Hound55

Palm Beach Royals: Reunited At Sea

Bradley Stephens was shrouded in his shadow. The Vice Principal towered over him.

"I don't know what you're talking about. It wasn't me."

The freshly carved 'B-RAD' in the new BMW's paintwork, and the matching paint shavings that were still hanging ON his keys, IN his hands, begged to differ.

The man grunted. Minutes later the youth was sat outside of the Principal's office. His keys now carving a fresh 'B-RAD' into the chair which he was perched upon...

---

BRADLEY STEPHENS - THE RETURN

---

"Don't worry about me, sure, I'll be gone a while, and they can be a bit wild. But I'll behave myself."

"It's OK. I trust you. I know I can trust you. Just don't let those others lead you astray." Nicole kissed his forehead, whilst he tied the laces on his leather dress shoes.

"The kids..?"

"Are at friends' houses. Won't be back until Sunday night. I have a half a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and a season and a half of Greys..."

"Sooo... having your own party, huh? HA HA HAHAHA HA HAHA!" He interjected, with a familiar laugh that brought a smile to her face - he was warm and quick to laugh, she thought - but grated so many others.

"Just telling you not to worry about me. You have a good night."

Having finished tying his shoes, he returned her kiss on the forehead with one of his own. Before taking the time and opportunity with no kids around to share one kiss, before grabbing the keys off the kitchen table. The BMWs alarm beeped once obnoxiously as the M2 in the driveway unlocked.

---

He pulled the M2 up in the carpark next to a blue Jeep Wrangler that was parked too close to the line, and opened his driver's door into it. It's occupants were gone, presumably already on the ship. Ahh, it'd probably buff right out.

The obnoxious beep again, and the clicking of the locks as he made his way to the gangplank.

"Hey Indy! Wrong boat for the expedition to recover the sunken city of Hy-Brasil! HA HA HAHAHA HA HAHA! Long time, no hear from!"

---

Interactions: @BrutalBx - Dr Trevor Moreau

Young Justice Renegades: A Team Worth Dying For

Ju-V

Interactions: Rex @psych0pomp, Adam @DocTachyon, Sunita @Tackytaff, Sora @earthtogab, Noah @Venus, Brooklyn @PatientBean, Holt, Zach and Lina (Former PCs, now NPCs), The Kid, Laura "Bright Eyes" DiBiase, Brian "Bulk" McIntyre, Billy "Calculus" Isaacs (communal NPCs)

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The Kid continued to walk around the room, describing the features and accoutrements of this part of the facility and its various attendees to the ever dwindling audience she still held. Whether they chose to remain in the protection of the group, or chose to soak up whatever information they could on this place before considering their own moves remained to be seen. Or perhaps they were just relieved to have a somewhat friendly voice in this new environment.

Zach stayed at the fringes, as if using the group for what he could in protection and information, ready to distance himself in an instant the second the situation no longer was favourable. The otter, Holt, brazenly strutted at the front of the group, as if his confidence was its own shield from the worst of this place. Rex drifted through the middle, feeling somewhat guilty for what happened earlier to the others after he opened his mouth, but no less irritated with his current lot in life. Others intermingled around as she took this bedraggled tour group around the room, notably keeping their distance from one Billy Isaacs.

"Video games. They're big here." Said the Kid, continuing as she gestured to Kyle whooping it up from the lounge, controller in hand. "There's a decent general catalogue up for streaming in the large communal areas of the residential quarters, as well. You don't want to damage the controllers or break anything though... they're f'r everyone and you will be..." The Kid considered her words carefully. "Disappointing... A lot of people."

"Likewise movies and bingeable tv. But video games are big. There's a lot of downtime, and people tend to get through the stuff they want to actually watch, so video games tend to do more to break the boredom in communal areas. Particularly with long-timers."

The group strayed too close to a wide-eyed onlooker, and Laura DiBiase's rocking became more fervent and severe. She locked on to one and her facial expression contorted to the manic. Adam felt uncomfortable as it appeared she was looking vaguely in his direction, but not at him. Her eyes saw something altogether different, unfocused like she was looking at someone else who wasn't there. But who else could she be looking at, after all the otter was barely three and a half feet tall, she was looking far over his head.

She was shaking her head in disapproval at what she saw. Who the Hell was this crazy person to sit in judgement of others?

"Oh, the things you've done... Ha ha ha ha!"

She was rocking further and faster. Adam moved to the left, her eyes didn't focus or turn to follow him. It wasn't him. But who?

"Alright, looks like we're agitatin' her, so we might move along. Go see what Libby's doin'..."

