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Mopping up the Dregs; Open
Topic Started: Jan 15 2015, 10:35 PM (264 Views)
Xorn
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Date: January 16, 2015
Time: After dinner
Location: 1st Floor; Cafetorium


You know, life wasn’t that bad. Well, not as bad as a few months ago. Anything was better than that place: dank and dark, deep underground. No visitors, no light. His only companion being a constant, low hum created by a machine that’s only purpose was to suck the very life out of him. He could still feel the chains digging into his skin, a permanent mental impression, as they resisted every little movement—

“No, no, no; stop that!” Xorn berated himself aloud, breaking his line of thought. When his voice echoed a bit, he cringed and hesitantly glanced around. Thankfully, there was no one in sight or no one who cared if the strange looking man mopping the cafeteria’s floor talked to himself. A few people, missing dinner or just looking for a snack, had wandered in not too long ago. They all acted the same: they would stop and stare, eyes ballooning, until the little conscience in the back of their mind reminded them that staring was impolite. Unfortunately, he had already gotten used to the staring. Sighing, he got back to work. It was so odd to use his lungs after twenty five years. He didn’t need to breath but he managed to pick up a few habits, like sighing, if only to make himself appear more… human.

Back and forth, back and forth. The mop swished along the tile, leaving a watery trail in its wake. Xorn had to remind himself not to stare too long at his reflection—best not to remind himself of how different (and frightening) he looked. Instead he focused on his work. He had only been here a week but he already had his hands full with odd jobs. Whatever needed to be done, he did. That included, but was not limited to, mopping. Forever mopping. Now, he wasn’t ungrateful for the work, but his mind needed a bit more stimulation than this.

Cleaning the last few feet of floor, Xorn leaned the mop against a nearby table before he plopped down onto the nearest seat. Absentmindedly, he stretched his arms out across the table, feeling the muscles in his back tweak. When his stretching fingers met something cold, he curled his hand around it a brought it up to his face. A spoon.

Speaking of stimulation. Placing the spoon back where he found it, Xorn leaned down so that his chin rested on the table top. Reaching his arm out, his hand lay open and waiting, fingers lingering about a foot away from the metallic utensil. Xorn tried to remember how it felt when he first moved metal: a rush of energy coming somewhere in his head, weaving itself into an imaginary thread that connected his hand to the awaiting spoon. After a minute or so of concentration, and the beginning of a headache, the spoon wobbled a few centimeters towards his extended hand before coming to an agonizing halt.

“Wǒ cŕo!” Slamming his fist on the table top, the spoon suddenly flew off the table, skipping across the floor. It was so unlike Xorn to cuss but the bitterness of failure and a hard day of labor left him frustrated. Xorn leaned his head on a propped fist, staring hard at the offending utensil as he fumbled with his exasperation. Why did he have to get upset for it to move? Why couldn't this be easier? With another heaving sigh, he tried to calm himself, to forget about the spoon, to forget about the world for just a few seconds. Even as a young boy, meditation came easy to him.
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Psilord
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Reality Warping, Flight, Has a Pet Galactus
The spoon was caught out of its spinning skitter in a most unnatural way, changing direction in mid air and landing in the hand of a blond, open faced man, who looked a bit younger than his twenty five years of age. Considering he was born in November that wasn't far from the truth... well, the him that would grow up to be him... it was complicated. Very complicated to be a time traveler.

"I think you dropped this," the young man said, and he held it out to the other man, smiling, "I'm Franklin Richards, you're... let me think for a moment. Xorn, right? I work part time in the office so I remember seeing your papers. You're the new janitor, right?" He set the spoon on the table and he said, casually, "I don't envy you, this is a big school and teenagers are messy creatures."

He tapped on the side of his head, indicating the metallic helmet that Xorn wore and he asked, "Is that to contain the star? An amazing mutation you have, my father would be very interested in the science of it. He'd probably be able to make heads and tails of it all, better than me, at least. I'm the dummy of my family." He planted his butt on one of the tables, his sneakered feet on the bench. "That being sad, I'm plenty bright. They are just much more so."

