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Harwell's Institute for the Fairly Exceptional

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Re: Harwell's Institute for the Fairly Exceptional

Post by Ace on Fri Dec 23, 2016 3:34 pm

~Xavier
"Mom, someone's at the door! Can you get it?" I ask as I open my eyes, waking up to the sound of the doorbell ringing.

My mom, already awake and with a cup of coffee in hand, made her way over to the door, but when she got there no one was there. She looked around, but all she found was a letter on the ground.

"Que raro," she said quietly, closing the door and bringing the letter inside. It was addressed to me, but my mother and I were close enough that she could open it.

"Xavier, hay una carta aqui para ti. Voy a abrirlo," she said loudly so that I could hear before opening it up.

"Espera!" I shout, getting out of bed and quickly putting a pair of shorts on. Rushing to the kitchen where she was, I was expecting her to be holding one of the letters from one of the colleges I'd applied to, and at first it seemed like that. But she she read it aloud as she usually did when reading in English in order to help herself understand it, it became obvious this wasn't somewhere I'd applied at all.

Dear Mr. Xavier Xiques,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Harwell's Institute for the Fairly Exceptional. Among the various candidates the Harwell's faculty considered for this year's incoming students, you were decided to be one of the most exceptional.

Should you accept this opportunity to study in Lebanon, New Hampshire, be prepared to arrive with your luggage to Central Train Station in Kensington, where a private, International Superhuman Organization-owned train will take you to the institution. Be prepared to arrive tomorrow at 9 A.M. EST.

An education at Harwell's is a hands-on experience, and thus comes with a number of risks. But we hope, should you accept, that you find your education here at Harwell's all the more worthwhile because of it.

Regards,

William P. Harwell (Headmaster)


At least, to me.

"Mira, te aceptaron!" my mom said overjoyed, but when she saw my face she stopped and asked, "What's wrong, chulo? Be happy!"

"I didn't apply here mom... this is a school for superheroes," I say, looking down at my hands. Was this going to be my life now?

"Pues... no tienes que ir. Pero si quieres, debes. El mundo... necesita más héroes," my mom said, tearing up. I knew why - she was thinking about my brother.

"Alright, mom. I'll think about it," I say, hugging her as she began to sob. "I miss him too," I muttered, my mind and emotions a mess with all this.

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Re: Harwell's Institute for the Fairly Exceptional

Post by WritingBookworm on Sat Dec 24, 2016 5:53 pm

- Maxwell -

"Max! It's for you!"

"Hmm?" I turn my head from the show playing on TV and look at Emily. "What is it?"

Emily shrugs as she hands me an envelope. "A college acceptance letter?"

"That's ridiculous. I've already graduated high school." But I accept the letter from her nonetheless, running my finger across the sealed envelope and breaking it open. I extract the letter, and begin to read.

Dear Mr. Maxwell Grayson . . .


- Lucille -

Another day, another job, I think to myself. Laying on my stomach on the roof of a skyscraper, I position my gun just a bit closer to the left, and peer into the scope.

It's through the scope that I can see what's happening in the window of the other building. A stocky man in crisp business attire sits at a desk with his fingers steepled, glowering at the shaggy-haired Seth Nixon. Seth sits with his back turned to me, so the only way I can tell he's speaking is when the stocky main seems to lean in closer, trying to listen. Seth does have a soft voice, after all, for how dangerous he is.

I don't know what Seth said, but the man's cheeks go beet-red before he slams his hands on his desk and stands up. Seth, as cool as ever, stands up as well, but walks of to the side and gives a nonchalant flick of his hand.

That's my signal.

I zoom in on the man's head. I don't know the man's name. It's better not to.

I wind my finger around the trigger.

Inhale. One. Two.

Exhale.

It's really fast, like ripping off a band-aid. The bullet pierces the window, and then the man's skull. It's done.

Just like that.

Seth doesn't move for a moment. He doesn't even blink as the man's body slumps to the floor, a small pool of blood beginning to well up around the man's head.

Seth looks up, and I can see his face through the scope. He knows I can see him, too.

He gives me a knowing smile.

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Re: Harwell's Institute for the Fairly Exceptional

Post by Lady Senbonzakura on Sat Dec 24, 2016 7:20 pm

"Is..is this real? No, no, it can't be."

"What wold you like for diner, luv?" Aliced asked her granddaughter after looking at her phone. "You're mother's bringing take away."

