Nothing's Improbable: Assemble

[Wyatt Wyborn]

Wyatt sat in the assembly trying to maintain a stoic expression. He knew that this was about him. Not about Espinosa. About him. Football players never got in real trouble.

Keeping a “poker face” wasn’t that hard though. He just thought about the after-dance campout and sharing a camping spot with Mia; lying awake watching her sleep, listening to her murmur softly as she dreamed, waking in his sleeping bag beside her just before daybreak…

But then Herrera started his speech. Wyatt knew it was directed at him and he didn’t understand why adults always did this: by not singling him out for a one-on-one meeting it was making things worse by drawing the entire school’s attention to Wyatt. An elbow nudge from beside him drew Wyatt’s attention away from the lecture he was receiving.

Mia was drawing. He loved to watch her draw – he always had – and like all of her drawings this one was amazing. Her hands were moving over the page and like magic a sunrise over the ocean slowly was appearing. It took Wyatt back to the sunrise Sunday morning on Circe Island. He knew it was too soon. He knew that his heart was still breaking over Lauren. But that one moment, when the crimson dawn had kissed her as she slept and had colored her hair with its fiery glow, Wyatt was sure he was in love with her. For that one moment…

Even if Mr. Herrera’s lecture was directed at him, Wyatt was no longer listening.

It wasn’t until Mia’s hand stopped moving, when she began to chant quietly in Latin that Wyatt came back to the here-and-now.

Herrrera said something like, “Who are you? You’re not supposed to be here,” and suddenly the auditorium was buzzing.

There was a stranger in the room! He had some sort of device! A bomb?

Wyatt stood and jumped up on the back of his seat, placing himself between the threat and the other students sitting near him. Mia. Ray Denton. Olivia Order. Felix Katz. All of them were what people like him called “squishies”. If this was a bomb, they had no defense against it except for him.
.
Then the device triggered. The first wave of energy hit Wyatt and it felt all-too-familiar. He’d had his powers taken before – by Heidi, by Nilesh – and he could feel his strength and invulnerability drain out of him like someone had pulled a plug. Wyatt turned and looked down at the people he was trying to protect.

Behind him, Mia still chanted, but with a fierce determination as if she was trying to urge her spell to work; her hair was starting to redden, and not because of a pleasant sunrise. Ray pointed his fingers at the stranger impotently, expecting the lightning to dance across the distance and strike him, but looking confused and disappointed. Olivia wove her intricate patterns in the air, trying to bend the universe around her to create her “time field”. Felix stuck his hands in his pockets, trying to pull out one of his impossible weapons, but coming out empty-handed.

Something was wrong! Something was –

The device went off again, this time sending a wall of force over the assembled. Wyatt felt it slam into him, rippling through his body before sending him flying over the heads of his fellow students, crashing into the seats several rows away, smashing through the wood and plastic and steel, and in that split second, he shouted one word, one name –

“Mia!”

[Twitchcraft]

For Abigail Blackburn, the world went quiet on a Monday.

The irony was, she'd nearly missed the event that had sparked it all. She'd been working, as usual. Not on an actual class assignment, though; she found ways to put those off as long as humanly possible. Instead she'd focused her talents that morning on repairing a broken toaster, another of the mechanical odds and ends that seemed to find their way to her on a daily basis. What the hell, it beat calculus.

But it had meant a hike to the far end of campus. The Westbrook Academy, she'd found, had no shortage of libraries, laboratories and lounges, but it lacked anything resembling a standard machine shop. Students were more likely to use state-of-the-art electronics than wrenches or screwdrivers. So she'd ended up cutting a deal with the groundskeeper. In return for resurrecting his decrepit riding mower, she'd gotten access to a dusty storage shed where she kept the bulk of her tools, along with a workbench she'd picked up at a Kings Row flea market.

She hadn't even noticed the time. She'd been huddled over the toaster when she'd heard the distant song of the War Walls abruptly rise and fall. It did that, she'd learned, pretty much every hour on the hour.

Her eyes had widened as she'd done the math. Then she'd taken off at a dead run, leaving the shed unlocked and the guts of the toaster spread across the workbench. There'd likely be hell to pay from groundskeeper and machine alike on that score, but it would have to wait until later.

The run back to the main campus had been one long obstacle course. She'd vaulted hedges, zig-zagged among benches and cut every corner she could. Coming down the home stretch, she'd almost trampled Mr. Deathrage, earning herself a string of invectives that could have made a sailor blush.

