Young Writers Society

Until the Division got their hands on a first generation Pusher. She was, and still is, the only person to have ever survived the drug. They call her X. She is the director of the Division.

This was twenty years ago. Since then, numerous Pushers, Bleeders, Watchers, Shifters, Wipers, Movers, Sniffs, Stitchers, and Shadowers have died after injection, their bodies unable to absorb the drug.

The first generation is the first wave of these mutants. They are ultimately the strongest. They have also been almost entirely wiped out by the Division. The children they produce become the second generation and they aren't as strong as the first; they require more practice to master their powers. But what they lack in experience, they make up for with their numbers. Many are scattered across the globe. They make up 23% of the earth's population.

X is not happy. She has witnessed the weakness of the second generation and even come across a child born into the third. Their powers are diminishing and will soon die out by the forth or fifth generation.

X does not like this, and she will stop at nothing until the drug is perfected and can be injected into a mutant without fear of rejection.

When the humans found out about X's cruel experiments on mutants, and even on humans, it caused an uproar. Many demanded that the Division be shut down, and eventually the government did shut it down. Once that happened, all the attention turned to the mutants. How long had they been apart of this world? Why were they allowed to run free and do things like start up secret organizations and experiments on humans? Due to fear of the mutants rising up and taking over the world, the government secretly met up to vote on whether the mutants should be deported or exterminated.

A decision was never issued, because X had spies in the meeting, and once she heard of the options, she immediately declared war against all humans.

Five years have passed since then, and the war has taken more mutant casualties than humans. There are roughly about 364 mutants, with less than 20 first generations. They live in exile, hiding their powers, trying to blend in with the humans. But the government isn't fooled. They know that there are mutants out there and they won't stop until every last flame is extinguished and the fire dies out.



X is still alive, and so is the Division. They're hiding in a secret base somewhere, unknown to everyone. They're still working on the drug. In fact, X has been kidnapping humans and testing it on them. Many have died. This is how the government knows mutants are still around, because of the disappearances.

Recently, there's been a whisper amongst the mutants. That X has perfected the drug. That she is calling all mutants to her base, located in a small rundown town in Illinois.

Are you in?



You've heard the rumors that X is still alive and that the Division has perfected the drug meant to enhance your powers. Tired of living in poverty and unable to use your abilities, you travel to Claremont, Illinois in the hopes of finding her.

Once you come across her, though.. well, we'll get to that in good time.







The first generation are the ones first born with these abilities. They've got complete control and are considered "masters" at it. They are ultimately the strongest a mutant will ever be without the drug. They have been almost completely wiped out by the humans and Division alike, and are extremely rare, hence the spot limitation.

The second generation are the children of the firsts, and they are the ones who struggle with their powers. Their abilities are limited but their numbers are many.

Code: Select all

[b]Name:[/b]
[b]Age (1st gen. is 25-50, 2nd gen. is 18-35):[/b]
[b]Generation:[/b]
[b]Mutanty:[/b]
[b]Appearance:[/b]
[b]Personality:[/b]
[b]Strengths and weaknesses:[/b]
[b]History:[/b]
[b]Other:[/b]

Please use the Character tab on the right to create a character sheet.

All OOCs post go in the DT!

Ivor Volkov || New York

Ivor stuck his hands deeper into his pockets and buried his chin in his collar. A gust of cold November wind came whistling between the buildings, buffeting him. Seeing a small, tumbling grey shape in the alleyway, he stooped to examine it. A dead pigeon. He huffed and strode on, absently turning up his collar—then stopped. He bent again, quickly, and pressed his fingers into the bird's feathers. It was alive.

Ivor knitted his brows as he worked his fingers deeper between the bird's feathers. He closed his eyes; then, his hand contracted as he exerted his will. Fractured bone snapped into place, cellular mechanisms restarted, blood decoagulated and started to circulate. The pigeon's body warmed and its wings fluttered. Ivor lifted his fingers and the bird escaped with a great beating of wings. Huffing, he rose and strode on. He never risked practising his powers on humans.

A slight blur to his right was his only warning; then, a thin, rat-faced boy was standing before him, his expression eager.
"Vood you stop doing zat?" Ivor growled, side-stepping, but the boy backed away and stayed in front of him, shivering in the cold wind. "I 'ave enough to do vithout leetle sniff snitches tracking me across zee city. Vot did you steal from me?"
The boy hastily backed away as Volkov reached for his arm.
"You should stop littering," he said with a grin, flashing a polystyrene cup before sticking it hurriedly in his pocket. Ivor strode forward and the boy danced out of reach.
"I do not 'ave time for zees."
"But this is important! It's about X … ." The boy's eyes widened as Ivor stopped.
"Vot about er?"
"There's a rumour. They're saying she's done it. The drug's all good."
"And you expect me to believe zat?"
"All the Watchers can sense it. They're saying something's changed. The future's different. You can ask any Watcher."
"You know I don't know any Vatcher. No use—zey just make nervous."
"They're saying X is calling everyone to her place."
Volkov narrowed his eyes as he stared at the boy, calculating. "Vere is zees place?"
"Don't know," the boy answered, wiping his nose on his sleeve.
"It looks like I'm going to need a Vatcher … " Volkov muttered, striding away.

