind ADA from New York city who had moved to New Mexico to be the youngest operating ADA in any major city in the country, had a clipped article framed at his workspace. Playing dumb did not impress him at all.

"Alright, none. What's your point?" He admitted his knowledge.

"My point is, you moved here to get that put on your resume, and presumably when you move back in five or ten years--"

"I'm not--!"

"I didn't interview you. I'm not your boss, and I'm not stupid. For what its worth, they're not either." He pointed to the closed door of the District Attorney's office. "You moved here short term for your career. I'm not mad. Not even disappointed. So let's be straight here. You got offered an ADA gig at a ridiculously young age in an attempt to lure a high-potential, high-profile young prosecutor down here. They get your talents however long you stay, you get the resume plaudits, until you hit a high profile enough case that gets New York looking in this direction... at which point the resume speaks for itself, and they bring you back as an ADA to New York. And you've shaved ten to fifteen years off your waiting period - Youngest ADA in New York is about twenty years older than you right now, I believe. And because of your added years of experience in the role, quickly put yourself in the frontrunning position of District Attorney successor over enough time as well. Yes?"

He'd checked pretty much every box of his career plan that he'd mapped out.

"..."

"I'll take that as a 'Yes' or at least a 'Close enough'. Well, what you don't realise is, this guy... he's the guy who derails all of that. This is the heavy puncher that the young boxer ducks early in his career, because you're in no way ready to deal with this, so that you can go on to be the Heavyweight champ one day. Maybe you take him on later, maybe you don't. But you sure as Hell don't make that fight today."

"Why are you so worried that this guy's going to beat me?"

"I'm not worried he's going to beat you. Any one of these attorney's could suddenly have a good day, evidence drops in their lap, a witness disintegrates on the stand, a good session turns one way one day. You're going to get beaten by one of them one of these days."

"Then why?"

"Because you care about your career, about your reputation, and this guy isn't just going to beat you. He's going to embarrass you. If you get on the wrong side of this guy and set foot in that courtroom, he's going to dance around on you and make it look like you don't even belong up there."

"And what would you do, when you were my age, if you had someone your age coming at you telling you to get this guy to plead it out, to less than a year for a trunk full of coke."

"Me? Oh, I'd take it to trial." The older man said in a matter-of-fact way.

"Ex-ACKT--!"

"But then I have no problem with being an Assistant District Attorney in Albuquerque at age fifty three... I'm right where I want to be."

The younger man stopped in his tracks.

"Alright, alright... I get your point. I'll get him to plead it out."

"Good luck. Hope he lets you out."

"Wait-- What?" This whole thing was only sounding worse by the minute.

"Well, you did call the man an asshole. And he can be... competitive."

"So? The man has a client."

"He does. But if he thinks he can beat you, he will voice as much to the client. As much hardball as you think he's playing in plea agreement, this isn't what he does. He's a trial attorney. That isn't because he's incapable of being convincing..."

- - -

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Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - [CLOSED]

@Hound55 Question: If it's the future (an alternate one, at least), will Blackjack and Co. ever make cameos? Not that you have to, I just think it'd be interesting.

@Kuro

Next one may or may not feature Bean...

Tricky thing is it's a pretty self-contained piece of legal/courtroom fiction where I've got a lot of the beats figured out. But we'll see if anyone else comes up.

Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - [CLOSED]

Finally knocked the second part of that alternate future mini-arc on the head.

For those who missed the first part:

Better Get a Lawyer, Son. Part 1

Edgar Martinez's face was pressed hard against the hot hood of the cruiser which had absorbed the late day's April sun. His hands already sore from the tight cuffs. That mild pain wouldn't be going anywhere in a hurry.

Edgar's head had been positioned so he could watch the whole process of the seizure taking place, in full glory.

Bag after bag of tightly wrapped white powder was removed from the car by the other New Mexico trooper, after initial photographs.

"Aww, maaaaan."

"It would seem you're in a whooole mess-a trouble, young man..."

"Wha-- what am I gonna do? This is crazy, man..."

"What are you gonna do..? Well, we already mirandized you, son... but it would seem you Better Get A Lawyer, son. You better get a reeeeal good one."

---

_{Location: Lock Up, Albuquerque, New Mexico}

Better Get A Lawyer, Son: 1.01 Better Get a Real Good One

---

_{Interaction(s): Nil}

Previously: N/A

Italian wingtips clak across state linoleum.

Edgar had his head on the table. The cuffs still hurt and were now connected to a loop holding him here in this tight room that they wouldn't let him out of. It'd been hours.

A practised double windsor, resting on a dress shirt with an exorbitant thread count, bounces with a confident gait.

They had him. They kept talking about Mexico, but he'd brought this coke across from Texas. Just because he was Latino they thought he was Mexican? This was fucked. Kept talking about how the Feds would turn him inside out. They all knew they had him. They pulled all the bags out right in front of him. Maybe he should just--

The door opened. In walked a blonde man, with a crisp suit and a swagger all his own.

"Hey, I'm Banjo de León fro--"

"No frickin' way you're Latino, man..."

Banjo blinked twice.

"--and with that I think we can put a heavy line through 'Incompetency to stand trial'. Yes, you're very astute."

He rounded the table and put his case on the floor.

"As I was saying... I'm Banjo de León from 'de León, Alvarez, Prescott and Attorneys', now whilst--"

"Whoa... name partner." Edgar was surprised that he'd received this kind of attention.

"I'm not a name partner." He replied, going through the motions of a conversation he'd had all too many times already.

"Your father, then?" Edgar assumed. They always assume.

"My wife, as it bloody happens. But you couldn't afford her, mate. So you're stuck with me if you'll have me. Now... as I was trying to say, 'de León, Alvarez, Prescott and Attorneys' we're not generally known for criminal defense. We're known as a civil rights law firm by reputation. I, however, am entirely focused on criminal defense within our firm, and I assure you I am the best you'll find. Unless you want to take your chances on the crapshoot that is the Public Defenders Office." He produced a small box of business cards and slid one across the table top.

Edgar scooped the card up in both cuffed hands like it was a communion wafer, and clung to it like a life preserver. "How-- how much is this going to cost me..?"

"Well, since we're a civil rights law firm, a lot of what I do is actually pro bono work. Which means--"

"You mean you'll work for free..?!"

"Well... on occasion, the judge can occasionally determine that pro bono counsel be renumerated by the state for some or all of our costs if we win in a really over the top fashion, in which case, you wouldn't see THAT money. But yeah. That won't be you. No costs up front."

"Oh thank God, man! They've real--" Banjo silenced him with a hand gesture and "Ah!"

"These rooms are all mic-ed up." He explained.

"Wait, they can do that? You're my lawyer, man?!"

"Well, I'm pleased to hear that." He said as he removed the standard forms and pen from his case, to lay on the table in front of Edgar, before closing the case back up. "And yeah, it wouldn't be admissible in a court room, because of privilege, which you're right to refer to. But anyone listening in might still be tempted to use that for lines of invstigation, and then mysteriously the audio for the room goes missing orrrr they claim it was never recording at the time. You get what I'm saying? So let's not tempt fate, mate. These people are already screwing you to the wall, let's not offer to buy them dinner."

"They're-- they're screwing me?"

"That'd be my bet. Let me guess, they got you in here, started talking about how you were seen driving up from the Mexican border, all of a sudden the Feds are getting mentioned...?

"Yea-- yeah, man! That's exactly what they did!"

