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Showing results for tags 'oliver'.
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September 15, 2011 Maybe it was small, maybe it was almost empty, maybe it was a little close to the elevated train line and a little far from the grocery store, but the deposits were paid, the lease was signed, and Erin had her very first apartment. Moving in her belongings and the secondhand furniture she'd bought online hadn't taken long, since there wasn't that much of it. It had actually taken her longer to stock the cupboards, the pantry and the refrigerator with the food she'd picked up for her new kitchen. Things didn't matter, but having enough to eat did. Her new place didn't have a TV or a sofa or a table yet, but there was a bed and a bookshelf and a pretty nice chair, with a cat tree for Oliver and plenty of food for girl and feline. It had probably been silly to rent a place now, when she didn't have enough stuff to furnish a place and when she still hadn't found a job, but it seemed like it was time. What was she going to do in the Manor all day when Trevor was in classes, anyway? She'd spent time cleaning up the Manor, dusting the various rooms and polishing the wood furniture, mostly as a thank you for being allowed to stay there. With her speed, though, it didn't take very long to keep even a big building clean, especially when the people living there were two neat and spartan bachelor-types. Having her own place, and her own bills, would get her past the weird reluctance she felt about getting a new job after the first one had gone down in such spectacular flames. She'd already wasted most of the summer, between one thing and another. Her savings would give her enough to live on for a couple months, even without dipping into the money from Alex that she still felt a little weird about.
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Continued from >There Won't Be A Next Time June 1st, 2011. 8:05 AM Young Freedom missed graduation, but then again, so did everyone else. The ceremony had been postponed the minute the five young heroes had disappeared from view, for all that they'd reappeared only five minutes later on the other side of town with the broken chestplate of Omega's armor and a wild story to tell. There were debriefings to come, no doubt extensive ones that would exhaustively pour over every detail of the fight at the end of reality and all that had come before it: the death of the multiverse, the trip to four worlds, the appearance and disappearance of Rick Lucas, and finally the seeming destruction of the Lord of Entropy himself. But first, Bolt's speedy trip back to Freedom Hall after the reappearance of Travis, Martha, and Erin's cat on the Claremont lawn had meant the League teleporters were already working. By the time the Young Freedom kids had given their hasty explanations to the startled Captain Thunder and headed inside for their debriefing, their missing loved ones, even Quo-Dis who was holding a very familiar orange cat, were waiting for them inside. For their part, Mark and Martha took a look at each other, Mark's look confirming what Martha had already known, and they simply embraced, the moment too sharp, too painful, coming after too much overwhelming emotion even for weeping. "I'm proud of you, Mark," Martha whispered fiercely. "So very proud."
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Continued from >Noise of Thunder Mark felt first a whiteness, pure and all-embracing, then terrible, all-encompassing blackness, as if a quiet non-existence had been replaced with the certain knowledge of absolute destruction. And then he was waking up, his face pressed to an unfamiliar wooden surface that it took him a bizarre second to recognize: he was pressed against not the floor, but the far wall of his mother's art studio, surrounded by the furniture, art supplies, and his mother's scattered colored pencils that had all evidently taken a hard spin to the left at some point when the local gravity had taken a hard turn in the wrong direction. Pulling himself to his feet, he gazed around a room cast sideways and lit with an eerie red glow from outside. He counted off with his eyes: Wander, Midnight, Cobalt Templar, Sage, Trevor's grandfather, even his mother, all of them cast askew by the warped gravity just as the room's contents had been. Ignoring the shuttered window for a moment, not to mention of seeing the whole world swept away into nothingness, Mark focused right on Martha. "Mom? Are you all right? What happened?" He couldn't quite keep the judgement out of his voice; he'd had good reason to be angry with his parents for a long time now! For her part, Martha was dusting herself off. "Oh, Mark..." She embraced him. "I'm so sorry it happened like this, and that I left the way I did...but I saw you'd be all right and I had to spend what time I could with your father. I don't know if you can forgive me...but because we're all here, it was for a good cause." She let out a breath. "Your father is waiting for us in the study. For all of us. He'll explain everything."
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11 April 2011 Claremont Academy With her customary grace Eve slipped into her dorm and with a sigh latched the door behind her. It was early afternoon, just after the last classes of the day and to the casual observer nothing would appear amiss. To someone that actually knew the telepathic gymnast however, they would notice that she was troubled; not from any outward expression but from what she wasn't doing. Instead of changing into her exercise clothing, preparing for an afterschool workout, she padded through the small room dropping her knapsack on the ground with little care for its contents as she made her way to her bed, kicking off her shoes as she went. Collapsing face first into her pillow, the telepath lay that way for a few moments before rolling onto her back and staring at the ceiling. Happy Birthday.
