turn around

nikhil virani

[nikvirani]

[NIKHIL VIRANI] has been in Boston [32 YEARS]. They are gifted and have the ability to [BE IMMORTAL]. They are unclassified but if they weren’t, they’d probably be class [C]. They were born on [NOVEMBER 13TH]. They’re [32] and use [HE/HIM] pronouns. Some people say they look like [DEV PATEL]. They’re known to be [FRIENDLY & INTELLIGENT] as well as [AWKWARD] but look out, they can also be [TACTLESS & WITHDRAWN]. They are a [MEDICAL EXAMINER] by day and by night they like to [MAKE MODELS & MINIATURES].

Nikhil is Boston born and raised, by immigrant parents who came to the USA for the idea of the American Dream. They doted on him and his sisters, providing all they could and making up for the rest with encouragment and love. They had family game nights, always sat at the table for dinner and told each other about their days, and attended every performance, game, and extracurricular showing the kids had.

With all his family had given him, Nik tried his best to make them proud, and he succeeded. A quiet kid with his nose forever in a book, he was consistently top of the class and earned himself a full ride scholarship to medical school after graduation. Moving away from home proved difficult, especially in the social department - Nik had never been the kid with many friends, but striking out on his own showed just how lacking his social skills were.

They improved a little at college and he managed to make some friends, but being the type of doctor who delivered bad news and had an impeccable beside manner was never in the cards. In the end he opted to go down the pathology route, eventually leading to an appointment as a medical examiner in Boston. College had been enjoyable in its own way, but he always missed his family and the familiarity of home, and the few friends he'd had since childhood. Working with the dead meant there were no awkward pauses - or groans when he made a terrible pun.

Nik has lead a boring, predictable life ever since getting back home. He goes to work, walks in the park, cycles on weekends, and spends a lot of his free time making miniatures and models - nothing life threatening, which means his current status as immortal is yet to be discovered. Recently he's been making more of an attempt to 'get out there' on the advice of his sisters, and has been trying out some new hobbies and making an effort to be sociable.

[nikvirani]

passwithoutafelix​:

Felix wasn’t about to admit that life as a cat was a glorious life. Certainly a therapist would be curious to know as to why he preferred the taste of canned cat food over a warm meal at the table (or why he knew what his butthole tastes like) but Felix could admit that being pampered as something as nice.

Nik Virani was just one of his many victims. Another sorry sap with a big heart for furry little critters who couldn’t ignore the big, helpless eyes of a stray cat. Felix had only spied enough to see him shuffling out of a building that looked awfully large and important before he allowed himself to be whisked away into a suburban wonderland of free food and neuroticism. 

He soon found that life as Nik Virani’s cat was not a free life of quiet and thoughtful solitude. It was a clumsy cluster of fumbling and social awkwardness that not even Felix could offer sympathy to when the glistening seal of a doctorate sat framed on his office wall. The inane rambling about the trials and tribulations of daily life was confusing when it was filled with medical jargon and easily avoided mishaps, but if it was the price of admission for a soft bed and free food, then he was willing to pay the price. And pay the price he did.

Night after night, he returned to the Virani household, springing up onto the windowsill and slipping into the crack in the window that always seemed to be open. He always caught Nik coming home, would watch him fill the food and water bowl before patting him on the head with a look in his eyes that just screamed exhaustion. Just last week, he watched him drag in a luxurious cat tree and erected it in the corner of the living room despite it.

It was a tough, undignified and oh-so-laborious life but it was a routine he didn’t mind keeping up with when Nik’s bed was the softest thing he’d ever laid on. He made a corner of the man’s down pillow his nest when he laid down to rest, none the wiser to Felix coopting his bed. 

That evening, the gentle stirring of Nik waking up roused Felix from his slumber. The heavy footfalls of a sleepy giant lumbering down the hall compelled his feline instincts to follow, his tiny cat paws silent on the hardwood in the dead of night as he trotted incessantly by Nik’s ankles to see where he was going.

