Remember, Remember...

Forrest Cooper, 24, Levitation

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the draw || bastille

[forrest-cooper-blog]

"Yes, yes. I'm sure my ass was thoroughly kicked."

"Yes, I'm sure 'psycho-quiet chick' totally made me look like a wuss. Good for her. Kindly fuck off." The other projects continued to laugh as Forrest moved away from them into the throng of people he didn't recognize that marked the end of an event he couldn't remember. All he knew was it left him with a headache from hell that still hadn't fully dissipated. With a grimace, he downed a glass of champagne looking around. "You know, hob-knobbing with the elite would mean more if I knew who the fuck they were."

[corinne-blackwood]

(The energy made her like this, giving her that hunger for more, to use her power again. It felt good to be in control for a change, but that control seemed to come with a certain amount of violence as well. Being put in Project Play was the perfect scenario for Corinne to end up like this, about to finish off someone… She frown is subtle, but it appears when he says he didn’t have memory. He could be bluffing, but if he wasn’t… then she would really be one cold hearted-bitch. Her grip tightens around the blade’s hilt, her eyes set on Forrest, unmoving. Having been so focused on Forrest and trying to decide what the hell to do now, she didn’t hear the four Programs that approached them. The only warning she got was the laser gun that shot her in the shoulder. Choking a scream, she turns around immediately and faces the programs). Don’t fucking stand there and do nothing, unless you really want to die here and now (he quickly tells to Forrest as she charges towards one of the Programs, using the blade to chop off his arm. She moves her hand up to stop the second Program that wanted to attack her, relying on her power to paralyze him). Seems we’re a team for now! (she yells at him, since the Programs weren’t there just to try to finish her off, they would try to do that to him as well).

[forrest-cooper-blog]

[He'd been about to chide her, to urge her to finish it when the program shot her. As she focuses on two and yelled at him, muscle memory and years of rigorous practice kick in.] Easy for you to say, Samurai. [He levitates himself, propelling himself forward and over a Program, which he grabs. Pulling upward on the body, he focuses his ability and increases the velocity with which he moves, pulling himself into a tight flip which he uses to propel the Program into another. Two laser shots graze him, one on the neck and the other on the side. He let out a growl of pain. Not taking his eyes off of the Program in front of him, he calls out.] You got an extra weapon on you? I'd have one but some bitch held me at sword point and distracted me. [His tone is all joke because for once, he feels in some kind of control. Laughing he hurls himself toward the Program, grabbing it and taking an upward turn. Six feet in the air doesn't seem like much, and the laser shot that hit his shoulder nearly made him lose his grip. But he reaches the maximum height, struggling with the weight. Then, he turns them both upside down and just lets go, hearing the Program land with a satisfying crunch. He rights himself.] Gravity is a bitch, motherfucker. Samurai, what next? You going back to killing me or have I earned a stay of execution?

[corinne-blackwood]

(As soon as she sees Forrest nearby, she raises the blade again. She knew next to nothing about this guy and she had no idea if he was a threat to her or not. To her it seemsd Project Play had a pretty self explanatory premise: kill or be killed. Obviously they weren’t meant to actually kill each other, but the idea behind that was what mattered. Corinne had been the victim of bullying, the top of food chain for way too long, she sure as hell wasn’t going to lose this thing now. Even less knowing a punishment awaited the three that ended being the worst during the Play). It’s not how I die, so yeah, you guessed right (she replies with a cold tone. As he levitates, she considers letting him go. But she didn’t know this guy, she didn’t know if he’d come back and try to attack her later, if he was willing to form an alliance, if he wanted to crush her and the rest… she didn’t know anything, and having all those doubts worried her because she couldn’t plan based on what she knew. She didn’t know a thing about Forrest. So eliminate your enemies before they have a chance to ever attack you again, right? She raises her free hand and takes a deep breath, focusing on the probability lines around the guy. It took her a moment to find the one she wanted, and when she does, she tugs a it. She pulls him down and rushes towards him when he reaches ground, lifting the blade to place it against his neck).

