Episode One: "Genetics"

[Burter]

Samos DesJerod
Honolulu, Hawaii

As the genetic engineer headed down into the basement, the light hit the filled chalkboard enough to show it's contents. The mathematical equations filled on side of it, while the other was a list of different words, such as 'Radiation' or 'Teleportation.'

The man known as Samos DesJerod clicked the lights on to show the entire room, and the dumpy state it was in. It was no palace, but it had everything that was nessecary to his research. He reached down and took a clipboard, going over it's contents, and then moved to the board. Using the chalk, he crossed out the words 'Ability to live without breathing' and muttered "Another one they had to kill."

Samos turned to the television and absently clicked it on with a remote. He took a seat, peeking at the news.

Nothing useful. Just ordinary stuff.

At this rate, he figured, they would take them all. He had worked so hard so far, for so many months, and had yet to save anybody. Everyone he tried to explain the situation too didn't believe him. What had quitting his job gotten him? Nothing. Just a bad place in a ghetto in Hawaii.

He muted the boring CNN news and hit the voicemail button on his phone, mainly to pass the time. "You have...TWO...messages," the computer voice told him.

The first message then played. A male voice came on. "Mr. DesJerod, my name is Robert Fineberry from CNN News. I know you sent my last reporter away, but I'm going send you another. I trust her money offer for an interview will be to your liking. Her name is Chloe Kent. I hope you can agree to this and give her the interview we've been hoping for."

Samos rolled his eyes and clicked the button. Next message.

Another male, but this time a darker, familar, and more sinister voice. "Samos, this is Lyle. I've been patient with you, but I'm done with patience. You will give me your list, or we will take action on your family. I will not take your stalling any longer. I'll call you in 24 hours."

Samos' throat caught. That one got his attention.


(356 Words)

[Belle Hibiki]

Alexander Erikson
Brooklyn, New York

The dirty alley outside the apartment complex smelled vaguely of stale urine and was littered with the tatters of discarded human garbage. The cloudy sky overhead brooded a sullen gray, casting a faint pale light into the darker corners of the narrow space, giving definition to indecipherable shapes and forms that constantly shifted before Alex's eyes. He reached back and stroked the grip of the gun lodged in his belt.

"Nervous?"

Alex glanced towards the source of the deep baritone voice, a massive black man with a shaved head and little neck. "Not really," he answered, shrugging.

"That's the sixth time you've checked your gun."

Alex made a face. For being such a bit brutish looking guy, Martin kept surprising him with his attentiveness to details. Or maybe Martin, like Alex himself, was finding it difficult to relax.

Alex chose not to answer, trailing his cold blue eyes up the side of the building and its crumbling masonry. It was an old one, the remnants of the latest paint job - a vain attempt to dress up its hopelessly decrepit state - reduced to but a few remaining flakes of off-white. "You ready?"

Martin nodded.

~*~*~*~*~*~

There were three of them.

One stood by the window, the sill thrown open wide as he sucked in the cold air as greedily as a drowning man. His thin fingers continually twitched and twittered either by nature or nerves. Another man sat on the chair to the side of Alex and Martin, playing with a Billy club in his lap and looking supremely detached, though the occasional hard glare he gave the two of them said otherwise. The final man sat directly across from them on a yellow and orange flecked couch that had seen better days, although it looked chic and well-mended compared to the rest of the wall-cracked, paint-peeling apartment whose only functional appliance seemed to be a thin fan that squeaked as its tarnished blades turned round and round.

[Banned Chi Chi]

Chloe Kent
Honolulu, Hawaii

?Samos DesJarod,? chanted the brunet. ?where oh where can you be??

Exiting the sandy dunes of Honolulu, the journalist found herself at a busy intersection and just beyond that, a large city. A feeling of homecoming washed over her as she stepped out onto the crosswalk and marched across the street. Figuring that the only logical way to find someone in a foreign country would be a phone book, Chloe, scanned the area for a phone booth, but unlike New York, the streets were only lined with venders.

?Figures.? She frowned as she turned around, only to find that her bad luck wasn?t so bad after all.