"Figures... Trafficking - WHICH NO ONE IS SAYING YOU EVEN DID - is a second degree felony." He raised his voice for Edgar's benefit, having mentioned the mics. It was covered by privilege and meant nothing, but the client wouldn't actually SEE him fighting for him for a while yet, and it was important to make sure they maintain that belief in their lawyer always being on their side. Always fighting. Relentless. "First charge is nine years... unless they can tie you to bringing it in from south of the border. Then it jumps to Federal and they can nail you for twenty years. Stronger negotiating position."

"Those-- those muthafuckas!" He hurriedly signed the paperwork.

"Yeah. Yeah, I hear a lot of that." He took the paperwork back and put it back in his case.

"So... so what do we do from here?"

"Well, I have your casefile, from here I'm going to go down to the ADA's office and see what kind of offer I get out of them."

"Wait-- wait, we're, we're taking a plea..?"

Banjo said nothing but gave a look of pity across the table that all but said "Mate, they hauled bag after bag of cocaine out of your car directly in front of you."

A few beats passed before he eventually spoke. "I'm just going to hear their offer. I wouldn't - and for that matter can't - accept their offer without talking to you first. At this stage it's all a negotiating process anyway. That's why they're trying to find ways to make YOU think they can up the penalty. We have our own investigators to look into this stuff as well. But the negotiations, I'm good at this. They'll need to change their pants after they see me coming."

"You're-- You are good, right? Promise?" Banjo looked into Edgar's desperate eyes.

Banjo smiled back warmly.

"Mate, I somehow managed to talk the best woman I've ever known into marrying me, and all it cost me was taking her name. And given when we met, I didn't have one of me own... I think I made a pretty good deal."

He got to his feet and walked to the door.

"I'll level though... she maaaaaay have been a little sweet on opposing counsel. But it won't matter. You'll see."

And with that he was gone.

- - -

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---

And Now...

Better Get A Lawyer Son - Part 2

Banjo stood with his tie over his left shoulder, tucked into his suit, and the wide stance of a local at the bench of 'Julie's' foodtruck, hunched over his breakfast burrito.

"I dunno how you keep nailin' this every morning, Ferd..."

"Sure you do. Same ingredients. Same process. Lots of practice."

"Alchemy. Magic most foul. Got it. Say no more." He punctuated it with a massive bite.

Fernando turned back to the grill, to prep the next white slip. He called out over his shoulder "So'd you hear about this kid they got downtown. Word is they've got one even you couldn't flip."

"Nnng..?" Banjo said, barely paying attention, basking in the experience of his food.

"Yeah. Highway patrol caught this kid with a trunk full of cocaine..."

"Mmm..." Banjo listened, but his jaw was otherwise preoccupied.

"Yeah, say they gonna nail his ass to the floor..." Fernando kept his back to Banjo. Working away at the grill. A loud hissing noise came as the next ticket's ingredients hit the hotplate.

"DA said he'd bet a million bucks he's got this kid nailed, dead to rights. So I thought I'd tell you, and take my own action. Bet you two grand you couldn't flip him."

Banjo put his burrito down and pinched his brow in frustration. "Ferd... whaddaya doin'?"

"What, I can't make a friendly wager... see if the pendejo DA actually knows what he's talking ab--"

"Well, first of all, get your terminology right. I don't flip anyone. The Feds flip people to turn wit, and the prosecution flips witnesses to turn state. I walk 'em. And secondly, why are you treating me like I'm an idiot, Ferd? You're not betting me. You're trying to undercut my price on taking a case. Now who's this kid?"

"..."

"Ferd..? Ferd I haven't gone anywhere. I'm still right here... Feeer-errrrrd..." He picked his burrito back up and took another bite. "Dammit, that's good!"

^{_{"Julie's niece knows him..."}}

"Aww no, Julie? You're in on this..?"

"Please Mister Banjo, Edgar's a good boy..."

"No. No. First of all, I know you both know Banjo's the first name. You're doing that to sound more pitiful, and I haven't been eating here all this time to not have noticed that it's beneath you to not realise it. You're playin' me Julie..." He took another big bite, but Julie wouldn't let up.

"Lisa, she knew him from school, she said that Edgar Martinez was a good boy, but then his father died. All he had was his car and some gas money, Mister Banjo, and he still had to look after his mother..."

"Knock it off!" He said, with his mouth still partially full.

"...He had to drop out of school! Mister Banjo, the only way he could come close to making up the money that they relied on his father to bring in, was to start driving for bad--"

"Dammit! I'd say you just made me lose my appetite, but we all know that's not the case! It's too damn good! I'm taking this to go..." He stormed off.

The crunch of his shoes on the ground foretold his return. He grabbed a handful of napkins from the basket.

"Needed serviettes." He explained. He felt four sad eyes on him. He sighed.

"French dip sandwich. Lunchtime. I'm not bloody payin' for it. And I want you to know, that I'm not very happy with any of you..."

And with that he walked to his car.

---

_{Location: Bernalillo County Metropolitan Court, Metropolitan Courthouse, Albuquerque, New Mexico}

Better Get A Lawyer, Son: 1.02 Get yourself a Lawyer, Son

---

_{Interaction(s): Nil}

Previously: Better Get A Real Good One

The newest Assistant District Attorney stepped out of court, and down the corridor after a fine morning session. He looked over and found himself walking next to a blonde man in a fine tailored suit. Defense attorney. Had to be.

"Hey, I'm Banjo de León fro--"

"Ah, the Martinez case, right?"

"That's right."

"The guy who just saw us pull all his coke out of--"

"Not all facts are yet in evidence. Oh, and feel free to drop an 'allegedly' in there at any point in time." Banjo kept a closed mouthed smile.

"You're right. They're not yet in evidence. The coke has been seized... and I then get to enter it all - as a few people bring it in, and dump it all down on that little table, piled high - as evidence in front of a jury. I am new here, but I'm pretty sure that's how it works." The ADA didn't keep his smile closed-mouthed at all. Flashed a wide grin. Like a predator.

"If it need get that far..." Banjo said. "Now it is my client's first offense..."

"And a very interesting choice of crime for your client to make for his first offense, driving drugs in from Mexico..."

"Again... allegedly... and to be honest I'd even be careful saying that much..."

"Oh yes, and why would that be the case?"

Banjo stopped, and thought for a moment. "I'm gonna tell you a story... There was this young couple of newlyweds, named Rachel and Diego." The young ADA stopped in his tracks as Banjo had in the hallway of the courthouse, tucking himself against a wall to avoid foot-traffic and hustle and bustle. "Anyway, Rachel and Diego had always dreamed of owning their own home and had mamnaged to achieve it. Proper sized home as they wanted, but on the outskirts, near the Wienerschnitzel by the on-ramp for the Forty... even then the payments were choking them off pretty tight..."

The ADA's foot was tapping, this was dragging and going nowhere and he had places to be, he had other trial work coming up that day, and a full tray of work awaiting him back at the office.

"Anyway, when they wanted to build up a big Megamart Mall on the outskirts they were trying to buy up a lot of cheap properties by whatever means necessary to add to the development, provide additional parking, you know the drill... anyway, the people at the Megamart Mall were getting, well, let's say aggressive with their dealings. Making day-to-day life very difficult for Rachel and Diego. There were threats. People were stealing their mail... which happened to include a one-off bumper fee and due date for said fee on their home loan. More threats. Diego had to put up cameras outside his house. Those cameras got smashed. Had to re-install hidden, and recessed cameras that couldn't be so easily destroyed."

