Post by ZACHARY KEITH BRYANT on Mar 31, 2012 14:11:32 GMT -5
[classy=apptite]ZACHARY KEITH BRYANT
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[classy=appdesc]Oh, hey Willow Bend! Look who's it is! It's Zachary Keith Bryant! Oh, uh... perhaps you know them by their nickname, Zack? Anyway, this certain blessing in disguise came to us on July 23,, and grew up to be a hefty 6'1". You can always tell it's Zack because of their brown hair, blue eyes and cunning grin. Not to mention they've gotten themselves three tattoos! You know, everyone says they look like Cole Mohr? I personally don't see it though ....
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[classy=app1]The fat lard of a principal looked over his papers with a rather disinterested attitude. He noticed you sitting down, but doesn't really have the courtesy to look up from his desk. To you, he says out loud. "Let's begin sha'll we? Tell me the basic details about yourself." With a cough, he shuffled through is papers and glanced at you once through his small eye glasses.
Zack frowned. He really didn’t like this guy at all, and he’d only just met him. It seemed pretty shitty of the principal to be so apathetic and unconcerned with the sort of people he was going to be letting into his school. Of course, maybe that could make it easier to get in. If he didn’t care, maybe he’d just let anyone in, regardless of if they killed their families. Not that he would be going into that with this guy, but with all these powers around, it was really hard to know if the principal couldn’t just read his mind.
That actually seemed smart. Put it into an interview sort of situation so the student feels as though their private thoughts and comments weren’t being seen, ask questions to make them feel comfortable with their censor, and then delve into the depths of their mind unnoticed.
If that was the case, Zack didn’t really think he wanted in, anyway.
“My name’s Zachary Bryant, but I go by Zack. I’m seventeen and I’m a senior.”
That seemed decent. If the principal was not, in fact, burrowing into his mind, that wouldn’t be enough to turn him away. So far, so good. Or something.
He pulled on the bottom of his v-neck out of boredom. This interview had just begun and he was already tired of it. He really just wanted to go find his room and start training because his power was rather interesting, he thought, and he wanted to learn how to use it properly.
With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair, threw his glasses on the desk and ran his chubby fingers through thinning, greasy hair. He pinched the nose of his bridge and closed his eyes tightly as he said, "You know about the truth of this place. Now, I didn't invite you personally, my staff did. So please, give me a run down of your power." With his eyes still shut, the principal gestured with one arm toward you to begin.
What an asshole. The principal wouldn’t even look at him. It was really getting irritating and he considered turning the desk into a little puddle of liquid wood and metal, but this guy probably wouldn’t even been impressed by that.
“Well,” he started, fighting down the annoyance in his voice. “Based on the research I’ve done on it, it’s called Polarize Force. Essentially, I think of the opposite of something and when I touch it, it becomes that. It scared the hell out of me the first time,” he admitted, figuring that since the principal didn’t even care enough to look at him, he wouldn’t mind the swearing. “I turned the family dog into a cat and I couldn’t figure out how to turn him back. We had a cat for the rest of its life.”
Zack paused for a moment, thinking of other things to say. Mostly, he was distracted by the memory of how his siblings had reacted when Fido turned into Whiskers and refused to fetch anymore. That had been amusing, until they beat him up for it.
“Most of the time, I change things by accident. That usually happens to the larger items which is inconvenient because usually turning a dog into a cat or a girl into a guy has a larger consequence than turning the campfire into a puddle of water. It’s a lot easier for me to control on small, inanimate objects. I can turn a pencil into a pen no sweat, but trying to get my sister to stop having a man pencil in her pants was a bitch.”
In Zack’s opinion, that had been a great day. Sure, it was exhausting trying to turn her back to the feminine terror she always was, but it had been so satisfying to see how angry everyone got about it.
Finally, his eyes opened groggily. However, he wasn't much warmer. He yawned loudly and largely as he looked over your paper. With eyes watery and face red he continued, "I see why we would have invited you. Let's see..ah yes. Mind telling a bit about your family and where you're from?"
It was about time the damned man looked at him. It was really disconcerting to tell your story to someone who didn’t even bother to look at you when speaking. However, the sight of the man’s eyes wasn’t really much more comforting, because now he had to talk about his family, which was no good.
“Well. I don’t know where I came from. My parents or parent or whoever ditched me on a stranger’s porch and didn’t even bother to ring the doorbell or anything, so I was there until the middle of the next day when they decided to get the mail. According to the family, I almost got stepped on, which could’ve been bad.”