Ciro Li // Washington D.C.

Ciro tries to focus only on the sensation of her Mother’s hand rubbing her back. With a shaky hand, she takes a drink of water to wash down the aspirin in her mouth. Once again Ciro’s classes had been dismissed after her Calculus teacher had collapsed due to a brain aneurysm.

People were beginning to notice that only Ciro’s teachers and classmates were hospitalized. It wouldn’t be the first time for Ciro to be in danger of being espoused. She was lucky her Father’s position in the military allowed for frequent moving. It wasn’t all bad though, the family was expecting good news very soon.

That evening Ciro’s father opened the door, when his eyes met that of his wife and adopted daughter, he merely nodded. The mother got up slowly, retrieved a well used suitcase, and handed it Ciro. Mother and Daughter shared one last hard hug, before Ciro exited the home and entered her Father’s Jeep.

The two sat in silence as they braved the evening D.C. traffic, before reaching the downtown airport. After entering the building, Ciro took the aging general’s hand, whose eyes had begun to mist slightly.

When they arrived at Ciro’s flight gate, her Father pulled her into a terse embrace before planting a hard kiss to her forehead. He handed her his briefcase, and left.

After being boarded, Ciro pulled a file from her Father’s bag. A copy of a brief he had received that day at a meeting with the security council. It wasn't exactly confirmation to a rumor that had been floating around Pentagon hall ways for a month. But if it was a real enough possibility that her Father's higher ups had to dispel it, then it was good enough.

Ciro sighed, wiped the blood that had began to stuff her nose and looked out the window.
A pretty flight attendant informed passengers they’d be arriving at Abraham Lincoln capital airport, Illinois in an hour.

Richard Burrows| Wiper
Eton, England

“We said we’d go together- I promise you that I won’t let you go,” I whispered in Jane’s ear as I flicked back the red curtain of hair from it. Pulling back I removed her glasses, gazing deeply into her eyes, the bitter autumn breeze biting at the back of my neck. She met my emerald stare, infatuated with prospects of young love. Our lips touched intimately as we stood in the doorway of Jane's small yet cosy home. I found myself rolling my eyes as the naïve girl pushed farther, truly engaging in the moment shared between us. I pulled back and smiled, and I noticed that a sudden moment of realisation set in Jane's mind that she was about to forget as her face fell. As the blankness stunned the girl I stepped out of the house and shut the door.
“Ah, people are so easily used,” I mused to myself.

Flipping out my phone I dialled for a cab from the main road at the end of Monace Drive. It had taken me a month or so to get where he was then; meeting that naïve young sniff girl had proven very useful, since her mother had retained a network of communication with her fellow mutants. A few strategic actions and feigned emotions allowed me to steal Jane’s mother’s credit card and PIN number and get a single ticket for a flight to the American state of Illinois. According to chatter from the mutant community X has perfected the drug, which is a rumour I simply couldn’t risk to disbelieve. If my powers of mind-wiping were mastered, my capabilities would be endless-I’d be completely unstoppable.

I was thinking maybe I could start off with a few heists, earn myself a few hundred-million pounds, and then, well, who knows what next? The world would be my playground. A deceptive smile grew across my face.

Six hours later I found myself on the plane to the USA from London, and everything was free. Well, for me at least. As much as I was confident in my abilities, I knew that abusing them so much in the States would bring severe ramifications, what with them being much more alert about mutant activity. But hey, I had to entertain myself somehow on the flight. I’d exchanged enough money before I boarded the flight to buy some clothes once the plane landed, and then I would set about finding X.
Of course I wouldn’t be the first to test the ‘perfected’ serum, not if it could endanger my life, another approach was required. No, I was far more cunning than the rest of my 'kin'; I damn well knew that X had a reputation for manipulation, which was to be expected with her being a pusher. No, the woman's claim that she had completed the drug could have just been another way of controlling the actions of the mutant community.

But I was not going to be controlled.

PJ Morgan | LA, California


The wind made my floppy hair stand straight up as I walked down the busy street. I turned down the alley that lead to my house when a sudden force slammed me into the brick wall. I immediately got him off with my power and he back up.

"Talk," I demanded not wanting to cause any trouble.

"It's safe," The boy who had slammed me whispered. I nodded and he ran away out of the alley.

I knew exactly what he was talking about so I ran all the way back to my dorm as quickly as possible. My roommate stared as I grabbed my suit case and started packing all my belongings in it.