The ADA's patience was left a thread. "Alright, what's the moral of the story. Slow and steady wins the race?"

"What? No. This wasn't-- This wasn't an analogy. I know Rachel and Diego. Good people. I helped them save their house, we proved that payment was missed because of that mail theft - a Federal offense, and they send my wife and I Christmas cards every year. This wasn't that kind of story."

The ADA was incensed, he was wasting his time. "Then what?! What was the point of any of this?!"

"The point was. I know Rachel and Diego. Nice people. We get along well. And if I were to have pulled the footage on the video cameras he still has from his property and told you that you can see a very familiar sedan driving up the Forty, at the time consistent with my client's story and absolutely no clear evidence to support the baseless theory that he was driving up from Mexico, what would you say?"

The pallor dropped from the ADA's face.

"We--"

"My guess is 'Oh!', because there's not much else to be said beyond that, really. Which takes me back to before when I said '--and I'd be careful even saying that much.' Because your filed paperwork is already Doo-de-doo-de-doo-de-doo--" He mimed a walking figure up to the Judge's office with his fingers. "--well and truly on it's way to the Judge. I'm guessing you were trying to put pressure on me as some kind of power move right there, don't really care. But at this point it's something you'd have to walk back if we proceed to trial. Walking back what will likely be seen as a bad faith effort to tack on years to a plea agreement."

"Well, now that's not really a fair asse--" The ADA spoke up with half-hearted faux outrage at the attack on his character.

"Not a fair assessment? So your plan was... what... to go to trial claiming before a judge and a local jury of his peers that Edgar Martinez was hauling a load of drugs from Mexico via... what... Amarillo? Would be interesting to watch. Particularly from my vantage point on the defence bench."

"Fine... Three years."

"Really? I was thinking one."

"One year?!? He had a trunk full of cocaine!"

"Ohhhhhh that's because you're still thinking about this as about Edgar Martinez. No, no, no. I was thinking you were negotiating with... some kind of concern for self-preservation and your own career. See, because if you go up there before a judge with this, WHEN I make you walk back your cynical play here, that's going to affect how the judge sees a new ADA who hasn't really prosecuted anything in this state. Well, first impressions are a very valuable thing in our profession. I'm saying one year and letting you buy yours back."

"Two years." The young ADA threw out in a blurted counter.

"I said one year. And I didn't stutter. If I were in the mood for haggling Id have said six months and let you walk me back to a year. No. One year. And I still have to convince my client to take the deal."

The young Assistant District Attorney seethed and considered his options. "How the Hell am I supposed to swing one year with our office."

"You tell them the full story. All of it. And they'll get it. Hell, might even think you dodged a bullet." Banjo flashed a quick leer. "Either way, it's not my problem and it's not Edgar Martinez's."

He considered. "I'll take it to my office."

"Really, you're gonna crowd source this?" Banjo chuckled like he'd just been told a wry joke.

"I'm not going to let some slick little asshole defense attorney push me into making an unmakable deal." He hissed at him in frustration. "If I CAN swing one year, for a watertight case with a trunk full of cocaine, without being strung up I will call you back and you can tell your client."

Banjo's grin remained glued to his face. He enjoyed this part of the process far too much.

"You have until close of business, Prosecutor." He turned and left him in the hallway. "I'll go talk to my client, but I wouldn't drag my feet if I were you."

- - -

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Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - [CLOSED]

Adrianna Dahl sat at the head of the conference table, looking down the line of turncoats and backstabbers who had just entered their vote against her.

Not one of them had any practical knowledge in engineering. Not one of them was remotely proficient in any of the sciences. There was five doctorates in the room. None were even peripherally related to anything STEM. Two were in Economics, Two more in Business Management / Administration... which Adie still could barely believe was a thing a person could become a Doctor in, and the fifth was in Management Information Systems and Business Statistics.

When she'd put these people on the board, she'd filled it with pliable 'Yes' men, with no practical knowledge in the company's products' fields of technology and research and development. Her justification being that she already knew her field, and that it wasn't there where she needed hands and eyes.

They'd out-manoeuvred her in a field that was outside of her own specialty, and the most galling thing was she hadn't recognised any of the signs, had no awareness of it as it happened under her very nose. Like she was the butt of a joke, but even on the outside of the punchline.

"Not one of you could have even come close to building this. And I'm supposed to let you drag me out?"

"Adria--"

"Shut up. You've made millions off of dividends and vested stock options. You've never created a thing in your life. None of you have. None of you could."

She'd built this place alone. And let them maul her and drag her down and tear her heart out as a scrambling, clawing team... whilst she stood alone.

---

_{Location: Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean}

First Class: # 2.63 FileName# 'Lutra' Not Found. Try Again? Y or N?

---

_{Interaction(s): Nil}

Previously: This Computer Isn't Configured For Fast User Switching

Looking for a distraction from the dramatic proceedings in the latest Teledrama episode of 'Blackjack!', Adrianna opened her envelope to see what the other two houses to offer her placement, not named Lutra.

Only to find there were three such houses.

There must have been some kind of mistake...

She upturned the envelope and shook it, the two other team armbands shook out to the floor.

Okay. Okay. Maybe you got somebody else's envelope... or maybe, you're missing something. Maybe there's something to these three that makes them an even better fit than Lutra that you just hadn't thought about.

She looked at her three cards.

Greetings and Salutations Adrianna, We are pleased to announce that after review, we have found you to possess great assertiveness, a trait that we truly hold dear and revere in House Gulo. We hope that you'll make ours your House of choice upon receiving your offers. Sincerely, Robert Priest Jr.

Greetings and Salutations Adrianna, We are pleased to announce that after review, we have found you to possess great observation, a trait that we truly hold dear and revere in House Strigidae. We hope that you'll make ours your House of choice upon receiving your offers. Sincerely, Theron Demetrios

Greetings and Salutations Adrianna, We are pleased to announce that after review, we have found you to possess great creativity, a trait that we truly hold dear and revere in House Myotis. We hope that you'll make ours your House of choice upon receiving your offers. Sincerely, Robert Priest Sr.

Assertiveness, observation and creativity.

Well... okay. Although 'observation' kind of seemed like a cruel joke right now.

Gulo. The intense loner house.
Myotis. The aloof creative artiste house.
Strigidae... she hadn't even considered Strigidae.

This was a nightmare.

She'd come back to school for a different experience than her own high school life had been. She was successful now. She could be cool now. So how was she winding up getting forced into the same pigeon hole all over again. She was supposed to collect some bits of paper that said she knew how to do stuff that people who were actually IN the industry knew she could actually write the book on, even without the official qualifications that said so... and live it up and party some, whilst doing it.

So how was this all happening again?

The second whistle blew, and the teams re-settled into their new status quo. To Adie's bafflement a number of her own teammates had jumped ship. Was that-- were they unhappy? Had they ever expressed that?

How did this keep happening? How and why were there always all these hidden machinations she never knew about which saw people wanting out, or wanting her out, or wanting something different? And how was it always less surprising to others than her?

If Lutra was in there this wouldn't have even been a choice. She'd have just viewed it as 'meant to be', 'oh, of course', 'well, it was an inevitability'.

But without them, perhaps she'd been granted an opportunity?

She thought back to what she knew about the three houses. Gulo and Myotis had a touch if the distant, individual genius. Brilliant, but isolated. Hadn't that always been her problem?

Strigidae. Dependable. Observant. Tenacious.