[forrest-cooper-blog]

[Her voice is ice and if he didn't grow up on the streets, it would have sent shivers down his spine. But, he still had some of his old self. As she raises her hand, he looks confused and then feels gravity overpower him. Six feet straight down. His heart rate rose, body remembering what the mind could not. He had a fear of falling even if he didn't know it. The blade at his neck doesn't surprise him.] Kill me. Con-fucking-gratulations. You killed the boy with no memory. I died years ago. I was just too stupid to know. So come on, cold hearted bitch. Do it. Head off. One clean fucking stroke. You're tough right? Should be easy. Do a cripple a favor. Maybe if I die here, I die for real. Think that's how it would work? Come on. Samurai. Do it. [You can take the boy from New York, but he'll always laugh in the face of death. His voice isn't taunting, it isn't sad. It's matter of fact. It's almost laughing with a sick joy.] Tell 'em you did in Forrest Cooper. And when no one cries, spit at my memory. It's what they would do back home.

[al-woodfield]

Pardon me

[al-woodfield]

My alternative was waiting. But on this particular matter… I can’t just wait and hope nothing bad happens. (He gives the boy a nod, his expression softening a bit) Thank you (he says, appreciating Forrest’s wish of luck in finding his answers quickly. It was so evident this boy hated this place… Al couldn’t help but feel somewhat bad for him, for having to stay here until graduation. Forrest clearly showed interest in what alkahestry, or more specifically, in what alkahestry could do to help him heal from what had happened to him) Yes, I do. Alkahestry is not a traditional healing method, it doesn’t seek to fix, it seeks to transform. It’s alchemy, after all (he begins to explain, folding his hands behind his back as he continues speaking). If you want, we could give it a try. (His eyebrows raise slightly at the boy’s words, and he wonders if he had some sort of idea of what the principle of equivalent exchange was. Or maybe he was just used to people offering things in exchange for something else). No cost. At least not from me, I’m not trying to help to gain something from you. As for the alchemical process, it requires both your energy and mine, but you should not worry about it, I’m careful when it comes to that. I promise I won’t drain you of your energy or something like that. It would be terribly unethical to do so (he tells him in a polite manner, yet with a light smile on his lips. Al remains silent after those last words, it was like a warning, even. Would this place break him? No way to know just yet).

[forrest-cooper-blog]

Just hoping nothing bad happens is the quickest way to ensure something will, I think. So, I understand coming. [He just nods in response to the man's thanks. He is focused as Al talks about alkahestry, left hand scribbling shorthand notes that he would go back through later.] I definitely want to try. [There is a desperate eagerness in his voice that he despises. He tilts his head, clearly trying to comprehend.] Why would you help someone for nothing? Most of all a stranger? [His voice softens.] You could kill me, honestly, if it would even give me just a moment of my life back. [He doesn't break the silence, just finishes scrawling and looks at Al.After a moment, he half-smiles.] Come on, Al. I'll walk you to the headmaster. 

[corinne-blackwood]

(The first thing Corinne did after waking up in that place was head straight into the buildings in search for the supplies stations. She silently made her way through narrow streets and went through passageways that were completely isolated. She could rely on her powers, but she didn’t want to come face to face with a Program without a weapon. Once she reached the supplies station she geared up, taking laser guns, knives, a long translucent blade and the healing injection. Just in case. She makes sure not to stay there for long, she wasn’t sure she wanted to encounter the other participants just yet if someone else happened to go to that particular station. Once in the streets, she was just a couple of blocks away from the station when she notices two Programs began following her). You should have followed someone else… (she mutters, but wastes no time to get rid of them. The first one flies away into a wall as she pulls the probability lines, smashing him there a couple of times until he stopped moving. The second runs towards her and she pulls the blade in time to destroy him).

[forrest-cooper-blog]

[Waking up was accompanied by the familiar lack of context. Only, as he reached for his journals, the familiar safety net he'd had for about eight years, he felt his stomach drop. They weren't there.] Fact: I am in Project Play. Fuck. [He had no choice but to start moving.So he went up. Rooftops seemed like a good idea. Until he felt something grab him from the back and hold him over the edge. He struggles, but it's useless. Gravity takes hold and he lets out a slow breath, letting his power catch him a few feet off the ground. He's facing a woman wielding a blade and sees the carnage.] Well, fuck. This is how I die, right? [He pushes up and back with his ability, hoping to reach maximum height and get out of reach of that blade.]