@nikvirani​

Nik hadn't planned on having a pet. But he was never one to turn away a hungry animal, so he'd started feeding a stray cat the scraps from his dinner. First that was all it was, passing a bit of meat or bread through the kitchen window when the little ball of fur arrived. Then he'd started to feel bad about just offering scraps, and so bought bowls to leave outside, and started filling them morning and night. The next thing he knew the bowls were in his kitchen, and so was the cat, and he was building a scratching post in his limited free time. It had only snowballed from there.

Still, having a cat wasn't so bad. It was something living to come home to, which was nice after spending the day being surrounded by corpses. He could tell the cat about his day without getting unwanted advice in return, which was the hazard of telling his family about them. He wasn't one to rock the boat or make conflict. Confronting his co-workers or the city detectives about their behaviour sounded about as appealing as performing his own autopsy.

The cat just listened.

When it was time for bed the cat would join him, and the low rumble of contented purring somehwere around his head was soothing enough to send him off to sleep. A good trade, he thought. Some food and toys for a listening ear and a white noise machine.

Usually he was the kind of person to sleep right through till morning, but this time his bladder had other ideas. His eyes were barely open as he stumbled from the bed, feet shuffling along the floor and eyes feeling the walls to move blindly in the dark. In truth Nik wasn't fully awake, eyelids heavy, swaying on his feet. Just the right spot to drift easily back off when he made it back to bed.

His fingers fumbled along the wall and found the bathroom light switch. As he flipped it his feet made contact with something small and furry. For a moment there was confusion, then realisation, then dread; his feet were tangled and his stomach dropped as he lurched forwards, losing his balance, tripping right over the cat he hadn't know was there. It only took a split second. It seemed to last forever.

Full alertness came to him just before his head struck the edge of the sink, and then it was all gone. Blank, nothing, the endless void.  

Nikhil Virani was dead.

[nikvirani]

seerjude​:

Jude let out a little huff when he overheard the woman say he was a reporter but didn’t bother to correct her. Whatever got him talking to the right person, he just wanted Donovan to leave him alone. Most spirits would get bored with him soon enough and although it had only been a day, Donovan was especially distracting. He was young and entitled and saw in Jude an adult that owed him. Maybe he did.

Seeing a man emerge into the reception area, Jude stood up and offered his hand. “I hope so,” he answered, glancing down at the examiner’s badge, “I’m not looking for any information so much as to give it … It’s sensitive and a bit unconventional, is there any chance we could speak in private, Doctor Virani?” 

Donovan rolled his eyes from where he sat in the chair behind him. “Just tell him, you’re making this more difficult than it has to be.” 

Jude drew in a deep breath and pushed a smile, continuing to ignore him. Now was not the time to make this poor doctor think he was out of his mind, Jude was sure he’d think that once he started trying to explain himself. Even if he did, Jude hoped Donovan would see that he tried his best and choose to leave. 

He searched the doctor’s eyes, hoping to see some understanding in him. He seemed malleable enough, perhaps not a pushover but Jude couldn’t see those kind eyes turn firm. Just a push, that’s all he needed. Jude leaned in as if to confide in him, lowering his voice.  “It’s regarding Donovan Scott,” he elaborated, “I have some information on the nature of his death.” He hesitated, unsure if he would offend him or not but decided to take his chance. “I think you’ll reconsider your findings after you hear what I have to say but of course, as I’m sure it is for you, the privacy of the deceased and his family is my priority.” Also the privacy of Jude talking about his abilities in any detail, it embarrassed him and he did not want an audience.

“Can you tell him what happened to me too?” One of the spirits asked upon realizing what he was doing, followed by a chorus of more requests that only he could hear. This was undoubtedly the last time he was going somewhere like this. Jude continued to smile and ignore. For the love of god, they better not follow him out of there.

-

Nik was entirely unsure how to proceed.

“You have information about Donovan Scott?” He struggled to place exactly who that was at first. He was more likely to remember a case file number than a name, but eventually his mind started to connect the dots. A young man, no evidence of foul play found. Case closed. It'd been one of his easier jobs, although he remembered the detective being particularly annoyed at his conclusions. Could it be true then, he thought, could I have missed something? And how on earth would this man know that?