Staring directly up into the large booming letters, she found herself at the public library. With new hope arising, she briskly skipped up the stairs and into the building. Without even pausing to think about it, she immediately marched to the nearest computer terminal, sat down, and began clicking away; her finger times drummed to the beat of a tropical tune that could be heard from outside.

Keeping her eyes fixated on the screen, she quickly found that the genetic engineer was a bit more difficult to find than she had imagined, though her sources seemed to somehow find out he was in Hawaii, so there had to be someway of finding him.

Leaning backward in her chair, Chloe took a deep breathe, but before she could let out the sigh, the rear left leg of the seat split in two, and she fell backwards, her head aimed at the floor. However, only inches from smacking her cranium on the thin rugged floor, two strong tanned hand caught the back of her chair, saving her from the immanent danger.

Opening her eyes, and wondering when they had closed, the clumsy woman found herself gazing into two brilliant blue eyes. They were deep, passionate, to die for; and as these thoughts passed through her mind, and she suddenly came to the realization that his was smiling strangely at her. Quickly rolling off the chair, landing on her feet, Chloe smiled, thanked the man, and rushed out of the terminal.

Feeling a bit flushed, she looked back once, only to find the man still looking at her. Feeling a bit strange, Chloe placed her hand on her forehead and quickly made her way over to the librarian. Shaking off the feelings, she smiled at the woman behind the desk and offered her hand.

?Chloe Kent.? Announced the girl as the woman took her hand. ?I?m a journalist for the New York Times and I?m writing an expose on the geneticist, Samos DesJarod. Is there any way I could get some information on his where abouts, I?d really like to meet him in person.?

Suddenly, an alarm went off inside of the hall and everyone began to evacuate.

?Just my luck.?

[Toshiro]

Edward Knight
Heathrow Airport, London

The bustling airport crowds, they where so much joy that the youth didn't know how to contain himself. The youth stared around, looking at the people in the queue before and after him. The board above the desk ahead read out "American Airlines. Flight 9087. Washington, DC". It was going to be the first time he'd gone to the states, and to make matters worse, eh was going there for two years on an international scholarship.


Sighing aloud, he ran a hand though his scruffy light brown hair, the tint of red to it was fading from when he had dyed it for a party. Turning around in the queue, he was getting abit angsty, his comrade hadn't returned yet, and they where nearing the front of the line. Dragging the suitcases was getting annoying and tedious as it was with his, now with another suitcase and bag to lug was getting even more so.

A crack of his neck rung in his ears, and the bustling feet on the laminate flooring was getting annoying to him. But it also hid the approach of some one behind him. A grin was on the approaches face, one like that of a cheesier cat.

Cold hands clasped over his eyes, a grin spreading across his lips as he then turned around, the arms slipping to rest on his shoulders as he looked to his comrade before him.

"You?re late." He mused, and the female before pouted playfully before slinking under the guide ropes to stand beside him. "We're nearly up anyway." He passed the female her goods, and she took them with grace.

"Well, it's just a bad habit which you passed on to me." She grinned; it was her turn to act playfully with words now. The pair just smiled at that, and then their hands interlaced as they became the next ones in the queue to be served. Some of the people boarding looked suspect, or at least to him they did.

He had been nervous about flying for most of his life, which was further solidified by the attacks a few years ago. It was only though the females talking and worming, and the love making, that he had agreed to actually do the scholarship along with her.

"Next!" The attendant at the desk was a contactors mare in his head, and the pair shuffled over to her. He placed his passport and ticket down, and the girl followed suit. The attendant took both, opened, checked them, and then motioned for the suitcases to be put on the belt. Tags where placed firmly on their belongings, and she smiled at them a distained smile. "Enjoy your flight." The words where spoken with an almost venomous tone before the pair scuttled off hurriedly.

"Geez, what was stuck up her ass?" The male asked as he tucked his passport in to his back combat pockets. He wasn't exactly a jock looking bloke, thou neither did he look like a book worm. Just one of those people that could fall under normality.