Franklin caught a glimpse of a couple of the freshmen girls gawking from the doorway, and he extended a hand , causing a blue light to swoop through the room, and shut the door in their faces. "Looky loos," he said, with a shrug, "don't worry. They stare at everyone when they get here. Everyone wonders who you are, what's your power, why you're here. They wonder it about everyone. You should have heard how they gossiped about me, but I guess it should be expected. I'm a time traveling reality warper whose family is one of the big time superhero teams. I'm a bit of a freak around here."
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Xorn
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Startling a bit, Xorn straightened in his seat, shocked when the spoon didn’t continue its clattering trajectory. Cocking his metal head to the side as he watched the spoon land in a youthful hand, Xorn’s gaze moved from the metal utensil to the owner’s face. The first thing that registered was how young the man was. The second was that the man seemed relatively friendly, an observation that had his back and shoulders relaxing.

“Ah…” Looking down at the spoon being offered to him, Xorn sunk into his shoulders a bit, embarrassed that someone saw his outburst. “Shě de, xičxič.” Grabbing the spoon from the table, Xorn stared at his upside down reflection for a few moments before he realized something: he was speaking in Chinese. Hurriedly, he corrected himself: “I mean, yes, thank you.” Looking back and forth between the spoon and the young man’s face, Xorn wished he could smile if it would make his slip up a little less obvious.

“I’m not really a janitor. More like a—“ Snapping his fingers, Xorn tried to find the word he was looking for in English. “Uh, a handy man? I sort of do whatever needs to be done. I worked in the kitchen yesterday.” He pointed off to the side, indicating the kitchen area.

Xorn listened to the boy chatter, nodding mutely in response to the question about his helmet. When there was a lull, Xorn said, a bit awkwardly, “Uh, it’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Richards.” It was startling to be known after being unknown for most of his life; not many people knew the large, strange man and Xorn had a feeling that his appearance wouldn’t change that fact very quickly. It was even more startling for someone to find his mutation (which Xorn considered a crutch) interesting. Xorn couldn’t possibly imagine how his head worked (the star, that is), or how it could be contained within the shell of his helm. The fact that someone else might know was alluring.

Hearing movement, Xorn looked away from Franklin towards the open doorway. A few girls loitered just outside, staring. It was obvious at whom. But, before Xorn could grunt in annoyance, the door slammed shut. Surprise had him jumping in his seat. Looking over at his new friend—well, he hoped new friend since he really didn’t have any just yet and loneliness was something he yearned to banish after twenty five years of it—Xorn leaned closer in curiosity until he realized that it might be considered rude.

Leaning back again, he extravagantly shrugged his shoulders (he had to make up for the lack of facial expressions somewhere) as he said, “Who isn’t a freak?” Despite his almost nonchalant comment, the fact that he wasn’t the only one who had to deal with the stares relieved him greatly.

The next thing the young man said had Xorn battling with his curiosity, yet again. And, once again, Xorn cocked his head to the side in a perplexed gesture as he asked: “Reality warper? What does that mean?"—pausing—“Actually, I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of your family either…”

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Psilord
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Mr. Xorn corrected him about being called a janitor, and Franklin nodded, "Yeah, that's sort of what I do too. There's some complications, like I said, about time traveling, so it wouldn't be smart for me to be a teacher, here, since, what I think of as history is your future, and after what I did to prevent it from happening, it's all gone anyhow. So, it's easiest, I think, for me to do just whatever there is to be done, I guess. It's all I've ever really done, I guess."