He scratched his arm disinterestedly. He really didn’t want to talk about the people he grew up with. It was awkward to explain it to people who didn’t know because he never really knew what to refer to them as. In his head he always called the two children his siblings, but that was only because he had been raised to consider all of them his family. His resentment towards the four adults, however, made all the familial tags dissolve once he had gotten away from them.
“It was a family of six. The old woman, Clover, lived with her two sons, Carter and Anthony. Carter was married to a woman named Alisha, and the two of them had a son and a daughter together, Cameron and Polly.”
Zack rubbed the back of his neck. Now came the part it wasn’t fun to talk about.
“They were all really awful to me. I’m talking, like, things were injected into me that would make me pass out and I’d wake up chained to a radiator with bruises I didn’t remember having. Nothing to get me hospitalized or anything. But I was miserable. It wasn’t intolerable, but just when things seemed to be getting better, something would mess it all up again.”
He paused again, working on trying to push the memories back away. They didn’t scare him or upset him anymore, really. It just made him angry.
“When I was thirteen they um. Disappeared. Authorities are still stumped and I doubt they’ll ever figure it out. Not that I care. I’m just glad to be out of there. I moved in with my best friend Crystal after that and things got easier in that respect. Mind you, that place had its own problems, but at least I wasn’t getting chained up anywhere.”
While you were talking, the principal had made himself comfortable by leaning back in his chair and intertwining his fingers. "Hmpf. You should fit right in. May I ask, what are your plans in the future? Outside of AMG?"
Zack shrugged. He was already struggling to care about this interview, and now the principal had asked him the one question about himself that he didn't know the answer to. In all honesty, he didn't want to do anything. He wanted to spend the rest of his life doing nothing, because in his mind, there wasn't anything that was worth doing. Everything in life was to feed the petty desires of the human experience, whether it was sex or living forever or knowing things.
"I don't know, sir," he said hoping that would be a satisfactory answer. "I don't think much about the future, to be quite honest. Mostly I take things as they come."
He looks much more interested now, rather awake and in a slightly better mood. "Tell me, do you have any hobbies?" he inquired, creating soft jazz hands at the word 'hobbies' as if to mock it. "You're aware that it may be difficult to continue these on the island, as you may not leave outside of break?" It was more of a statement than a question.
It was difficult for Zack not to roll his eyes at the principal’s gesture. This man was ridiculous. Of course, now that all the juicy details about his crappy childhood were out in the open, the guy was paying attention. Zack hated people like that. It was sadistic.
“I play bass guitar sometimes. I’m not good at it but I don’t care. It’s just something to do. Giving it up won’t be a heart-wrench, I promise.”
As if the principal would care about his feelings, right?
The principal crossed his fat arms and leaned on his desk. In a much more serious tone, he asked, "Be honest, child. How do you feel about all of this...supernatural stuff?" his shoulders shrugged as he said it.
An expression of uncertainty melted onto Zack’s face, and he shrugged again. “I don’t really know what to feel about it. When I was younger, I thought it was awesome. I could use it to terrorize the people I lived with and they couldn’t do anything. I thought I was the only one like that, which was kind of lonely but also made me feel powerful. Now that I know there are others like me, I guess it’s not as unique, but I’m still rather glad I have one, I suppose. It’ll be better once I can control it more efficiently.”
He leaned back on the chair that squeaked under his weight. "I see. Personally, I have mixed feelings. Anyway, we're finished now." The Principal grunted loudly as he got up to shake your hand. "It was a pleasure meeting you, do you have any questions for AMG?" he added, as he let go of your hand and buzzed the receptionist to lead you out.
Thank God that was over. Worst interview he had ever gone through.
He shook the man’s large, slick hand and worked hard to keep his face from contorting due to the sheer disgust he felt at touching the hand. Who knew where that thing had been.
“No, no questions. I’m alright,” Zack assured him. “Thank you for your consideration and all that,” he added, wondering if the principal cared enough to see through his false sincerity. He was still trying to figure out if he even wanted to attend a place like this one. All those superpowers cooped up together, no one really knowing exactly how to use them... It could be dangerous.
Then again, danger never really bothered Zack. He hadn’t really thought about danger when he set the house he grew up in on fire, or when he moved the charred remains of his family out of the house and somewhere he knew they would never be found... Those could’ve been dangerous situations. Somehow he didn’t care.
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[classy=app2]kirsten. eastern standard. female.[/classy]
[classy=apptite]FACE CLAIM [/classy]
[url=http://eoas2.proboards.com/index.cgi?action=viewprofile&user=zack]COLE MOHR[/url]
