Young Writers Society

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A paper slips under your door and you cautiously pick it up. It was late night, or rather early morning, and nothing of this sort has ever happened before. You unfold the note and read the elegant script.



You start to crumble the paper but stop suddenly when something sharp pricks the back of your neck. Quickly you swat it, thinking it to be a bug of some sort, but instead you come back with another piece of paper.



The clock reads 4:30 A.M. Honestly you are freaked out so you put the paper on your desk gently rather than crumble it and stare wide eyed as more words seem to magically appear.



You nod twice and try not to collapse.



You heart is pounding and your head is swimming but you nod thrice anyway.



Plot:

You are a Fundamental, one of the core elements left of the earth and The Service needs your help. The war between mortals and immortals is starting to leak into the mortal world. Magical creatures are giving up their disguises and terrorizing the humans. No one can stop them because no one knows exactly who “they” are… except for you and your partners of course. Why, you ask.

It is because Karzai has awaken.

Who is Karzai? You will come to know in due time. For now just know he’s evil, and merciless. Know that it’s time for the Fundamentals to regroup and restore balance between the two worlds.

It’s time for the new generation to stand up and fight.



Fundamentals:

Water: Calm by nature, usually relaxed and easy going. But don’t let the nonchalant smile and gentle appearance fool you; they will cut you down with a smile to protect the ones they care for. Water Fundamentals are placid which can cause them to be easily manipulated. They have nothing to hide, leaving them an open book and easy to read.

1. Noah - thelostone
2. Galen - Aquestioning
3. Cynthia - Cheetah

Fire: They’re tough and they know it. They know how to fight and will not hesitate to show you what they’re made of. Fire Fundamentals are easily the strongest, but their troubles with control, at the same time, make them weaker than the others. Their temper and lack of self-control will often hurt the ones they don’t mean to hurt.

1. Dillon - ReisePiecey
2. - AfterTheStorm
3. Derek - EloquentDragon

Earth: They possess power and control. Earth Fundamentals are the leaders of the pack, so to say. They’re tough and level headed but also stubborn. They refuse to take suggestions, much less orders, from another class. Earth listens to only Earth, nobody else. Their refusal to take advice can leave them stranded and in deadly trouble.

1. - Nike
2. Aurora - Rydia
3. Lucas - NightWolf

Air: Care free and happy, the Air Fundamentals are the “Airheads” of the group. They are very strong, fast, and nimble. Graceful and more powerful than they know, but their lack of seriousness keeps them from honing that power. They prefer using their powers for fun and games instead of training. They need something near deadly to happen before they even start to pay attention and can be as cocky as the Fire Fundamentals, but may not always have a bite behind their bark.

1. Ellie - Iggy
2. Ricky - TheMessenger
3. Zendaya - janika

Profile:
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Code: Select all

[b]Name[/b]:

[b]Age[/b]:

[b]Gender[/b]:

[b]Fundamental Class[/b]:

[b]Appearance[/b]:

[b]Personality[/b]:

[b]History [/b](How’d They Discover Their Gift):

[b]Other[/b]:

Thanks to @Iggy, your humble co-host, for suggesting a revival.

Dillon Abraham

I stepped out of the back of the limousine in a daze. Everything had been just a giant blur ever since I... died. The concept was still strange, but there was no mistaking my roommate's screams when he found the body. How long until my parents would get the call? What would they think? What about Derek... I bent over and put his hands on his knees for support. My head was swimming and the sun was way too bright in the sky. I felt like he'd been in the back of that car for days, but my watch revealed only a few hours had passed since my suicide.

Bile rose to the front of my mouth as I remembered. They'd come in write when they promised they would. My suicide letter lay unfolded and scrawled on his desk, rewritten twice since they'd looked over it and noticed all the subtle hints I tried to put in that I was being taken. It was reduced to a shaky "I'm sorry", nothing more. There was a mannequin - I can't think of any other word to describe the thing - blank and foreboding in the corner. He was faceless until they let him borrow mine, bloodless until they made me donate. He could talk with his mouth, my mouth, to The Service members surrounding us; could see with my eyes, hear with my ears, smell with my nose. He could hold that gun with his fingers, my fingers, and press it to his temple, and pull the trigger. On me. My body on the floor.

I threw up on the concrete and tried to stop myself from falling. A hand grasped the collar of my shirt and lifted my up on my toes, another wiped my mouth and popped in a stick of gum. I choked and tried to spit it out, but he forced it back in. A sudden burst of anger shot through me and I threw both of them off of me, hands already ablaze.

"Get the fuck away!"

One of the men in suits shook his head slowly and approached me. Without thinking, I aimed a punch at his face, but the attack was caught and, with a quick and precise jab at my neck, the flames covering my fist extinguished.

"What the..."

"Go to the Conference Room."

I didn't have time to object before I was lifted from behind and deposited in the door of the huge building, stranded in a empty hallway among what had to be a hundred empty hallways. An impossible number of doors lined the wall in each hall, each with a plain golden plaque announcing its contents, most of them locked. It took me nearly an hour to find the Conference Room. I didn't bother knocking before storming in. Opening the door revealed a bare room, equipped with only a long table and a hanging chandelier. I was just about to take a seat when a voice rang loud and clear behind me.