She reached the auditorium door just as it was closing. But luck was with her, and Mr. Hendricks had been assigned to stand guard. The history teacher had been one of the main reasons she'd chosen Westbrook, and they'd found common ground early on with the similarity of their talents. He shook his head at her, but she fancied she saw the ghost of a smile on his face.

"Riding the ragged edge as usual, Ms. Blackburn?"

She ducked her head. "Sorry, sir. Won't happen again, sir."

His expression suggested he doubted her sincerity. But he waved her inside, just the same. She saw him give the bolo tie she wore a dubious glance -- they'd had discussions about adhering to the dress code before -- but he didn't pursue the matter. Maybe the morning was looking up.

She took a seat in the middle of the auditorium. The middle was generally good. Sit up front and teachers expected you to ask (or answer) questions. Too far back, and they figured you were trouble, so they kept both eyes on you. In the middle, she could relax a little.

People chattered around her. No big deal, she could tune them out. But there was another sort of conversation going on, too, one that was harder to focus past. It consisted of mp3 players and smartphones, wristwatches and laptops, even the lights overhead and the pipes beneath her feet. Whispers and murmurs and mutters. It didn't go quiet when Mr. Herrera took the stage, though she shushed it anyway out of habit.

She didn't actually pay much attention to the lecture. Didn't apply to her, as far as she could tell; she was, by Westbrook standards, relatively boring. But she watched Herrera. The man might spend his days pushing papers, but there was steel to him, when he chose to show it. And he was showing it now, his words fast and clipped and final.

He kept his cool when the stranger appeared, too.

Abigail knew that meant trouble, even before her guns shouted their warnings. They urged her to her feet, but she was only halfway up when the first wash of radiance knocked her back down. The second explosion of light was stronger and sharper, and she held up a hand to ward it off. A worthless gesture, but the only one she could think of. The light burned like fire... and yet it was cold.

When it had faded and the dust had settled, she knew immediately things were different. Everyone was babbling, but that didn't matter -- as far as she was concerned, the place was dead silent. The iPods no longer sang, the wristwatches no longer hummed. Even the lights overhead offered only a dull, sad buzz anyone could hear.

For her, the secret conversation was over.

Worse yet, the weathered revolvers on her hips were now nothing more than cold lumps of metal. Lifeless. Their spark had deserted them, and they might as well have been paperweights.

She found herself shuffling along with the others, led by the nose by teachers and staff. She caught sight of some of the people she knew, but felt no desire to call out to them. What could she say, after all?

The line into the infirmary was long and tangled and slow. Whispered rumors rippled up and down its length -- this was the work of the Rikti, Arachnos, the Council. And the stranger? Well, he'd been Nemesis himself, you know. Or Lord Recluse, maybe.

She didn't care to pass such whispers along, and gradually they bypassed her altogether. By the time she'd reached the front of the line, she was numb to everything and everyone.

The physical that followed was quick but thorough. In the end, they weren't able to tell her anything she didn't already know.

The world had gone quiet.

[Roach Copeland]

Perhaps if Roach hadn't been sleeping when Herrera broke from his speech, he might have been able to do something. Maybe a memory loop, maybe a fear induced memory. Or maybe he could have reached out with an invisible grip and pulled the device away in time. He'd have been a hero, folks would have worshiped him like a God, and Brook would have totes been impressed and let him feel up her chrome.

Robot humor there.

But the fact of the matter was that Roach wasn't heroic. He wasn't alert. He wasn't even awake. In truth, he was about midway through scratching at his crotch, his head resting semi-comfortably against Brook's shoulder when the commotion stirred him.

"Don't kiss me, Wyatt-" He yelped as Brook sat up, knocking his head away. He quickly wiped at his face, head twisting towards the commotion just in time to be slammed by the wave! It didn't exactly blow him back but it was enough to just wipe him. As if it passed through and pulled away all the energy and...

Nothing. Voices but... no thoughts. He shot to his feet, turning around frantically as if to find that part of him that was missing. And yet, the only thing to greet him was chaos. Too much chaos. And danger. He felt a hand take him by the arm and he raised his elbow to strike.

"Roach. Stop. It's me."

Brook. It was Brook. It was...

