Luna
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Luna 1: Drafted free porn video
Luna chapter 1
Drafted
A Whateley Academy tale
By
Irvine
This is fan fiction for the Whateley Academy series. It may or may not
match the timeline, characters, and continuity.
Most of the jargon found in the Whateley Universe is fairly self
explanatory, when common acronyms are used for the first time, I have
included the expanded version as an explanation. If you would like a
deeper explanation of the terms or background information on the
'cannon' characters, see:
http://crystalhall.wikia.com/wiki/Table_of_Contents
February 2007 First Signs
The first hints of disaster were around the time of my thirteenth
birthday. I was in my 1st year of secondary school, (what Americans call
junior high,) and my crazy uncle Dave had come for one of his rare
visits. The rest of my family were less than enthusiastic about him, but
I liked the guy. He was a geeky dropout, with amazing travel stories
that were so implausible, they just had to be true. Anyway, he had shown
me a stupid, highly addictive game called 'minesweeper' and I seemed to
have the knack, I could almost see the patterns.
A few days later, when I was getting my daily minesweeper fix, my uncle
came into my room for a chat. As he watched me play, I became
increasingly nervous. Not just because of his studied silence, but
because of a strong feeling that my life was heading for the rocks.
Finally, as I turned to face him, he said to me: "That's impossible!"
"Huh!"
"Look." he replied: "Some patterns can't be solved by 'logic' they can
only be solved by using a statistical method called 'constraint
satisfaction'...."
"Huh!"
Sighing, he painfully showed me how some/many patterns were, in
practical terms, unsolvable except by guessing before going into a
dissertation about some obscure mathematical theorem called N-P complete
and its implications for solving 'minesweeper type' problems. Okay, so
far this was fairly typical for my uncle. He then stunned me by saying
that a rough calculation he had done in his head showed the frequency of
my correct guesses to be so far outside the bounds of chance, they were
practically in outer space. Pausing to think for a moment, he told me:
"Come on, lets go and get a burger."
Half an hour later, we were in the local 'Burger King' with a play slip
for the EuroMillion lottery draw. The current roll-over jackpot was an
estimated ?169 million. When he asked me to choose the numbers I felt
had the best chance of winning, the creep factor was: 'Yeugh!'
On the other hand, I had a strong feeling that this was going to become
very important down the road. So, after a bit of teenage whining I did
as he asked. It was then he dropped his bombshell: "Listen kiddo, I
think you might be what is called a 'pre-cog', a pretty powerful one. If
I am right and people find out, your life won't be worth diddlely squat.
You have to keep quite about this. Okay?"
When I gave a wide eyed nod in reply, he continued: "If the numbers come
up, the money will be there for you when you need it, and you will need
it. A pre-cog is a type of mutant; and, regardless of what those stupid
television adverts say, the Mutant Commiission Office are not your
friend. You got it?"
With my eyes becoming ever wider I nodded once again, as he continued:
"We will drive around a bit and let you calm down, and once I get you
home, I am going to disappear on one of my trips. Irrespective of
whether the numbers come up, I am going to make some enquiries, and will
ask some friends to keep an eye on you. If things go pear shaped, keep
in mind I will be looking for you. Okay?"
Sitting in the car, my mind was spinning. This was a potential disaster
of epic proportions, there was the official line about the MCO pushed by
the tabloids, but most of my friends were frightened of them. Contrary
to what adults think, kids are not stupid, and the rumour mill was rife
with stories of brother, sisters or cousin manifesting as mutants and
disappearing into dark labs. Sure, a lot of parents, and by extension
there children were pro 'Humanity First', but amongst my friend there
was always the undertone of 'what if one of us manifests and
disappears?'
For me this prospect was particularly serious, while not an active
member of H1, my father was a drunken thug whose opinions on mutants
made it likely I wouldn't live long enough to disappear into an MCO dark
lab. His opinion of my crazy uncle, (my mother's brother,) does not bear
repeating, and my mother herself lived in such a state of fear from my
fathers rages that I had learned never to expect any help from her.
Before dropping me off at the house, my uncle once again warned me to
keep quite about his suspicions. Needless to say, I assured him I had
absolutely no intentions of telling anyone, let alone my father. He then
reassured me that everything would be okay, but if the numbers did come
up, and it came out that his nephew was a pre-cog, we would be in deep
shit. As he saw it, it would likely take a month or two for him to cover
his tracks and get me away from 'that bloody lunatic'.
Three days later, I went on the internet to check the numbers for the
EuroMillion's draw and realised my life was crash diving into the ocean.
There was a single winner of ?172 million pounds who was choosing to
remain anonymous. Even though we lived in Edinburgh and the winning
ticket had been bought in Southampton, I was fairly sure it was my
uncle. Surprisingly, I was reassured by this thought. If it had been my
father, I know for a fact I would never have heard from him again, he
would just have taken the money and ran. But my uncle? There was
something about him that cried out: 'I am rogue, but I am good.'
July 2007 The Web of Fate
Over the next few months, at least outwardly, things started to shape
up. I was in the middle of a fairly abrupt growth spurt and had filled
out quite a bit, my eyes took on deeper shade of blue, my hair became
even more blond, and for a thirteen year old, I had quite a rugged,
robust physique. It was nothing particularly exceptional, if it hadn't
been for the conversation with my uncle I would have put it down to good
genes. Luckily, this was the explanation my father latched onto, he was
ecstatic, and actually started to treat me like a human being. Because
of my pre-cog abilities, I was excelling at team sports. Okay, my
reflexes, strength and coordination were much improved, but I was also
better able to anticipate the opposing teams tactics and position myself
to exploit their mistakes. The girls in my school started to notice, and
were hanging around a lot. Which, of course, made my father even
happier. This meant frequent affectionate thumps on the back as he
bragged to his friends about me being a chip off the old block.