"Jeez Peej, what did ya do, kill somebody?" Tommy my roommate asked turning away from his laptop and towards me.

'I have to go somewhere," I mumbled to him.

"Alright but what are ya goin' tell The Dean?" Tommy asked his country accent loudly echoing through the dorm.

I turned towards him and whispered slowly controlling him, "YOU are going to tell him that I have gone to visit my aunt and that I might be gone a while, Okay?"

"Okay," He said back in a monotone voice.

I watched him leave to room his eyes only facing forwards and then slamming the door shut. I sighed and zipped up the suit case and opened the window on the opposite side of the room. I threw my suit case into the bushes below and hopped out the window. I grabbed the case and ran for my car.

I threw my bag in the back seat and drove off of campus eager to get to Illinois

Kennedy

I pulled the covers up around Asha's face and kissed him on the forehead, smiling fondly at the look on his sleeping face. My son.

"You dote on that boy, you know," Myra murmured from behind.

"I know. But the two of you are all I have now." I turned and faced her, and noticed she was wearing her nicest dress, all silk and satin. My smile froze.

"I know you don't want to leave him here alone, but if we lock the doors and windows..." she trailed off. "Please, Kenny? We haven't gone out and done something fun in over a year."

I glanced at Asha again. "I know. I just...I worry about him, Myra. He has a smidgen of power too, and even less control over it than I have of mine. I never should have dated his father, but I can't fault him for his birth." I snapped my attention back to her face. "But I'll come."

She grinned. "Great! We won't want to stay out too late, so what about just heading to a restaurant?"
~*~
It was at the end of the meal, when Myra and I were finishing up our ice cream, that the man ran into the restaurant screaming. Everyone was staring at him-after all, he was a screaming naked person. "X has given her command! The elixir is finished! It is time!"

A few soldiers ran in and dragged him out, but not before I saw his face. Jojo, the man who'd tried to get me to join the mutant community here. A little eccentric, worshiped X like Myra worships peanut butter (inside joke), but overall a nice guy.

I glanced around the restaurant. I wasn't the only mutant here. At least three of the others who'd tried to get me to join were here, and some of the others could be too. "Myra," I whispered, "Was there a plan in getting me to come here tonight?"

"I know as little as you do, love."

And that's why I'm in the car right now driving to the nearest airport. Goodbye, Montana.

~Zafrina~

Stepping inside the store, I perused around, gathering things I would need for my trip, my thoughts spinning like a tornado in my head. Time seem to fly by my head as made my way leisurely about, picking, choosing,and wondering, humming quietly to myself. Once finished, I headed over to the check out where Ms. Sue was waiting with a smile on her face.

"My my," She looked at the giant pile I had in my basket, a hand tucking a stray lock of graying hair behind her ear with her small and delicate hand. "This is quite the lot of stuff you have here, honey."

I smiled at her. She had a way of wiggling her way into peoples' hearts. I 'd seen her do it many times, and me including. She was like a Mom to me. Inviting me over,fussing over me like I was her own Daughter, Always coming to visit, , bringing me little treats, even though I lived so far out. She was the only one who'd actually made that much of an effort to care for me. I was going to miss her. Thinking about it actually made heart ache Maybe i'd see her again. I hoped so.

"Yes ma'am it is," I nod. "I'm leaving town."

The sheer heart break in her eyes had me feeling bad for leaving her. All of her kids had grown up and left town, and her husband dies a few years back. She was lonely, and when she met me, she must have seen it in me, too. Like knows like as the saying goes, I guess.

"I'm so sorry to hear that," she said. "I gonna miss you so much."

"I won't," came a conceited voice.

Ugh. I turned to look at Jackie Smith. She was the town Queen Bee, or at least she thought she was. Her Daddy was the Mayor, and he spoiled her rotten. Thick Platinum (dyed) Blonde Hair and bright Blue eyes that made you wanna puke, or at least they made me want to. She was on me like ugly on an Ape the moment I made my way into town. She thought she could mess with me and get away with, but of course that didn't fly. And the fact that her fiance, Archie, hit on me the moment I got here, well, that really didn't help anything. Though I couldn't blame the guy. If I were engaged to her, I hate it too.

I turned to look at her snide smirk and rolled my eyes. "Its not like anyone asked you anyway, since you weren't in the conversation."

The chagrin in her eyes made me smile on the inside, though she bounced back fairly quickly. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation."

"Because you were eaves dropping like you always are," Ms. Sue chastised.

Jackie blushed in embarrassment. I kept my face neutral, fighting the urge to smile, or bust out laughing, or both. Glad I had more control than most people.

Jackie cleared her throat, flipping her hair over her should pompously."Well, good riddance. The sooner you're gone, the better."