He had scruffy brown hair, which he oftened liked to dye a red tint to; he loved to wear combat style clothing. Combat trousers seemed to befit his entire wardrobe along with various t-shirts with computer slogan's, wrestlers, or just strange designs on it. At that day, he was wearing a pair of blue and white combats, topped with a red shirt with a wrestler named "Rebinator" on it along with the bloke?s wife/manager.

"Well, at least we're though that part, we can enjoy the wait for our flight in one of the waiting rooms if ya want, Ed, or we can go grab a bite to eat or drink?" The young lady perked up as she stared around at the duty free area. She was akin to him, not slim, not bulky, but just right in his eyes. She had cascading light brown hair which came to just below her shoulder blades, and often worn in a pony tail. Her clothing was typically random, if it was clean, and matched her mood for the day, she wore it. Today was a nice blue top the man named Ed had brought her; this was topped off with a pair of dark blue jeans.

"Yeah, true point. Which do you wanan do, Rach?" He grinned at her as he spotted a few toilet stations near by. She gave him a playful smack before leading him off to one of the departure lounges.

"You?re terrible you are." She mused as she then pushed him on to one of the chairs, then parked her self happily on his lap, their bags in the chair beside them.

"Only around you, babe." The amusement was passed back at her, and the pair kissed gently before relaxing in to each others embrace before the flight.




809 (may bad ;.; )

[Grandpa Gohan]

Douglas Olsen
Houston, Texas

?Shit!? he thought to himself as he barreled down the halls, racing towards the room at the end. Doug was a freshman in college and always seemed to find himself late for math, no matter how early he left. He slowed down, catching himself just before slamming into wood door, something that he?d become quite good at in his short stay at the University.

Slowly he turned the knob and pushed open the door, trying not to make too much noise so he wouldn?t interrupt the lecture. As if, Dr. Foley never let him slide.

?Late again are we Mr. Olsen??

?Obviously, or you wouldn?t have brought it up?? Doug quickly retorted.

?Have a seat Mr. Olsen, so we can get this show on the road.?

With that the freshmen quickly found his seat, though for him being late all the time it probably wasn?t the best. Sitting on his left side happened to be Wendy, a stunning looking? Latina and Doug?s girlfriend.

?Late again are we? Maybe you enjoyed last night a little too much!? she teased.

?I did enjoy last night, though that?s not the reason I?m late, some dumb ass got into a car accident which backed up traffic forever.?

?Mr. Olsen, would you please refrain from talking while I?m trying to lecture? Dr. Foley?s words were a cold as ice.

?Sure thing, Foley? Doug shot back, knowing that Foley preferred to have his title said, because it would empower him and make him feel like he had a bigger penis, or that?s what the Doug and a few of his friends thought.

~~******~~

The class ended with the ring of the bell, and Doug let out a sigh, almost thanking god that the ?long? hour was over and he could finally get out of the classroom.

Wendy and Douglas walked hand in hand through the halls of the math building, drawing ever closer towards the exit, both knowing that friends awaited the other side.



328 words

[Belle Hibiki]

The third man's eyes were bloodshot and ticked between them, a scruff of wiry black hair dusting his jaw. He looked down at the table, running his hands over the five large packets delicately. Without a word he pulled a knife from his pocket, sparing another glance at Alex and Martin as he flicked the blade open. The two waited as he punctured the side of the package, a sift of white powder bleeding out. He gathered it on his finger and licked experimentally. A pause. "Yeah. That's the stuff." His eyes moved to them again, squinting. "This Maximillian's? How'd you get your hands on it?"

Alex shrugged. "Took it right off the docks." He shifted to get more comfortable in his seat. "Max usually loses a few on shipping; people scavenging, some getting lost in the shuffle, that sort of thing." He gave the man a crooked smile. "With how many he has shipped, he doesn't miss just five."

The one at the window had turned his head to watch them, his beady eyes fixed Raven-like on the small pile of white powder.