[al-woodfield]

Pardon me

[al-woodfield]

(He could not think of anything to say to what the boy replied, so he just remained silent. There was probably nothing he could have said anyway). I might not stay for too long, my girlfriend wasn’t all too pleased that I left to come here. But there’s something I have to deal with, and coming here seemed like the better option (he states with his usual debonair tone, managing to make it sound like it was no big deal. Separating from Lydia for the time being had been quite a big deal, she’d made no attempt to hide how displeased she was by his ‘crazy idea’ to suddenly head to St. Mary’s and without much of an explanation. The explanation was an even bigger deal, and therefore he’d kept it to himself. How could he tell her that he was constantly being plagued by dreams of her death?). I’m-… (he clears his throat) I’m sorry that happened to you (he says with genuine sympathy in his voice. He didn’t dare ask what exactly had happened to him. A fall, he’d said. But Al thought it was too instrusive to ask for further detail). Modern medicine doesn’t cure all ills, unfortunately (he says with a serious tone, but his lips curve into a subtle smile afterwards) There are other methods, though. Are you familiar with alkahestry? It’s also called eastern alchemy, you might have heard of it by that name (he tells the boy, because maybe, even if it was a slim chance, his power could help start a recovery process for Forrest. Alkahestry wasn’t like normal medicine, after all). I consider myself a rather stable person when it comes to my mind (he says with a chuckle) I figured a healing job in a place like this would demand for me to work constantly.

[forrest-cooper-blog]

If coming here was the better option, I'd be terrified to know the alternatives. I imagine she'll be glad to see you back home. [He pauses, giving the man an earnest look.] I hope you find what you need and make it out of here quick. [The resignation to his life in this school is evident in his voice. When the man apologizes for Forrest's past, he finds that the believes the words and doesn't resent them. It wasn't pity. Maybe the man was one of those in the world who had an actual heart.] Tell me about it. I'd have settled for a ghetto-rigged cure. Didn't even have that. [He tilts his head to the side, left hand scrawling out his closest approximation to the word alkahestry. He would research it.] I've never heard of it. If I had, I might have tried to pursue it somehow. You think there's a chance it could fix me? [Another thought strikes him.] What's the cost though? [This isn't some sort of alchemical knowledge. It's the reality of an orphan. Nothing comes free.] I considered myself invincible back in the New York foster care system. Then I came here. This hell hole has a knack for breaking down your idea of yourself. [He nods with a laugh.] One thing that will never not be needed here is those who can heal. 

[lux-wentworth]

Your body didn’t choose. You didn’t choose… But what good was that? Nothing ever seemed to fall under her jurisdiction of choice, everything simply happened to her. Sex was rarely her choice, what she said or did was hardly her choice… But her baby, Vivianna, she was to be her choice, something that happened but she let happen. “I never get to choose.” Lux mutters as she slowly plops herself downwards into her seat, a breathe of relief passing from her lips. The strenuous movements did her more harm than good. “Choice seems to be a privilege even I can’t afford these days.” With a bitter laugh, she hands relax against her arm rests, the smoke slowly diluting but still prominent around them. A perfect stranger brought to light what many did not. It seemed that talking to someone completely outsider her inner circle made fathoming and confronting such circumstances much simpler. There was a comfort in knowing that he had no idea who she was, or rather pretended to be. A clean slate. “It’s better sometimes.” Lux offers consolingly, once bright eyes filled with an insanity that was no stranger to the person in front of her. “To be cast aside by the people who “love” you from the get go…” It was an opinion of hers that, under normal circumstances, ought to not be shared in polite company — but in the midst of their topics ranging from abortions to the shame that comes with them, it seemed that courtesy went out the window a long time ago. “That way you don’t spend your entire life chasing after a wishful fantasy.”