With that, she walked off like she's won something no one else was competing in, and I decided to bring her down a notch. I looked around the store trying to find something that would work, when I spotted a bucket of water and smiled. I turned back to Ms. Sue as the bucket "accidentally" tipped over and drenched Jackie. Then she slipped in the puddle she's made and fell flat on her ass. Then I did bust out laughing.

"Now now, Rini!! You stop that right now you hear?" Ms. Sue tried to chastise me, and failing miserably, since she was laughing too.

Jackie stood up and turned to glare at us, "UGH!"

Then she stomped out of the store and down the steps. I took a deep breath to calm my breathing and stop laughing.

"I tell ya one thing, honey," she shook her head. "That Jackie sure is something."

She had that right. She rung me up and I headed out, but at the last second, she called to me. "You come by and say good bye before you leave, you hear me?"

I turned back to smile at her. "Yes ma'am."



Packing my things, I put the finishing touches on my stuff and headed back to see Ms.Sue as promised before heading out.



Stepping back inside the store for what felt like the last time, I walked into the back and found Ms.Sue struggling with a box.

"Let me get that for you." I lifted the box from her with ease and followed her back to the front of the store.

"Thanks sweetheart," she smiled. "You always were a big help, since you're taller and stronger then me, you could get to and lift things I never could."

Sometimes when she was short handed, I'd come down to help her out. It was the least I do could for all of her generosity. And it made the day go by faster. She wasn't bad company to keep, either. The thought of not being there for her made me feel guilty for leaving her like this, but if she knew why I was leaving, and knew why I decided not to go, she would pack my bags for me and kick me there, because that's just the kind of person she was, which made this even harder. I opened my mouth, but couldn't speak over the lump that had materialized. I felt that telltale stings in the back of my eyes indicating the tears that would spill freely this once, and swallowed.

"Oh, honey," her voice broke as she pulled me into a hug. "I know. I know."

I wrapped my arms around her and cried for the first time in years. She was the closest thing I had to Family, and I was leaving her. How was that right? It wasn't. As we pulled away from each other, we dried our eyes.

"Promise you'll come back and visit?" she asked.

"Ok," I nodded.

"Well ok then," She right herself. "you get on now, and you be safe. You have my number if you ever need anything."

I kissed her on the cheek, and she did likewise before shooing me off. Maybe when it was all said and done, I would come back. Standing at the door, I turned to look back at her and this place where i'd made so many memories, and said my final goodbyes.



Driving the road with my bags, I made my way down the Highway. My thoughts wandered to the parents I never and what they were doing, if they were event still alive. Maybe sitting by the fireplace of the home I never grew up with the Brothers or Sisters I never knew. I looked up the the night Sky, picturing what it would be like to actually have something like that in my life. Maybe what I was looking for would be with X in Illinois.

Selene Fox- Del Rio, Texas

Selene glanced at the calendar again, her eyes scanning the boxes that represented each day. Continually, her glanced moved ahead to one week from the current date, and no matter how hard she tried to ignore the pestering feeling, she couldn't help but stick her eyes on the day again.

"I'm going to be in Illinois in a week," she muttered to herself, and her thickly accented voice filled the room. "Why Illinois?" The question, of course, remained unanswered, but without knowing what else to do, she scribbled the trip into the calendar box and then into her agenda and typed it into her phone and laptop.

Suddenly her vision clouded and she fell back into a squatting position, her head resting on her knees. She saw herself standing before a plain, secretive looking building, waiting for someone to come. Something was happening, and she was supposed to meet someone...

The vision passed, and Selene sat for a long time on the cold tile floor. She'd had similar visions before, but usually they made more sense. All she could come to a conclusion about was that the vision took place in Illinois, and she needed to find that building and discover who it was she was waiting for. Surely somewhere in Illinois she could find someone to give her answers to the questions that had plagued her mind for so long.

Creed Coyle

Creed slung the old beaten backpack's strap over his shoulder, flipped his black hood up. He hung in the back of the small cluster of people waiting for the late bus, some talking on those weird ear phone things that look like they are just talking out loud to themselves and others like him just quietly waiting. He glanced around again, under the tip of his hood, for the bus, which always seemed to be late. He quietly took a sip out of his water bottle to pass the time.

He watched the hulking, ad-flashy bus squeal to a stop. One by one the small cluster filed up the steep metal stairs, dropping their coins into the little box as they passed. Creed was last, and after snapping his hood to dispel the rain water, he dropped his few cents and sat down near the back. He flicked his earphones in and adjusted himself so he was half facing the front and half facing the isle, his hand resting on the warmed metal of the small pistol revolver in his pocket.

What kind of name is X, anyways? Why not just call yourself Q or fucking W while you're at it? Creed took another sip out of his water bottle, swishing the vodka through his teeth and back. The alcohol tickled and burned his gums and throat as he swallowed.