"Took it right off the docks, eh? Why don't I believe that?" The third turned his blade in his fingers, the crimson-veined eyes narrowed. "You think I'm stupid? I know he doesn't have them just laying around where any common fucking pickpocketer can get his hands on them." He rested his elbows on his knees as he hunched over the table, knife held loosely, its powdered tip pointed at them. "Now, I wanna know how you got your hands on this shit, or we're gonna have a problem."

Alex glanced at Martin, who gave a small nod of assent. "We've got a guy on the supply side," Alex said finally, turning to look the blade-wielder in the eyes. "We've known him for a while."

"Max controls everything here," Martin followed on the heels of Alex's words, not giving a chance for the punk to pause in doubt. He pressed his fingers together. "He can't be everywhere, though. There are holes." He paused. "That is, if you know where to look."

Bloodshot sneered. "And you know where."

Alex smirked. "We do."

The guy took a great deal of time to mull that over. He ran his hands through his matter black hair, looking down at the powder on the table and then up at them, then back. There was a lot of money there, enough to tempt richer (and smarter) men than Bloodshot, and the possibility of even more. It was as if Alex could see the cogs steadily turning behind the punk's eyes - the relentless spiral towards greed, like a moth to the flame.

Finally Bloodshot looked up.

[Paragus]

Alexis Page
Vacaville, California

A small house centered on a beautiful green hill sat in the middle of Vacaville, California. It was an adobe styled house with a Toyota Tundra sitting in the slightly cracked driveway. A wooden sign hanged down from the roof of the porch. The wooden welcome read ?The Page House.? The smell of paint filled the unfinished California house. The hardwood floors were covered by a protective covering and sitting on them was a young woman.

?How does this look?The woman asked standing up and pointing in the direction of the wall she was painting.

Do you want me to be honest?? Her new husband asked getting a nudge in the stomach by his wife.?Not bad at all?he laughed walking into the kitchen.

She smiled proudly before applying another coat of the maroon colored paint. The new house was coming along nicely. It had only been a couple of months since they bought it. The property was beautiful and there was a nice view of the ocean. Alexis wiped her forehead as she finished the last wall of the living room. She took a couple steps back to take a better look at the whole room. A small brown dog rushed into the room. Alexis swooped down and lifted the puppy into the air.

?Perfect!? She joyfully exclaimed.

?What do you think Coco??

?I think its great!? She playfully responded on Coco?s behalf.

?I think its great too.? Her new spouse said standing in the opening of the room.

Her husband crept up behind his new life partner and wrapped his arms around her. They both smiled as the glanced around the room. Thoughts of their new life together coursed through their minds. ?Now all thats left in the kitchen.? She said making her way into the room.

?You need a break. Just stop working so much. I will take you out to eat at your favorite place.? He said lifted his coat from the rack.

?Thats really sweet Ben. You can help me when we get back.? She took her coat as well and they both walked out the door together.

[Old Zangya]

Nathaniel Redd
New York, New York

It was all about to begin.

Nathaniel stood in his dressing room, grasping the shirt he was about to put on. The final scene of his first professional play?The Kiss of Death?was about to begin. It was a tragic scene, the one described in the script; it held romance, death, and an eerie Romeo and Juliet-like ending. It seemed that he was destined for off-Broadway plays?fourteen years of acting and this was the first production he was getting paid over one-thousand dollars for. Oh well. At least he?d get to share a liplock with Marissa Wojnowski, his costar.

He exited the room, still shirtless, and walked over to the left wing. He saw Marissa already in her place, lying on the bed in the middle of the stage. She was in a pose as if she was sobbing, and yet was doing perfectly as to make sure that no noise was heard. She was dressed in a wedding dress?the scene was that her fianc? had left her immediately after the wedding and now, she needed to be comforted. But it would all end in tragedy. Nathaniel slipped on his shirt, but left it unbuttoned, as the director had instructed him to.

Slowly, the lights came up, and the sobbing began.

Nathaniel slowly walked out onto the stage, his eyes in awe at Marissa?s state. He rushed to her side and climbed on onto the bed, holding on to her while she sobbed into his shoulder.

?It?s okay,? he consoled, ?You?ll be okay.?

?No. Not until I have you.?

And so she kissed him.