Inwardly, my life was in turmoil.
In my dreams and quite moments I was being visited by what I can only
describe as spirits who were offering to join with me in some kind of
psychic meld. They described me as being an avatar, which after some
research, I understood to be a mutant who could join with a guardian
spirit, and take on certain aspects of the spirit's nature. Depending on
which particular web-site I referenced, this did not seem too serious.
You know, compared to having extreme Gross-Structural-Dystrophy, getting
the strength and ferocity of a bear or the cunning of a fox didn't seem
such a bad deal. On the other hand, some web-sites suggested that
'aspects of the spirit' was more than metaphorical; and, for me at
least, the idea of literally turning into a bear was less than
appealing. Even worse, I had a very strong foreboding that certain
disaster would follow if I accepted any of these offers. I mean real,
catastrophic disaster, not just for me, but for everyone: My family, the
world, possibly even the very universe itself.
You can imagine how I felt, I was thirteen years old, and really did not
understand what was happening to me. To cap it all off, I had no one I
could safely talk with, and was beginning to think it was all a sign of
incipient insanity. Anxious to know when my uncle would return, I
decided to try to use my pre-cog abilities. Okay, it was a stupid thing
to attempt; I had no idea what I was doing, and could not even begin to
imagine the possible dangers.
After reading a few misinformed articles and a number of works of
fiction that were based on pure fantasy, I settled down cross legged on
my bed, and entered what I naively thought of as a meditative trance.
Imagining a path before me, I stepped onto it and promptly got lost. I
was stuck in a kaleidoscopic web of possible futures, each future worse
than the last. How bad was it? Worse than your worst nightmare: We are
talking of successive visions of a literal 'hell on earth' with no way
to stop them. Demon spawn herding people like cattle, dark mages and
demonic cults engaging in unspeakable rites; and, ruling over all:
Demonic Gods spreading their corruption throughout the universe to races
and planets that had never even heard of 'Planet Earth'.
Trying to escape back to the real world, I leapt blindly from strand to
strand, each worse than the last. Someone who is not a powerful pre-cog
cannot understand the nature of eternity and how long I was trapped in
this 'web of fate'. What saved me was an old woman calling to me.
Leaping from one possible future to another, I was able to narrow down
her location.
She called herself Mrs, Potter and explained to me our conversation was
an echo of a conversation we 'might' have at some future date. I have
got to admit, because of what I had seen, I was not really listening. I
was nearly hysterical, crying and demanding to know if it was real and
would happen the way I had foreseen. Calming me, she assured me there
was a way to escape. As she put it, a nexus was forming and I would have
a choice. Making the correct choice would involve me sacrificing many
hopes and ambitions; but eventually, I would gain a great deal from this
sacrifice. Not just for myself, but possibly enough to tip the balance
of fate away from the visions of the 'hell to come' I had foreseen. When
I asked her to show me, she told me I would have to wait until I arrived
at 'Whateley' before she could even begin to teach me about my gift.
Seeming to sense my confusion, she explained that I would have to trust
my instincts and wait for the right moment, but my innate abilities
would guide me through what was to come. Promising that we would meet in
the real world soon, she showed me a simple exercise to help me focus
and regain my body.
I woke up into a nightmare!
July 2007 The Nightmare begins
Okay, I will probably repeat this many times, but being a powerful pre-
cog really sucks. While I was as yet untrained and without focus, as a
result of my wandering lost in the 'web', I had a rough idea of what my
fate would be over the next few months. The details lacked definition,
but the general direction and ultimate destination were unavoidable. I
was aware from 'possible' future conversations that my parents had found
me unconscious in my room and called for an ambulance. The hospital had
quickly diagnosed that I was experiencing a mild 'burnout' due to my
manifesting as a mutant. I had now been unconscious for over a week and
was currently chained to a hospital bed with two power armoured MCO
agents standing guard.
When I opened my eyes, a Doctor quickly bustled over, and after a
cursory examination, exclaimed: "It is fit to travel, you can get this
piece of filth out of here." More for the sake of playing out the role
assigned to me than any hope of salvation, I did what any self
respecting thirteen year old would do and screamed: "I want my mum!"
Telling me to "shut the fuck up," one of the power armour goons stepped
menacingly towards me and, with the help of the Doctor, fastened a choke
collar around my neck. As he did this, he cheerfully explained that,
with the aid of the servos on the power armour, he was quite capable of
pulling the leash tight enough to squeeze my head off. Worse, I knew
that he had taken sadistic pleasure in actually doing this to a couple
of mutant kids, and would do so again in the future. While this was
going on, the other goon had been speaking into a communicator. After he
had finished, he reported: "They will be here in about half an hour,
they have to stop en-route to pick up the 'filths' parents." Turning to
me, he spat: "How could you do this to them 'gene filth', they are
decent people."
I repeat, being a powerful pre-cog really sucks. Calling someone like my
father a decent person was a real stretch, I was well aware of how he
would react to having a mutant son. What I had not been aware of was how
my mother would react. Resigned to playing out the nightmare, I closed
my eyes, settled back on the bed, and sent out a mental command:
'Princess Selene, Beloved Daughter of the Court of the Moon' had been
the scion of a minor ally to the 'Five fold Court'. She had a beauty
that was magically crafted to be a weapon in the long war leading upto
the 'Sundering'. Trained in the arts of espionage, assassination,
infiltration and insurgency, hers was a beauty designed to give her
power over all but the most resolute males. As I reached for her, she
held back saying:
When she sensed me give a mental shrug of agreement, she continued: With my further agreement, she
finished by saying:
Mckenna
- 09.11.2021
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