He remembered when he'd found out about her little deal. His face throbbed at varying rhythms, and he was leaning over a dirty sink in a stark-lit bathroom that smelled like something died, got revived and then puked its own feces up and then died again. He was tilting his head this way and that to examine his gums, which were pouring bright red blood the color of hot sauce down his chin and into the sink, staining his teeth with a yellowish pigment. He was holding his bottom lip down and out and sticking his out his jaw to pridefully survey the mess of his mouth. He lightly dabbed his mouth with a paper towel, and then fisted it and stuffed it in his mouth as he saw the wooden bathroom door open through the mirror.

It was Jimmy. No one really knew his real name, but everyone just called him Jim, so Creed called him Jimmy. He was nearing his thirties, with his dull brown hair beginning to recede a little, he guessed from stress, and Creed liked to think that the guy followed him just about everywhere. He often butted heads with Jimmy, saying that he wasn't interested in that kind of stuff, but no matter what he said the poor guy would always show up next week. He was pushing his luck.

"The fuck do you want?" Was Creed's way of greeting. He watched Jimmy turn and lock the bathroom door behind him and then turn with his arms crossed, waiting for Creed to stop fidgeting with his lip. Creed took his time and then finally turned to lean against the sink. "Well?"

Jimmy nodded towards him, meaning he indicated his face. "Feel better now?"

Creed snorted, and flashed the new bills that he had stuffed in his pocket. "'Course. As long as I get somethin' in the end. Now what the fuck do you want?"

Jimmy paused a moment. "You know, you don't have to do this anymore. There's this rumor, that this chick named X is giving out this medicine that'll help you-"

"What do you know about X, huh? I ain't got nothing to do with no girl, especially no girl that calls herself X. What'der you trying to say?" Creed snapped, tensing. He stabbed metaphoric holes into Jimmy.

He wasn't phased. "Come on, Creed. Don't try to deny it. I know what you are." The bathroom filled with both of their silence, and then Creed advanced on him, throwing him against the wall and pinning him there with his pocketknife to his neck.

"Whoa whoa whoa! Wait!" Squealed Jimmy. "I'm just tryin' to help! Th-This medicine, it's supposed to make you stronger! Think about it! You won't have to drink and get into bar fights to get money anymore! Sh-She's out in Illinois, calling all that'll come to her place! You'll get rich with that medicine she got!"

Creed paused, the paper towel in his mouth contorting his cheek and jaw. "Where did you hear this?"

"There's been talk about it. Come on man, don't cut me." Jimmy's eyes were on the knife, but Creed was thinking of other things. With a jerk, he let go of Jimmy and stormed towards the door. "Don't tell anyone about me." Creed said, not looking back to see that Jimmy watched him leave long after he was gone.

Creed tipped the rest of the liquor down his throat, watching the night life pass through the window. He let the deep base and fast talking of the music coming through his earphones lull him as he pondered over names he thought were better suited for this mysterious X, and what he would do with all of the money he planned to make.

William James | Mover
Chicago, Illinois

"Hey handsome. What brings you to these parts?"

Will's dark blue eyes narrowed when he heard those words, sweet like syrup, and he turned slowly. A lady in a red dress with a leather jacket approached, the flaps open to display the low-cut neckline. It was below 40 degrees, and she was freezing, he could tell, but she didn't dare cover up.

Will sensed another pair of eyes watching as the prostitute smiled at him.

"I live here," he said, his hands tense in his pockets.

"Well, perfect. That means we can go to your place if you're looking for a good time," she sang.

"I'm not so sure about that." Will muttered, turning around to leave.

"But, are you sure?!" The woman sputtered, reaching out to place her hand on his shoulder. "I'll even give you a discount. Please." Her hand almost landed on his jacket but a simple thought and she somehow fell short from touching him. So small it probably wasn't noticeable, but Will had Moved her hand an inch away from him.

Her voice was desperate, and for a minute, he felt swayed by her soothing voice, felt a strange desire to take her home and-

and then his hands flung out and she flew a few feet away from him with a scream. Will's chest rose and fell, his fists clenching with anger, and he strolled forward to kneel below her. "Don't ever try to Push me again."

She glared at him, her hands modestly closing the jacket and zipping it up. "First generation. I thought they'd wiped you all out."

Will chuckled dryly. "They'll have to try harder to wipe me out."

He rose to his feet and turned to leave, but she stopped him with a "Wait!"

A small set of footsteps approached and Will turned to see a little boy, about eight, hide behind the Pusher. She looked at the ground quietly for a moment then met his gaze. "He's all I've got."

"Oh for fuck's sake." Will muttered, tilting his head back to glare at the moon. "Why me?"

"Why all of us?" she replied.

"Fine, fine. You can come stay at my place, but if you Push me ever again.." he warned.

She chuckled quietly. "Got it. Name's Holly. This is my boy, Jackson."

