Puppeteer Unseen - Open?

[wesley]

What a nice day it was. The sun above shone with the warmth of a mother caressing their child after a long time of separation. The blue sky was covered with wisps of clouds that seemed littered on the great blue like trash on the sides of a highway. They danced in a simple waltz, circling around each other while collectively streaming across until the were lost from sight. Normally it would have been unbearably hot with the sun so persistent as it was. However, father wind was protecting the creatures of the world from the fiery sun by sending cooling breezes and gusts down to them. It was no surprise that so many of the students herded their friends into the courtyard. Like sheep they were shepherded by mob action, moving in and out of the building as their free time was up. After all, it was still a school day. The students still had to make sure they arrived on time so that their teachers would not be angry with them for skipping that oh-so-important lesson on whether commas belong inside or outside quotations.

Some children were a bit more devious than that, however. Like a Cheshire cat, a bushel of black, curly hair was hidden from sight- along with the rest of the mischievous boy that was connected to it. He laid, carefully, against the wall of a tall gazebo that lay empty next him. It was made of cherry wood and was a simple cylinder with a dome roof. Small windows the size of a deck of cards lined around the top of the walls, allowing for ventilation. They also allowed for spying without great chance of being caught. In essence, it was empty, anyhow. A tomcat made its way into the gazebo. It was in poor condition. It's ear was bleeding and it was walking with a limp. A rheumatic ooze found its home in the felines left eye, so the wretched thing blinked strangely and frequently. It walked the steps like they were individual mountains. Finally it reached the shady protection of the gazebo and fell in a heap onto the cool surface. To the normal passer-by it would look like a poor animal had just suffered greatly during its last territorial war. However, the young man looked into the gazebo with a wide-eyed glaze. He twitched his eyes to the right and the cats arms flailed out in that direction as if it were suffering from a spontaneous cardinal seizure. Lips parted and a smile fought forth, bringing with it the experimental insanity that could have been comparable to the German doctors that were so popular to talk about when learning about the Holocaust in school history studies. The cat started yowling something awful. A group of girls that had been laughing and gossiping - about him? No...they couldn't see him... - looked at the animal like it was a disease on four legs and made their way in a direction away from the small structure.

English class was droll lately. Wesley Whitacre had no use for learning the picky little rules about subordinate clauses or phrases or whatever the hell it was. Anyone could tell you this. He would have gone to a classroom to work on his power control there, but chances are he would be caught since classes were still going on, and Wesley didn't care to have a week of detention. He was risking more than that by skipping another day of English. Sure it was important and all that, but really it held no passion for him. Not like this. The young charlatan thrived on watching the effect he could have on others. It was like magic. A drug, even. If someone were to see the cat, he couldn't help but to become giddy at the idea of it. It was honestly the only thing that kept him in one place for such a long time. He almost had the cat fly around, but such quick and erratic movement would have drained him of too much energy. Keeping the yowling up would have been good enough, he was sure. Wesley rolled his eyes and the tabby tom writhed. How much longer would it take? He did NOT need to be caught by his English teacher.

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Open to Professor Tony Calamia when he gets accepted or anyone else until then.

[Professor Tony]

Tony wasn't a big animal fan. Cats made him sneeze. Dogs smelled terrible. Other animals shouldn't really be pets, and snakes were just... creepy.

Tony had canceled class for the day, leaving a notice on his door for all the students that bothered to show. Boss needed him to check out something in the city, and he did. Tony was actually just coming back now, walking through the courtyards.

The yards of Ashburn were beautiful, pristine- a landscaper's opus. Gazebos, statues, benches, and rare, tropical flora were scattered across the grounds, and the great stone fountain was the centerpiece and a popular hang out for some students, particularly the ones who liked a relaxing place to think.

Tony mused on this a little while longer, enjoying his stroll, when he saw an utterly abused tomcat creep about and crawl up to a gazebo. The English professor waited for the sneeze that never came, instantly alerting him.

His eyes began to glow purple as he reached out with his power, using his Gift of gravity manipulation to affect the feline. Subtly, just in case he was being watched. He kept moving nearer to the gazebo, casual as he'd be if he were coming out of a nightclub.

When the cat didn't start to float, Tony headed into the gazebo. As he got into it, he looked to see a fuzzy bushel of curly black hair.

"Ah. Wes. Having fun today, are we?"