All too confusing. He was different. Confused. Blinded in the mind. And... different. He couldn't put his finger on it. Beyond the power loss, there was a part of him that was gone again. Or maybe it was leashed? He didn't know. At this point, he didn't care. He just wanted out.

Brook pulled him by the elbow, trying to sooth him. "Come on. We'll get you out of here, Roach."

[Lorne Hazlewood]

Lorne was sitting at the front of the assembly. He had showed up five minutes early and had his notebook and a pen out just in case he decided to take any notes. Mr. Herrera's lecture was about what he expected. He realized he wasn't really talking to him about it but listened attentively regardless. Then Mr. Herrera started to trail off and look down the center isle.

Lorne craned his neck to see what he was looking at. Was this a guest speaker? No, Herrera was surprised. Something was wrong. Before he could even fully stand the first blast hit him. He fell back into his seat his entire world turned into a blur of spots and fuzzy shapes. He blinked it away and started to recover about the same time a second shock-wave hit him. He was knocked forward onto the floor in a clump. Everything was blurry and he felt... cold. He rubbed his own arms trying to warm himself up and felt skin. Bare skin where his fur used to be.

He panicked. He grabbed his seat to pull himself up and fell backwards again as he ripped the arm of the chair completely off. This did nothing for his anxiety levels and he started yelling out the only thing he could think of, "Bad thing!" He looked up at the teachers wide eyed. He held the arm of the seat in front of them, "Bad thing!"

Mr. Herrera looked shocked. It took him a few seconds to realize that the pink skinned individual holding the broken chair piece was Lorne. He stumbled back momentarily assessing the damage. Quickly he started instructing the teachers to do damage control. Find out who was hurt, who could get hurt, or who could hurt some one else and take care of it.

Lorne just shouted again, "Bad thing!"

[Lauren Lombardi]

Herrera's lecture wasn’t so different from the one Lauren had received from her parents a week ago. It was less personal, less direct, and a good deal sterner, but much of it was the same. Lauren did her best to listen attentively. Whether the administration knew it or not, she was as much a target for this gathering as others.

Lauren was so focused on Mr. Herrera that she didn’t realize anything was happening until he addressed the man. Then there was chaos, this stranger who didn’t belong, an ominous device, confusion, people moving in different directions, some in panic, some in determination, yelling, chanting, general pandemonium. She dropped her backpack to the floor and jumped to her feet. First in. That’s what she did. She could take hits that others couldn’t, but she had to be shielded.

Lauren hesitated as she glanced around the crowded auditorium. Chairs, backpacks, and most importantly people, it was too risky to light up suddenly. She had been practicing a few other tricks, though. If she could get a clear shot... She reached back as a small ball of fire took shape in her hand, but too late.

Some kind of energy... Pulse? Wave? Something hit her. Lauren wasn’t sure if it knocked her back into her chair or if she just fell into her seat of her own accord. Something was... wrong. Off. Everything was fuzzy and Lauren squeezed her eyes tightly shut to ward off a sudden feeling of vertigo. She felt the blast of the second wave, but only had enough presence of mind to be thankful she was already sitting.

When Lauren finally opened her eyes, the stranger was gone and the faculty was trying to assert order. She was still out of it, and simply followed the rest of the crowd mutely as it made its way to the infirmary.

********************

Lauren waited her turn at the infirmary. Every student had to be checked out, so she was just another person in a long line. She absently munched on baby carrots from a bag in her pocket. When her turn finally came, Lauren was asked the same questions as most everyone else. “How are you feeling? Have you noticed anything strange?”

“I’m fine, I think.” It seemed warm in the infirmary, but that was probably nothing. Actually, it wasn’t so much warm as it wasn’t cold. Lauren had long since taken her jacket off and didn’t feel the usual chill in the air.

“Everything looks normal,” the nurse assured her. The nurse checked her records and frowned. “That’s not right.”

Lauren cocked her head. How could it go from normal to “not right?”

“Are you sure you feel alright?”

“Yeah, I feel fine. Why?”

“According to your records, your temperature should be way above normal. Let’s check again shall we?” The nurse took another quick reading. “97.8. You’re actually a little on the low side of normal. I’d like to hold you for a little while, just to be safe. Let’s find a nice place for you to wait.”

The wait was shorter than Lauren feared. A quick trip to the bunker’s training room with one of the faculty confirmed it. Lauren’s powers were gone, just simply gone. As she left the infirmary, she wasn’t sure if she should be upset or elated. Either way, she was far too preoccupied to notice the occasional brief stare from other students when she lapsed into a strange gait or suddenly switched her stride to emulate someone else’s.