"Third generation?" Will asked.

"Yep. Pusher too. Can hardly use his powers. That's why we're on our way to see X."

"X?" Will's voice was suddenly very low. "What about her?"

"You haven't heard about the drug yet?"

"No. Why don't we go for a walk and you tell me about this drug?"

Tom Banks | Shifter
Montreal, Quebec, Canada

Tom took a his favorite black and gold playing card and showed it to the flight attendant. A moment before it touched her hand, however, the playing card turn into a boarding pass. The flight attendant scanned the card, returned it to Tom, and wished him an enjoyable flight. Tom took his ticket back as he stepped into the plane, a smirk growing in his face.

How ignorant people can be, he thought. He was still unsure whether he was doing the right thing, traveling to Illinois, just from what a stranger had told him. But there were two things that made him keep going. Firstly, he could pretty much shift anything into a boarding pass for a way back home. And secondly, he had discovered that there were other people.

He was not alone.

It had all started a couple of days back, while Tom was going through his usual routine, scamming people. He normally went to work in the Place Jacques-Cartier, which was usually full of tourists and street performers. He flourished his deck, spinning several cards in the air and catching them again with no difficulty. He shouted things like "Approach for the best magic you will ever see!" or "Why pay to see the Cirque du Soleil if you can take part in this beautiful spectacle. In no time, a group of people had formed around him.

He scanned the crowd quickly, picking out what looked like the richest spectators, and finally selected a middle-aged woman, covered with jewelry from head to toe. Tom was not interested in people's riches because of their money. That he could falsify easily enough and get away with it. Jewelry, however, was a whole different thing. It was beautiful, and eternal. No amount of shifting could really make true jewelry.

"Pick a card, any card." He shouted, so all the spectators could hear, but he approached the woman he had picked before. She took a card, showed it to all the crowd except the magician, and hid it between both her hands. The magician then approached her, and without even touching her hands, "changed" the card. In fact, all he had done was shift it so it would be a different card, and then he pulled another card from the deck and shifted it to match the spectators.

Of course, the crowd did not know that. Neither did they know that the performer had stolen about five hundred dollars worth of jewelry. Several people threw coins, some even bills, and the magician made a hasty escape. He smiled inwardly, like he always did after fooling people. He often wondered why it was he, an orphan boy who had almost nothing, who was the only human to have superpowers.

He half-noticed someone approaching him from behind, until it was too late to leave unnoticed. He turned around and noticed it was just a small, poor boy.

"I don't have money for you, kid."

The boy kept following Tom, and said, "I watched your show."

"'The fuck you want, then?" he said, rounding on the boy, "Lemme tell you I ain't got no patience for you little kids who follow me around like parasites."

"Wow, you sound a lot more unprofessional than you did at your little show," commented the boy, suppressing a smile. Then, seemed to remember Tom's anger and continued, "You seem to think so, but you're not the only one out there."

Tom stared at the boy, impatiently, waiting for an explanation. The boy kept talking, "You think you're the only one with powers, but you're not. You could be a lot stronger than you are now. You are not alone."

"The fuck you want?" Tom repeated. The boy extended his hand and the deck of cards flew to him. Tom flinched, then went back to his usual serious, unexpressive manner. The boy made the deck levitate slowly back towards Tom. Tom snatched it out of the air, and as he was leaving, the boy spoke. Tom did not turn around, but heard what the boy said anyway.

"They say that X has perfected the cure to make us stronger. She's calling the mutants to her somewhere in Illinois. We could be invincible! We would never fear humans again!"

Tom pretended to ignore him, but even then as plan was beginning to form in his head. He would go to Illinois. He would gain power. And mostly, he would discover a world he hadn't known before that day.

You are not alone.

Kennedy Blake| Stitch
Illinois

"You could say you're going for the hiking. They have hiking in Illinois, right?" I asked Myra.

"They have hiking everywhere, Kenny. What I don't get is why it's so urgent that you see this "X." We've done fine so far hiding you and Asha's powers."

"Yeah, but it won't stay that way forever, love. Sometime I or Asha will mess up, and then I'll sacrifice myself so the two of you can escape. Then Asha will make another mistake, heal or hurt in an obvious way, and you'll sacrifice yourself for him. Then he'll be all alone, and when he messes up, no one will be able to save him. X can help. She can make it so we don't mess up."

"Then why are you making me and Asha stay an hour behind, and stay in Springfield instead of coming with you to look for X."

"I'm not stupid, Myra. X isn't completely trustworthy, and I don't want to risk the two of you near her. Besides, she doesn't like third gens, or so I've heard. Doesn't like second gens much either, but really doesn't like third gens."

My mind stops replaying our conversation when the plane begins to descend. Springfield, capital of Illinois, here I am. Now I just need to figure out where in the state X is.