"Dillon Abraham, I presume?"

I nearly fell down from fright. Behind me was a woman with dead eyes and a thin mouth. He skin was wrinkled and spotted. She wore a tightly pressed suit and a cap that hid what hair she may or may not have. I looked down to the badge on her chest which simply read “The Informer”. She walked around the long table and sat at the head of it. I stared at her in confusion, she just stared ahead.

"What the hell is this," I hissed at her.

"Everything will be explained once the others arrive," she said in a bored monotone.

"Bullshit, I need answers now you old hag!"

"Please take a seat, Dillon."

"Hey, screw you!"

My hands erupted into flames again. It was something I couldn't really control when angry. As soon as they lite up, The Informer was out of her chair and in my face, giving me that cool, blank stare that infuriated me.

"I asked you to take a seat, Dillon."

I was just making up my mind to punch an old lady in the face when the door creaked open.

I had just gotten back to the house after working a double shift at the cafe and was in seriously need of shower. I was the only home, which was why it had been so quiet. There was a note on the fridge that read:

Won't be back for a while. Left #s to be reached at for any reasons on the fridge,
K

I tossed the note onto the counter before grabbing a bottle of water and heading for my room, but before I could get there, a knock sounded at the door.

"Hello?" I called.

No answer. Hm. I walk over to the door and open it to find no one was there. Odd. I close the door only to note the piece of paper that wasn't there before. I pick up the note, unfold, and read what's in an elegant script.

We see you. We know your secret. Don't try to fight it. We're coming

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Every hair on my body stands on end as I check and recheck the locks.I start to crumble the paper but stop suddenly when something sharp pricks the back of my neck. Quickly I swat it, thinking it to be a bug of some sort, but instead I come back with another piece of paper.

We’ll be here at five. Be ready. And don’t try that again.

What the hell? I go back to the kitchen and set the paper down, and stare completely shocked at the words that begin to appear.

If anyone finds out about this we’ll make sure you pay, we have ways, Fundamental. Ways of making you suffer. Nod twice if you understand.

That kind of made me laugh. If you can do something like this without being noticed, then i'm guessing you can do pretty much anything. I nod twice.

We will stage a suicide, your suicide, and that will be your cover. You will come away with us without fuss or complaint after that or else you will not be the only one who “dies” today. And your loved ones just may not survive the resurrection. Nod twice if you understand

.


I nod twice.

Good. You have thirty minutes to write a suicide note and grab one thing you wish to bring with you. Do not fear, young Fundamental, we are the good guys.
Signed,
~The Service~

The service? What the hell kind of name is that? As instructed, I did as instructed, and waited. They were right on time. They didn't knock on the door and wait for me to answer, and it's not like I expected them to anyway. I actually don't know how they got in. They set down a giant black suit case that looked it could hole and entire body in it, but What I didn't know was that it did until they opened it. Inside lay a mannequin. But not just any mannequin...me? They took my face and put it in something else, my ears, my nose, my eyes, my mouth, my hair, my toes, my fingers, my blood, and gave it to something that shouldn't be. It looked like me. Walked like me. Talked like me. It was essentially...Me.

"So tell me again why all of this is necessary?" I watch as they set up my "suicide"

"We didn't." another one answered.

"Right right." I nod. "So are you going to tell me?"

"All will be explained in time, young one." Say another handling the noose i'll be "killing" myself with.

"Right." I smirk.

It not like I have much choice in the matter anyway. I'm dead either way. Figuratively speaking, of course.

They took me outside where a car lay in waiting, and put me inside. They led me away to a huge building.

"Go to the Conference Room," was all they said before they left me standing in an enormous hall way with out any clue as to where the conference room was. Great. An impossible number of doors lined the wall in each hall, each with a plain golden plaque announcing its contents, most of them locked. It didn't take me long to find it.

"What in the hell..."

I walk into the room to find another guy looking ready to punch someone in the face with his flaming hands, and a small old woman standing right In front of him. They both turn to look at me as I continue to stare at them.

"Did I interrupt something?" I blink.

Aurora Clavelle

It was unlike Aurora to go so long without expressing her displeasure when she was feeling this much of it. Displeasure was the wrong word... anger. Aurora hadn't felt anger for a long time but now it was sitting inside her like a coiled spring.

"Miss... Miss Aurora, you need to step out of the car please."

Aurora didn't move. She was dead, wasn't she? Dead people didn't move. Besides, Aurora wasn't Aurora, she was Rory.

"Miss Aurora, I am going to have to insist." This was a new voice... a different voice. Ah yes, the harder one. The one who had stood with the gun pointed at the door as she had threatened to kill one of the little ones. The one who thought Aurora could be cowled, except she had been. She'd written the suicide note, hadn't she?

"They will never believe it."

"They saw your body." The woman was unyielding and at last Rory looked up and very calmly stepped out of the car. She didn't feel calm. She felt like a strung bow, but she didn't have anything to aim for yet so she gave one nod and waited to be led into the building. She would strike. She would strike so hard that she would take the whole organisation down... whoever they were.

Who were they? Who came in the middle of the night to steal people away from their families?

"Go to the conference room."