"Um.." Gretchen fumbled with the envelope, trying to find more pages to the letter. "Chinese? No, mom says there's too much salt. Italian?"

~~~~~~~~

Fiachra pulled his chair closer to the table, having said grace with his family. Waiting for the others to take what they want from the food set out, he leaned over to see what his twin had in his lap.

Lachtna's head turned to him ever so sloghtly, as if to ask: should we show this to Mama?


Fiachra nodded once before taking the bowl of mashed potatoes.

"Hey Mama? Do you recognize this address? Ain't it where Domhnall went and met Sam?"

May took the letter, with curiosity on her face.

"The boarding school?" Douglas asked, "Harwell's, was it? Domhnall left years ago!"
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Re: Harwell's Institute for the Fairly Exceptional

Post by WritingBookworm on Sun Dec 25, 2016 1:50 am

- Lucille -

"Ah, Seth!" The gang's treasurer, Nick, grins as Seth and I approach the door to our hideout in the bottom floor of an abandoned warehouse. "I take it Mr. Boardwell is now out of the way?"

Boardwell. So that was his name.

"'Course he is," Seth says, stopping to talk, and I have to turn down my music a little to hear his voice as I slip away from him. "See, this is what happens when . . . "

His voice seems fainter when I catch something from the corner of my eye. Left on the doorstep is . . . an envelope?

I crane my neck to get a better glimpse at the addressee.

Lucille Lear.

I stiffen. A letter? Here, to me? But how did the sender know I was here? How much have they been researching me?

How much do they know?

I glance at Nick as he talks, watching his face to spot any sign that he knows of the letter. He gives none. Maybe he just didn't notice it as he walked out the door. Good. If they think their hideout is compromised, or wonder whether or not I'm secretly corresponding with someone . . . I shiver.

I duck my head as I walk away from them, as though to make myself smaller and risk drawing less attention to myself. Quickly, I stoop down, snatch the letter, and walk inside like nothing's wrong.

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Re: Harwell's Institute for the Fairly Exceptional

Post by Michael DeathFlame on Mon Dec 26, 2016 12:14 pm

Greg: This is probably the stupidest thing I've ever done. Well, maybe not the stupidest thing. I've probably done a few things that are worse than this. Maybe. I don't know. The point is, this probably isn't a great idea, and it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out. After rereading the letter a fourth time, I immediately put everything down and began getting my stuff packed. My parents are going to kill me (so long as they don't disown me first), and I'm pretty sure this will really cement me in as the ultimate familial embarrassment. Then again, I've kind of had that title since I started talking, so I guess it's not that big of a deal.

The last thing I grab is the letter. I don't know if I'll need it for later, if it'll be important at all. Who knows, it can't hurt keeping it, just in case. And even if it's not important... well, this is going to change everything, isn't it? For better or worse, my life's gonna take a pretty sharp turn in the next few days. If it's a good one, I'll definitely want to have the thing that started it all. And if it's a bad one... well, I could always throw it out, anyway.

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Re: Harwell's Institute for the Fairly Exceptional

Post by WritingBookworm on Mon Dec 26, 2016 3:54 pm

- Lucille -

Harwell's Institute.

Well, Harwell's Institute for the Fairly Exceptional, the letter called it.

I tuck my letter into the inside of my jacket, sitting against the wall. I sneak another glance at the door, Queen still blasting in my ears. No one's found out about the letter yet. But if they did?

Maybe I shouldn't even go to this Harwell's place. There's only a few things about me that can be considered 'exceptional,' and that's what Harwell's wants me for. Should I really go from one place that wants me only to take advantage of my abilities, only to go to another place that wants the same thing?

I keep my eyes on the door. I remember my constant fear of one of those gang members lashing out again. That one day, I might be powerless against one of them. That one of them might even decide they want to rape me.

I don't want that. I don't want to kill for people like these, either.

My hand clenches around the letter, and I come to a conclusion.

Harwell's has got to be better than here.


- Valerie -

I zip up the suitcase slowly and quietly, like I'm going to a funeral. I prop myself up onto my bed with a sigh, and once again look over the letter that seals my fate.

I might protest this, normally. Heck, I might have run away, especially after my last encounter with my mother. But . . . I do deserve to go to Harwell's, don't I? After what I did, I deserve it.

I take out my phone, my gloved finger scrolling through my contacts until I get to his name.

Dylan Forrester.

Seeing his name makes my pulse throb -- not with lust and desire, like it did before, but with a slow, painful throbbing, like I'm being led to death's row. My thumb inches toward the call button . . .