I stroll across the airport towards the baggage claim and bump into a young man with a buzzcut, tripping and falling to my knees. When I stood up, one was bloody. Crap.

I dug around in my purse for a bandage, all the while hoping my power wouldn't go off before I could cover it up. But when I looked down at my knee, bandage clenched in one hand, the skin was unbroken, quickly drying blood on the surface of the skin the only sign of my fall. I glanced at the man I had bumped into. He was staring fixedly at me. He probably saw.

I hurried off towards the claim, hoping he was someone like me. If not, the soldiers would be here soon.

Chase Greysin / Shadow
San Diego, California


Chase looked at the sobbing man, not with emotion or a sense of pity. He was just looking at him. A feeling of disbelief and mistrust was already rising, and he never liked it when it happened.

"Please man, you have to help me I'm desperate. She'll kill me if she finds me, man." the pitiful man begged Chase. He was thin and disheveled. As if he had just crawled out of a hole he hadn't been out of in days. His eyes were slightly sunken into the back of his skull and his hair had a wispy dryness to it that Chase knew it regularly wouldn't. IT didn't matter though, Chase wouldn't get his hands dirty.

"You got the cash then?" Chase asked with a flat tone, looking away behind the shades of his glasses. Pulling down the sides of the leather jacket that clung to his shoulders. He never asked for a payment to shadow someone who needed help, but he made up for it because of the circumstance.

The man sighed like Chase had said something he had wished he hadn't. Handing him over five thousand dollars cash, then turning to light a cigarette. "What are the limits?" he asked now that the deal had been struck and he understood he was safe.

"She's a Watcher, right?" Chase asked without looking at the man, not being able to stand the sight of such a creature.

"Yeah, that bitch is a Watcher. So whats the limit?"

"Thirty feet, and don't push it." Chase said, pushing himself off the wall of the Eastbound burger joint in Lakeside. Walking off he heard the man flick off the lighter and begin to follow him. Which well, he had to, but Chase didn't like it when people were behind him. He didn't say anything though.

For the next sixteen hours they walked and drove to the airport near the harbor. From the man's perspective he was about to earn another ticket to paradise. With Chase being his shield from everything all the way till it happened. From Chase's side, it was just another job, helping somebody else out, doing what he could. Not much of a life style, the way he does it. Then again, a life trying to avoid the division is hardly called a life at all.

The taxi cab stopped at a red light a few blocks down from the road leading to the airport when Chase suddenly had a feeling that told him to move. It was like a sixth sense, not like a watchers six sense. His was no where near his own, but he had a knack for knowing when danger was around, and it was definitely around.

"Out of the cab, now." Chase ordered slowly, looking out the window.

"What?" the man said halfway through taking another bite of the cheeseburger they had just bought.

"Out of the damn car!" Chase yelled kicking the man out his passenger door and following him out. Together, with Chase half dragging the man along, they ran to a closed off alleyway. Panting the man looked at Chase like he was insane, but Chase silenced any thoughts of that when a woman appeared at the mouth of the alley. Her eyes darting across to where the open door of the cab still stood there in the traffic.

Then her eyes flipped to Chase and she walked up to him. She was a mixture of different things. Beautiful, that was for sure, but her hair was frayed like she had been under an immense amount of stress. Her eyes were rimmed with the red of someone who had spent many recent nights crying. Shaking hands and a look in her eyes that said she only had one thing on her mind. Chase knew this woman, not personally, but from the news and what had happened to her.

She reached her hand into a purse and without hesitating brought a pistol up to rest in in between the eyes of Chase. Her own eyes squinting down the sights of the barrel as she held it, index on the trigger. The man behind Chase stood there dumbfounded not understanding what was about to happen. Especially not understanding when Chase sidestepped and revealed the man to the woman, the watcher, his wife.

CRACK!

After a couple more hours of finding a place to hide out, Chase and the woman sat together in a hotel room not to far off from where the dead body of a murderer lay in an alleyway. She sat there and cried as Chase held her, trying to comfort her but it just wasn't his thing. He understood enough though that sometimes a woman just needs to cry.

"Thank you so much," she said softly through hiccups and sobs, "I... I don't have any money to pay you for --" Chase cut her off.

"Your deadbeat husband flipped the bill, don't worry about it." he said with a mock grin as he pushed her back up.

"He paid you to shadow him and you let me find you?" she asked confused, "I know you Chase Greysin, and no one would have found my husba --"

"Deadbeat husband." Chase intergected.

" -- Deadbeat husband... unless they were a first generation." she said looking at him thoughtfully.

"That man killed your little girl," Chase said quietly standing up and stretching, "I will never shadow murderers." The woman all but broke down into tears and kissed Chase on the cheek.

