"The human mind," began a short and stocky man dressed in full army gear. He had a rough voice and was smacking a riding crop against the projected image of a brain on a fallen tree used as a screen. "600 miles of synaptic fiber. 5 1/2 ounces of cranial fluid. 1500 grams of complex neural matter. A 3-pound pile of dreams. But I'll tell you what it really is: it is the ultimate battlefield and the ultimate weapon. The wars of this modern age-the Psychic Age-are all fought somewhere between these damp, curvaceous undulations. From this day forward you are all psychic soldiers! Paranormal paratroopers! Mental marines who are about to ship out on the adventure of their lives! This is our beachhead," he smacked the projection with the crop and this his own head as he continued. "and this is your landing craft. You shall engage the enemy in his own mentality! You shall chase his dreams, you shall fight his demons, you shall live his nightmares! And those of you who fight well, you will find yourself on the path to becoming super psyche soldiers. The rest of you... will DIE!" A young boy sitting on a log cried out in terror, the flames of a campfire exaggerating the fear on his face.
A man of 18 watched the entire scene from the shadows. He didn't know about some of that warrior crap, but he would like to learn how to better control himself... In fact, he HAD to learn how to control himself. He was absentmindedly watching the army-like man being told off by a motherly woman on stage when he slipped on the tree root he was on. He fell to the unforgiving forest floor and felt a sharp pain in his elbow as he was assaulted by a rock. He then felt three more pains in his mind as the three adults upon the platform tried to enter his mind. He had defenses thicker than the Great Wall of China and stronger than diamonds. He held off their mental attacks, but it wasn't long before the army psychic shuffled into the brush and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, shoving him into the light. The man heard many of the younger campers gasp in surprise, but he didn't look at them.
"Why are you here?" questioned a calculating male voice- he was, by his accent, German.
"I need to learn control," the 18 year old said softly. "Please... This is the only place that can help me."
The German snorted. "Many kids need help. What makes you so special?"
"Don't help me and find out," the young man snarled in reply.
Grey eyes watched the army man on the stage with little interest. There was no reason she should be here and she knew that. A small, pale hand pushed dark brown banks out of the grey eyes. The young girl that had just turned seventeen turned and watched as a woman started into the man on the stage. But she didn't care, she really wanted nothing to do with this place. As she stared off into space her mind too her elsewhere. Back to a blue house in a small town with its big green yard and white fence. She could remember her mother and father from back then. Back before they thought she was a freak, back before they wouldn't let her near her little brother. Back before the whole town treated her like a monster. She could still see the day that had got her sent here to this camp. Her parents had hoped for a place to get rid of her. If only they could see it now. A loud amount of noise brought her out of her thoughts. Looking over she saw a boy about her age some what yelling with the German guy. She stayed where she was, not wanting to get involved. But she couldn't understand what would ever drive someone to come here.
"Listen you little snot nosed brat! You have broken into a secret government camp and-" but the army man was cut off.
"Snot nosed brat...?" the boy muttered. "Listen Rambo, I'm not some little kid who came here because his parents made him or he needs an attitude adjustment." He paused and then turned towards a taller man with pale skin and a shock of dark hair. The German. "If you don't stop trying to hijack my mind, I will kick your ass," the irritated 18 year old snarled before wheeling to face the woman. She appeared to be a Brazilian and in her mid 20's, with stylish hair and clothes. "The same goes for you!" He snapped. His silver eyes flashed between the three adults and a slight breeze tousled his raven colored hair.
"I like your spunk, kid," the army psychic grunted. He turned to the German and barked, "Sasha, get this soldier a bunk!"
"What is your name, darling?" The woman asked softly, as if trying to get him to forget his aggression.
"Raul Gahr," he said slowly, testingly.
"And where are your parents, darling?" she asked softly, giving him a gentle smile.
Raul knew this question was going to come, but it didn't make it easier to hear or answer. "Well, they're not here now, are they?" He bit, hoping to keep the question from resurfacing. Silence swallowed them up for a second before Raul, feeling highly uncomfortable, showed himself to the back of the group of campers and sat down on an unoccupied log.
Grey eyes followed the young boy off to where he sat. She couldn't believe what he said. Why in the world would anyone want to come to this camp? She turned her head away from him. It was strange only because she was normally the only one near the back of the group. As she sat there and listened to the army man continue his talk. Her eyes kept being pulled back to him. And she couldn't help but wonder what he could do. If he was like her and come of the others in the camp. If he had more than just one ability. Staring at him she decided maybe to talk to him. Taking a deep breath she got up and walked to his log. Looking at him, she gave him a small smile.
"Hello. I'm Scarlet, but you can call me Scar," her voice sounded strange even to her. Maybe it was because she hadn't used her voice in months. Or maybe just that for once she was a little self conciense.
It was a long moment before Raul even shifted his eyes over to her. He watched her like that for a couple second before turning his head. He did not return her smile but did show enough manners to reply.
"Hello... Scar... Lovely nickname. I expect there was a reason you came all the way over here to force conversation?" He looked at her expectantly, waiting for a bunch of awkward questions or a request to be his camp buddy. He shifted slightly on the log and adjusted his plain grey T-shirt and jeans to fit his new position. Now that he was sitting, his feet were visible and one would see that he wasn't wearing shoes or socks, yet walking on the forest floor didn't seem to bother him.
His hair was nearly touching his shoulder, but he kept it pushed behind his ears. In the flickering firelight, one could make out deep scars that ran along his hair line; a pale reminder of past deeds etched into his tanned skin.
Scar let her eyes scan over him and her smile dropped from her pink lips. She noted the scars on his forehead and only wondered about them for a few moments before deciding she should answer him even if he didn't seem to want to really talk. A few questions popped into her head about the camp and being buddies, but she decided that it was not a good idea.
"Well, really I could say that I wanted to make friends with you. But really I just wanted to see what you were like. I mean what abilities do you have? I won't just shove into your mind," she said as she looked around, then took a seat on the log but not too close to him. She stretched her jeaned legs out, the knee missing in one side. She kept her eyes on her sneakers, realizing that he had no shoes, and she couldn't help but ask,
"So why don't you have shoes or something? I mean, if you want to tell me?" she said, still staring at her worn out things.
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Subject: Psychic Role-Play 
Fri Aug 27, 2010 9:22 am