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Something foreboding hung in the air as Mark walked into the school nervously. He felt out of place here –everyone here was dressed on a slight variation of his own outfit, and there was a drawl in everyone’s voice. Mark didn’t feel good about the current situation.
“Hey boy. You look new here!” Mark turned around. It was a girl. The fact that a girl would talk to Mark was beyond him, but it was happening. Best to play along, he thought.
“Uh, yeah. Hi. Nice to meet you. You are...”

“Loretta Sinclair. What’s your name?”

“Mark Dagman. So this is school, huh? Pretty nice here.” The conversation wasn’t going very well. He needed to leave, but he couldn’t stop staring at her. Her pants were tight, showing off a round, shapely butt, and her shirt was unbuttoned to about mid chest, to show off her breasts. They weren’t the biggest he’d ever seen, but they were very nice. Her face was pretty, her nose just the right size, and cute little green eyes with blonde hair. “You wanna talk later? I gotta check where all of my classes are. Um, catch ya later, Loretta!”

“Okay Mark. I’ll talk to ya at lunch!”

Then Mark heard another voice behind him, this one male. “You better watch your back, Dagman.”

“And I should do this…why?”

“Loretta’s my girl, and she don’t want none o’ your talk! You just stay away from her, Dagman. Just stay away from ‘er.” This guy was true heavyweight 215+ material: Big and too dumb for his own good. His head was shaved so it reflected the fluorescent light into Mark’s face. He placed a hand on Mark’s shoulder. “And I don’t fool around, little pansy.”

“Tell me your name.”

“Norton Jensinger. Why?”

“So I can place a face and a name to the dumbest man on earth.”

A grab to the neck of Mark’s shirt lifted him high into the air, but there was no fear in his eyes. Mark had looked into the mirror this morning when he was changing. His muscles had never been that great when he was in California, but when he looked at himself now, he was toned like a male model and had strength to back it up with –he lifted the bed with ease that morning. He didn’t care what this oaf could do to him –Mark could do much worse. But he tried to keep a look of fear into his eyes.

“You better watch that mouth o’ yers or you’ll be pickin’ up teeth off the floor.”

“Okay, okay, just put me down. You won’t do anything here, Mr. Star Wrestler, would ya? You got a good chance of going to state and winning this year, don’t you?”

“How do you know?” Norton had an extremely puzzled look on his face, as if someone was reading his mind.

But it wasn’t mind reading; it was simply feeling the energy around Norton and placing words to it. That’s what Mark was doing.

“And do you want me to tell Loretta about that stash of magazines you have under your bed? And that you overcompensate by buying large things? Maybe I’m taking it a little far, so would you just put me down, you idiotic oaf?”

“You crazy little shit! I’m gonna kill you!” Mark was thrown into the lockers in front of him, followed by a punch that almost splattered his head against them if he hadn’t dodged it.

Norton was in a fit of rage, face red as an apple, veins popping out of his forehead. He charged Mark, wrapping him up in his arms, and ran outside, then proceeding to ram Mark into the pavement.

In a move of sheer strength, Mark planted his feet into Norton’s stomach, kicked hard, breaking his hold, and landing a kick to Norton’s chin.

In the middle of the parking lot there lay Norton with a pool of blood around him, Mark looking on him with disgust. “I get brought back to life to live here? This is not the life I want. I want out of here.” Mark walked to his truck, got in, and sped off. “I don’t need this.”






The city of Dempton was actually pretty large, but it wasn’t LA. He needed to find a sanctum, somewhere he could be the person he used to be, not some suburb kid trapped in hick clothing.

“Hey, looky here. A normal high school where people who dress like this are ostracized! Better find a mall.”

A frantic search ensued, lasting for two hours with no desired destination other than “mall.”

After it was over, he stopped at a gas station to get a soda and chips. As he walked out, he noticed a girl, clothed in black, sitting in his truck. Typical goth girl –black clothes, black makeup and a gloomy demeanor.

“What the hell are you doing? Get outta my car.” She refused to move. “I won’t tell you again. GET OUT.”

“I must see that you are the prophesized warrior. Come. We have much to do.”
Mark boarded his truck, very suspicious of as to why he let this stranger in his car.

I think sigs are dumb.

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