It sounded a lot like her father. A lot like the values he'd tried so hard to drive into her, and a lot like how he carried himself as well.

Maybe this Theron Demetrios had picked up on a hint of that, even if individual brilliance seemed to shine to the fore.

And maybe... maybe a bit more of that was what she needed.

A person who her company and board felt they could depend on... maybe they don't force that person out.
An observant person... maybe they would have seen it coming and found a way to stop them.
And a tenacious person... would almost certainly have dug in and put up a longer fight than she had been able to.

Maybe this was more than just a selection for who she was. Maybe it was a way she could develop these burgeoning traits even further, and become something greater than she had been?

She approached the team Captain who stood underneath the orange banners.

"Hi. Adrianna Dahl. I'm reporting in to accept your invitation and drive Strigidae into the future."

- - -

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Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - [CLOSED]

The Principal of Haileybury Rendall School greeted them at the front. Outside of the main administrative building.

"Nilijarrk. Batjji ganyam."

"That means--"

"Yeah, yeah. 'We've arrived. It's good to see us.' We saw the sign on the way in..."

"So this must be An--"

"Banjo." He interrupted.

The Principal glanced over at the eyes of the Butler who just subtly nodded his head with a widening smile.

"Banjo it is, then. We hope you'll do your fellow students the same courtesy of calling them by their preferred names as well. It would seem that would be a courtesy that should go both ways."

"If I know it and can pronounce it, that'd seem only reasonable. And if I can't I'll still give it my best shot. Fair?"

"More than fair, mate. Remember that much and you should get on fine."

"Hmm..." Banjo mumbled, less than convinced that this was all it would take to get along.

"So, you saw the rock signs coming in. Do you know what Larrakia means?"

"It's the First Nations people of the area. Translates to "Saltwater people", presumably because of the sea and trading nature of their peoples."

"And the place on the sign out the front? Larrakia country?"

"Gulumoerrgin. Translates to 'white stone'. Because of the coastal rock colour of the sea cliffs around Darwin - or should I use 'Gulumoerrgin' there again? It also can mean the language of the Larrakia, or I think even refer to the Larrakia themselves... I think someone said the word even pre-dates the present choice of 'Larrakia', so it's pretty diverse in meaning."

"How the Hell do you know all that?" Asked the Butler.

"Different generation. We at least learn a little about the First Nations peoples based around the capitals. The Kaurna around Adelaide, the Gadigal around Sydney cove, the Whadjuk Noongar around Perth, Melbourne's a bit trickier because it spreads to the Wurundjeri and Boon Wurrung..." Banjo answered the older white man, before turning to the Principal.

"Still not that much, and if he asks me anything else about the Larrakia or Gulumoerrgin I'm probably pitifully tapped out. But I know that much for how little we get taught, at least. But considering there were supposedly about two hundred and fifty different groups of First Nations peoples when colonisation kicked off, knowing about a dozen of those groups names is pretty piss poor. And I probably remember more than most..."

"He's right. I'm actually kind of surprised he knows that much. Reading up in the car on the way here?"

Banjo laughed. "You give me far too much credit for work ethic. As your teacher's will probably tell you after knowing me for a week... No. That's just all... swirling around up top here." He pointed to his own head.

"Hmm..." It was the Principal's turn to mutter to himself.

The Butler laughed awkwardly. "Yeah, ah... He can be a handful sometimes, this one. Ha ha." Before clipping Banjo behind the ears, whilst the Principal looked the other way, and silently mouthing swearing at the kid to pull his head in.

"So, whilst we're walking around. Basic facilities. Boarding school dorms are just through there. So you've just been transferred over to the local military base, I believe you said."

"Ha yeah!" The Butler exhaled a laugh before recalling his cover story and dropping his voice an octave as if that would somehow further sell it to the Principal. "Ah yeah, yeah, mate. Just been transferred. Naval ship's out at port. Routine training waiting for it to-- well, you know the drill."

"Uh-huh." The Principal replied, unsure about the weird outburst from the other grown man. "Well, we have had a few part time transfer students whilst parents have been temporarily re-stationed. We hope you'll enjoy your time here. The school has cricket, basketball, football teams. Did you say you were from Victoria/Western Australia/S.A or New South Wales or Queensland?"

"Yes." Replied Banjo. ^{_{"Most bloody likely..."}} He sarcastically grumbled about his unknown background.

"Ha ha!" The Butler laughed again, trying to cover up the child's comments. "Yes, just over from Cairns at the moment. So... Queensland. So he's probably not going to be much up for the footy. Rugby land for this one¹. Ha ha!" He said, trying to use the state football divides to keep Banjo out of the school sports he'd doubtless want little to do with, before turning and scowling at Banjo shaking his head and mouthing 'What are you doing to me?'

"Oh, we do have a rugby team. In fact Mister Harrison will doubtless be thrilled to hear that he's got someone over here from Queensland who'd be familiar and up for it. Not a lot of experience or desire for rugby up here in the Top End. It's mostly Aussie Rules footy up in these parts."

"Oh-ho! Did you hear that?" They have a rugby team! There ya go, kiddo!"

"I heard..." Banjo replied iciliy. 'Alright, I'm sorry, how the bloody Hell was I s'posed to know?' mouthed the Butler.

"Now as well as the sports programs, we've also got an expansive outdoor education program - which frankly we find to be crucial for the region. It's a very "hands on" approach, experiential based program looking to create an independent, capable, environmentally aware next generation who are properly prepared to deal with the physical and mental challenges that the environment does bring and will in the future."

"So a lot of camping and stuff, eh? Well, he's up to speed on all that. A lot of that in his past schools."

"Hmm..?"

"Past school years. In the years of his school in the past. In Cairns." The Butler fumbled.

"You'd be well up for that, eh kiddo?"

"Yeah. I assume the salties would be well up for it too..."

"Oh come on, mate! I'm sure they're not going camping out where there's salt water crocodiles!"

The Principal cringed slightly and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well..."

"The Larrakia call them 'Dungalaba', they're actually totemic to their people. There's ahh-- also more of them here than in Queensalnd. Oh, and they're protected under Northern Territory, Australian and International law. They have a cultural and social significance to the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people at length."

"Uh-huh." Banjo noted, turning his head to the Butler with a "Really? Does that do it now? Are we done here?" look on his face that seemed to pose the question about the degree of cultural and social significance these same people would find for some white kid from Whoknowswhere.

"Dungalaba is also one of the primary clans of the Larrakia people, so central that the Larrakia all believe themselves to be descendents of the Dungalaba - and being descendents of that clan also comes with a kinship and relationship with the animal." The Principal continued, whilst the Butler's head sank deeper into his shoulders and he refused to make eye contact with Banjo. "As such, the Larrakia also like to view themselves as possessing many of the traits of the Dungalaba. Fierce protectors, can be prone to being a bit snappy..."

"You could even say... salty..?" Banjo offered, watching the Butler shrink further.

"I suppose that could be considered accurate."

"Huh." Banjo let that hang in the air for a few moments.

"But that's just traits they're said to behold. Said to value... In the end, I guess it's all a choice."

---

_{Location: Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean}

First Class: # 2.59 Welcome To Country / House

---

_{Interaction(s): N/A}

Previously: Welcome to Larrakia Country

Banjo flicked back through the three cards again, as if trying to somehow glean hidden information he'd somehow passed the first few times.