Sunita felt uneasy from the dishevelled girl. She wasn't vacant, and that was only more terrifying. What had 'Bright Eyes' DiBiase seen amongst them that repulsed her, or was it just her own brand of madness? The blonde rockabilly girl, let out a vocal otburst at another of the people who had originally been in the Rec Room, and Sunita furrowed her bow. She moved on from the rest of the group, but offered her own look of curiosity as they left the crazed girl rocking in her chair, but chose to join the quiet group gradually growing by the bookcase. Already having learned from the wide dispersal of pepper spray that your associates can bring down more trouble than they necessarily protect you from. Sora moved on quickly, but with the group. The disturbed girl put the wind up her, and she was eager to find out more from friendlier faces.

"--just won't be one of them."

"Alright, now just hold up a sec--"

"Hey--- what the fuck?!"

Lina looked on nervously, what was happening now? Was there about to be another burst of the spray? Everything happened so fast, with these outbursts. There was barely time to turn your head to take the danger in, let alone respond in any meaningful way.

Quick, rapid handfighting between the red-haired girl and the boy they'd been warned about. Perhaps they were about to see why the warning had come. What was to be so fearful of this one, who had the face of a predator and carried himself with a fearless confidence.

Suddenly, for reasons that seemed to baffle the overconfident predator, he found himself at a disadvantage in the handfighting, and looking down the barrel at the full fury of the woman scorned. A hand raised to the sky, thumb and middle finger clasped.

"You really fucked with the wrong one."

A table exploded, and the one they'd been warned about was caught well within the blast radius, thrown like a ragdoll before landing in a crumpled pile at her feet.

The one the Kid had introduced as 'Bulk' exploded from his place, tearing through tables and chairs on a direct bee-line for the red-headed girl.

The sudden explosion of chaos, calling for a counter-balance eruption of order and the guards flooded the room to create it. They took down both 'threats', and sent for a gurney from the medical center to cater for the battered visage of Billy Isaacs. The guards issued demands to secure the room, sending the occupants to the walls with their hands behind their heads. Little Holt knitted his claws and tucked them behind his head as he stood against the wall. Rex thought he could see a small smile on the Kid's face as she looked back at what had just befallen the one she'd referred to as Calculus. She looked like she could only have been happier if they'd needed to pick him up with a bucket and shovel.

"Stay against the walls! We'll be relocating you to your quarters soon!"

Bulk and Noah were roughly removed from the room under heavy guard presence, the attendees were assembled and walked in single file along the walls, out of the Recreation Room, following a guard with a set of keys to where they'd be spending the night. Most looked back to the center of the room, where Billy Isaacs was having his pulse taken.

_{^{"Pulse is still strong, but we should get him out of here quick..."}}

---

"You're right, I don't scare easily. In fact, had you come up behind me I woulda popped you one. You seem tough, but I guarantee I am tougher. Bigger dudes than you have tried to mess with me and now they drink their steak through a straw like it's a Yoohoo."

The rockabilly blonde cracked her knuckles. "Thanks. Special ordered and customized to my likes." She was fast realizing this conversation was growing stagnant and rolled her eyes to express as much.

"Name's Brooklyn. So Brian, what's there to do around here, seeing as it looks like I'll be spending more time over here than I thought? Don't get me wrong, soon as I am able to I am breaking out of this joint. But I figure I may as well have some fun before I bring it all down to rubble."

A few beats passed whilst he considered what she'd said. She seemed to think she could break out of this place. Quite possible. More than a few people here could. Now STAYING escaped on the outside was a whole other thing entirely.

She was looking at him funny. It was taking him too long to answer. That's what it normally meant when people looked at him like that.

"Uhmm... there's video games." He said with a thought. "Hey..!" He muttered just now realising someone had jumped in and taken his place at the console.

And then there was an earth-shattering kaboom.

And all his anger, all his rage was redirected in an instant.

Billy was lying on the floor with some girl standing over him. His friend. The reason why other people didn't make fun of him. The reason he had everything that he did in this place. Lying on the floor. Hurt.

He abandoned the blonde girl who had briefly captured his attention and charged to the scene, when suddenly he was hit with pain. First something hit his face from the side, blinding him with it's stinging burn. And then they lit him up with the zappers. He tried to push through, but then he felt his legs seize with the rest of his body. He'd kept pushing forward for as long as he could, but now he dropped like a stone.

He grunted and groaned, unable to do much else as they were upon him.

---

Led to their residential quarters, Zach found himself paired with the large boy of granite who'd caused so much trouble earlier.