Franklin wasn't surprised that Xorn was curious about his power, it was sort of a weird one. "Reality warping has something to do with the quantum physics of the universe. I can sort of feel how everything in the universe is woven out of particles of space stuff, and I can unravel those strands and reweave them to my whims. It's a very dangerous power, but luckily, I'm one of the good guys, so I try not to do anything that can cause serious harm... usually." He tried not to think of a time when he was made drunk with a hypnotic suggestion, a moment on the roof rearranging the stars at his leisure. "It's hard. It's hard not to do whatever I want when I want but I don't really need much, to be honest. I'm sort of a castaway. My timeline is gone. I sacrificed my future to save my present by going into my past."

The older mutant said he didn't know who Franklin's family was and the young man smiled, "Oh, yeah, you're sort of new to this part of the woods, right? My family is a superhero family. They call themselves the Fantastic Four. My dad Reed can stretch, my mom Sue goes invisible. My Uncle Johnny turns into flame, and Ben, who's like a uncle to me and my sister, well... he's made out of bright orange rock. They're not mutants though. They were in space and there was this cosmic storm and... eh, it's all really confusing, and I probably talk waaaaay too much about stuff. I should ask more about you, I guess, like what was it like when you manifested... when your head... you know... became a star? My dad's a scientist. Maybe you can talk to him sometime and you can learn a little about yourself. It's always good to have at least a rudimentary understanding of what we are."


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Xorn
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Now, this guy could talk. Not that Xorn was complaining. He had always been perfectly happy to blend into the background, to listen quietly instead of being the center of attention. His friends, once upon a time, would make fun of his apparent meekness, always trying to coax him to be more outgoing. But, it never worked and habits die hard. Put simply, Xorn was never very talkative and that would probably never change. So, letting someone else fill in the silence was easy. Instead, he rested his metal chin on an open palm as he took the time to watch the young man as he spoke. Franklin seemed pleasant enough; happy and carefree. He was obviously young, somewhere in his twenties perhaps? But, despite how he looked, and his tone of voice, his words conveyed something that strummed Xorn’s heartstrings.

When the rather one sided conversation ceased and turned to the subject of Xorn himself (which he really, really didn’t like), he rubbed the back of his cold head and said, “To be honest, that’s… very confusing. The time traveling, that is. Do you ever lose track of everything?” He didn’t admit that absorbing so much information all at once was also very confusing.

A twinge of sympathy cracked his voice as he said, “Believe it or not, but I think I understand. You know, the whole sacrifice thing and disappearing future. Well, figuratively disappearing.” Xorn couldn’t possibly put himself in Franklin’s shoes—heck, he couldn’t even imagine what time travelling was like—but it didn’t sound like fun. It made Xorn think that his past wasn’t as bad as he thought. Wait, why was he even comparing pasts? That line of thought would be very bad to continue. Clearing his throat, he tried to dispel the pity with a happier thought: “Sounds like you have a good family at least.”

Saying all that he could without revealing too much about himself, Xorn hesitated, not really knowing how to continue. Eventually, he found his voice, “Um, it was eventful.” Xorn dropped the arm his head was leaning against, removing his pitted gaze from Franklin’s face in order to stare at the far wall.

“I don’t really remember all that much. Most of my memories before—“ Shaking his head, mentally back pedaling, he corrected himself, “Well, most of my memories are pretty fuzzy. I don’t particularly recall how it felt when it first happened. All I know is that it happened instantly and at the same time my brother’s head turned into a black hole. To be brief, not many of the people around us survived that day.” Shrugging, he stared intently down at his hands. A flash of a place far away, deep underground, crossed his vision. Xorn ignored it. Chuckling, he repeated Franklin’s words: “Luckily, I’m one of the good guys.”

He could feel his heartbeat picking up, memories wriggling in the back of his head as they tried to escape into reality. He was struggling as is; trying not to let himself slip. Those memories were so caustic, so damaging, so demanding. He needed to change the course of this conversation before he had an attack.