Greetings and Salutations Andrew, We are pleased to announce that after review, we have found you to possess great tenacity, a trait that we truly hold dear and revere in House Strigidae. We hope that you'll make ours your House of choice upon receiving your offers. Sincerely, Theron Demetrios

Greetings and Salutations Andrew, We are pleased to announce that after review, we have found you to possess great solitary assertiveness, a trait that we truly hold dear and revere in House Gulo. We hope that you'll make ours your House of choice upon receiving your offers. Sincerely, Robert Priest Jr.

Greetings and Salutations Andrew, We are pleased to announce that after review, we have found you to possess great motivation, a trait that we truly hold dear and revere in House Canis. We hope that you'll make ours your House of choice upon receiving your offers. Sincerely, Aiden Roth

Tenacity. Assertiveness. Motivation.

^{_{"So whaddayoo two know about these jokers? Strigidae, Me Goolies and Canis?"}}

"Alright, Strigidae tends to--" Tweedle-dee started to answer from his chair.

"Hey--!" Objected Tweedle-dum from the electric wheelchair.

"What?"

"No interference. We're not meant to interfere. The Chancellor wants untainted--"

"Oh please... we're not in any of his three choices. Hell, it's probably why he sent the pair of us. I'm just going to give a vague outsiders breakdown of all three. He's still making his own decision." He justified his decision to talk.

"So Strigidae tend to be a bit more quiet, introspective, withdrawn. You got 'Tenacity' on yours, but the other two traits they consider of value are Dependable and Observant. They've tended to win a lot of the House stuff lately as well. But if you're not a competitor they'll probably leave you alone. Now Gulo... they'll leave you to your own devices even more than Strigidae. They're very... 'Go their own way'. The other two traits? Solitary and pragmatism. They can be... intense. But they're an intense bunch of individuals. And finally, Canis... Well, historically they've won the most house stuff, but a lot of past glory. The other traits they value of esteem are loyalty and courage. They tend to be very..." He looked for the word.

^{_{"Full-on..? So let me guess, when we came in for that Homecoming Trials intro thing the other day at the ceremony, the hooting, hollering and smells-like-team-spirit of it all, that'd be them..?"}}

Tweedle-dee didn't answer beyond his widening smile.

"Not ONLY them, but... yeah. They're... particularly excitable." Tweedle-dum added, not wanting to completely sway him away from a choice. And glaring at the other.

^{_{"Great... who needs that."}}

So Dependable, Observant and Tenacious... or Assertive, Solitary and Pragmatic... or Courageous, Loyal and Motivated. NOW which one sounded most like Calliope?

He ruled out Gulo pretty quickly. More because the other two seemed even more applicable, than because it was immediately disqualifying.

The more he thought about it, the more it all seemed to blur together. They both sounded like her.

He thought back to that night...

He thought back to when she'd stood up to Rory and Inigo and never missed a beat.
He thought back to when she read the situation and the campfire and got the ball rolling on a dialogue, which he never could have achieved himself.

He thought back to what he himself had valued most about her:

"I mean... you seem pretty switched on. What do you make of that rabble out there tonight? Reckon we can hold this lot together?"

@Hound55

He trusted her opinion, her observations, as he did his own. And normally he only had his own to rely upon to get by in life.

^{_{"Observant..?"}} He muttered, collecting his own thoughts.

"Strigidae." He said clearly. Before wincing slightly from the effort.

"Huh. Interesting choice." Tweedle-dum said. Shuffling through three packages they'd brought, before selecting one and tossing it onto the bed. Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum both got to their feet and left.

Banjo looked at the parcel. Contained a bunch of clothing with heavy orange tones. So that's that decision made, he guessed.

The nurse poked her head up from the desk and saw that his company had left, and returned to the room.

"Oh, you're not watching the ceremony? Too much excitement?"

^{_{"Something like that."}} He muttered, putting the parcel on the moving table that hung over his hospital bed, and leaning further back into a more relaxed recline.

"Oh! Good news! You've got an appointment booked in with the specialist for tomorrow--"

^{_{"Specialist..? More surgery? The spleen--?"}}

"--is fine." The nurse completed his sentence. "No. Different kind of specialist. This is a hyperhuman with regenerative capabilities. She can take on others afflictions, and then heals herself at an accelerated rate. After an initial brief observation session to confirm the extent of your injuries and damage that she'd be taking on, there'd be a therapeutic session. Then, if everything works out ok, this time tomorrow after further observation, you should be free to go."

Banjo furrowed her brow. "There's-- there's someone like that here? Why's this--"

"Why's it taken so long? A few things. The hippocratic oath, being one. Her own safety being another. If she sees you too early, before you'd stabilised its possible the extent of your injuries could send her into shock, or potentially further. So we ensured your health got to that safe point by more conventional means, and then used the specialist to accelerate the healing process and your rehabilition."

^{_{"Observation? What else could they need to see, if she's taking on all of the damage?"}}

"Well, you're still not going to want to push yourself too hard. Your muscles have atrophied to a... remarkable degree for someone who's only been laid out for one week. I overheard a doctor say that it was like your coma had lasted a month. They moved a solar lamp in here to try and countenance that, but it hasn't been as effective as they'd have liked. That's partially why they've been so eager to get the specialist in early. Usually they'd wait another day or two, but they think keeping you out of the sunlight would probably do more harm to your recovery. Just be mindful that your body's not as it was and may take some time to recover. Don't push yourself too hard early on."

"Don't be surprised if the doctor gives you a week's reprieve from A.R.C training with your classes, just to help you get back to where you were."

A week. He thought. Well, that's not too bad.

After all. How much difference could a week possibly make?

- - -

¹ Australia finds itself somewhat divided down state lines in terms of preference for football code. The traditional "heartland" states for Australian Rules football being Victoria (VIC), South Australia (SA) and Western Australia (WA). Whilst Queensland (Q) and New South Wales (NSW) tend to have a preference for rugby codes, whether league or union. In terms of the other states and territories, Tasmania (TAS) and the Northern Territory (NT) lean towards Australian Rules football, the Australian Capital Territory (ACT) towards rugby.

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Hound's Wacky Shack of Miscellaneous Clap-Trap

A L E X Z I M M E R M A N
A L E X Z I M M E R M A N

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^{_{"Sure, Ma. I'll stay safe. But I'm starting to figure this out, and kids are getting hurt now."}}

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▅▅▅▅▅▅ Y E A R B O O K P H O T O ▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅ Y E A R B O O K P H O T O ▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅ S T U D E N T S U M M A R Y ▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅ S T U D E N T S U M M A R Y ▅▅▅▅▅ Alex Zimmerman _________________________________________________________ July15th,2005 | 18 | Caucasian _________________________________________________________ Single | Male | Heterosexual, Not That It's Mattered _________________________________________________________ Onanole (Formerly Winnipeg) | Manitoba | Canada ▅ P H Y S I C A L P R O F I L E ▅ P H Y S I C A L P R O F I L E ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ [+] - P H Y S I C A L T R A I T S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ B U I L D || Slight ◼ H A I R C O L O U R || Brown ◼ E Y E C O L O U R || Brown ◼ H E I G H T || 5'-9" ◼ W E I G H T || 155 lbs ◼ S K I N T O N E || Caucasian - ▅ M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S ▅ M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S ▅▅▅▅▅▅ [+] - M O T I V A T I O N S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Transferred to H.E.A.T Program after recent Hyperion Attack. Doesn't like bullies, and has started to grow into himself after a life of being "small for his age" (very late bloomer, grew 2 inches and added fifteen pounds in the last year). Always viewed himself as 'Just little Alex' but starting to think maybe, just maybe, he could be something more. Big comics nerd, has some inferiority complex issues, over this, his 'average' powers and from being bullied when younger. G O A L S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Wants to see what he can make of himself. - ▅ N O T E S ▅ N O T E S ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ [+] - M I S C E L L A N E O U S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► Some lofty dreams, huge comics fan. Favourite hero is Superman, but has an in-depth knowledge of comics across the board. ► May perhaps use comics too frequently in analogies and examples. ► Well read in general. All he really had in Onanole to keep him preoccupied was a book store called 'Poor Michael's Emporium'. ► Text colour: DodgerBlue - 1E90FF - _________________________________________________________