Great... Just what I need. The extra eyes on me that this kid's gonna bring.

The bed had a clear plastic drycleaning bag of folded clothes on it with a big yellow sticker across it, declaring the clothes to have passed through the greater scrutiny of security's inspection prior to finding its way to the bed. Presumably searched for further contraband.

Feels good to be trusted... Still could be worse. Could be actual prison. Then I don't even get my own clothes.

He looked over and stone-boy was looking at his own stickered possessions on his heavily re-inforced bed. They'd made no efforts to be subtle with it either. Thick steel supports, it looked like you could park a car on it. The stone-boy sighed. Zach gave him a glance. Everything about him, posture, mannerisms, comments. Made it sound like his life had been set upon him. And that he found it easier to complaing than to make the most of it.

Couldn't be me... Zach thought to himself.

He looked back to his own bed and saw his pack of cards with a yellow sticker on them. He picked it up and reopened the flimsy cardboard box, and pulled them out, licking his finger tips before he counted off the fifty one jacks it contained.

Perfect. As complete as when they'd taken them from him. Only missing the one from the bank job. He put them back in their box and placed it on his shelf, before thinking on it and pocketing the pack in their usual home.

The wall had a tv on it, with a red light aglow. He turned it on with the remote they'd been provided and inspected the remote while he waited for it.

He pressed a split screen button and watched as it first divided the screen vertically, and then with another press, horizontally.

"Huh... So, how do you want it. Left and right, or top and bottom? Seems like they've worked it so we can watch our own stuff."

"Left and right. Widescreen. Looks like it'd work better with aspect ratios."

"Aspect ratios?"

"Yeah. You know. The settings for how they film movies and tv shows. It'll probably fit better."

"Fine. Sure thing." He dropped the remote back on the bed, and then opened the bedside table. There was a set of headphones in there with a USB charge cable.

"Oh! There's headphones. Probably so we can each watch our own thing. Well that's... that's pretty cool."

Rex pulled his own drawer open and confirmed what his new roommate was saying, and grunted in assent.

"Wait-- they're not... They're not gonna shut us in here are they? It's like five o' clock. They're not gonna hit us with that early a curfew surely. I mean if nothing else, they're gonna feed us..?"

He looked over and saw his rocky roomie had curled himself up on his bed, and turned away as if to sleep.

Apparently Zach had said the wrong thing. And the stone-boy was more sensitive than he looked.

Well shit... If nothing else I'VE gotta eat...

---

Noah and Brian found themselves sitting in chairs outside of a door plate-marked 'Director Virgil Rowell'. It wasn't merely the pair of them, as both were flanked by guards on either side.

And judging by the expression on Brian McIntyre's face it was necessary. He looked furious and determined, his eyes never leaving the red-haired girl with his glare as ever-present as the straight line his mouth was creased into. His jaw clenched tight.

The girl, however, paid absolutely no attention to her potential second attacker. Instead, Noah replayed the scene in her head over and over again like a movie on an endless loop. Could there have been any other way of handling that situation? They had been warned about taking matters into their own hands-- multiple times, at that. Yet instead of doing what she said she would and staying in her own lane with her head down, she'd just very publicly and very deliberately blown up a table to hurt another program attendee.

But wasn't it justified? Pervy Billy had laid hands on her in an obvious attempt at assaulting her. Surely, self-defense against a literal assault would be an exception, right? Surely these program idiots didn't expect her to just put her hands up, let Billy do whatever he wanted and allow herself to be a victim? Because if they did, they were nothing short of imbeciles.

But could she have done something else…?

Noah's mind was racing as she shifted her focus to the potential consequences of her actions. While she wholeheartedly couldn't think of anything she could have done differently, she had still broken the rules. Her blasts had still hurt someone-- self-defense or not. The first time something like this happened had resulted in her getting attempted murder charges filed against her, and even after some legal maneuvers her actions had led her to the institution she currently found herself in. So if that's how bad it had gone the first time… What new fate awaited her now?

Well, she was about to find out…

Suddenly, Virgil's door cracked open, and the two attendees were both called in by name.

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GM's Notes

The Player and former player NPCs (with the exception of Noah/@Venus have now been directed to their dorms in the Residential Quarters. Please remember the pairings mentioned earlier.

Returnable, non-contraband personal items, and clothing that characters brought has been thoroughly inspected by security and left on their beds with a large yellow sticker, declaring these items to have passed inspection.

