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Billy O'Neill
Jan 9th, 2009, 12:00:45 AM
This thread parallels the events of Commencement (http://www.sw-fans.net/forum/showthread.php?t=18216).

William James O'Neill: PhD Doctor of Genetics; Lecturer at Empire State University; Mutant. Also, in the shower.

Billy unleashed a mighty high-pitched squeal as once again the battered old heating unit in his rented home's water tank cut out mid-task, and plunged his shower into an icy torrent. Haste drove his actions as he thrashed frantically at the shower curtain that was tugged half-way across the bath to stop the spray from the poorly-fitted shower head soaking the wall opposite. He stumbled, somehow managing to get one of his legs out but not the other, twisting as said second leg snagged against the edge of the bath and attempted to trip him. It half succeeded, but Billy managed to snag the wall - and conveniently a towel as well - the latter of which he wrapped around his waist while using the former for balance.

With his few remaining shreds of modesty protected, Billy let out a grunt and clomped his way across the tiny bathroom towards the sink that, due to his apartment having been decorated by stickmen jutted out far enough for the basin to rest on his leg while he sat on the toilet. Wiping the condensation off the mirror, he stared for a few moments at the mass of crazy spikes covering his scalp, his hair not yet tamed after he second palm of shampoo had been vigorously washed out. He leanded closer, peering at his hairline. For the last few weeks he had been studying the genetics of hair pigmentation, in the hopes that he might be able to use his mutant abilities to recolour his hair from the roots upwards. Unfortunately, hair grew at the painfully slow rate of around half a millimetre a day; thus, it had taken a week for any change to be significant enough to notice. Anyone examining his hairline would discover that the normally brown strands had a two millimetre band of ginger at the base; another similar band of black was already well on the way.

Leaning back and running a hand over his scalp to flatten down his crazy locks, Billy spent a few moments wondering if he might be able to mix things up a little, and modify his genetics in such a way that his hair would naturally grow with highlights, in an unusual colour like green or purple, and other such fashionable things. He spent the next few moments marvelling at the fact that he could even recognise the distinctions: colour blindness had been among a string of genetic disorders that had affected him in his youth, and that his mutant abilities had repaired when he was only nine years old.

It was his powers that had driven him to study Genetics further, eventually leading to his current status as a Doctor in the subject, and a lecturer in same at Empire State University. It was that latter identifier that was significant today in particular: the end of the academic year saw some of the undergraduate students he had been working with recieving their diplomas. The ceremony was still hours away, but given how bad the traffic was, and how packed public transport would be at his time of day, he had decided to leave in pleanty of time. Unfortunately, his miser of a landlord had neglected to repair yet another fault, and had turned his pleasant and relaxing shower into a painful and stressful affair.

Billy sighed, and liberated the towel from his waist, rubbing it frantically over his head. What once had been wet spikes of hair was quickly replaced with a plume of slightly dryer and slightly more statically charged strands. Using a corner of the same towel to dab the water of his face, Billy padded back into the main room of his studio flat, and dumped himself unceremoniously on the sofa, face-down.

I have four hours, Billy reminded himself, not moving even the slightest bit, despite the uncomfortable and compromising position he had landed in. I'll get dressed later.

Billy O'Neill
Jan 16th, 2009, 10:27:37 PM
Billy tugged at the cuffs of the shirt he'd pulled on. Seeing how smartly some of the other lecturers had arrived, he felt decidedly out of place in his smart-casual attire, and was halfway towards forming an ellaborate plan to lure one of his collegues out of sight and steal their tie, just so he wouldn't feel so underdressed. At least I'm here, though, he decided, trying his best not to seem tense and nervous. He decided to distract himself by scanning the audience, specifically seeking out the other members of staff, trying to put names to faces, and to work out who wasn't there. It would be nigh impossible to identify most of the people present - Billy hardly knew everyone in his own department, let alone in other faculties - but every name he did know was an achievement.

He spotted Michael Stern, the goggles kid, making his way around the edge of the hall. Been chatting to campus security, from the looks of things. Casually, Billy wondered what they might have been talking about. Stern was one of the students that everyone knew, even if they didn't teach him. It wasn't as if he was difficult to spot in a crowd; particularly at night, if the rumours of his glow-in-the-dark abilities were to be believed. Normally, Billy wouldn't put stock in the stuff that the Empire State University's rumour mill churned out, but he'd heard of mutants with weirder abilities. Being able to manipulate their DNA at will, for instance.