▅ S T U D E N T S Y N O P S I S ▅ S T U D E N T S Y N O P S I S ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ Alex Zimmerman grew up with a painfully dull existence. That was generally better when it was dull. Born to David and Barbara Zimmerman in Winnipeg, Manitoba. Alex was on the smaller side at school, and quiet and bookish found himself quickly preyed upon by bullies. The bullying became so extreme, that the Zimmerman's found themselves leaving Winnipeg, and moving to smalltown Onanole, where his father was able to find work as a ranger at Riding Mountain National Park. His mother managed to find work as a waitress there. Onanole is a small township of only about five hundred people and one of it's biggest landmarks is a bookstore called 'Poor Michael's Emporium' where Alex quickly took refuge. When his powers manifested his parents looked into the best ways to care for their son under the situation, and came to the conclusion of enrolling him in P.R.C.U. ▅ A B I L I T I E S, L I M I T A T I O N S, & W E A K N E S S E S ▅ A B I L I T I E S, L I M I T A T I O N S, & W E A K N E S S E S ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ H Y P E R H U M A N A B I L I T Y || Electricity Manipulation __PRIMARY CLASSIFICATION ||Exoteric __SECONDARY CLASSIFICATION ||Electromagnetic Alex is capable of significant, if somewhat imprecise at this point, electrical discharge. He can also draw electricity from other items, rendering electrical objects inert. At this point, THIS is the aspect of his power he has more control over, but it is far from the greatest potential use of his powers. Has potential for far greater maximum discharge when functioning as a conduit and re-routing external electricity, than by generating it all himself via HZE based conversion. But this can be particularly dangerous, as it means he's handling quantities of electricity potentially far beyond his regular ability to control. L I M I T A T I O N S || Has done very little practical work with his own abilities, mainly just figuring out how to keep himself from accidentally using them. W E A K N E S S E S || Typical electricity based issues. Water, can be effected by magnetism. Self esteem issues. Like his powerset, can be prone to predictibility/path of least resistance, and then get down on himself if he doesn't see success. ________________________________________________________________________________________

▅ _{P E R S O N A L P R O M P T S}
▅ _{P E R S O N A L P R O M P T S} ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

_{Y O U A W A K E I N T H E D E A D O F N I G H T, W H A T W O K E Y O U?}

"Well, at the moment, probably 'Big Steve'. He's my roomate over in our House. He sometimes snores, but a couple times lately he's been having these nightmares. You know, since the Hyperion thing. I don't know if that's become common. But yeah. He won't admit it, but, I'm pretty sure that's what's doing it.

Me? Oh, no. I don't dream much. Guess it makes me lucky, lately.

_{A D I S H E V E L E D S T R A N G E R A P P R O A C H E S Y O U A S K I N G F O R H E L P, H O W D O Y O U R E S P O N D?}

Well, I guess that depends on what our H.E.A.T training tells us how to handle the situation.

I'm guessing I heeeeeeeeeelllllllll--? doooooonnnnnn't hellllll--

I'm getting mixed messages off you at the moment. Are you guys going to teach us how to help the guy with care and caution, or what..?

_{A N I N T R U D E R A L A R M H A S B E E N S E T O F F O N C A M P U S, H O W D O Y O U R E A C T?}

I'd do what we're trained to do in the scenario. Probably orderly begin evacuation procedures and try to make sure that others are also following the procedures we're trained and taught to keep us safe.

▅ _{D E T A I L E D A P P E A R A N C E}
▅ _{D E T A I L E D A P P E A R A N C E} ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

The main aim behind Alex's dress selections is to pick out what will draw the least attention to him possible.

Lots of hoodies. Flannel over a simple t-shirt. Jeans or trackpants. Whatever he feels people are least likely to comment or belittle him for.

▅ _{P E R S O N A L I T Y}
▅ _{P E R S O N A L I T Y} ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

Alex is less quiet, and more overly self-conscious.

Having been bullied a lot when he was younger, a lot of his decisions and fashion choices are made with the perspective of not drawing unwanted attention. But he's not quiet or shy, particularly if he finds himself lucky enough to be talking to someone who shares common interests. At which point, if anything, he quickly becomes very bubbly, boistrous and excited to share his thoughts on said common interests.

He's found himself in what he feels like is a school full of hot, cool people, and hasn't realised he's actually starting to grow into himself as well.

Has big self-confidence and self-esteem issues.

▅ _{S K I L L S & T A L E N T S}
▅ _{S K I L L S & T A L E N T S} ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

_{S K I L L || P H O T O G R A P H Y}

Doesn't share it with many, and isn't exactly an outdoorsman, much to his father's chagrin. But he has taken a lot of nature photos for his father, in the interests of the National Park, and for his mother in a few of her small business enterprises.

He's quite skilled, but has never done anything to pursue it.

_{T A L E N T || L I T E R A R Y / P O P C U L T U R E C R I T I C I S M}

Runs his own blog.

Very few views, because he makes no effort to advertise. But he mainly runs it to cobble together his own thoughts on things.

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▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ "Alex, I just want you to be careful. You're supposed to be there learning how to control this." ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

Z I M M E R M A N, B A R B A R A || M O T H E R Z I M M E R M A N, B A R B A R A || M O T H E R _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Barbara Zimmerman works as a waitress in Onanole. She also has a few small businesses, producing arts and crafts stuff. Some of which Alex managed to get 'Poor Michael's Emporium' to stock in their 'Local Craft wares' section. She's a loving, doting mother who hopes her son is getting the care and support he needs in this trying time of his development.▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ Use as many or few of the above symbols as needed to balance this cell with the cell containing the image.

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▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ "I know that's not how you see yourself, Alex. But you can't let people walk all over you either." ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

Z I M M E R M A N, D A V I D || F A T H E R Z I M M E R M A N, D A V I D || F A T H E R _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ David works as a Ranger at Riding Mountain National Park near Onanole. He is a little disappointed that his son doesn't share in his outdoors interests, and love of the Jets, and doesn't really understand a lot of his interests. He still cares for his son, though, and worries about him. Since he worries whether he's got the strength of personality for the wider world.▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ Use as many or few of the above symbols as needed to balance this cell with the cell containing the image.

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_{☯ NEUTRAL ☯ || ☮ FRIENDS ☮ || ♫ BEST FRIENDS ♫ || § TENSE § || ♥ CRUSH ♥ || ☠ ENEMIES ☠}

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▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ "Quote about Relationship."?? RELATIONSHIP ??▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

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Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - [CLOSED]

The car was hot, even with the air conditioning on full blast and having been in constant motion for hours.

"I'm imploring you. Don't do this."

"Really, mate? Racism? From you? Somehow, despite your... well, general behaviour, I didn't expect THAT from you as well. In fact, that was one of the few redeeming things I could say about you. 'Yeah, he's a complete nutbag. But at least he's no racist.'"