[Aero]

Ashley Hill
Brooklyn, New York

Four times three equals?twelve!

Ashley quickly solved the basic mathematical question with relative ease, only using the powerful tool of her mind to discover the answers. She raised he hand up above her desk, pencil tightly in grasp, and slid the tip against the wide-lined paper, writing the answer she had processed in her mind.

The children around her, though the same exact age as her, failed to generate an answer with equal speed. She was a God among insects?though she lived in a rough neighborhood, where the other children indubitably were caught in the acts of life, thus not knowing as much?and it was quite clear.

The teacher waited patiently at her small desk. Her eyes had locked onto the room?s clock that was mounted to the center of the ceiling. Recess was approaching, and soon; she could not wait (children slowly became rowdy as recess dawned, but afterwards were back to normal). ?All right, children,? she spoke as it turned 12:30. ?Please set down your pencils and?? The bell rang loudly. ?GET READY FOR RECESS!?

Instantly, the children slammed their pencils against the sturdy desks and charged out of the room through the small entrance door. Like a raging current washing into a sinking boat, the kids ran down the short hallway and outside.

One child remained, however; little Ashley stayed at her desk, finishing her classwork. She had gotten to the very bottom, but stuck on a simple math equation?seven times seven?and had a ?brain fart?.

The teacher noticed her lone student still working. ?Everything all right, miss Hill?? She slowly walked over to the young African-American child, hunching over and placing an arm around her shoulders. ?You know, recess is an important part of being a kid. You need the break.? Ashley looked at her teacher, within her reflecting eyes. The teacher merely smiled and placed her hand on Ashley?s hand, helping her put the pencil down. ?Go out and play with all of the other children.?

?But Ms. Thompson, I don?t want to play with them,? she immediately replied, hanging her head low. ?They don?t understand me. I?m different. I?m smarter.?

Her teacher eased the girl out of the chair, slowly. ?That doesn?t mean that they won?t accept you, dear child. Go, have fun, it?ll be worth the walk.?

Ashley finally elected to go out and socialize, for anti-social behavior started at the youngest age?at the age she was at now. ?Okay, I will,? she said as she quickly bolted from her seat and out of the room; her intentions: going outside.



------------------------------
OOC: 400 something. Will get better.

[Blind Man]

Professor James Mesler
Vanderbilt University, Nashville, Tennessee

"This is a group task, everyone. Place your hands on your desks.? The students did so. ?Talk amongst yourselves for about ten minutes and find a way to convince me that you are touching your desks."

The students began to huddle around each other, and Professor Mesler hopped up onto his desk (he was quite fit for a 74-year-old man). Since he was in high school he had enjoyed these sorts of questions that seem so trivial and meaningless, but with further investigation would spawn enough discussion to fill an entire hour-and-a-half class period. The answers were not his greatest concern, for they were rarely even reached; he loved the questions themselves. Thinking about the knowledge (or lack thereof) that humanity takes for granted intrigued him; it was partly why he became a teacher of philosophy.

The other part was that he had a degree in history but refused to teach it.

"You guys ready?" he asked just loudly enough so be heard over the discussions of the class.

"Yeah," a few of the students said as they all turned in their seats to face the professor.

"Well then?prove to me that you touched the desk.? He smirked at the kids.

One red-haired student raised his hand and waited for Mesler?s nod, then proceeded. ?I feel the desk.?

James raised an eyebrow, getting into ?debate mode?. ?But what is it to ?feel? the desk, exactly?? He stood and headed over to the podium near the other end of the blackboard, stopping behind it. ?Feelings, physical and emotional, are chemical impulses interpreted by the brain, are they not? And we all know that our senses can be deceived, can?t they??

Another student chimed in. ?So we can?t be sure that we?re touching the table because we don?t know that we?re interpreting our senses correctly??

?Not only that, but can you tell me what makes a real interpretation of a sense true? In other words, how do you know the difference between touching or seeing something real and touching or seeing something fake? What defines real and unreal? Do you need to feel something to know you?re touching it??