Hands shaking a bit, Xorn mustered the courage to look back up, changing the subject quickly, “I really want to be a teacher. I know I’m not trusted around here but I don’t think I can do this forever.”
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Psilord
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Franklin wished his sister was here or his dad. They would find Mr. Xorn to be a very interesting person indeed. He had a brother, too? With a black hole for a head? How did that even work? How did someone survive so extreme a mutation? Mutants always baffled Franklin, even though he was one, because everything he knew about evolution was that it was supposed to make creatures better, wasn't it? Why then were so many mutants given powers that were harmful or disfiguring or just overall detrimental to their existence? If that question could be answered, maybe there would be a way to help them, to make things truly better for not only the evolved but the world as it changed, too.

But, Franklin, bright as he was, was not a genius, and was not of the sort of demeanor that was capable of thinking so long and so hard on dry science-y stuff. So, he thought that he would tell his dad about Mr. Xorn, if Mr. Xorn was ok with that, and they could maybe come up with something to help him, something better than a scary looking skull like helmet.

Whatever Franklin lacked in scientific smarts, though, he made up for in emotional intelligence and an innate ability to read people. Mr. Xorn was not accustomed to being the center of attention and he wasn't comfy talking about himself. That was ok. A lot of people found Franklin's natural curiosity and exuberance a little overwhelming. The man did open up about his desire to teach and lamented that he wasn't trusted.

"Oh, I don't think it's trust necessarily," Franklin said with a shrug, "I think it's more about learning what it is you're adept at. Scott's good at that. He sees potential and then pushes people to live up to it. If teaching is your strong suit, he'll figure it out pretty quickly. Things are a little haywire right now, because of a little accident with a new student who's powers sort of topsy turvyed a handful of other people's powers, so they've been sort of focused on making sure no one sets their head on fire or anything. But, besides that there is a bit of caution, I suppose. Before I got here, this school was attacked by human zealots, and was blown up. A lot of people died. I don't know the whole story, but I think it was a mutant suicide bomber who did it, so, Scott and Jean and the other committee members who run the school are erring on the side of caution at the moment. I wouldn't worry too much about it. You seem to be an honest enough guy. I bet Scott will notice."
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Xorn
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Xorn didn’t know much about Scott (he also didn’t know how much Franklin actually knew about Scott) but he hoped Franklin was right. Sure, Xorn had met the man. When Xorn first showed up at the school he had met a lot of the committee members and many of the more important students before a deal was struck. But, since then, which was only a few weeks ago, Xorn really hadn’t seen much of the man other than an occasional flash in the hallways. Not that he was complaining. Xorn was never good with authority figures—he always got nervous around anyone who had clout and he knew he needed to impress. It was no different in this case. Xorn just hoped that no one would interpret his nervousness as deceit.

When Franklin started talking about powers going haywire, Xorn cocked his head to the side, asking, “There was an accident?” Xorn knew something was weird—it was probably why he hadn’t seen much of Scott or the other committee members recently. To use an idiom that Xorn had heard from one of his American friends once upon a time: they probably had bigger fish to fry.

Being new to the school and new to the world, he had been keeping to himself since arriving. It wasn’t because he was antisocial but simply because many things still confused him and he sought out answers to the many questions he had in places not many people socialized at--such as the library. It also didn’t help that Xorn did not require sleep. Therefore, he often had a lot of time, in the middle of the night, to sit around alone and read. He might also be pretty bad with keeping up with gossip (not that anyone had tried to gossip with him recently—metal skull for a head and all). So, it was no wonder why he wasn’t very aware of what was going on.

Nodding his skull-like cranium, Xorn silently agreed with Franklin. He had done his research on the school. What he found was a large history of violence and deceit. That’s why, although he hadn’t recently seen any of the committee members, he had a sneaking suspicion that someone was keeping track of him. Xorn figured that with his background and the history of the school, there had to be someone making sure he wasn’t going to go kamikaze. Then again, Xorn was probably a little paranoid. Their absence was most likely just due to the chaos he was apparently unaware of.