[wesley]

Wesley was naturally good with surprises. However, the gods seemed against him on this bright, sunny day. The sun shifted behind a cloud with the uncanny intelligence of a higher being who could tell that just the person Wesley would have liked to have seen the very least was to be the one to walk into the gazebo he was plaguing with his illusions. So when the lighting was dimmed to the point where he could hardly see even the outline of the cat he cast, he couldn't help but to curse lightly to himself. Whitacre focused his eyes though, when he heard the creak of the cherry wood and the light of the doorway was cut off by a clearly human frame. He hoped it was one of the athletic lift-anything-and-your-dog types. Sure a cat in less-than-perfect shape wasn't the scariest or worst thing in the world. In truth he had banked on a little freshman girl to help the poor kitten to better health. On the other hand of the spectrum, maybe they would simply kick it while it was down or step on it with some high heels and feel the victory, the little thrill of control, of taking another creature's life. The sight of the person's silhouette was lost as the they walked against the wall against which Wesley leaned. So it would have startled the boy out of his fancy jeans and illustrious body enhancing illusions when he heard the voice of his English professor. Maybe a telepath had ratted him out. He would have thought that Calamia While he lost his illusions, luckily his pants stayed on. His jolting heart brought blood to his brain quickly and his eyes tried to focus on the man in front of him. The cat hissed and then caught flame before melting into a puddle that evaporated back into Wesley's mind.

"Oh God! Profess!" Wesley knew that the Professor was a Catholic of some sort, and mentally scolded himself for using "His" name in vain. While the boy honestly didn't believe in a God at all, or any sort of religion, it would have gotten him nowhere in the path to escaping some sort of detention. In retrospect, he probably shouldn't have called him "Profess!' either. It didn't even sound cool at all, but it was the first thing that came out of his mouth. Wesley started rambling a little bit about how he "forgot" there was class today, though he had class at the same time on this day for the last couple of months, and created other things that were not up to his normal par of lying standard. Something about Calamia made his eyes wider than a cactus and coerced his mind frame to snap. It was him opinion that the teacher was probably secretly some sort of mind control artist.

Knowing it was not best to talk to someone through a small window in a gazebo, he made his way to the entrance, a small flock of birds fluttering in and out of reality as his scrambled mind jumped and rolled for some sort of answer that would save him from spending the weekend in the English room reading Virgil's whole collection of literary "genius." The birds fell to the ground and became a group of snakes which slithered away. While Wesley couldn't see that he was doing anything, he would feel the effects later. Hangovers without him in-taking any alcohol were generally a dead giveaway that something sub-conscious had to have been up.

[Professor Tony]

Tony watched the cat evaporate with vague interest.

"Gotcha, kiddo."

Wes responded quickly, shocked to have been caught, Tony figured.

"Calm down, Wesley. See, if you had come to class today, you would have found yourself looking less foolish. I had to cancel it today. Headmaster duties. I do run the place when the old one's out off talking out rights for us while everything else goes to Hell around us."

He noticed how the younger man seemed to be scolding himself for something. Probably for using the Lord's name in vain. Delighting in messing with people, the genius attacked.

"And don't worry about using God's name in vain. I'm not a bishop, you know?"

Tony grinned cheekily. Wes was probably worried about detention. He had learned from others that Wes was quite deceitful, but it seemed that he couldn't fabricate a lie under pressures.

The question was, should he put the boy through some hazing? Tease him a little with the prospects of a horrible detention? Or let him off gently. Something told him that Wesley, as a prankster of sorts, would enjoy a little drama. So, when the boy appeared from his hiding spot, Tony continued.

"Using your powers outside a classroom or without proper supervision is against the rules, though, Wesley. The Headmaster actually pretty much forbids it altogether. Doing it in on the grounds isn't the smartest thing to do, either. We've had our fair share of attacks,and some people are paranoid, Wesley."

He had read somewhere that being calm and serious was an amazingly effective interrogation technique. While Tony wasn't prying for information, making a rulebreaker sweat was just as good. He wasn't going to punish him. Tony figured the thought of it was horrible enough.

[wesley]

Now that he had time to breathe and wasn't so startled, Wesley shook his old mind set into practice and shut that blubbering idiot that had shown itself in shock into a prison far inside his conscience. He wasn't supposed to let that part out, he knew and agreed. Just to be sure, he locked it up behind thirteen metaphorical deadlocks. "Paranoid people deserve to be attacked, don't they? If they were paranoid then they hafta be hiding something. Otherwise there'd be not a point in being paranoid. Unless it was just brutal killing. Then it wouldn't matter what they did. They'd all die anyway." He felt annoyed with these "restrictions" on being what they were. So what if he had a slightly malicious intent with his illusions? It's not like the world had just now adopted a hierarchy of society. Those who adopted proclaimed "pacifast" attitudes generally failed to get far enough. An amount of assertion was needed and life and those who were disabled or the sort were trampled and eaten.

"Give me detention if you want, but I cannot and will not stop." Wesley was being dangerous in nature here. Directly defying the Deputy Headmaster of the school was like wiggling a steak above a shark and expecting it not to attack like the shark it was, most likely. He really had no interest in serving a detention but he also had no interest in being told that he was wrong. His pride would sooner have him be eaten by a whole pride of lions than to back down. "We are here, away from the normal humans (on a freaking island!) and yet we still have to act like we're normal unless we're being supervised? We might be children, but we are not going to take it sitting down. How many of us do you think will choose the other side after they leave?" Hitting raw nerves was his defense, and the die were cast. Honestly Wesley had no plans on Saturday and if he caused the Professor to give him a detention then he would just know that the man wouldn't be doing anything recreational as he would have to watch the student do practically nothing in a musty old classroom. Life was not only a gamble, but a game of chess.