This is one question that I can answer, James thought to himself, as he gazed into the small storage space built into the back of the podium. I have some ?hands-on? experience in this category. He stared at the #2 pencil floating in mid-air inside the storage box as the students began to argue amongst themselves.

[Belle Hibiki]

"You're a college boy, yeah?"

Alex shifted uncomfortably. "Used to be," he admitted, striving to keep his tone neutral. "Why do you ask?"

"We could use someone like you. Someone with brains. Big Joe here-" he thumbed to the man at his side, who was still playing with the club as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. "-He never got outta high school. Kicked him out, see, for smashing some kid's pecker with a sledgehammer in shop class. And Timmy... Well, Timmy's Timmy," he finished, looking to the nervously twitching stick-figure by the window. "I ain't gonna lie to you, we could use a guy like you; and Brutus too, I guess."

Martin scowled.

"You seriously want me to go up against the boss?" Alex leaned forward, mimicking the other's hunched posture. Finally, he thought, they were getting somewhere.

"Why not? You already did with these little gems," he indicated the packets with a yellowed grin, a weird light glinting in his eyes. "Like you said, Max can't control everything, and if we want to have a little business on the side, who says our little group can't?"

"With you as the leader?" Alex raised an eyebrow.

Bloodshot suddenly seemed to tense, a moment of confusion flickering across his face before he shook his head. "No, no man, don't even say shit like that. If James heard me talking about that-..." He shuddered.

"James?"

The question had spilled from his lips before he had had a chance to stiffle it; not even Martin's swift, painful kick under the table had been enough to stop him. He couldn't help it. James was the fucker? But he had known him for years. He was one of Max's top men. Why in the Hell would he do something as stupid as trying to cheat him?

If Bloodshot noticed anything strange he didn't say so, too busy gesticulating with growing enthusiasm as he laid out plans. "You see, we're going to start out small, and then, after we get some more men, we'll claim a piece of territory for our own. After that we'll have a real base to start building out from. And all the time James'll be right under Maximillian's nose, and the old man'll never know a thing. Hey-" He stopped, looking at Martin. "What the fuck are you do-!"

The word cut off as a clap of thunder exploded in the small room, shaking flakes of paint from the walls in a shower. Bloodshot jerked back as Martin?s bullet struck home.

[Grandpa Gohan]

They walked hand in hand through the double glass doors, the sun shined bright, its gleaming rays illuminating everything in their path. In the parking lot were many cars, but three stood out and were by themselves. One: A glitter blue Dodge Viper, this car belonged to Doug; it was his pride and joy, next to Wendy.

Sitting to the right, a shiny black Firebird with an orange and red bird on the hood, this belonged to Matt, a long time friend of Doug?s; and finally sitting next to the other one, a Mazda RX-7. This was Bob?s car, though Bob had just met the ?crew? they all took a liking to him and he was quickly accepted.

As they passed through the double glass doors, their passed quickened, as Matt and Bob saw the two lovers heading towards them, they started whistling and hollering ?He?s so sexy!? Matt yelled out, giving Doug a hard time. That?s the way it was, they all hassled each other.

?Hiya Matt, Bobby? Doug spoke casually.

?Hey man, that douche Foley give you a hard time?? Bob asked, he himself knowing all too well the brow-beating power of Prof. Foley.

?Always.? Wendy quickly piped in.

?Dude, I heard about this party tonight, supposed to be poppin?, you wanna go?? Matt asked, getting in the conversation.

Doug looked at Wendy, already knowing that she wanted to go, she loved partying. ?What time??

?Starts at nine tonight.?

?Shway? Bob added, it was one of his little quirks that everyone liked about him, his use of old lines that they still got a kick out of.

?Let?s to go Jimmy?s and shoot some pool, maybe get somethin? to eat.? Doug suggested.

?Yeah! I?m starved!? Bobby said.

?You?re always starved! Where the hell do you put it all?!? Matt teased.

?Ha ha! Looks like we?re off to Jimmy?s then.? Doug confirmed no one had a problem with it.

With that, they were off, everyone in their respective cars, they sped off towards one of the local hang out places.