"I'm not BEING racist. I'm ANTICIPATING racism. There's a difference."

"Really?"

"Yes, bloody really. I'm going to be the only white kid in this school for... reasons. Reasons I can't even explain, because I haven't been told them. How many there do you think are going to understand that? Or care to understand that?"

"Well there's only one way to find that out, isn't there, kiddo? What's the worst that could happen? Worried the blokes there might try to beat you up?"

"No. I'm worried the GIRLS will try to beat me up. I'm worried the blokes will straight up try to murder me..."

The car motored past three stacked stones, with a message of greeting.

"Nilijarrk." <"You've arrived.">

"Batjji ganyam." <"It's good to see you.">

"Gun-gwa gwoyelwa Gulumoerrgin." <"This is Larrakia Country.">

"Look at that. 'It's good to see you.' It's written right on the rock. 'Anticipating racism'... Pfft.'" The Butler scoffed.

"I'll be sure to make a note of what's written on the rock when they're slamming my head into it. Although I will admit, 'This is Larrakia Country' would send a stronger message..."

"Larrakia Country." The Butler said as he passed, reading the sign aloud as if the meaning would somehow be divined in the process. "Well, what makes you so sure that they're going to go getting aggressive with you?"

"You mean aside from the fact that the Aboriginal people of this nation have been oppressed for, well, let's round it down and call it a couple of centuries, by people of the exact same hue as I happen to be..? Hell, they'll probably view me as their local colonial representative..."

"I think you're making more of this than they will..."

"Larrakia People. Saltwater people. I'm sure they're looking to be friends, going around referring to themselves as 'salty'..."

The Butler just shook his head with a laugh as he turned the wheel and headed for their next destination.

Haileybury Rendall School in Darwin's Berrimah suburb.

---

_{Location: Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean}

First Class: # 2.37 Gun-gwa gwoyelwa Gulumoerrgin. This is Larrakia Country.

---

_{Interaction(s): N/A}

Previously: Time Flies When Your Two Nights Is Everyone Else's Week

Banjo lay in the bed watching an old rerun of Degrassi Junior High. He was barely paying attention.

The nurse checked the myriad readings and levels of things that surrounded him, which mildly amused him as he remembered that he'd cut out earlier and people here still seemed to be none the wiser regardless.

"Oh!" She exploded. "They're simulcasting the Team Swap and House selection ceremony on P.R.C.U radio and P.R.C.U TV." She changed the channel over to a slightly grainier network, which at this point was showing a stadium that was slowly on it's way from being a third filled as students filed in. Some kid was trying to host the presentation, with an awkward lack of success. Banjo waited for the nurse to leave before changing the station over. Degrassi had finished and now in its place was an even older show called 'The Littlest Hobo' that seemed to be about a dog.

Two larger men walked into his hospital room, passed the on duty nurse's station and stood over his bed.

The first thought that came to Banjo's mind was "Hyperion". But if he were scared, he didn't show it. Instead his mind raced as he considered his options, and what was at his disposal. If he juiced now, he could probably kiss his spleen goodbye. It'd probably instantly shred the patch-up job the surgeon's done, but he could live without a spleen. He'd also get very little out of the controlled air conditioning and he'd turned off his solar lamp out of irritation. It also would take time, and the initial sensation often left him exposed.

He could start running his mouth to assess. He still had no idea who either of these two were. They'd made no attempts to introduce, nor state their purpose. They seemed to be waiting until he acknowledged them. Which wasn't generally a good way to handle a hit. Or so Banjo thought. It did seem somewhat counterproductive for that purpose.

Banjo's eyes dropped from the dog on the television to the two men in the room.

One of them threw an envelope onto the bed.

^{_{"Two men to deliver one envelope? I pity the state of this nation's postal service..."}} He uttered glibly.

"We didn't both get sent to deliver the envelope. We both got sent to deliver your answer. Two of us, there's confirmation." One replied. Let's call this mensa candidate Tweedle-dee for simplicity's sake.

Banjo opened up the envelope. Inside were two strips of cloth and three cards.

^{_{"Geez you blokes are serious about all this bloody nonsense, arencha? I'm tryin' to get meself right in here. Why do you have to do this now?"}}

The two men rounded the bed on different sides.

"Because the Chancellor said he would like an untainted response from you, in terms of your choices. With the ceremony being simulcast on--" Tweedle-dum started, before noticing what Banjo had been watching. "You kn-- You know the AV Club/Campus Media simulcast the ceremony on campus TV and radio, right?"

^{_{"I've been informed. Yes."}} Banjo replied icily.

"Then why are you--" Tweedle-dee started to query before Banjo cut him off.

^{_{"Why am I seeking a modicum of respite from all of this house and team garbage that the school seems to incessantly want to pump into me and hassle me with, including repeated harassment from school representatives and lackeys - you do both know you're lackeys, right? I'd hate to be the first way you discovered that about yourselves - before I even get any real visitors allowed in to come and visit me? Gee. I wonder why I might want to block out the noise."}}

"We're not lackeys." Tweedle-dum defended himself.

^{_{"There's something about the whole vibe of how you're both standing over my bed, that gives off the sense that you're a couple-a stand-over merchants."}}

"Stand-over merchants?"

^{_{"That's what I said... sorry for the lack of voice. Yeah. People who get paid to come in, be big and intimidate."}}

"Why? Do you find us both intimidating?" Tweedle-dum chuckled.

^{_{"I wouldn't know. If I were susceptible to that kind of thing, I wouldn't be here in the first place, now would I?"}} Banjo glared. It was difficult though. Since there was two of them and they were standing on either side of the bed.

Tweedle-dee backed off, and found himself a seat in the corner. "Not stand over merchants. Not even standing over. See? Now make your picks so we can get out of here."

Tweedle-dum backed off as well and sat in the wheelchair he'd left on the otherside of the room.

Banjo emptied the contents of the envelope onto the bed. An Eclipse arm band and a Firebird armband - presumably like one Elle would have. And three cards. He shook the envelope to try and get the cards out, before Tweedle-dum interrupted.

"Uhh... we'd like your answer about the team selection first."

^_"Why? He said, with a sigh. Why did everything always have to be something with this bloody place.

"It's just the way it's always done. School's kind of sticklers for tradition."

^{_{"The school's been around since 1986. The internet is older."}}

"Well, that's how traditions get formed, isn't it? Respect for how things have always been done."

Banjo sighed audibly. And nobody in the room cared for his passive aggressive display, even with how much it hurt his chest to make such a display in the first place.

^_"Fine." He grunted, with enough frost that his voice practically formed icicles. ^{_{"I'm staying put. Blackjack."}}

"Noted. Team 21. Blackjack." Both Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum said in unison.

The next one would be trickier. Ideally he'd like to be in whatever house Calliope was in. Make things simpler. He wouldn't have to sneak around at weird hours just to see her. And whilst he certainly figured he could find a way when healthy, round curfews and any other obstacles the school could throw up, he was certainly less than that right now. Living in the same bloc would certainly help.

He tapped the bottom of the envelope until the three cards slid far enough down the envelope that he could pry them out and lay each one on his chest in the bed, all three were addressed 'To Andrew' which already started him off in a pissed off frame of mind:

Greetings and Salutations Andrew, We are pleased to announce that after review, we have found you to possess great tenacity, a trait that we truly hold dear and revere in House Strigidae. We hope that you'll make ours your House of choice upon receiving your offers. Sincerely, Theron Demetrios

Greetings and Salutations Andrew, We are pleased to announce that after review, we have found you to possess great solitary assertiveness, a trait that we truly hold dear and revere in House Gulo. We hope that you'll make ours your House of choice upon receiving your offers. Sincerely, Robert Priest Jr.