[forrest-cooper-blog]

As she sits in her chair, he moves, sitting on the ground a bit in front of her. "None of us get to choose. So, you can take comfort or whatever in that fact. I didn't choose to be an orphan. Nor did I choose to get brain damaged. You didn't choose what your body did. None of us get to choose our lives here. Hearst does that. People with power do that. And while your name sounds like it has power, there's always someone with more ready to choose your every move." He watches her carefully. He wouldn't remember this conversation. He didn't have his notebooks, so he couldn't record any of it. And maybe that was for the best, for her if not for him. Her words echo a sentiment he'd tried to convince himself of since he was a little boy. "On the one hand, yeah. You learn quick that life is fucked and if you need other people you're only gonna get hurt." He pauses, unsure if he wants to go on. But, what the hell? Say the honest thing, right? "But, you still chase the fantasy. You make a wish every birthday, on every shooting star. You pray, you ask Santa. You beg for someone to love you. For a long lost father to come through the door and sweep you up, tell you your actual name and give you a home. No more lonely holidays. We can tell ourselves that we are better off knowing that people will cast us aside, but there will always be that small part of ourselves longing for them to prove us wrong." 

[nick-fitzwilliams]

Mm, that would be inconvenient to clean after… Excuse me, [He looks over at the pillar, then removes it from the ground without trouble. It would take a lot of work for the other staff to move it, and Nick doesn’t want to cause trouble for others. He moves the pillar to the wall and places it there. Rotating his shoulder once, Nick turns to Forrest.] Nice to meet you too, Forrest. Well, many people live here and many comes and goes. Hiding it under a rock and keeping tracks of people, that sort of thing. Such an interesting job.

[forrest-cooper-blog]

Show me something that is convenient to clean up after and I'll show you something that hasn't been used to make the right kind of mess. [He watches with fascination as the man moves the pillar. There was a skill that was useful.] So you get to babysit Hearst's merry band of misfits? Did you piss him off really badly or something? 

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Three Days Grace | Never Too Late

[nick-fitzwilliams]

Ah, that’s a relief. [He puts on the shirts, tarting to button it up. A small laugh escapes him with the other’s comment.] Yeah, well, it can come after me anytime if it dares. But it’s a pillar, so… what’s it gonna do? [He shrugs lightly, offering the other a small smile. He straightens up the shirts and checks his wrists and knuckles.] I don’t think we’ve met before, by the way. I’m Nick. I work security here.

[forrest-cooper-blog]

[Forrest nods with a wry smile. He closes his eyes, laughing as the other does.] Never underestimate pillars. They have a habit of crumbling when you least expect it. [He gives the other a half-smile before going and grabbing his notebook, writing 'Nick-security-metal arms-hates pillars.'] I don't know if we've met or not. Nice to meet you Nick. I'm Forrest. Security? You mean Hearst's charming school attracts trouble. Who the fuck would have guessed?

[lux-wentworth]

"You’ll survive." Comes her curt response, veiled with utter carelessness unbecoming for a person of her character. She may not have the purest heart, in fact, she was a monster by all accounts, but she was never careless. The world was filled to the brim with people caring for so little beyond themselves. His words of brutal honesty come as a shock, partly because Lux knew very little of honesty. Her words were always laced with being politically correct, never too controversial or too liberal for anyone’s taste. A politician’s wife, Orion Hearst once called her out of utter amusement, set to smile, nod and speak for the people. Yet here a man was saying what was on his mind with very little inhibition. Despite the slew of insanity that lingered in her mind, it was a great comfort to hear the truth. Even if it was a painful one to become. The simmer of the fires about the room mellow slightly, eyes strained when succumbing to the truth she dare not utter, for it increased her pain. It was better to despise herself, to paint herself the villain, than to admit to what lingered in her mind all along. “I wanted her.” It comes as a short, quick, quiet sentence before escalating in volume and conviction. “I loved her, I loved everything about her and I never even — I never even got to hold her.” Lower lip quivering, her hand instinctively rests along her breaking bandages. “I loved her and I… I did it to myself, without even meaning to, my body decided what it wanted and it wanted her dead. So she died.” It was a fuel of honesty shared with a perfect stranger. “There are parents who do not love their children. My father never — but I, believe me, I loved her. I loved her. She was the entire reason I never tried again, because she would be my second chance. She would make me happy… And she’s gone and I’m… Alone. I’m alone.” Feeling the weakening of her knees, she attempts to stagger towards her abandoned wheel chair.