I go back to my contacts list before I can bring myself to call him.

Instead I call my mom, putting the phone against my ear as the phone rings. "Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up . . . "

"Hi! You have reached the voicemail of . . . "

I end the call before it can tell me to leave a message. I wait a minute or so. Then I try dialing her again.

"Hi! You have reached -- "

I hang up again.

Maybe she's just busy. Maybe she'll call me back in a few minutes, or hours, or, or --

I throw my phone down onto my bed, and lay my spine across my bed, hands flat on my stomach. I look up at the ceiling.

Oh, who am I kidding?


- Kendall -

A woman enters my cell. She's tall, her gray pantsuit ironed and crisp, and her black hair is wound into a bun just as rigid as the scowl plastered across her face.

I hate her already.

"You're the second person to visit me today." I sit up on the cot. "I must be popular."

"Don't give yourself so much credit, Mr. Nolan."

The door closes behind her, and she returns her gaze to me. "Do you know who I am?"

My eyes flit to the identification badge pinned just above her right breast. Kristen Waller, it reads.

"I'm the director of the International Superhuman Organization," she says. "I've come with a proposition for you."

"And that is?"

"If you've that letter left on the floor, you already know what it is. William Harwell decided to try inviting prospective students with a . . . troubled past. Rehabilitation instead of senseless and hostile confinement, he put it. I guess he decided you ought to be one of them."

"You don't sound happy about it."

Waller narrows her eyes. "You're a superhuman that attacked a human. You used your powers of persuasion to tell him to repeatedly stab himself with a butcher's knife. If it were up to me, you would never see the light of day again."

"If it's any consolation, he deserved it. Just ask yourself why he had a butcher's knife in hand in the first place and then you'll -- "

"However," she interrupts, cutting off my defense, "William Harwell has his fair share of influence on the board of the ISO. He wants to give you a chance."

I jump when a phone vibrates. I instinctively reach for my phone only to remember it was confiscated long ago. Waller instead pulls out her phone, and I catch a "Valerie Waller" as the caller ID.

Waller turns it off. I prepare myself for the moment she looks up, so I can meet her eyes --

"I wouldn't do it if I were you," she says without looking up. She puts her phone back into her pocket. "Sending me here without guards was an extension of trust Harwell wanted me to make. You break that extension of trust and try to use your abilities on me, and rest assured, your offer will be revoked."

"And why would I want to go to some school, anyways?"

"Because then you wouldn't be here."

"Just sounds like a different kind of prison, if you ask me."

"Do you wish for your family to regard you in a good light, Mr. Nolan?"

I pause. She looks up, and I don't immediately try to make eye contact and persuade her to tell the guards to unlock the door.

"I don't think anything would change their opinion, ma'am," I say, still keeping a practiced smile on my face.

"Well, robbing a bunch of places and attacking your uncle certainly didn't help matters, either. But at least you could change your younger sister's mind, no?"

The smile falls off my face.

"And how exactly did you know about that?" I get up to my feet. "How, huh? For how long have you ISO folks been spying on me? Spying on who knows how many people?"

"What we do or do not do relates to matters of superhuman welfare at large. They are none of your business."

"Yeah, because spying on me is so concerned with -- "

"They are when your actions and crime record could have negative repercussions on the superhuman community as a whole."

Her phone vibrates again. Waller turns it off without even looking at the caller ID.

"I urge you to think carefully," Waller says. "You are being presented with a chance to redeem yourself. It is not a chance everyone gets. We expect your answer by morning."

With that, Waller turns and says, "Clear," into her radio. The door opens to let her out, and I can't find it in me to try to make an escape before the door closes once more.


(All right, anyone down for a timeskip?)
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Re: Harwell's Institute for the Fairly Exceptional

Post by Lady Senbonzakura on Mon Dec 26, 2016 4:24 pm

(Yessum!)
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Re: Harwell's Institute for the Fairly Exceptional

Post by Comrade Squid on Mon Dec 26, 2016 4:43 pm

(Most definitely!)

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Re: Harwell's Institute for the Fairly Exceptional

Post by Fix-It on Mon Dec 26, 2016 4:57 pm

{Yep!!}

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Re: Harwell's Institute for the Fairly Exceptional

Post by Shaybaysasuke on Mon Dec 26, 2016 7:06 pm

(Ready!)

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Re: Harwell's Institute for the Fairly Exceptional

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