Greetings and Salutations Andrew, We are pleased to announce that after review, we have found you to possess great motivation, a trait that we truly hold dear and revere in House Canis. We hope that you'll make ours your House of choice upon receiving your offers. Sincerely, Aiden Roth

Tenacity. Assertiveness. Motivation.

He thought to himself. All three traits she possessed in spades by his reckoning.

He thought about how she'd made repeated efforts to see him, despite constantly being sent away for the same reasons. Butting her head repeatedly against nurses to try and see him.

He thought about the way she'd stood up for him on that night. Firmly, confidently and repeatedly against different people.

Her drive, and determination to get what she was going for.

"Well, shit..." He flipped back through the cards.

"So..." Tweedle-dum echoed from his wheelchair. "What's it gonna be?"

- - -

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Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - [CLOSED]

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_{Location: Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean}

First Class: # 2.04 This Computer Isn't Configured For Fast User Switching

---

_{Interaction(s): Nil}

Previously: Devices Not Detected

Adie knocked on the door of Isabella Christianson's office. The door was a clean white affair which had been cracked open, so that any on the outside could tell it was occupied.

Some steady clacking of keys, and five seconds later she was told to "Come in!"

"Hi, Belle. I--"

"Adrianna Dahl! I was told you might be stopping by!

Adie considered her reply for a moment. "'Told' or warned?"

Belle laughed. "Well, in this case Adrianna, I think they might be the same thing."

"Well, speaking of what we were 'told'. I was told to come here and see what you've been up to in terms of this school's defences and help you in lending my experience for a different perspective. Or at least that's how it was phrased to me."

"Defences?" Belle queried. "Well, that is an interesting way to put it, because I've been tasked with strictly non-violent measures and methods to protect the student body."

"Non-violent. Even in spite of recent events?"

Belle smiled warmly. "Well, yes. Professor Lehrer is extremely wary for the potential of technology to be turned around and used against us. He tends to put his faith in people, rather than machines."

"Well, that's rid--" Adie started, only to find her thought cut short.

"Ridiculous? Yes, I'm inclined to agree. Technology is a tool, and we happen to be more capable with that tool than most threats and people in general that you would come across. But Professor Lehrer has his ways and generally his reasons, even if I don't see them. I'm inclined to follow his recommendations, and obligated to carry out his request--"

"You mean orders." Came Adrianna's curt reply.

"I mean requests, Adrianna. If he dropped an order, I would follow that as well, but he hasn't had to do that... He did tell me that you could be brittle and a little onerous when it comes to working together."

"Well, that statement's the kind that would bring the brittle nature out in anyone." Adie replied gruffly.

"If they had the propensity for it, yes. I agree." A small smile creased across her face.

"Are you testing my character for bugs, 'Belle?"

Isabella's smile widened. "Perhaps something like that."

Adie groaned. "So what have you come up with, since I'm to overcome my onerous nature and look to offer my perspective in a gallant display of selfless teamwork?"

"Well, presently we have arresting field projection devices. At this point dispersed by drone. But I've considered pop-up 'sprinklers' with the same technology. They release irradiated ele--"

Now it was Adrianna's turn to interrupt. "Yes, yes. Irradiated electrons. But if he does what he did the other night, and duplicates himself many times over, if you don't hit all of him then you're basically just slowing him down."

"Slowing him down has a value all to itself. If nothing else, allows time to evacuate."

"Evacuate?!" Adrianna laughed. "That many kids and faculty members? Running from someone who can just transport themselves through lightni--"

Adie stopped for a moment and considered what she was about to say.

"He can travel through lightning--"

"Yes. We know. That's been known for a while now. H.E.L.P have their own report on him which states exactly that."

"No. He can travel through lightning. Lightning is just-- He's converting his own data and packaging it for transportation on electrified discharge."

'Belle nodded. "Well, yeah. Obviously."

"No. Don't you see? We don't necessarily need HZEs to do that... We'd want to come up with a more solid, more reliable conduit. But if we have enough power initially. This should be something I could duplicate, given time..."

"You're-- you're sure? This is a thing you could do?"

"I mean, given the proper time to work through it, and a sufficient power supply. Yeah. And this place... it's never want for power."

"I'm taking this to Jonas right now! Belle said, getting to her feet. "You start working on preliminary data, the kind of power generation needed. The kind of protection to ensure the conduit doesn't get damaged. That sort of thing..."

"If he greenlights this, there might be a Doctorate in Engineering and Applied Sciences in this!"

---

Adrianna walked into the stadium surrounded by the new group of H.E.A.T program students of various teams.

She turned and attempted to count off the members of her own team in twos, to clarify that everyone was here. It wouldn't do to have less than a complete showing. Eyes would be on them, and expectations that they hold solid, especially with the recent tragic hits to Team Blackjack and Eclipse on the Eve of the cancelled Homecoming Trials.

Having been denied her time to display her worth then, this was the first impression she'd now have for many of the students and House Leaders.

Adie had no intention of squandering it.

She'd been busy of late, hard at work on the project, which Isabella had managed to secure clearance for from Jonas. It was being kept quiet, at this point, and there was as yet no device to speak of. Even a prototype. As the project was still very much in the stage of preliminary calculations. It wasn't behind schedule. It was just early in the process. She had complete confidence in her ability to produce what she claimed she could.

Jonas took to the podium and once again repeated his reminder that she is a student. It irritated her somewhat that he'd chosen this very public forum to once again belabour that point. She'd been playing by his rules. Adie furrowed her brow.

Then he disappeared on some other wild tangent about it not being their responsibility or obligation to hunt and pursue this terrorist Hyperion... as if that were ever her intention. What lunatic would go on that's fool's errand? Was he just beating strawmen to further feel good about his position arguing with her, or had some blowhard student gone out espousing their demand for blood - as if they had the means to actually do anything about it?

Then Jonas stopped wasting his time and got to the reason they were all here. The Team swap and House selections. Adrianna flipped her hair, and smiled out to the wider audience. She felt confident that Team Firebird would hold its form. Team Blackjack, from what she'd heard, already had a reputation for being somewhat combustible and explosive - the fact that it were members of that team who both died and were severely injured, was suggested to not be entirely unexpected in hindsight given the horrific situation they all had found themselves in and supposedly the personalities involved. And Eclipse's numbers dwindled after mass defections to join Hyperion himself.

As a member of Firebird, she found herself in good standing, on the most desirable team of the bunch. She expected there might be a few people from both of the other teams, diving for the opportunity to join their team. But they'd hold solid. There'd be no space for any of them to join. She smiled with assurance in her position and her team's, and began to ponder what House invitations she would receive, and what her own preferences would be regarding them. Surely Lutra. She was an intelligent woman, and once the other's got to know her better she'd doubtless have a flourishing social life. She'd achieved success, was a somewhat recognisable face amongst the people here, she wouldn't be surprised if she were sought after by the popular groups. She'd have to make sure that she didn't forget about the nerdy girls who were in the position she often found herself in back in highschool. Try and be a bridge to them where she could.

Yes, Lutra seemed to make a lot of sense. Social butterfly. Brilliant...

Bring on the envelope.

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Hound's Wacky Shack of Miscellaneous Clap-Trap

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