"You're a good man." she said with a gentle and sad tone. With that Chase shook his head, and he left the room. Leaving three thousand of the original five with the woman. Taking a flight to Illinois soon after. An old friend he had never thought to hear from again had contacted him, something that had division and X written all over it. Why was he going, he didn't exactly know why. though he knew it was the same reason he always moved.

When this whole thing with division comes crashing down, he might be able to shadow one or two people to safety instead of letting them die. Maybe he couldn't get them, and he was finally going to die. It wouldn't stop him though, eventually everyone needs a shadow. He was going to be there when they needed him, it was just his thing.

I hate that it's just my thing... shut up... talking to yourself again...

Ivor Volkov | Stitch
New York

Ivor stuck his hands deeper into his pockets, missing the weight of his revolver as the queue trudged slowly onwards. He had sent the firearm to Illinois by courier in advance. Being a Stitch, he thought, was one of the less useful mutanties. At least a Pusher could have manipulated customs officers to let him through without question. A Mover would have been able to levitate the gun to the ceiling and transport it through the airport without incident. A Shifter could have … what?

Ivor blinked rapidly and frowned. As the man in front of him stuck the ticket into his pocket, Ivor caught a glimpse of the stiff paper crumpling as though it was less than it seemed. It could have been his imagination. What had not been his imagination, however, was the split second in which he had seen the had-been sweet wrapper Shift into a ticket. He had company.

He stuck close to the man, always behind him, now missing his revolver more than ever. But at this close range, he reminded himself, he didn't really need it. A sliver of exposed skin—a touch was all that was necessary. And against a Shifter, it would hardly even be a fair fight. Ivor glanced around, wondering how many of the people eagerly pushing on toward the plane were Wipers, Bleeders, Movers or even Watchers. A man behind him looked away before their eyes could meet.
Tinker, Tail, Soldier, or Sniff? Volkov mused. But it was a mere conjecture, probably nothing.

They reached the plane and an attendant took the Shifter's ticket.
"Seat eleven B," she said said in a crisp voice and gave it back to him.
Ivor looked down at his own ticket in disbelief. The number was the same. Where was a helpful Pusher now?
"Seat eleven B," the attendant stated, viewing his ticket. Her eyes were tired under the layered makeup, and her gaze moved vacantly to the next boarder.
Ivor moved on, hardly believing his luck. But now he would have to deal with the duplicate without raising suspicion. He moved to his seat and sat down beside the man, feigning ignorance. Then he nearly crushed the man's hand in an iron grip.
"I saw zat little trick, Shifter," he breathed, his will grating at the nerves in the man's hand. "Now you 'ad better 'ope zat nobody 'as taken zees seat, because you are sitting on mine."

Creed Coyle | Watcher
Illinois Airport

Creed watched the woman scurry off, her head low and her shoulders strained. His mind was blank in revelation, and didn't know quite how to wrap around his first encounter with another mutant. He didn't quite like this, either; he was a man for instant reactions, immediate retorts and quick retaliation. He blinked once, snapping his body forward, after the girl, and flicked his hood up and his earbuds out.

He kept a steady pace behind her, never too close or too far. The woman was in a hurry to leave, and as paranoid as a schizo. Probably his fault. Probably everyone's fault. He followed her all the way to the taxi lane, where she finally stopped and hastily waved for a cab.

He walked casually behind her, hovering his chin just over her shoulder, the corner of his lip quirking. He kept his eyes on the people moving around them as the woman slowly lowered her hand, her movements quiet and still.

He inhaled and opened his mouth to whisper in her ear. "Well well well, lookie here. I say we go for a little chat, hmm?"

"I'm not going anywhere with you." She snapped. She had followed his lead to be quiet.

He grinned, though she probably couldn't see it. "Now now now, no need to be so hostile. We're both mutants here, right?"

She was quiet, and Creed could feel the shift in her. She wasn't sure, since it was just his word, but he could tell that she felt more in control when she thought she was dealing more with a mutant than an undercover cop. He was too young and too riled to be a very good cop, anyways.

"Don't think about hurting me, either. As soon as you start something with me, every single one of these people will turn to witness the Stitch, the Freak, attack a young, innocent man. See those cameras?" He gestured towards the blocky security cameras around the outside of the airport. "-They're going to tape every move you do against me, and the government will put a big fat number over your head, and your family. And no way would X ever let a known and wanted mutant through her doors."

"What do you want?" She said. So he was right about the family, he could hear the truth in her voice, even as she tried to cover it.

"What do I want?" Creed mused. "Well, I want a lot of things, sweetheart. That's the reason why we're both here, right? To find 'X', take her little pill, and be free. But until then, how about a partnership? We both have the same goal, and after we find X, we can split ways. How 'bout it?"

She was quiet for awhile. "What's your name?"

Creed grinned again. "Micheal. Micheal Blackwood."

She turned around and stuck her hand out. "Kennedy Blake."

Creed took her hand and shook.