Bleh.

[Brandon Bailey]

Tony couldn't help it anymore. He bust out laughing, throwing his head back as he chuckled away.

"Wow. I didn't know you felt so strongly, Wes. Hahaha. Oh buddy... wow, kid, I thank the Lord you're not like all these hypocritical idiots that think that they can save the world by just demonstrating."

Tony leaned back against the wall of the gazebo.

"No, we, as a society are doomed unless we pick a method and keep to it. It's foolish to call for peace with one Gifted and have the person next to them call for war. We can do nothing unless united, that's for sure, boy. "

The Deputy looked carefully at the younger boy.

"I don't know if you've ever heard this or not, but you're exactly like I used to be when I was young, I can tell. You've got a lot of power and a lot of righteous anger at the world for shunning you for something you had no control over. You don't see life as a gamble, do you? More like a complex game of chess, right?"

Tony sighed and waited a moment.

"Wesley, I'm not going to give you permission. But I would ask that if you feel a need to practice your illusions, you come to me first. Some of these students could use a bit of practice dealing with other Gifts, but I'd like for you to ask me about it first, so I make sure you're not going to get hurt. There are people out there that are younger than even you that are even more powerful than I, and I'm one of the higher ranking people on the Watchlist."

[wesley]

(Wrong account. xD)

Wesley stared. There wasn't much more he could do. The Deputy made his sanity do more flips that it normally would. Wesley was honestly split between laughing himself or being extremely pissed. So he took the middle road and just stared, face invisibly flushed from his previous burst. He honestly felt like returning to his dorm soon, taking more than the recommended amount of Tylenol PM and passing out for two days. While it wasn't realistic, it also wasn't over exaggerated. He had a hard time even understanding what Professor Calamia was even saying. His attention seemed to come in and out as he stood there. It didn't help that it seemed like Calamia enjoyed to use as many large words as he could just to prove that he could and would if necessary. Leave it to an English teacher... Wesley thought to himself. He felt trapped inbetween not caring about "we as a society" and the feeling that something had to have been done to cause suitable change. There was a reason he never paid attention in history and politics. It was boring and applied to the past. Wesley also took joy in frustrating teachers. He wondered shortly whether the Gifted deserved to be practically pushed onto an island. While it was mandatory, life wouldn't be that great in their old homes being labeled as a freak. They were making another "Leper Island," only this time with the Gifted. He was successful in shoving the idea off for now but it was still important. He would address it another day.

"Learnin' in a classroom will do nothing for us. It's only a matter of time before someone gets bored." He said it more to himself that Calamia, in honesty. "I won't do it again, okay?" It was obviously a lie, but the conversation was getting a bit too touchy-feely for Wesley. He didn't think that he only did it to have practice dealing with others. He was bored, sure, but it was also just a random thought that had entered his mind. Wesley had better plans that just creating a cat but never got to use them. He turned his back to the professor as he walked out the entrance of the gondola. It was getting hot in there anyway as the sun had escaped from behind the cloud. A bird flew in front of him. Wesley double checked that it wasn't of his doing and waited in the grassy opening. He wasn't going to just walk away. Expulsion wasn't something he wanted and that would have been directly disrespectful when the teacher had been so far very lenient with the boy. He muttered inaudibly about not being a child anymore, though he was unsure why he did so. It was instinct and he relied on instinct.

[Brandon Bailey]

(Oops. I did it again.)

"Someone's already been bored. Necessity breeds creation, and in some cases it's the necessity to not be bored out of your wits that breeds something world shaking."

Tony nodded his head, then smiled knowingly.

"Wesley, don't lie to me. I know you won't stop. But, as a teacher, I'm obliged to do it. You know?"

The teacher stood up straight, and lazily saluted, before starting to walk off from the gazebo. As he took his first steps fromthe smallbuilding he stopped and turned back around.

"Wesley, if you do need anything, don't hesistate to stop by my office. I'm not Professer Guy, but I'm just as qualified to help with power control as he is, if you need any extra practice."

[wesley]

"Whatever you say, Professor." Wesley wanted to leave as soon as it was possible. The conversation was going in circles, and there was simply nothing Wesley wanted to say. He wanted food- the munchies were taking over -and rest. The best way to get some sleep was to simply agree, despite the fact that his mind was writhing at the idea of it. "I'll be sure to talk to you next time I decide to be Gifted, okay?" He saluted mockingly before bowing deeply and turning his back to the professor. Seeing as he knew Wesley's moves before he probably knew he was just being a sarcastic ass, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that in a few minutes Wesley would be in his dorm room, snugly in his blankets like a kitten, skipping his other classes as if he were on vacation.

CLOSED TO AVOID TEDIUM