Rory gave the woman a last, hard stare to memorise her features and then turned and entered the building. There were a lot of rooms.

Every plaque which announced a room other than the conference room was another tally mark on the wall. There was one for the dining room and one for the research room. One for the map room and one for the auditorium. Every room was another blow and Rory intended to return them blow for blow.

Then at last, the conference room.

Rory pushed the door open and strode in, her eyes landing immediately on 'The Informer'.

"I'm not staying here," Rory said firmly. "Whatever you have to say, why don't you say it now and then I'm going to leave. You can't hurt my family - you won't. You wouldn't have been so careful to stage my suicide if you wanted anyone to know what you're doing and-" Rory's voice had risen: she was shouting. Without meaning to, she had released the spring.

"Miss Clavelle, you will control your tone of voice!" The woman's eyes flashed and Rory's sparked right back, but she did bring her anger back under control. "Now, if you take a seat, when the others arrive I will explain everything."

"I prefer to stand." Rory crossed her arms against her chest and took this moment to look at the other two people in the room. So. She wasn't the only one, judging from their angry expressions.

Derek

Derek hauled himself up the stairs to his room. It had been a long day of school. Whoever decided that normal, healthy teenagers should be forced to wake up at the break of dawn and then endure eight hours of uninterrupted torture should be hunted down and murdered. Slowly.
With a sigh he dumped his backpack on the floor and threw himself onto his bed. He crossed his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling, allowing his thoughts to wander.
“For centuries man has pondered over the question; what is his purpose?” The words of his humanities teacher echoed in his mind. “The answer to this question has always eluded humankind. It often drove philosophers to depression or insanity…”
Derek sat up and looked at his room. It was strangely bare, as he had never been one for personal effects. A desk, the black cover on his bed, the closet, and the bookshelf. In a way it sort of mirrored how Derek felt at the moment.
Empty.
With another heavy sigh he pulled out his math book and began the mindless task of Algebra homework. It was, as always, just another normal, ordinary, purposeless day.

It took him a while to notice the sharp pain in the back of his skull. Soon it spread, fiery pain throbbing behind his eyes. He grabbed the sides of his head, nearly doubled over in pain. What the hell? Some strange premonition gave him the dark and acidic taste of fear, but it was not his fear. Derek was suddenly reminded of how familiar this was. He had experienced this before. Twice actually.
What it meant was that Dill was in trouble. Deep, life-threatening trouble. Derek tried to focus, tried to make his thoughts obey his will. But the emotions came anyway, unwelcome and terrifying. This time, they were accompanied by images. Vague and fleeting and barely visible, but he could still see something.
A finger on a trigger. A note. An expression of horror. A gun pressed against a head…
Derek screamed in agony as he felt the bullet explode in his ear, and then everything stopped. He was still in his own room, homework on the floor, breathing heavily with his heart banging against his ribs.
Without a second thought he ran out of the house to find his brother. Whatever had just happened was worse than anything that had happened before. He was sure of it.


Dill had holed up in a seedy little apartment on the east side of town, and Derek had the spare key. He raced up three flights of creaking, swaying wooden steps and pushed open the heavy and scarred front door.
He stopped dead in his tracks.
Brett, Dill’s roommate, was sitting on the floor, huddled against the wall. He had his phone pressed against his ear and chewed on his hand, tears running down his face. Brett looked up when Derek burst in.
“I’m… so sorry.” He managed to whisper.

In the other corner of the room, lying in a pool of blood, was the body of his brother.

Everything inside of him screamed at him to look away, to run. But he just stood there, unmoving and rooted to the spot. There was a scrap of white lying next to his brother, and against his own will he walked forward and bent down to pick it up. He was so close now. He could see the white of the knuckles, clenched around the handle of the gun. Derek drew back to read the note.
'I’m sorry.' Was all that was scrawled on the paper.

Mechanically, as if in a trance, Derek drifted back outside. He blinked in the stark light, so different from the dark and bloodstained interior. At the moment he felt numb. Dead. He could not feel anything, could not fully grasp what he had just witnessed. But the moment the clouds parted and cold, winter sunlight hit him in the face he decided to leave that place. He would not stay here, he would not return home. He felt that there was no place for him now, no room left for his soul. He started to run.

Derek let his feet carry him and he soon found himself standing on the rough and worn dock at the lake. This was the same place where he and Dill used to come so often. They had fished here, swam here, and Dill had once nearly drowned here. Derek looked at the still water, read the note again, and was suddenly overcome with emotion. He felt like a part of him had died. He fell to his knees and cried. Bitter, bitter anger was burning at his insides. He felt betrayed. Why would Dill leave him like this? What made it so hard to live? Why had he abandoned him?
Derek held the note in his hand and read the words again and again. Bastard. He sobbed. His resentment, his sadness was all encapsulated in that piece of paper. In two pathetic words. Derek closed his eyes, wishing that he could burn away all of his emotion. And when he opened them he found, to his utter shock, that the paper in his hand was burning. It was quickly consumed by the flame, disintegrating into ashes that were carried away by the breeze. He stood and felt even more miserable than before.
Derek had once seen Dill do what he had just done—ignite something with nothing but his hands. If what had just happened had been real, it meant that Derek could do a little of the same. It was like rubbing salt in an open wound.