Ju-V

Fair 'nuff; it's never easy to jump in late. Real quick question, given that everyone has used realistic references for their characters. I was thinking of making someone who is more severely affected by their metahuman ability to the point of having a monstrous appearance. This would, of course, mean I can't really use a normal piece of reference art for such a thing, so basically I'm asking if that could be something on the table? If not, though, I can workshop something else.

@Mintz

I mean, I'm going sight-unseen, but I don't have an issue with that on principle.

Ju-V

Fair 'nuff; it's never easy to jump in late. Real quick question, given that everyone has used realistic references for their characters. I was thinking of making someone who is more severely affected by their metahuman ability to the point of having a monstrous appearance. This would, of course, mean I can't really use a normal piece of reference art for such a thing, so basically I'm asking if that could be something on the table? If not, though, I can workshop something else.

@Mintz

No, you can't borrow an image of me for your monstrous charact--

...oh, you're asking something else.

Palm Beach Royals: Reunited At Sea

It's a funny thing. The line between selfishness and selflessness. It gets very blurry, very quickly in the world I've chosen.

A court. A red team, another team in white and blue. The ball gets poked free, triggering a fast break. A smaller player, dribbles down the court before passing ahead, to a bigger player with a clear path to the basket.

...who steps back and alley-oops it to a third player running through.

The opposing team quickly calls time out, with only 45 seconds left. The team which scored goes to the bench, with players exuberant and pushing each other.

...then the smaller player pushes the bigger one harder, again. Then balls up a fist.

Yeah, this could probably do with some context. You see, the little guy over there. The senior point guard. That's Jason Whitlock. Jason Whitlock is an assist behind the alltime record for the Pac-12. This would be his last game.

The punch is thrown. Pandemonium breaks out, the coaching staff run between the two players. Other players also try to break it up.

The bigger guy? That's Darron Robinson. He figured that fifth assist would get him his 5th consecutive 5-by-5 game... basically, since he's already scored well over five points, had over five rebounds, steals and blocks. He figured it'd probably get him on Sportscenter. Let him be seen as a versatile player, and a quality selfless teammate.

The smaller one tackles the bigger and throws more punches.

A couple of guys sharing the ball... in the most selfish way imaginable. Oh... I forgot to mention. They did end up making Sportscenter after all. The five-by-five... yeah, that never came up. Funnily enough there was a bigger story. But let's get away from this...

- - -

- - -

You see this unassuming little guy, wearing the tiniest, ball-breakingest little shorts you've ever seen? Yeah, that's John Stockton, and he was about the best example of what I used to do that has ever existed...

He drives around and slips a bounce pass between help defenders, where a larger man finishes with an easy dunk.

Not a lot of people remember this, because he played so long it seemed like he was always a great shooter, but when he came in, Stockton wasn't known as a reliable shooter. In fact, it was one of the bigger... ugh... hate this word, but I'm going to use it anyway... concerns that scouts had regarding him when he came out of Gonzaga. But he knew the game. And was a phenomenal passer. And had a strong work ethic to ensure it kept getting better. His first three seasons he came off the bench, but by the time he became a starter. Well his first season starting he shot 57% from the field. Which is absurd for someone in the role. Before you even realise he came into the league shooting only about 47%. Only three other point guards shot over 50% that year... or were in the top 40 players in the league in shooting percentage. I mean, that's pretty impressive, but I'm going to hit you with an even more impressive number of his, right after I explain the role a little better.

A rebound gets passed ahead to the diminutive Stockton, who pushes the ball up the court with the dribble, before passing it ahead to a running teammate. But the defence recovers, pushing the player to the corner, where he turns his back to the basket and passes it back to the smaller man, who raises a steadying hand and slows the pace. He raises a fist and calls for a high screen and a musclebound giant runs to his aid and makes his presence felt before turning and moving back to the basket. The smaller man uses the larger one's screen to find space and threads another bounce pass between the help defender and his own man who is still somewhat staggered by the solid screen.

The musclebound man finishes with a dunk, with a hand behind his head.

See John Stockton is a point guard, and while a lot of other guys are measured in how much they can score themselves, a point guard's measure SHOULD BE the efficiency and effectiveness that he gets himself and the other four guys on the floor to produce at. So the best number descriptor I can give you for him is one that didn't even really exist when he was playing, its a more modern analytic, so he certainly wasn't padding his numbers trying to reach it...

One hundred and Twenty... point five.

That was his Offensive rating.

