75:42 3/4nt

Wacky Land

Sleep is something No-Name tried to avoid.  It wasn’t insomnia, it was more like sleep aversion.  Whenever No-Name slept, he had horrible nightmarish visions.  Death, destruction, and memories of a life he no longer had--nor did he wish to have.

He was falling through blackness, not knowing if he was falling down, up, or through space and time itself. Suddenly he was in a run down apartment. A younger much more studious version of himself sat at a desk, trying to drown out the sounds of fighting parents. Flash! He was somewhere else now... pure blackness... but a set of stairs in front of him. It seems never ending.

He began walking up the stairs for what seemed like hours before he felt that free-fall feeling again. Then, before him, there was a figure bound in chains. No more than a teenager--hair matted with blood and his skin covered in bruises and blood.  He was quite a sight to behold, all bloody and bruised, but still alive. No-Name walked towards it with caution. The wounded figure rounded on him with remarkable speed and tried to jump at him, but was chained to a wall.  It was now clear this figure was wearing a straight jacket, as he screamed his head off.  The figure was none other than a much more clean and kempt version of No-Name.

"Free me you idiot, I'm your fucking memories," it shouted. No-Name screamed and so did his memory. Then--

February 7th 2:24pm

Acolyte Common Room

No-Name woke up as people started coming in.  Some people were already in the room, reading magazines or napping.  It seems the losing Acolytes have finished cleaning--or are now taking a break. It sounded like elephants marching. He groaned, half upset by the noise, half relieved to be out of the nightmarish world of his subconscious.

He stood up and stretched, reminding himself of a bowl of Rice Krispies with the sounds his back made.  Snap crackle pop.

Lance, Pietro, and Toad walked into the room, kicking a hackey sack back and forth.

“So, what’d you think of the movie, yo,” Toad asked, flipping as he kicked the hackey sack in the air.

“I thought it was cool, man.  But I’ll say this--even in cartoon form, Keanu Reeves is not a very animated person,” Lance said, head butting the hackey sack a few times before sending it to Pietro.

“Are you kidding--the movie dragged,” Pietro said, kicking the hackey sack one way, running to it before it landed and kicking it back to where he was standing before, and vice versa.  “The pacing was horrible--I spent most of the movie wanting to fall asleep.”

“Yeah, but that’s a directin’ issue, yo.  If the pacin’ is slow it’s ‘cause the director can’t figure out how to animate the script.”

“Maybe it’s just a problem with the script--as in it’s really freakin’ boring,” Pietro said, kicking the sack to Lance.

Lance, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to hit it, tried desperately to catch it.  The hackey sack flew out the window.

“Sunuvabitch,” Lance growled.  “Pietro, what gives, man?!  No need to chuck it that fast!”

“Yeah, yo, that’s the third time today, and I ain’t got no money left.”

Pietro just laughed, running to a chair and sitting down.  “Not my fault you’re not quick enough.”

“Yeah, well what are we suppose’ to…”  Toad stopped in mid sentence, an evil grin coming across his face.

“Toad,” Lance asked.  “Hey, Toad, you ok?  What the hell are you--oh… hello…”  Lance got the same grin.  Pietro’s eyes followed their gaze, and then he too got the grin.

“Ah, shit,” No-Name said indifferently.

Roughly a half hour of hackey sack, or “Punt the Runt” as they called this version of it, passed with more people joining in every now and then.  Within ten minutes, the game had evolved into a sort of soccer/rugby type free for all--the doors the dorm hallways being the goal posts.  In addition to Lance, Toad, and Pietro: Master Mind’s daughter had now joined, as well as Blindspot and Nocturne.

(For those of you who are fortunate enough to not know what it feels like to be a human hackey sack, this should simulate the experience.  Now do as I say.  Stand up on the nearest raised surface you can--be it a chair, your kitchen table, a counter top--anything more than two feet above ground should work.  Once you’re positioned atop it, jump with all your might face first into the ground.  I don’t mean just fall over, come on, really JUMP!  Push yourself off with your scrawny little legs and land flat on your face and chest.  Your ribs kinda hurt now, don’t they?

Well, in your scenario, if you did it, you know that it is somewhat painful to fall onto something from a few feet in the air.  Those of you who didn’t, you’re a pansy-ass-pinko and you didn’t do it because you knew it would hurt.  In No-Name’s case, he’s falling from more like 20 feet--proportionate to his size--and the ground is also rushing at him with enough force to send him flying another twenty feet in the air so that he can experience this joyous event all over again.  Needless to say it hurts like hell. -- FB)

‘Why can’t I just pass out,’ No-Name thought to himself as Toad kicked him towards Nocturne.  Nocturne let out a girlish laugh/shriek type thing as she did a back flip and kicked No-Name into the air again.

Aside from the hope that he would through some miracle be allowed to pass out or simply die, No-Name thought one other thing: ‘Why?’  Why did they torment him?  Well, the simple and sad truth was, they were bored and he was different--even more so than them.  You’d be surprised how often the defense of atrocious actions comes in the form of three simple words: I was bored.

Nocturne caught No-Name with one of her feet, and chucked him towards the girl’s dormitory.  He flew through the door and landed with a small thud on the floor.

“Goal,” Nocturne shouted excitedly.

“Sunuvabitch,” Toad said.  He was being goalie.

As No-Name lay there on the ground, he felt the vibrations of footsteps on the floor.  But it didn’t come from anyone playing the game.  Amelia Voght had been attempting to get some rest in the dorms when No-Name flew through the door and landed on the floor--bloody and bruised.  Amelia had known Magneto since before he and Mystique had partnered up--back when Charles and Eric were still friends.  She was one of the few in Magneto’s organization that not only agreed with his philosophy, but lived and breathed it.  So upon seeing mutants inflicting harm upon other mutants…

“Who is responsible for this,” Voght demanded in a loud booming voice.  No-Name was so out of it he could barely hear her, but he felt the vibrations in the ground as she knelt down to scoop him up.  “Are you ok?”

“Been better…” he said simply.

Amelia placed him on her bed and quickly went to... "discipline" the Acolytes.  No-Name passed out.  Figures.