He stood there for a long time without moving. Consumed with grief. He did not notice as someone approached him from behind.
“Derek Abraham, I presume?” he dragged an arm over his eyes, still red and swollen, and turned to the stranger.
It was a man in a black suit. He had a gray face and a mouth that dragged down at the corners.
“How do you know my name?” he asked. His own voice sounded haunted and foreign to him. His thoughts were raw, it hurt to think.
“We know a lot about you.” The man said in reply. “Where you live, where you go to school. We also know that your brother is dead.”
“Who are you? The police?” he asked.
“Hardly.” he said flatly. “We are the Service.” Derek glanced around him and noticed that he was surrounded by other men in black suits, their expressions concealed behind black sunglasses.
“What do you want from me? Did you have something to do with Dill’s… with Dill killing himself?”
“Your brother isn’t dead.” The man said. “His suicide was staged.” Derek could only stare at him before he laughed.
“The Service? Is this supposed to be some psychological test or something? Some sadistic set up? If you’re trying to play with my emotions, it’s not going to work, sorry to disappoint you." he said. "When people die they stay dead.”
“Dillon never died to begin with.” The man responded coolly. “As I said, we fabricated his death. But it is fair enough if you don’t believe us.” With that he motioned with his hand and two of the men came forward. They stepped aside and revealed… a body. Strange and colorless, hanging there limply, the face eyeless and blank.
“What is that?” Derek asked.
“Why don’t you find out for yourself.” The man said. He told Derek to place his hand on the doll-like body. The moment he did color flooded into the blank face. It took on features and blood and life. All in one moment Derek found that he was staring at a perfect copy of himself. He jumped back.
“The same thing happened with your brother.” The man said. “Now do you believe us?”
“This is a dream.” Derek whispered.
“Was causing that piece of paper to burn up in your hands a dream?” the man asked. His tone suddenly grew harsh, demanding. “Make no mistake about this, Derek Abraham. You have no choice in this matter. You are coming with us. It is, however, your choice whether you come willingly or not.” For a long time Derek said nothing. He didn’t know what to think any more, what to believe. What was reality.
“Just tell me what to do.” He said quietly.
“Commit suicide. Your thoughts are linked to this mannequin. Whatever you imagine yourself doing the doll will mimic with physical actions.” Derek looked at the copy of his body and nodded. “Where would you like the death to take place, Mr. Abraham?” the man asked. Derek smiled grimly.
“Right here.”

It only took three gallons. Three gallons of gasoline poured over his hair, his clothes, dripping down and soaking his shoes in a puddle on the dock. Derek’s body sank to its knees in the puddle of fuel, and Derek lit the match.

A few moments later and he walked away with the Service men, the dock in flames behind him.

========================

Derek knocked softly on the door of the conference room before he stepped inside. He felt drained, and was not sure if he could trust these people. But decided at last that he did not care either way. His life was forfeit anyway. There was only a single table here, the room curiously bare except for one chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
“Welcome to the Service, young Fundamental.” A woman with the name of “Informant” said from the other end of the table. But Derek barely heard her. A sudden flood of emotion hit him in the chest. He was staring at his brother.

Apathy Lovegood

No. no. no. no. no. no. no. This cannot be happening. I've managed for so long, so hard, to hide. I've been very successful. How did they find out? And who are they?

"I, I can't." I started to speak to myself. "No freaking way. No."

Pacing through my room, I felt heat grow in my hands. Clenching them, I got them to calm down. I didn't need a spurt of power right now. Not when I'm detected. Not when I'm weak. I took a few deep breaths and shut my eyes for a few seconds.

One. Two. Three.

Crumpling the note in my hands, I opened my eyes and saw a figure in front of me. How? What...?

"Apathy Maria Alexandrie Lovegood," Whoa. Long name. Not my long name. But long name.

I couldn't speak. The person, the figure, in front of me was stunning. She had pink eyes which were shaped like a cat's, without any eyeliner or nothing. They were literally cat eyes. Her skin was a soft pink. Actually, she was entirely pink, but in the most beautiful way possible. Her dress seemed like it floated around her as her wings fluttered to a stop on her back, her pure white wings. I was enticed.

"That's not my name," was all I could say.

"Oh yes, it is my dear." her voice was angelic, I couldn't breathe.

Wait. I couldn't breathe. I literally couldn't breathe. My breathe wasn't taken away by her appearance. I couldn't breathe. I grabbed my throat, trying to find a way to get air in. I even started to use my power of Earth to someone get some oxygen. Nothing. I was blacking out. My vision started to get black and my legs got wobbly under me.

"Oh Apathy, sweet Apathy."

Grabbing at my throat, my chest, I tried so hard to get air. I didn't know what to do, I needed help. I could see her walking up to me. I felt her touch my cheek, graciously. I could smell death on her like a perfume.

All of a sudden, I got air into my lungs. I took a few heavy breathes in and without hesitation, threw her against the wall. I didn't need another attack and I needed to protect myself before she does anything again. A sly smile grew on her face as she stuck against my peach colored wall. I had my hand up, focused on her as I took steady steps up to her.