In other words every hundred possessions, and lets face it, as the point guard he's generally touching the ball every time down the floor, he averaged out getting his teams scoring a hundred and twenty... and a half... points. Over a twenty year, one and a half thousand game career. Magic Johnson's - I know you know that guy - was about 120.8, and H.I.V meant he never really had to play beyond his prime. In fact most of the players ranked above him are still active, because playing past your prime obviously hurts your efficiency. He played to forty one.

He dribbles around another screen and hits an open twenty foot jump shot.

I mean look at him...

Another bounce pass through a defender's legs to a player cutting to the basket.

He was never the fastest. Couldn't jump out of the gym. Maybe absolutely soaking wet he weighed the buck seventy that he was registered as weighing in at. Maybe. Most of it gristle.

A swing pass to an open shooter, whose defender had gone to help on ball.

He just keeps putting his guys in situations to score. Over.

The musclebound guy hits an open fifteen foot jumpshot, after both players rush the little man off of a screen.

And over.

Another big man tries to come across to defend the big musclebound guy, and Stockton throws a looping pass to a giant seven foot four bearded man under the basket for a dunk.

And over again.

A pass to an open man in the corner for the wide open three point basket.

And hard work, making sure he's ready to make the plays in the situations he puts himself in. That's really all the game's about. Everything else is window dressing.

He hits another sixteen foot jumpshot after their opponents collapse to cut off the passing lanes.

Don't get me wrong, he's pretty much putting me to sleep here too. It's almost hypnotic, isn't it? Pick and roll, bounce pass, mid-range, hit the open man, stick the shot when the close out never comes... It's like I'm watching a metronome. Like someone's forcefeeding me vegetables.

Ball banks in off the backboard.

Wait-- what were we--? I've gotten sidetracked, haven't I. What were we talking about?

Mid range jumpshot. Ball rattles in around the rim.

This is about a party, right? That's what this was all about..?

Another bounce pass off the Salt Lake City hardwood.

Well John Stockton, his game, and his incredibly short shorts are about as far from a party as you can get... I don't know how we got here. Sorry, people! Let's get out. Get to something more present.

- - -

A ball bounces off a parquet floor. Its echo resounds in the empty gymnasium.

Wait, did we-- "Thanks, Chuck! I'll lock up when I go, yeah!?" Oh Ok, that's me. We'll leave it here then.

A man in a white suit, and pastel button-up collared shirt, grabs the ball and dribbles it back to the free throw line. He spins the ball back to himself and catches it off the bounce, after drying his fingertips from the leather ball's perspiration in his pockets to not mark his white pants. Two dribbles, and a third over to the left. His eyes never leave the basket, and by now it seems the size of the Atlantic. The set shot hits nothing but the bottom of the net, and he steps forward to collect the ball again, as it's echo once again resonates through the old gym.

Been a long time but this never changes. Any court in the world. Fifteen feet. The bucket - ten feet up. Could do it blindfolded. I have. That's me, Kenny Price. And I should probably have made a move by now.

...well, in a few ways, I guess I should have made a move by now. But we'll get to all that later. This is my life. Has been my life. Everything going on outside of those double fire doors to that gym. And me, working away on the inside, oblivious to it all.

Collects the ball from underneath the basket, and is about to step back to the free throw line.

"K.P. Didn't you say you have that school thing tonight? I mean, it's great havin' you back, but you said it's on a boat. You miss that and-- well--"

The man in the white suit checks an expensive watch on his wrist, and nods. He quickly lays the ball in.

"Thanks, Chuck."

"Lay-up, free throw and three?"

The man in the white suit smiles. "You know me too well, Chuck." Dribbles back to the free throw line, and after the same old routine, sends another one to the twine. 'Chuck' takes the rebound duties, and flings the pass out after it goes through the net, as the man in the white suit takes a few steps back and nails a catch-and-shoot three pointer from the top.

"Thanks again, Chuck."

"Couldn't leave you with unfinished business, now could we?"

His smile's much older, more worn and weary than the one Kenny remembers. But still warm with familiarity.

I know what he's doing. He's subtly asking me for something. More to the point, asking me to ask for something. Something that would be deeply embarrassing for me to do. But hey, who am I to say 'No'. I bet the guy won't make it easy for me though...

"No. We never could before. Not gonna start now. I'll see you 'round again, before I head back, right Chuck?"

The old smile widens. But nobody sees it. Fine leather shoes beat a path across the court and out the double fire doors, which burst open as Kenny heads to his Benz. He quickly gets the S-series moving and cuts a path down to the docks. A small pack resting in the passenger seat containing a change of clothes, bathing suit and stuff for various eventualities.