He could feel himself getting flustered. The thoughts in his head started to tangle as he searched for the correct thing to do. Was he supposed to call the police? Was this a confession of some kind? If he took a statement would it count as evidence? Was he even allowed to take a statement? Was it all a prank? Far too many questions to answer, and not enough privacy to answer them in the waiting room.

“Er - right - could you follow me please?”

Feeling entirely too nervous, Nik turned and lead the way back to his examination room. It was lucky he wasn't in the middle of a post-mortem just then - he could only imagine the nightmare of cross-contamination that would make.

“Usually people go to the police with this sort of thing, you know.” Unless... “Or are you the police?” But then why not identify himself to the receptionist? “A... a private detective? Something like that?”

Clearly he'd had to do some investigation to unearth whatever he thought he'd unearthed about the dead man. Nik had been certain of his findings. He was always certain of his findings - he'd never thought of that as arrogance, but maybe it was, deep down. None of the evidence he provided had ever been dismissed by a court, or been proven wrong. Though he supposed, with his age, there was plenty of time left for mistakes in his career.

The only chairs in the room were uncomfortable standing stools, but he still offered one to his guest. “Take a seat, Mr... I'm sorry, I didn't get your name?” Come to think of it, he looks familiar. Nik didn't sit, because he knew that if he did his leg would start bouncing with nerves, and he still wanted to seem like some kind of an authority.

“Let’s try to get to the bottom of this.”

[nikvirani]

latens​:

     Despite having been living in Boston for the past six months, Parker was still struggling to adjust to seeing people living openly with their gifts. Even now, as she sat in the park with the previous intention of reading, she found her attention locked on a group of children playing in a nearby playground. 

     She watched as a young boy disappeared and reappeared within a cloud of smoke, clearly enjoying the rather intense game of tag he was playing with some other children; gifted or not, Parker wasn’t sure. It made Parker smile… but her stomach twisted in knots, the familiar feeling of concern for the boy’s safety for such an open display of powers.

     She looked away sharply, looking down at her hands as she steadied her emotions, knowing what happens when she was filled with sudden emotion, and sighed in relief when she didn’t see the faint wisps of red energy start to manifest itself.

     That feeling should have been a thing of the past, all the self preservation she’d done back in Edinburgh with keeping her own status as an enhanced a secret, the whole point of her moving to Boston was all about coming to terms with herself… with her powers. The school she taught at had special classes for those students that struggled with controlling their powers, she was sure that it was a mandate from the government. She’d been asked to sit in one of the lessons, the principle having explained that it was to encourage ‘ungifted’ people like her to understand more about her students… if only they knew.

     “Breathe, Parker,” she muttered to herself, looking away from them and down at her book, “just… breathe.”

-

Nikhil liked the park. It allowed him to feel social without actually being social, which his sisters would have said was a cop out. He could walk or cycle, and smile and nod at the people he passed, but ultimately be left alone. Lately, though, he'd been making an effort. Last week he spoke to an old man beside the pond for half an hour, about ducks and what to feed them. A few days ago there was a woman and her children riding bikes, and one of them ended up with a flat tyre, which he helped to fix. The one and only time the puncture kit he carried on rides had come in useful.

To others the interactions were barely anything, but to Nik they were steps. A sincere effort at being a part of the world. Today was a nice day, so he'd brought a book with him, with the intention of reading a while on a bench. There were two close to the park, with nice shady trees, and so he made himself comfortable on the unoccupied one. A woman sat on the other who he paid little mind to, until she started talking to herself.

It was barely audible above the sounds of life around them, but Nik heard it. It sounded like a mantra. Probably best to leave it alone, he thought, but then just after: that's a cop out.

“Hey, uh... miss? Is everything alright?” Nik had slid over to the end of his bench. “Y'know, I'm a doctor and, uh...”

He trailed off. He was going to ask if he could help, or offer some advice, but it seemed like the wrong thing. Not that he ever knew what the right thing was in conversation. “Breathing is overrated in my opinion. And breathing in? That just sucks.” The joke was bad, and barely a joke, but he smiled at the stranger anyway. “Get it? Sucks? Becuase you... suck air in. To breathe.”