"What are you doing, my dear?" she asked, her voice confident.

I just smiled and felt the rush of the Earth underneath me. Sometimes, that scared me. But this time, it gave me power. I felt something go through my body as I got a foot away from her. Letting my arm down, she fell to the ground with a thump. Looks like her wings did nothing to save her.

"You cannot follow The Fundamentals." she hissed form my hardwood floors.

"Why not, dear?" I mocked her perky voice.

"They are the bad ones."

"Watch me."

I walked up to her and pulled at her soft wings. They felt like pillows. Lifting her up, I looked straight into her eyes and huffed.

"For your own sake, fly out. Or I'll take care of that for you." I hissed.

She wriggled out of my grip and flew out my open window.

Now to make a suicide. How do you do that? I don't want to die. I don't want anyone to think I'm dead. But I have to. This is the destiny I've been waiting for. The Fundamentals. I belong there.

So, I paced around my room. I threw on my favorite YALE hoodie. Oh dammit, I just got into Yale with a full scholarship, and now I'm supposed to die? My life is over! This is one of the things I wanted to do before I knew having magic meant something. Shit shit shit. I don't know anymore.

But something in me clicked. I took a picture of myself with my camera and left it on the desk with my favorite book, The Sun Also Rises. A tear passed down my cheek as I climbed out the window, and found my way to The Fundamentals. They were going to stage the suicide.

Noah Troyer

This can't be happening.

My breathing picked up its pace and I watched as the men in suits dragged in a lifeless model of me. Every detail was spot on, they even got my hair color right. I tried to take in some deep breaths as I stared at the blank paper in front of me. I was supposed to be writing a suicide note for my mom to find later. My hands were trembling too badly and I couldn't bring myself to write anything. What would Mom do when she finds it? She already can't function with Dad gone. I'm the only thing keeping her alive. When I'm gone too what will happen to her? Would she still find a reason to live? My deep breathing technique wasn't working and I began to freak out again. I quickly touched the pen to the paper and scrawled four words. Goodbye I love you.

I looked up at the man looming over me. "I'm done." I whimpered.

He nodded towards me and grasped my arm. He pulled me out of my house to a slick black limousine.

"I-I don't understand!" I cried, trying to resist the huge man. "I didn't do anything! Please, you can't do this."

"Just get in the car, Miss. Troyer." He sighed and pushed me through the door.

I landed on the leather interior as he slammed the door shut. The driver started the car and the last thing I remember before passing out was wondering if this was legal.

***

When I woke up I was being pulled out of the limo and forced up onto my feet in front of a huge building.

A woman was standing next to me with a name tag that said "The Informer". She looked me over and smiled. "Noah Troyer?"

I barely nodded. "Where am I?"

"This is The Service." She guided me inside the building. "Welcome, Fundamental."

Fundamental? What the hell is a fundamental? I can't be one. I'm just Noah. Just Noah.

"I think you're confused. I-I'm not whatever you think I am." I stuttered.

"Hush young one," She opened the door to a conference room. "Everything will be explained when the others arrive."

I walked into the room and only a few others were there. A couple turned to look at me but the others didn't bother. My heart pounded against my chest and I slipped into a chair. I nervously placed my shaking hands in my lap, praying that I would be able to go home soon.

Ricky Jones


Ricky could barely breath. What's going on?This is crazy! He stared in disbelief as the men placed the . . . mannequin, in his chair, right in front of his computer. It looked just like him. He couldn't believe it. Same blond hair, same green eyes, even the same jeans and red v-neck he was wearing.

As he climbed out of his window at the ridiculous hour of 4:30 A.M., he watched the man in the dark suit plunge a pocket knife into his . . . twin's heart. A fake suicide note was placed on Ricky's computer. He tried to stop tears form coming to his eyes. Anger welled in his chest. this was so wrong. His brother and father. They were so close to him, and he to them.

The man down the ladder in the front lawn spoke in a monotone voice. "Come on, we need to move."

Ricky turned angrily at him. "Where are you taking me? what is this?" He went halfway down the ladder before stopping. "I'm not going. This is ridiculous. You want me to just leave my family and fake a death!"

The man below just stared at him with a blank expression. Ricky heard a noise and saw the the second man was coming out of the window. Ricky was tempted to just slug him, but he kept his cool.

The man stared at him. "Fundamental, are you coming?"

"No."

A hand grasped Ricky's face. A swab of cotton was pressed against his nose. Chloroform! Ricky viciously swung out as his head became light. He knocked the hand away. But he lost his footing and fell off the ladder, arms flailing.

The ground crashed into Ricky, driving the wind out of his lungs. He tried to push himself up, but couldn't. one of the dark-suited men came over, shoving a cloth over his face. He tried to shove the hands away, but someone pinned them down, and Ricky could do nothing to resist.

Slowly his eyes closed. A warm feeling wrapped about him and he became dizzily sleepy. within seconds he was wrapped in sleep.

"Mr. Jones!"

Ricky jolted up, scared out of his wits, heart beating fast, sweating, and utterly confused as to where he was. Panic gripped his heart. He looked around and spotted several people in the room. Ricky was standing just beside a toppled chair, probably the one he had been sleeping in.

"Welcome to the Conference Room."