He still didn't know what to expect, it had been a long time since he'd kept in touch with a lot of the people there, and that's just the people there he'd actually know. But he needed a night off, a night out. And with a clear college schedule on the date in question when his mother told him about the reunion, he took it as a sign that it was meant to be.

He pulled up the car and saw his brother, Dalton, getting greeted by people, smiles, hugs, kiss on cheek. The twin decided to let his brother have his moment and waited in the car, making a quick check through the contents of the pack again, as if he didn't know everything that was in there already.

Once Dalton had walked up the gangplank, Kenny counted to ten before stepping out of the car. Silent prayers kept the alarm from being too obnoxious as he locked the S-Series, white with orange and blue accents, and made his way to where the Thousand Sunny was moored with his pack.

Ju-V

Okaaaay, some further updates.

The following characters are considered to be NPCs as their players have left the game:

Zach Clark - @webboysurf - Possibly temporary
Holt Waters - @Lord Wraith
Lina Ziegler - @Pirouette

We are starting to get the game moving on again, with a couple of big collabs having pushed things along, expect more from me in the coming days, to fill gaps with the communal NPCs around those events.

Apologies to anyone I have held up with my moving house, and getting everything back in order AFTER moving house. Feeling pretty good and solid about my time moving forward.

Ju-V

@Mintz, there would likely be a significant waiting period, if accepted at all.

There's no real natural, organic entrance point right now in the game.

That said, if you think you've got a Character idea that works within the present situation, I'd be more than willing to read it and consider it. I'm not actively looking to be exclusionary... it's just an awkward point within the game - a block of twenty having just been admitted.

Pooooooossible workarounds - because I'm trying to help you out here... are an early transfer from another Ju-V center elsewhere in the country for... well character-plot based reasons I guess.

But I would like to steer clear of new characters having some kind of "natural advantage" over the existing characters, due to having accrued more experience from being in Ju-V facilities before. So it would have to be an almost instant transfer upon admission, for safety, or to separate them from someone in that other facility.

Like I said... if you have an idea that you think would work, and WOULDN'T give your own character any kind of additional unfair advantage, I'd be more than pleased to read it and consider it.

EDIT: I also get how it looks, announcing people who have recently dropped out, immediately after seeming to say "we're not taking anyone on board at this time". TECHNICALLY the game is still open, both for if a suitable character situation arises, as well as creating broader opportunities for bunches of new characters to be introduced in the future, as the game goes on.

Palm Beach Royals: Reunited At Sea

Bradley Stephens

B R A D L E Y S T E P H E N S

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^{B R A D / B - R A D ⚓ 3 0 ⚓ S A L E S
⚓ F R E D D Y C A R T E R ⚓ 8 A 2 B E 2}

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⚓ A B O U T M E

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Summary: Bradley Stephens, once voted 'Most Likely to Go To Prison', now works in sales. Father of two, of whom he's very proud.

Family: His father, Harold Kensington, sent him to Kings after his mother had enough of him and left him with his father, and numerous local schools failed to work out. Bradley rebelled against him, everything he wanted, and everything he represented which included numerous years flunking out, inhabiting detention halls, a number of 'Scared Straight' programs, and threatened juvenile charges. After leaving school, resulted in severed ties with his father, Bradley found his own life to be truly 'HIS OWN' and started to straighten himself out. He now is married and has two kids, whose photo he keeps showing other members of the reunion despite the fact that nobody ever asked to see them.

High School Experience: Bradley was a bully, a burnout, likely a felon-to-be, a screw-up and a freak. His personality was abhorrant to the point that people struggled to be around him even with the supportive influence of weed, booze and other substances which he often would paid for himself, as such he was very isolated even amongst people who self-identified as 'freaks'. For some reason, he's under the impression that his role of 'bully' was actually more 'class clown', and doesn't seem to be aware of the degree of torment he subjected any other people to. Part of the reason he's here. He's not repentant. He's oblivious.

Life Leading Up To Reunion: After high school, severed from the resources and contacts of his father completely, Bradley was forced to find his own way. He was scooped up to work in door to door sales for a... "multi-level marketing" company which would... very frequently undergo reorginazitions and name changes to avoid laws related to pyramid schemes. Bradley found his feet and found he loved the business, talking people into buying his wares. He took to it like a duck to water, climbed the ladder and bounced fefore the balloon popped and the place he worked for was taken down. Moving lateral to another company, this time more legitimate, where his work ethic and talents saw him fast climb the ladder again.

One night after an office Christmas party took to the streets and a local bar, Bradley was able to use his smooth talking for his biggest sale yet, and became entangled with Nicole, the woman who would become his wife.