[forrest-cooper-blog]

"Despite my every attempt otherwise, I always do." This wasn't hurtful to him. This was how people talked to each other where he grew up. Her words were no more affecting to him than a light breeze affects an oak. He had always spoken his mind. But ever since his mind had stopped being complete, he didn't see the point in sugar coating or in waiting to say the true thing. Because he wouldn't be able to say it another time. His eyes focus on her, though, when she responds to the words that had poured from his mouth. He could sense her pain, and while it wasn't one he knew or could experience, pain is pain and he'd felt his share, so he understood on a basic level. As she staggers, he moves to help her, heading toward the chair to bring it closer because you don't touch someone feeling that kind of pain, not a stranger at least. His brain is still trying to form words. "It's not an abortion if you didn't make a conscious choice. Mothers whose bodies destroy their own babies do not call it abortion. Miscarriage. Or, some other horrible term, probably." He doesn't know much about anything and he's sure he's probably not helping, but he's saying it anyway because no one else would. "An abortion is a choice. Your body didn't choose. You didn't choose." He stares at the ground. "I'm sorry you lost her." 

[nick-fitzwilliams]

[Taking a deep breath, Nick changes his arms into titanium. Then in one shift, eased manner, he throws a punch at a steel pillar— he can’t use dummies because he breaks it too often— A heavy sound of metal echoes in the room. After a half an hour, the pillar is dented and bent, and Nick breathes out, finishing his training. When he turns to get his shirts, though, he finds someone in the room.] Oh, sorry. I didn’t know someone’s here. Sorry about the… noise too. It’s all yours now.

[forrest-cooper-blog]

[Entering the training room, Forrest sees the man's arms go to titanium and just watches, somewhat transfixed. The echoing is deafening but rhythmic and absolute in it's ability to remove any desire to speak. So, he ran through his normal warm up routine before setting about kicking one of the dummies, using his ability to augment and gain height and moment. Hearing, well, nothing, he stops, looking at the other.] Nothing to be sorry for. Didn't bother me much. I think the pillar might have a bone to pick with you. But, after a beating like that, I doubt it'll tell anyone.

[al-woodfield]

Pardon me

[al-woodfield]

You’re talented (he states with a smile. The level of detail and execution of the strokes were admirable, and though Al wasn’t a man too prone to flater, he only did it when it was deserved. This boy deserved to have his talent acknowledged, hence his words on the matter). We haven’t met before, I can assure you. This is my first time in this institution (he explains, his hands folded behind his back as he speaks. They could’ve met somewhere else, but it was highly unlikely since a great deal of his years had been spent in China). Why is that? If you don’t mind me asking (he frowns slightly once more, finding the choice of words of the boy to be awfully cryptic. He’d have no idea… as in ‘he wouldn’t remember’?). Nice to make your acquaintance, Forrest. I am Alexander Woodfield. You can just call me Al, if you wish. I’m the new head of the infirmary (he says with a nod, thinking that perhaps the boy wondered not only who he was but what on Earth he was doing suddenly appearing here).

[forrest-cooper-blog]

[A chuckle that was almost rueful escapes him.] It's not talent if it's a necessary life skill. But, thanks for saying it anyways. [The way the man stands reminds him of old nobility and he wishes, not for the first time, that he could remember people and places like a normal person. He makes an expansive gesture at the walls.] Welcome to the School, then. Stay too long, it'll mess you up too. [He sighs at the question, running a hand through his hair and wishing he had a cigarette. He closes his eyes and recites his diagnosis in a flat tone.] Anterograde amnesia as a result of cranial trauma suffered in a fall. Modern medicine and healers ineffective in fixing the problem. Psych exam doesn't lend itself to post-traumatic onset, mostly likely functional. Hippocampal region shows extensive trauma. Semantic memory intact. Subject able to learn facts and concrete details. Has no situational memory. [Once he's done, he looks at the man with heavy eyes. As the man introduces himself, he writes the information down, using marks that he's recorded to indicate the man was faculty of undetermined allegiance.] Nice to meet you Al. Hopefully, the infirmary doesn't drive you mad. Injuries happen when you get a bunch of sadists with superpowers in one spot.