[Cassandra Finch]

Cassandra hated being crammed in so close to everyone. She sat with one elbow on her armrest, head resting on her hand, one leg outstretched, claiming as much of the room around her seat as she could. Saying they were having an assembly about this already said it all, and now it was just rehashing. Looong rehashing. In a crowded theatre. Ugh. Her mind wandered between her father's possible visit, considering another tagging trip, and--wait.

That man. Maybe Herrera... no, doesn't recognize him. (Note his features, need to identify him later.) The device... Aha.

Cass sprang out of her seat and shoved past the rest of her row. Someone would make it there first, sure, but she wasn't going to sit still with the culprit so close. She barely made it to the aisle before being hit by a wave of energy. She staggered and caught onto the closest chair, holding herself upright. Maybe she could take the shot from here... Upward, under him maybe. Knock him off balance but not into the students on other side of the theatre. She swung a hand toward him and... nothing.

Well. Crap.

She glanced toward Lark and was promptly knocked off her feet and away from the chair by a second shockwave. Cass scrambled to her feet before panicking students could trample her. She did not want to read the theatre floor, but... that wasn't going to be a problem.

[Jason Dumarr]

JD sat through the lecture, experiencing much the same as he imagined most of his classmates were. A reprieve from the routine of class quickly gave way to boredom. Beyond that, he considered the last few weeks, and the likely causes of this very assembly. Given how high emotions had been running, it was hardly surprising. Yeah, this had been a particularly stressful time, so the incidents of more obvious teenage rebellion had been plain to see. At least enough of them to get the staff worried. The fact that there were enough superpowered youth here to round out a military power didn't actually make the speech any different than it would be in a normal high school, it just determined the angle Herrera used to approach it.

Chewing on the concern for his friends, and the guilt the Headmaster was piling on the student body collectively, JD couldn't help but zone out. Thinking about the past few days, about the game, about Sondra, he smiled a bit, unconsciously. And then Herrera's speech halted. The curiosity had only just began to bring his attention to the matter at hand before it bubbled over into the wash of fear that was clearly spreading over the auditorium.

The figurative wave was soon followed by a very literal one, and JD felt his stomach sink as he fell to the floor. He felt all sensation drop away from him for a moment; he thought the man in the suit had used a flashbang, or similar. Then, just as suddenly, sharp pain spasmed throughout his body, causing him to curl into a tight, shaking ball. After what felt to be far longer than he clearly realized it must have been, the pain subsided, and JD relaxed. His senses returned, save for a curious silence that he couldn't quite place.

Absently, he felt a hand on his arm, and a voice asking him, "Jason, are you okay?"

He began to respond, and winced in pain as he bit his own tongue, hard. He took a moment, confused by the sensation, until he felt around with his tongue. He had....fangs? Suddenly he felt wrong, itchy in his own skin. As he scratched absently at this hand, as he often did, the sensation was so dulled that he paused, looking down. Removing the bandages from his hands and wrists, he saw that they were not only healed, but dramatically changed. He soon learned that they, and the rest of him, were covered in scales. Scales not unlike those he'd seen on the cheer squad's newest addition.

JD sat, for the time being, feeling too dumbstruck to panic. He wondered, silently, if he should have slept in.

[Mia Cobol]

Stupid assembly. Mia sank a little lower in her chair and glanced around the auditorium. People were rolling their eyes, reading, talking quietly to one another. More than a couple glanced at Wyatt and Guillermo. A few even looked her way. Hasn't this already been covered? Did they really need to call us all in here? She brushed her silver hair back and glanced to her right. Wyatt sat next to her, staring at his feet guiltily, looking for all the world like he was trying to disappear.

Chewing the inside of her lip, Mia unzipped her bag quietly and pulled out her sketchbook and colored pencils. Her art had always helped her relax and zone out before. And right now she needed that. The red-orange pencil moved across the page, as naturally as if it was a part of her hand. She smiled as she felt the picture began to take shape, switching to her blue pencil. She nudged Wyatt next to her when she went to grab her pink pencil.