Suddenly, the doors swung open, and a man burst in, spouting some loud religious proclaimation that was half-lost by the time it drifted across the auditorium towards him. The room had been designed for sports matches, not for accoustics, and the number of bodies crammed in swallowed up a lot of the sound: hence the expensive PA system that the university had set up specifically for this occasion. More concerning than his half-heard words was the box he was brandishing above his head, and the vest of explosives strapped to his chest.

Billy's heart stopped in his chest, but as the instant rolled by the fiery death he expected never came to pass. The would-be bomber seemed equally confused, right up until the moment that one of the members of the ESU Football team tackled him to the ground and sent the remote flying from his fingers: undeniably brave, but also undeniably stupid. Still, fiery death remained at bay; there was a blessing or two worth counting there, Billy supposed.

The auditorium errupted into a panic. People swarmed from their seats, stampeding towards the exits. Campus security dove towards the bomber, although the Football team seemed to have his detention well under control. Somewhere in the middle of the chaos, Billy found himself caught up in the current of moving people, and was dragged outside, deposited in an unceremonious blob of panicked people.

Though he had been scared senseless initially, logic told him that the danger was past. He was somewhere, and the bomber was somewhere else; the continued frenzy of those around him was both idiotic, and annoying. He distracted himself by sweeping the crowd, trying to pick out the same faces that he had recognised earlier. The absense of Michael Stern stuck out in his mind. He supposed the kid was merely out of sight, but something compelled him to do more than just casually accept that. Fighting his way through the edge of the group, he made his way back upstream through the column of people, and back into the auditorium.

It took a few moments to work out what the blur of light was. His eyes widened as he made out the sillouette of Stern's goggles through the brightness. The brightness grew as the dark, trenchcoated man advanced, stooping to colect something from the ground. Billy's heart froze again as he realised what it was. He watched in horror as light flared around Stern and consumed him completely; an instant later a second flare of light errupted from behind the scoreboard, and Billy O'Neill knew this was the end.

The world turned dark.

Titan
Jan 16th, 2009, 11:11:55 PM
Something moved beneath the rubble. It was still dark, and those that had survived the explosion had been ushered away. Anyone and anything inside the blast radius had perished. Should have perished. And yet still, something moved beneath the rubble.

A fist burst upwards, breaking through what remained of the building's collapsed roof. Fingers reached out, fumbling for purchase, swolen beyond human proportions and discoloured to a sickly purple hue. The hand closed around something stable and pulled, muscles straining beneath the somehow unmarked skin. An elbow emerged, then a shoulder, followed by a boulder of a head topped with thick, black, wirey hair. Still more emerged, until he - it - was able to finally drape it's gargantuan muscle-bound frame atop the mound of rubble.

Exposed to the moonlight, remnants of clothes tattered until they barely preserved its modesty, the creature looked like a Titan; like a warrior god of epic legend; the ultimate expression of power. Eyes flittered open, fiery and orange, and stared up at the sky for the first time. A few dazed seconds later and the beast was alert, never used senses stretching out to survey he surroundings. In the distance, the red and blue lights of squad cars flashed, local law enforcement already establishing a cordon around the fallen building. The creature didn't understand what that meant, but it did know that discovery was bad. Clambering to its feet, it crouched low, eyes peering for an escape.

Setting off into the shadows of nearby buildings, the monster concealed itself from view. It had no notion of what should happen next, nor any thoughts beyond what its primitive mind could muster. All it understood was that danger was near, and it needed to flee.

A light mist of drizzle tumbled down, settling atop the remnants of rainfall already lingering on the ground. Bootless feet slapped against the floor of the alleyway as the beast advanced, heading nowhere in particular, except for away. Ahead more rain lingered than elsewhere, a vast mirror forming across its path. It hesitated, staring down at its reflection. The last few shreds of Billy O'Neill saw what they had become, and snapped out of existance.

Muscles rippling as his arms grasped the nearest object, and tossed the iron dumpster towards the rain mirror as if it were made of cardboard. The ground spintered as the dumpster slammed into it, a sickening clang and clunk echoing back down the alleyway. The beast roared, frenzied, and without another thought set out into the night.

Continued in: Electricity and Magnets (http://www.sw-fans.net/forum/showthread.php?p=297851#post297851)