[nikvirani]

seerjude​:

@nikvirani​

“They said it wasn’t a murder.” The spirit stood between his desk and the door, looking at Jude with desperate, furious eyes. He was young, college age, still carrying himself with the self importance of youth and the punchiness of the living. Jude would have mistaken him for a living person had it not been for their location; not just anyone would be allowed into his office. 

“I know you can see me.” 

Jude had no interest in speaking with the spirit. He rarely did. He sat in his chair with his hands over his eyes, taking in a deep breath; please, go away. They never did listen to him, not when he thought it, not when he said it out loud. So often they wanted something. He drew his hands away with a sigh and looked back toward his monitor, only to find the spirit directly in front of him. He jumped in his seat, causing it to roll back on the wood floor. “Leave,” he said, breathless and standing up, adrenaline rushing through his veins, “I can’t do anything for you, just go.”

“I’ll leave when you help me.” “I’m not helping you.”

It took another day before he gave in and found himself walking into the office of the medical examiner. He didn’t want to be there, that somber place where even more spirits lurked about. They all noticed him, somehow, they knew he saw them. Several swarmed around him and Jude drew in a deep breath, closed his eyes. He must have looked rather distressed, when he opened his eyes he was being stared at by who he could only guess was the receptionist.

“Sir? How can we help you?”

He shook his head, pushed his hair back and raised his chin. This was fine. He’d get rid of the boy after he did this and if he was lucky, none of these new spirits would follow him out. “I need to speak with … I don’t know, it’s regarding a Donovan Scott.”

“Donovan Scott? His autopsy was finished a few days ago, are you the family?”

“No,” Jude said, shaking his head, “I’m not. I need to speak with whoever determines the cause of death, I think. I’m not really sure how this works.”

The receptionist pursed her lips together. Was he a reporter then? My, he seemed stressed. “How about you take a seat just over there and I’ll see who can speak with you.” She gestured to the cushioned armchairs against the wall and reached for the phone. Jude nodded and turned, briskly walking over, through several spirits, and sat. 

Another day, another corpse with a terrible injury. For most that might have been a shade out of the ordinary, but for Nik it was a matter of routine. Every morning he came into work, pulled a body off the ice and got to work trying to determine cause of death. Sometimes it was obvious; a dozen knife wounds, a hole in the head. Other times there was nothing. Or rather, there was something, he just wasn't able to find it. He counted himself as certainly good at his job - adept, even. But even he didn't have a crystal ball to guide his scalpel. He was sure someone out there did, given all the new gifts that seemed to pop up on a daily basis, but he was also sure it would hold up less than well in court.

One day, he thought, my job might well be obselete. He thought about things like that often. What might the world look like in a decade? Two decades? Three? The radiation had opened up a whole host of paths in every conceivable facet of life, and it was interesting to consider where those paths might lead. Nik didn't know many people with gifts - or many people, full stop - but he thought that by and large their abilities could be used for something positive.

He'd just finished a stack of overdue forms when the phone rang. Usually it was someone informing him of a new case coming in, or a detective asking for results that never seemed to come fast enough. “I can't hack and slash,” he'd tell them. “Do you want it done fast or do you want it done right?” Inevitably, they came out with fast and right, just before they slammed the phone down.

This though, was not that.

“Oh. Connie? Is something the matter?” The receptionist never called him. It had been clear just weeks after he started that dealing with aggravated or grieving family members was not his area of expertise, and he doubted she wanted a friendly chat. “A reporter? I don't really have the - yeah, yeah, I know. Fine. I'll talk to him.”

Reporters sometimes showed up when a big case loomed. They were relatively easy to shoo away, if you were firm. Nik was never firm.

There was only one man in the waiting room when he emerged, so Nik made his way over, clearing his throat as he approached. “Sir? Is there something we can do for you?” His voice didn't sound as strong as he wanted it to. “If you're not family or law enforcement I'm afraid we can't give out any information.”

[unrestricted]

Robert Sheehan as Nathan Young in Misfits