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As he climbs out of the taxi in front of the massive gate tower that mark the front of the prestigious Claremont Academy, a tall, dark-skinned, blonde haired young man glances around, a bit hesitant. The whole place is a little upscale for what he was used to, and it's not like his grades really warranted a place like this, but Mister Albright had insisted. "I don't see why I should go to a boarding school, let alone a boarding school a mile from my house." "Now, John, Claremont Academy isn't an ordinary school. It's run by an old friend of mine, Duncan Summers. He's made the school into a place where young men and women can learn to use their powers responsibly, and to work with others, as well as getting a good education. In the long run, this will be good for you. A chance to make new friends who understand what you're going through, teachers who understand what you're dealing with, and training that ensures you'll be ready for it. Not to mention, it's far more secure in case someone does try to follow you home or attack you when you're resting." "Well..." "And I'm sure there are plenty of girls your own age who'll be happy to meet the new Beacon, dressed in ways that seem absolutely scandalous to someone my age..." "That's exploitative and insulting to my inte- let me go get my bags, old man." Signing in with the security desk inside the tower, John is quickly processed and directed inside. "You just need to find the administration office, they've got your paperwork already, they just need you to pick up your things and get assigned a room for the semester." "Alright, thanks for the help!" Bag tucked under one arm, he practically bounces out of the room, into the main quad, smiling brightly and breathing deep as he takes in the campus itself... "So... This is it, huh? I don't hate it..."
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Alex was actually in the room they shared for once. Her hair was damp and loose around her shoulders and she was dressed for bed in a light tanktop and shorts, both in clashy neon bright colors. She smiled at Erin and plopped herself down on the bed. "Things are going real well. I finally locked down a CEO to take over now that operations are getting larger. So hopefully I'll be around a little more. How's things here?" She flopped down on the loose pillows scattered on the rug, and looked up at Erin with wide and bright eyes.
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Mark was gone from school for over a week after his father's disappearance, only occasionally emailing Erin or Chris to let them know he was all right. They were the friend who'd been there when his life had gone to Hell, after all, even if the absence of the others hadn't been their fault. So when he finally stepped back on campus in early June, just a week or so before Chris and James were due to graduate, he skipped his own room and headed upstairs to check on Erin and see if she was in. He was surprised to hear Alex's voice as he knocked on the door, but supposed it was good they were all there. He needed friends today, now, more than ever.
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Warren took a deep breath as soon as he stepped through the gates of Claremont Academy, his suitcase on one hand and his guitar case in the other. New school, new problems and hopefully some new friends if Warren was feeling lucky enough. He really had no idea what to expect from this place, but he was not going to start letting doubting his decision. And now the question remains...Where do I go? He though as he rolled his shoulders. Tension did that to a person.
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Date: a few days before February 8th, 2010 Earlier at an Undisclosed Location: Grim sat in her chair, legs dangling; the room was small, lit by a single recessed ceiling fixture, and contained nothing more than a table and four chairs, all cold metal and hard plastic. Her sensitive ears could tell the room was soundproofed, and her amazing nose detected little more than stainless steel and traces of Endust. A single sliding door allowed access to the lifeless chamber. Sure, she was restless, but when the boss tells you to wait, you wait; luckily, the young faeling had numerous ways to amuse herself. She conjured forth an oddly-shaped set of wooden blocks that she precariously balanced on the table in various positions, testing her reflexes, control and the lightness of her touch. And she waited some more...
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It was a gloomy day near the end of November when Mark decided to call Taylor Chun, having spent a long day at home in his father's study reading up on the City of Brass. Amid all the horrors and wonders of the demonic invasion earlier in the month, those taunting words from the demon in the graveyard had stuck with him. He knew perfectly well what the City of Brass was, of course, he'd been raised on stories of the place for much of his life. Azim-al-Aziz, his grandfather's friend and ally during the Second World War, had been a prince of the City of Brass, an efreet kidnapped by Nazi sorcery and held in their clutches before being rescued by the Liberty League. It was supposed to be a wonderful, magical place where the Arabian Nights had never ended, a place where a thousand wonders lay just beyond the veil. But he'd never visited there himself; his grandfather had passed on a warning that with the end of the Second World War, Azim-al-Aziz had encouraged his people to seal up their dimension to make sure they could never be taken against their will again. That also meant they didn't visit Earth much anymore. With the issue still nagging at him as he sat in his dorm room, Mark had decided to phone a friend. That's what friends were for, wasn't it? As his cell rang, the rain outside stopped. Maybe today was going to be a good day after all.
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Between one thing and another, it was a very busy November for every Claremont student. It wasn't until the third week of November that Mark Lucas finally made it out shopping with his mother, buying a present for a friend who'd had an especially hard time of it that November. He headed for Erin's room on the evening of the 21st, taking advantage of the warm Saturday, a big box under his arm that hardly smelled of the herb-stuffed and scented pillow he'd bought in the city's art district. It had the promise of a good day...or so he hoped, anyway. Between one thing and another, things had been...unsettling for the scion of the house of Lucas. Erin, despite everything, was one person who he could count on to be herself.