"They won't believe it."

All three of them stopped, and the tallest turned to give her a confused look. "Miss Hollings?"

"My family. They aren't stupid. They know I'm special. They also know that I'm happy. I'm not the type of girl to kill myself."

"The body is proof enough, Elinor. They'll believe it."

"For fuck's sake, I told you to call me Ellie."

"Enough." The small woman said, marching forward until she reached the black car. She opened up the back door and turned to Ellie. "It's done and over with, Miss Hollings. Now get in the car."

"No way in hell am I riding in the back." Ellie crossed her arms and glared.

The two men glanced at each other, eyes veiled by dark sunglasses. They exchanged a silent agreement and flanked her, both grabbing a slender arm and dragging the blonde, immune to her kicks and squirms. They tossed her into the backseat and slid in after her, one holding her down as the other buckled her in.

"One would think she'd be a Fire with that spirit," the driver muttered to the woman as she slipped into the passanger's seat.

"Five bucks says she'll be one of the easiest," the lady replied.

--

Elinor Hollings was definitely not an easy child, regardless of elemental abilities. She was strong, hard headed, and determined. She was also loyal. She wasn't willing to leave her family, and so the Service had to come and threaten her until she willingly gave her blood to the dummy and watched as it commited suicide. Then she was forced to write the letter that would portray her as a weak-willed teenager, with the threat of the Service killing her parents hanging over her.

Ellie was pissed, to the point where she was literally a little whirlwind. Air swirled around her, causing her blonde hair to fly out, sharp and stinging to the eyes of anyone who was unfortunate to get caught in it as she stormed down to the Conference room.

The door slammed open with a gust of wind and Ellie stood in the doorway. Her eyes searched the room, briefly examining the teenagers until they landed on an old woman with an air that reeked of Service.

"You better have a damn good explanation for all of this shit, old woman." she snapped.

Dillon Abraham

"Derek..."

The name left Dillon's mouth in a strangled whisper. He had long since calmed down from his initial outburst, grabbed a seat and tried to ignore all of the people coming in, making noise. His main priority had been trying to think of a way out of this messy situation. So far, he'd figured he could make a run for the door and get past the guards as long as none of them touched him. He was just scoping out all the people in the room when the door opened. He'd only just glanced at it, ready to dismiss yet another, but the familiar face caught him off guard.

The noises in the room quieted a little as Dillon got up slowly from his chair. Derek stood frozen in the doorway, still enough to be a mirage and Dillon checked his vision with a few blinks. When the image stood before him stayed solid, a wide grin spread across Dill's face and he engulfed his brother in a hug, too happy to notice the way the younger boy stiffened in his grasp.

Ever since his "suicide", Dillon could not take his mind off of his younger brother. How would Derek take the new of his suicide? What would he do? Would he be okay? The main thing bothering him about his "death" was that he never really got to spend as much time as he wanted to with his younger brother. They never really made that connection as siblings that Dillon was hoping for. Yeah, most of that had been his fault, but he at least wanted to try. And now... did he have that chance again?

"Derek," he exclaimed happily. "Derek, god, what are you doing here, bro?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

Dillon pulled back, suddenly hyper aware of the situation. He didn't know anything about what was going on, but had put together through his musings that it had something to do with his abilities, and didn't doubt that the other people in attendance had special powers too. But if that was true then that would mean that Derek was also unique.

"Do you know about..."

There was no way around it now. Dillon lifted his hands and willed a small flame to flicker on each of his fingers. Derek seemed to flinch and look away.

"Yeah."

"Well damn... Can you-"

"Yeah."

"Derek Abraham," The Informer spoke up, approaching the duo. "Nice to see you've finally-"

"Hey, back up for a second," Dillon protested. "Can't you see we're trying to have a conversation?!"

"As much as I love a good family reunion, it is time for us to begin."

She narrowed his eyes at the two brothers before taking her place at the head of the table.

"Everyone please take your seats and keep protests to a minimum, thank you, we do not have much time to waste."

Viktoria King From the Fire

Viktoria allows her mind to wander as the Informer – or whoever the heck she is – scolds two brothers on the opposite side of the meeting room. Involuntarily, Viktoria’s thoughts slip back to the past two hours when her life became a living hell. And how ironic that her hellish journey began with fire…

“Get away from me!” she shouted, backing away from the dark man towering over her. However loud Viktoria screamed, though, she knew that no one heard; Her aunt and uncle were at a school function with her cousins and their only neighbors were the tall pines surrounding the property. A churning sensation stirred deep within Viktoria’s stomach as she recognized with a heavy heart that these strange invaders in suits did not have a need to worry about being discovered. A thousand scenarios danced in her head. They can kidnap me, or murder me, or… or… she realized, panicking. She didn’t even know how the men had entered her house. It was like an episode from C.S.I.! Viktoria remembered reading a few creepy notes (before throwing them all away in disgust), but everything after that was slightly shrouded. How did these three men standing before her break into her aunt and uncle’s home? The security alarm was enabled, for God’s sake! No one should be capable of getting inside, and yet the invaders stood menacingly in her bedroom doorway.