[lux-wentworth]

"I’m a pyrokinetic." Lux hisses beneath her breathe, sending a swift kick against the burning punching bag. "Burning things to the ground, including myself, is my forte." Craning her neck away from the punching bag briefly, her eyes fixated on him — a nameless carrier that, before such tumultuous circumstances, would have been greeted with the infamous bright grin and fashion tips of the great and beautiful Lux Wentworth. But she was no longer the embodiment of light; shoulders practically magnetized to the ground, eyes filled with fire, lips bruised and battered. She was the ashed remains of a beautiful relic that many had come to admire. Kind and benevolent… Now reduced to such shame. "I know what you’re thinking. It’s what everyone is thinking, isn’t it? What everyone is talking about? Lux Wentworth? How does a girl so pretty and sweet end up a knocked up teen mom who aborts her own baby. Mister Wentworth must be so ashamed!” Lux mocks in deep self loathing, well aware of the rumors that surrounded her since the past few month’s events.

[forrest-cooper-blog]

Forrest nods at the word pyrokinetic. "That explains a lot then." He pauses. "If you're going to go Hiroshima, at least let me fucking leave. I may smoke, but my lungs aren't too adept at breathing in human flesh." He sees the look in her eyes and part of him wonders what happened to her. But then her diatribe removes the wonder. "First off, before you said your name, I didn't know who the fuck you were. Remembering is not my skill. Secondly, it sounds more like you're the source of more of the rumors. Third, I'm a fucking Brooklyn orphan. What do I care about you getting knocked up? And whose business is it if you got an abortion?" He throws his hands up with a frustrated sigh. "I knew a girl, Janie, she got knocked up too. Obviously she's not someone important like you seem to be. Just an orphan girl. She had an abortion. None of us made fun of her. Cause we knew, yeah? Life sucks when your parents didn't want you. Why bring a kid into the world you're gonna hate?" He has to hand it to her, she takes self-loathing and self-pity to a whole new level. And while he has his days, usually he kept his quiet. 

[al-woodfield]

Pardon me

[al-woodfield]

(He frowns slightly at the boy’s reply, not in disapproval, but merely because it wasn’t the answer he was expecting. He’d figured he would be given a simple ‘no’ or be told the direction of the office, but instead, the boy had pulled out a notebook with a skillfully drawn map in it) That is exquisite drawing work (he comments with a firm nod. He tilts his head a bit to the side to get a better look at the map and where they were and follows the route the boy was signaling for him). Thank you. That was most helpful (he says as he goes back to his straight posture, giving the boy a small, yet grateful smile). Give you a date…? I am new indeed, Mr… (he trails off, since he had no name to address the boy) Pardon my lack of manners. What should I call you?

[forrest-cooper-blog]

[He doesn't see the man's frown, or at least doesn't register it as he focuses on the map. At the words though, he smiles.] I'm not a man of many skills, but sketching and maps are among the ones I have. [As the man straightens after looking at the map, Forrest reflexively closes it, reattaching its pen and swapping it back in the bag for the most recent notebook.] You're welcome. A date, yeah. If we'd talked, you could tell me what day and I could look it up.. Otherwise, I'd have no idea. [He lets out a soft chuckle.] I'm from New York. A lack of manners is just normal to me. I'm Forrest. Not sure I rate a mister, though. Who are you? [As he asks the question, he uncaps a pen and writes the date and time, before looking at the man for an answer.]

[lux-wentworth]

"Miss Wentworth, it would be inadvisable given your state to —" Heated fist crashing straight first into the computer’s screen, she glass deeply engrained into her once smooth fingers only burn her skin out of reflex. Abandoned wheel chair thrown against a wall, Lux was dressed in her combat attire, with a large bandage wrapped around her stomach after her miscarriage (abortion, Lux would say to anyone within earshot). Limping slightly, she ignores the pain — she always ignored the fucking pain — and turns to a punching bag, hurling punch after punch. “It would be inadvisable to disrupt me at this time.” Lux yelled through the smoke of her hands.

[lux-wentworth]

[forrest-cooper-blog]

One of Forrest's favorite exercises was a balancing act of sorts. Levitating at his maximum height, he turned upside down vertically and held the position for as long as he could. Didn't accomplish anything really, but it was something he liked. It was what he was doing when the girl's yelling snaps his concentration, sending him dropping toward the ground headfirst. He catches himself half a foot from the ground and lowers himself to a standing position. Looking at her, he almost scowls. "So is spontaneous human combustion and yet you seem well on your way."