Twelve months later he had saved enough for the next big jump - he started his own Sales business from savings, he had a business plan, through his own drive and work ethic it quickly found its feet and within 24 months was self-sustaining. Which is why after eighteen months he proposed to Nicole with a date set for a further eighteen month's time to ensure he could prepare the business for a lengthy departure for their wedding and honeymoon. He hired good people and prepared. The day came, they were blissfully happy and travelled around Europe. Another few years and their first child Michael was born. A few years later, Celeste was born.

Bradley had found his feet, despite all odds.

The Letter: The letter found him easily enough. Bradley told his wife and kids that they could be a rowdy bunch. He'd admitted to his wife that he was a 'class clown' who 'gave his teachers a bit of a hard time'. He's unaware that it was mainly morbid curiosity and a sense of obligation to invite everyone possible that saw him get the letter in the first place.

Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - [CLOSED]

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

First Class: # 2.96 Opening Arguments - Prompted or Otherwise

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_{Interaction(s): N/A}

Previously: Oh... Um... Shit... Title. TitleTitleTitle... uh... First Class. Heh-he-heh. Nailed it

The behemoth of a man took roll. "What did he say his name was again?" Banjo tried to remember, but it was already gone.

The large man was his teacher for Law, he should probably learn the guy's name, but it was already in one ear and out the other.

He probably would seem more respectful if he'd brought a pen. Some kind of writing materials. Paper. If he'd known this lesson was his first 'Introduction to Law' class, he probably would have at least made that effort, if only for appearances. Alright, maybe not 'probably' but he might have. Possibly.

He could use more coffee. And that thing he picked up before to eat didn't touch the sides.

He ran his hands through his hair, stretched back in his chair, rocking back with a yawn.

"Olyphant." Was called out. "Olyphant."

Banjo looked around. Another new classmate from team-swap? "Oly--"

"Oh shit, right, yeah. That's me. That's what I'm going by. Yeah, here. It'd probably make it easier if you just called me 'Banjo'."

The large man looked up, unimpressed by the needless delay in what should have been a quick formality. The look on his face making it abundantly clear that he would do no such thing.

“Welcome to Introduction to Law. As future members of H.EL.P., you’ll need to have an extensive comprehension of the current laws, bills, active proceedings and all manner of legal concepts. It may be your job to enforce these laws, while for some of you, you may work on changing them. Neither of these can be done without understanding the system, its history and where it’s going. It’s my job to start you on that journey.”

He reached toward the desk behind him, picking up a still steaming mug before taking a loud sip and placing it down on the student desk directly in front of where he had chosen to stand.

"He is a. Big. Bloody. Unit." Banjo thought to himself, as he watched how the large man carried himself in his classroom. "Commanding presence..? Is this all part of the 'show'? Is it making a further point?"

“The past sixty years have seen an unprecedented amount of laws being passed, repealed and passed again. Many of which have had to do with social issues and equality; in no small part due to the emergence of Hyperhumans.”

Onassis gestured towards the notes written on the chalkboard behind him.

Banjo tilted his head to run over his notes on the board. Rocking further back in his chair as he soaked them in. He was already familiar with the few examples because of his ample reading time in the infirmary. In fact, he could think of a half dozen others which weren't listed from the top of his head. And give a vague description of another half dozen, which he didn't have the citation numbers down for reference yet.

“To summarize, Hyperhumans have had their natural - some might even argue God-given - abilities suppressed, controlled, and even registered. Hyperhumans have been banned from work and performance in several sectors, and even their marriage has been outlawed at times, especially between a Hyperhuman and a ‘normal’ human. All of this has been in the name of security and safety for the greater public.” Elias paused to look each of the students in the eye, studying for that gut-driven reaction of disgust.

“And that’s not even touching on the pandemic in recent years that targeted Hyperhumans.”

Banjo had heard about the pandemic. News passed over Australia with barely a ripple though - it was mostly viewed as Foreign Affairs News. Far less Hyperhumans amongst the Australian population, saw it as a less relevant issue for the news to cover. It was a problem "over there" that "other nations" had to deal with. Not for one girt by sea with a fraction of the Hyperhuman population. Millions had died. But not at 'home'.

“Most of us would call it a prime example of inequality, fear-driven bias. But then we have Hyperion-”

That familiar smirk crossed Banjo's lips. OK. Now this is getting interesting. The guy's actually addressing the elephant in the room. A unique stance for the faculty to make, from his perspective. Most seemed to want to pretend nothing had happened, when his presence had carved a path of destruction through most everyone's lives.