“I hope you are right.” Scratching the back of his metallic skull, even though he couldn’t feel it, he went on, “I just really can’t stand mopping day in and day out. It’s too... ah, what's the phrase? Oh, mind numbing. What is more worrisome is that I’m not sure if I would be good at teaching. From what my grandparents told me, I wanted to be a teacher when I was younger. I was also pretty good at school. I’m not sure if I still have the skills necessary for that profession though. But, I’m also useless when it comes to anything technological or historical so I don’t have many practical skills. I can really only think of one thing I can do besides clean floors and that would be to teach Chinese. I feel useless just cleaning or cooking.”

Realizing that he talked a lot longer than he was used to, especially about himself, Xorn got a little flustered. “I apologize, you probably don’t want to hear about my problems.”
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Psilord
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Smiling at the helmeted mutant's chatter and then his immediate apology about it, Franklin wondered about the man. He clearly wasn't accustomed to speaking about himself, and seemed to have that inability to function in the real world (metal skull face helm notwithstanding) that came from a person who was removed from society. Whether he had come from a small village, or had been locked away, or had self imposed an exile after his power manifest, Mr. Xorn wasn't a man who knew a whole lot about the world around him. Franklin understood it. He'd spent most of his life in an ivory tower, almost literally. His first glimpse of the horrors outside his door had nearly destroyed him.

"It's ok," Franklin said, "you can talk, no one here is going to judge you or anything. I mean, we all have a lot of issues, some of us more than the others, but we want you to be happy here, and healthy. This school, it's given so many people a chance to live as normal a life as people like us are allowed to live. It's not perfect, it's not safe all the time, and it's not the best we'll ever get, but it's a good place for now, a good start for us, for our people. If we can learn to understand ourselves, maybe it's a step towards the world understanding us, I guess."

He shrugged his shoulders and smiled a bright smile. "Besides, this place is a little better than three hots and a cot, right?"

Tapping his fingers on his chin, he said, "But what could you teach? I don't know. Probably not a lot of call for Chinese, but Scott, he'll figure this out. Really, trust me. I'm dating his daughter, so I know him pretty well." He thought for a moment, "What can you do? Your power is just physical or do you have other things with it. I'm trying to think of what the properties of a star would be translated into? Heat? Light? Spitball sized planets in orbit around your dome?"

His words might have sounded light and mocking, but his tone definitely did not. He was trying to figure this all out, in his particular fashion. It was a little off beat, but so was Franklin.
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Xorn
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Happy? Xorn didn’t really think about how he felt too much. Sure, he figured he was content—working all day and reading all night, absorbing as much information as he could—but actually happy? Being free of that accursed place, having the freedom to move around, to follow your own whims wherever they may take you—was he supposed to be happy about that? But, Franklin was right. This was the only place Xorn would probably find that would allow him, and many of the other mutants around here, lead a life anywhere close to being called normal. It was the only place that would take him in with open arms (even if a bit wary); it was the only place where people would ever accept him and greet him with smiling faces. The security that the school brought was something new to Xorn and he hadn’t really stopped to think about how it made him feel. But, he figured that someday he would call it home. Perhaps that day would be the day when he would finally be happy with his lot in life. For now, he wouldn't dwell on his feelings.

When Franklin smiled, he wished he still had the ability to smile back. He missed the stretch of skin and flash of pearly whites. Smiling never failed to brighten someone else’s day along with your own. It was human nature to smile and he utterly missed that human part of him.

Tilting his metal skull to the side, Xorn repeated Franklin’s confusing words: “hots and a cot?”

Righting his head again, Xorn shrugged, humming a bit before replying, “I’ve been told my head is like a star in heat and light intensity which would be why I cannot take off my helmet without causing bodily harm to others. I’m not certain about possible gravitational effects but I am able to alter electromagnetic fields. I may have accidentally broken a few electrical machines when I arrived. But, I can control metal too. Not very well right now but I’m sure I will get better.”

Leaning on a propped fist, Xorn huffed, “I’m not sure how any of that would be helpful around here.”
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