In that moment, Herrera's voice trailed off. She looked up to see a man walking down the center aisle like he owned the place. She saw the device, saw him raise it over his head, and then Mr. Maximillian was on his feet. She turned, feeling Wyatt jump up next to her, placing himself between the device and a few students. She immediately went into her patrol training, digging into her cache of spells and beginning a simple shielding. Protect the people around you. Make sure they stay on their-

Something was very wrong. Mia felt the wave of energy wash over her and the magic building in her flickered out and disappeared altogether. No! Come on. This has to work! She fought against the dizziness, trying to remain on her feet. She willed the spell to form up, begging any higher power she could to make the spell work.

It was only a couple seconds later when a concussive blast knocked Wyatt away and hit Mia. She hit her hands and knees on the floor between the rows of chairs, dazed and bruised. Chaos erupted around her, students thrown to the floor.

It took her a moment to open her eyes, trying to catch her breath. When she did, she had to brush her hair back. But she paused, mid way through raking her hair back. Red. It was red hair hanging in her face. The spark was gone and she had nothing. Her hair was red.

It was only then that the voices flooded her head. Panic, fear, anger.

What happened?

Where are we supposed to go?

I could have gotten that guy! Too many people in the way!

Usher the kids to the infirmary. Make sure he's not still on the campus.

They all poured in at once. Too much at once. Too many voices. She thought she heard someone calling her, but it was lost in the din. Clutching the sides of her head, Mia stumbled along with the crowd out of the theater. Just long enough to get outside and she ran across campus. She needed to find a quiet place. If one still existed for her.

[Diya Behari]

Diya picked up an apple from the cafeteria. She’d had a cup of oatmeal for breakfast - plain, less than 200 calories, the sort of stick-to-your-ribs breakfast that usually kept Diya going until lunch. But not today. What was it? Did fevers make people hungry?

She shivered again. First thing she was going to do in her room was put on a sweatshirt.

Maybe it was PMS? She was sure she’d heard that. PMSing made you want to do nothing but eat. But wasn’t it usually stuff like chocolate and ice cream? Diya didn’t have any cravings, she just needed food.

The apple - 65 calories, high fiber content balancing out the high sugar content - was half-eaten by the time she got out of the cafeteria. Still cold, but she was feeling more like herself as she walked through the halls.

A lot of the students were still waiting to get checked out at the infirmary, but those released back to the dorms all seemed to share a sense of unease. Diya didn’t stop to ask anyone if they knew more than what the nurse had told her though. She wanted that sweatshirt. And as she approached the stairs that led up to the dorms, she realized she could go for another snack.

Damn, how long did it take for cold medicine to kick in?

Diya launched herself up the stairs, aiming to take them two at a time as usual, but on her second leap her toe caught the edge of the stairs and she began to pitch forward.

Tripping over something like a stair just wasn’t something that Diya did. But she could only think about that for the briefest moment before her arm hit the stair in front of her to break her fall.

And her arm promptly burst into flames.

Diya’s eyes widened as the flame moved up her arm and over her shoulder almost faster than her eyes could follow. Yet she could tell immediately where the fire was moving, because it was followed by a hot burning, for just a moment. Within seconds, her entire body was aflame. And for the first time in an hour, she wasn’t cold. She didn’t feel burning hot, either. It was...comfortable.

A small wisp of smoke from the stairs was the only thing that pushed Diya to move. Maybe lying on wooden steps when she was ON FIRE wasn’t the best thing to do.

Diya pushed herself up carefully. There was only a small dark mark where her arm had been, probably marking the spot that had taken the brunt of the fall.

A little dazed, Diya just stood in the stairwell for a moment. She was feeling tired again. And she felt she could eat a whole bushel of apples.

She needed to get back to the infirmary. Whatever “problems” people were having with their powers was clearly now affecting her, too. Luckily, no one wanted to get in the way of the girl who was literally on fire.

[Wyatt Wyborn]

"Ow! You -- "

Wyatt whimpered. He hadn't meant to bite anyone. But they had stuck a needle in him and it hurt!

"Okay -- you're leaving me no choice, Wyatt."

The straps came out. They were going to restrain him! Against his own good sense, he fought to get free. More people came over. More hands grabbed him. Panic rose in him, threatening to build and explode just like the device had at the assembly. More hands -- more needles. And the scent of fear! His own and others' --

"Now! Now! Do it now!" Shouting. Hands. Needles...

His arm burned as if stung by a wasp. Hands held him firmly, roughly, but he no longer fought. He couldn't fight. All he could do was go limp. And watch the world go black...