“Get the hell out of here!” she commanded again, mustering all of her strength. One of the guys laughed at Viktoria’s sudden attempt to throw a photograph at him. She was grasping at anything in her reach to slow the intruders from reaching her across the small room.

“Really, Viktoria. You’re smarter than that, dear!” The same man chuckled again, apparently finding Viktoria’s situation amusing. He glanced at the two others standing to his right, and gave a brief nod of his head. Before Viktoria was given even a millisecond of response time, one of the “burglars” pinned her arms behind her back. After a fleeting moment of stunned shock, Viktoria started kicking her legs and struggling with all of her power to free herself.

After another useless kick, she cried, “How?! How did you do that?” It didn’t make any sense! The man in the navy suit had been standing next to his identical buddies simply a second prior!

Ignoring her frenzied question, one of the three triplets pulled a sleek weapon from inside his grey overcoat, twirling it in his hand. Clucking his tongue, he said, “Ah, there’s that fiery attitude we were expecting from you. Fire Fundamentals are all the same, aren’t they, Dameon?”

A loud gruff was heard from the man restraining a very angered Viktoria. “Got that right, Maddox!” His grip tightened around her forearms while he hissed, “Stop struggling, little one. I’m much stronger than you, so you’re just tiring yourself.”

Ignoring him, Viktoria brought her heel down upon Dameon’s foot as hard as possible. “If you’d release me, maybe I won’t feel so threatened!” she shouted, fuming. A bolt of heat erupted in her palms then rapidly spread through Viktoria’s arms, causing Dameon to howl in pain and lose his firm grasp on the girl. Instead of seizing her chance at freedom, however, Viktoria froze in shock at the feeling of fire swelling inside of her chest. This was what it had felt like.

For so many years, she had attempted to forget about the burning house, about her parents trapped in the inferno, about the flames that had sprouted from her own body. Viktoria started the disaster at her mansion in Vermont, not a faulty gas pipe, and the same sensation of fire coursed through her veins again. She practically collapsed onto the carpet, shuddering and shaking as she struggled to control the flames trying to burst forth from her clenched hands. It was too much. Emotions and memories from that terrible night in Vermont flooded through Viktoria’s head, cruelly reminding her that everything was her fault.

“Enough!” she screamed at herself, shutting her eyes tightly.

Maddox watched Viktoria carefully, noticing the turmoil she was enduring by containing her inner Fire. Barely glancing at his Service accomplice, he whispered in a measure tone, “Bring me the mannequin for Miss King.” He smiled in pleasure. “Dameon, help the girl into a chair while Jakob fetches the body for her suicide.”
----------------------------
Within the next few minutes, Winchester County Fire Department received an alert about a house-fire at the King’s residence. Authorities later stated that the firemen were lamentably too late in rescuing the young sixteen year-old girl trapped inside the home, and Viktoria Pyralis King was declared dead, her “body” scorched and seared on her bedroom floor.

Viktoria shudders at the recollection of her hellfire engulfing everything: glass, pine trees, bushes, mahogany, grass, plastic, metal… She squeezes her eyes closed and grips the wooden meeting table willing the horrifying images to banish themselves from her memory. Ever since the first burning, she vowed never to allow the Fire to overcome her. And now she is the cause of another tragedy, because of her control over flames. Nothing made sense, though!

I'm like a mutant from X-Men, or something! It shouldn't be possible to control an element of nature! I can hurt people, Viktoria mentally moans, shivering once more. No, she corrects herself, I already have hurt people. And now I’ve landed myself in some sort of Institution! Her fists clench and unclench as her jaw tightens, and with her grey eyes still firmly closed, Viktoria fails to notice that she’s being thoughtfully observed from across the table.

Aurora Clavelle

As the room filled up, Aurora was increasingly aware that the unknown organisation who had decided to make her their enemy were either very brave or very stupid. It didn't take much observation to see the animosity in each youngster's eyes, or the power which some of them held. Rory was still watching the blonde whirlwind as she huffily spun into a chair.

They were all seated now, even the boy who had previously been sleeping. All except for Aurora. Slowly the brunette pulled out a chair and sank into it, resting her arms very purposefully on the table as she observed each of the individuals in the room.

Aurora had decided to see what they had to say for themselves and to make her plans from there. She wasn't ready to fall into line but she wasn't going to fly off the handle before she knew what she was flying at. Or who her possible allies were. So many children. Aurora didn't consider herself particularly aged, though she was by rights an adult, but so many of the twelve youngsters in the room were children.

Everyone appeared to be in the same situation, except of course The Informer, and everyone was handling it differently. A dark haired girl across the room appeared to have the worst of it.

“We're all seated now, why don't you tell us what this is about?” The man who had spoken was probably the oldest in the room and he had a commanding presence. Aurora decided if he made a move then she would stand beside him.

Ellie Hollings

The room started to fill with teenagers as confused and angry as Ellie was, and many attacked the old lady. She repeated over and over that they were all to sit down and wait for the others to arrive.

"You'd better have a damn good reason for this, old woman," one guy sneered as he walked by her.

After a while, after two more kids entered the room, the old woman stood and announced herself as The Informer. "Let's begin."

The lights dimmed in the room and from the wall emerged a huge television that covered most of the wall it was mounted on.