“A Hyperhuman who explicitly operates outside of the law. Many of you are probably asking what good the law does if a terrorist manages to constantly evade it? Why should you worry about living under its constraint if you too could be powerful enough to live above it. But it is only because we have these laws that we can deem a person like Hyperion to be lawless. Our laws allow us to distinguish between a good method of integrating into society and those who refuse to integrate themselves and thus alienate themselves, falling outside of the social contract. That is to refer to the contract in which we surrender certain freedoms in exchange for security.”

The Big Man pointed to a quote from Hobbes on the chalkboard before returning to his train of thought.

“An extremist like Hyperion creates a rallying cry for both those who support and oppose him. Especially if they are left unchallenged. If all of us were to act in this manner we would descend into a state of self-involved anarchy. The law creates accountability in the interest of security. I do not believe that any form of civilization exists without a form of law. The governing interests of self can not be allowed to flourish if a society is to persist.”

Gesturing over the class, Elias turned the floor to Team Blackjack.

“So I ask of you, separating into two groups, is taking the law into one's own hands ever truly justifiable? Cooper, you will lead de León, Miller, Olyphant and Schade in arguing for taking the law into one’s own hands. Crawford, you’ll be leading Kruger, Musgrave, Richards and Tyler in arguing against your teammates about why the law should be upheld in every circumstance. Shall we hear your opposing arguments in twenty minutes?”

Banjo laughed obnoxiously, whilst he was still rocking back in his chair. "Well, of course it is. This is just ridiculously unfair."

"How so?" The Big Man lowered himself to ask the irritant.

"Well, first of all, you basically posed a tautology AND THEN you put me on the side that's clearly right. How are these jokers supposed to compete?"

"A tautology? Perhaps you would like to take your twenty minutes to consider your approach?"

"Nah mate. I'm not gonna be any more or less right in twenty minutes than I am right now. I'll just end it right here, I reckon, and save some time for Schade and Richards to introduce themselves to the class. G'Day, by the way." He offered the two newcomers a small, informal wave of a hand.

"So you want us to stand, or sit, or... ah screw it, I'm fine right here." He kept rocking back in his chair, occasionally turning to face different class members."

"The semantics of how he posed the question - 'taking the law into one's own hands EVER truly JUSTIFIABLE?' - THAT'S what makes this a stacked deck, and it's for a very basic systemic reason..."

He leaned forward and looked his teacher right in the eye. "Juries and jury nullification."

He went right on back to rocking in his chair. "See, whilst judges are the arbiters of law and representative of the finest legal minds appointed to their position based, well, presumably on competence, but let's face it... increasingly on partisan political basis... apologies, getting sidetracked, issue for another day. Juries, meanwhile, are the arbiters of fact and are representative of society as a whole. If society, through that lens of six or twelve people, decide they can't in good conscience convict, find proved, or rule against someone despite the law... well, they're not gonna. You want some examples? R v Morgentaler, which for those Americans present and people less familiar with Canadian caselaw, is basically the equivalent of the US's Roe v Wade..."

The Big Man opened his mouth to interject, before Banjo raised his hand in anticipation, cutting him off and continuing. "...obviously it's more closer to Doe v Bolton, sir, but in the absence of a more direct Roe v Wade parallel, I think you can grant me that it's still as close as Canada has to it. For those unfamiliar, basically this guy Morgentaler had been operating a private abortion clinic in violation of the criminal code - due to repeated jury nullifiation it kept getting appealed all the way up to the Supreme Court."

Still rocking in his chair he turned and addressed people behind him "Now as the question was phrased we're not looking for 'ALWAYS truly be RIGHT', we're looking for 'EVER truly be JUSTIFIABLE' and since we continue to use juries and allow jury nullification to be a thing, it's an acknowledgement to this as a truism. There are times when the law doesn't keep pace with what is just, and it's the responsibility of these juries, these finders of fact, these social peers, to ensure that justice takes place."

"Well, that was very..."

"Oh, and just because I don't really intend for settling and leaving this one up to a space for reasonable doubt... R v Krieger the Supreme Court's decision 'juries are not entitled as a matter of right to refuse to apply the law—but they do have the power to do so when their consciences permit of no other course' - which confirms EXPLICITLY everything that I just said. This isn't an opinion." He turned, whilst leaning waaaay back in his chair, to the assembled other side of the argument.

"He's expecting you people to basically argue against the very justice system itself as it presently exists. Now, does anybody else REALLY want to speak, or did I just win this thing. Because I've gotta be honest, it feels like I just won this thing..."

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