"First of all, to answer a popular question," she started, "you are at The Service Headquarters, located in Washington, D.C." A picture of the building from the outside showed on the screen. "Second, the reason you've been collected was because you all posses special abilities, as I'm sure you've figured out on your own at some point in your life. You are the Fundamentals and we need your help, the world needs your help.

The Fundamentals, the orignal four, were the protectors of this world and their own. There are two worlds that exist, the mortal world and the immortal world. The Fundamentals exist to keep the two worlds at bay, making sure they never cross. They kept the peace by fighting off evil that threatened to hurt the inhabitants of the immortal world and expose their secret to the mortal realm. The Fundamentals were doing a good job of keeping things under control until an evil with great power showed up.

He went by the name of Karzai.

Karzai wanted to take over both the immortal and mortal world, wanted to merge the two and become king of it all. He came close once or twice actually, succeeding in leaking a few demons through a forged portal between worlds, but the Fundamentals pulled through and cut down any serious trouble before it could happen. The trouble Karzai was causing seemed to have a simple problem, to just kill Karzai - they could have many times and very easily - but it wasn't that simple.

If Karzai was to die the power resting inside of him would rupture and expand, demolishing both the mortal and immortal world with it's force. They had to find a way to stop him without killing him. They had to put him to sleep. The Fundamentals set out a plan.

On their next encounter with Karzai they trapped him and tied him down with diamond chains, and then, when he was restrained, they poured all of their power, energy, and life into a sleeping spell that they hoped to bind the beast forever. The spell worked, but not without a cost. All four Fundamentals died, but with a smile on their corpses. Their spirit left their body to posses others.

Usually every Fundamental would be collected at birth, as was the way before Karzai's arrival, but with the biggest threat put down there was no longer a need for the Fundamentals. There were no more threats of the immortal realm that couldn't be stopped by the lesser law enforcement.

The only reason you are all gathered here today is because Karzai has awaken and both worlds are in terrible danger. We need your help, Fundamentals."

The whole room was silent for a moment as everyone struggled to understand her words. After a while, Ellie spoke, "What do you mean he's awaken? How does one just awake after a spell like that?"

The Informer turned her cold eyes on Ellie. "If I knew how, Ms. Hollings, I would not need your help."

She waved a hand and the television shut off and returned back to its spot. The lights flickered on and everyone blinked as their eyes adjusted. "You should all take this time to introduce yourselves and your elements. You'll be working together from this point on. It's best you all start forming an alliance. As it's almost dinner time, you all have exactly one hour to get ready, then meet me in the dining room. Your rooms are down this hall and to the left, with each room having your names on the doors."

She walked over to the door and stopped, turning back to glance at us. "Please act like adults and I will treat you as such. This isn't a game, nor is it make believe. We don't have time for petty arguments or crying. I get it. You want to go home. But if you don't help me, there will not be a home to go to. You're fighting for the greater good now. Help me destory Karzai and you can go home."


Ellie buried her face into her hands and let out a groan once the Informer left. All around her, people shuffled in their seats nervously, unsure of what to do.

She didn't necessarily agree with the way the Informer handled things, but she knew that the old woman was right. So Ellie stood up, drawing all eyes to her. She started to cross her arms on impulse, then quickly lowered them. "Hi. My name is Ellie Hollings, and I'm an Air."

Viktoria King An Inner War

Viktoria feels like blowing something up as the Informer concludes the presentation. Honestly, Viktoria was only half listening during the speech, more focused on the fact that a secret organization in D.C. practically kidnapped her and wrenched her away from family.

The Informer exits the meeting room with a few final words and a slam of the door. Viktoria, suddenly very interested in the wood grain of the meeting table, doesn’t glance upwards as she hears a female’s voice ring out, "Hi. My name is Ellie Hollings, and I'm an Air." She couldn’t care less about the others in the room currently, too caught up in the inner conflict waging fiercely in her battle-scarred mind. Questions such as “How on the bloody Earth could other people like me exist?”, or mental outbursts like “This is all utterly insane!” echo throughout her head repeatedly as she attempts to grip some form of sanity from this abrupt heap of information supplied by the Service. This being said, she barely perceives the harsh scrape of chairs being drawn back, followed by exchanged reluctant introductions as the rest of the Fundamentals unenthusiastically greet each other.

Suddenly, with a burning shock, that sensation returns. Viktoria’s hands quickly fly upwards to grasp the small cross around her neck while a familiar heat rushes through her arms, threatening to engulf her with the harsh relief of fire. "No, no, no, no, no," she whispers, squeezing her eyes shut. "Not another fire, please. Not another one."

She gasps as someone’s hand unexpectedly taps her tense shoulder, and a voice from behind inquires, “Are you alright?”

Ricky smiled when he heard Ellie get up and say that she was Air, just like him. He stood up and was about to go greet her, althoguh a tad nervously, when he saw a girl farther down the table. She looked extremely stressed, and was turning red.

He shoved his chair back and pushed passed other Fundamentals to get to her. She was clasping something that hung around her neck, but he couldn't see what. He reached her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you alright? You look-" Ricky's hand suddenly was consumed in a burning pain. He yanked it back in fear. "Ow!"

Everyone stared at him.