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Born: 24 November 1999
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Age: 17
Player: Knees
Joined: 6-November 17
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Last Seen: Mar 17 2018, 12:42 PM
Local Time: Mar 19 2018, 05:20 AM
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Guari Vincent


My Content
Feb 2 2018, 02:14 PM
When your prospective boss, well you’re new boss, tells you to take a trip for a story, you say… ok.

It was starting out pretty nicely too. Maybe his first piece had been a bit heavy on the mutant problem, he wasn’t sure if he had somehow already typecast himself or maybe the wrong person had see the wrong thing and it was found out to be a mutant. He would have to try to figure that out . Then again, that would have to wait.

He was meeting a blue monkey-cat of a mutant, but not just any blue furball of a mutant, this was Hank motherfucking McCoy! Guari looked him up when he first became a mutant. He was one hell of a idol for any mutant, afterall here he was with a quite obvious mutation, but he was still respected and trying hard to make a difference. Guari fought hard not to ‘fanboy’ over the apparent chaperone for the trip. Still, he listened to the well spoken mutant in wonder.

But what was he doing here? Hank was a scientist, so he could only assume he was going to be seeing something interesting, but why were there so many teens and young adults. It reminded him of a field trip for a halfway house or the museum sleep in that he had stumbled upon. Unlike that experience though, he was actually invited this time! And apparently they were going to flying somewhere. He noted that nobody was actually saying where they were going.

Honestly though, Guari didn’t care. Maybe he should have been unnerved with that level of secrecy. Concerned about his potential well being, after all it was entirely possible for somebody to decide a plane full of mutants might go well with a missile or three.

Instead, Guari was concerned about the fact that he was packed super light. He had packed two changes of clothes (complete with two extra pairs of socks), a few snacks (mainly for the plane) and his notepad and charger for his cell phone. But everybody else seemed to have copious amounts of luggage.

But that was the last thing he saw.

To keep the surprise intact, they had put a blindfold on him. Which made his slight jump when Hank took him by the hand almost humorous. “No peeking now, Mr. Guari. I do profusely apologize again for the blindfold but our current whereabouts are, strictly speaking, not for public consumption. However your employer sang your praises and said you were the perfect reporter to document this most unique venture.”

Wait… what? They liked his work? He had barely gotten paid. He had no idea that it was actually liked. “Also your insurance paperwork had not gone through just yet and any injury sustained on this mission would not be his responsibility.” Guari’s pride deflated a bit as Hank continued to finish this task and lead Guari to his seat. Once he was seated and buckled, Hank was already onto another duty. “Now children, behave yourselves. NEENA GET OFF THE JET THIS INSTANT.”

And like that Hank was away doing other things. And so he sat in darkness, listening to people come and slowly fill up the ‘jet’. For a moment he thought he even heard Kitty’s voice. He was tempted to peek and see if it was her. Fear of being ejected from this rare opportunity stayed his hand.


As the jet took off and headed towards its destination, the talking amongst the multitude of people was mostly hushed. Nothing much for him to pick up on and since nobody had told him he could remove his blindfold, he didn’t.

His lack of sight, didn’t hinder his ability to sense the trouble in the air. Something wasn’t going right, maybe it was a inbound missile…

And then everything went sideways, too quickly for him to clearly make anything out. But as his darkness was ripped away like a band-aid over his eyes, the sudden light of day burned. It was ok though, the rush of air was of much more concern and took priority pretty easily since the last thing he was absolutely sure of was that he was in an airplane of some sort. If he was no long within the airplane… that meant he was out of the airplane.

And just his luck, he didn’t know how to fly.

He wanted curse his luck and try to access the situation as his vision tried to refocus and become an asset instead of a liability. Even as his eyes did their job, his brain was even more confused, because he might have known how to fly. After all he was slowly, much slower than gravity had ever let him fall before, falling towards… a jungle? From his height, it looked like an island. Glancing around he saw a plethora of others wafting towards the ground.

They were like leaves on the wind…

He started to yell out for somebody… anybody, but he realized they were incredibly too far away. Whatever had made the ‘jet’ not a ‘jet anymore had dispersed the contents. In his mind he could only imagine a bag of potato chips labeled ‘Jets with Mutants’ and some larger pair of hands ripping the bag open and the mutant shaped chips being flung into the air in some comical slow motion fashion.

And that mental image almost kept him from panicking as he neared the unknown island.


Even though the descent was slow enough to catch hold of a tree and to guide himself in with some quick and decisive thinking, more realistic problems seem to present themselves to his mind. What was he supposed to do? Where was this island? Did he get reception?

As he put his feet down on the ground, he was given some sort of reaction. Or at least sign of life…

Two streaking flares went up in the air crossing each other and making an ‘X’. He shrugged and figured ‘X’ marks the spot. Before he could even do any sort of collecting of himself, he heard rustling. “Hello?” He called out ignorant of the possibility that it was wildlife and not other mutants. “Were you on the flight as well? I see an ‘X’ I think we should head towards…”

Jan 2 2018, 05:11 PM
To the listed number for public relations of Trask Industries:

"Hello, my name is Guari Vincent. I am a new reporter for the Daily Bugle and was wondering if there was anybody I could talk to for a formal statement on the incident that transpired at the Trask building last month. It is to my understanding that there were mutants and mechanical suits or robots involved. Aside from that alone making a compelling article, I wanted to offer your company a chance to shine some light on their side of things.

I look forward to speaking with you soon. Please call me back at 201-555-0540 or email me to schedule an interview at Thank you for your time and co-operation.

Dec 29 2017, 04:51 PM
Ever word he thought to utter seemed to get caught in his throat as he sat at the wooden table with his parents. Well, his adopted parents. Despite that qualifier, he had grown to care what they thought and technically he still needed their permission. The cadence of forks hitting the place to stab and scoop up the macaroni and cheese or to pin down the salisbury steak that his mother, Ellen, had made. It wasn’t from scratch, but she had tweaked it all just enough for it to be considered special.

But he couldn’t take another bite, he had to get the words out. Just as much for his new parents as it was for him to be honest. “Mom, Steven,” he gently called out to them as he put down the useless fork. “... I.. uh, you know…” he stammered searching for the right words to meet the spotlight that he had put on himself. “... I’ve been seeing other mutants lately.” he said skirting the core of the issue. “It’s part of the reason why I’ve been going into New York lately.” The two adults exchanged looks filled with too much emotion to be clear to Guari how this made them feel.

Averting his eyes, he suddenly understood how it felt to be coming out of a sexual closet, and not the type that allegedly had seven minutes of heaven. “I… am…”

His father cut him off, “We know.” Everybody at the table knew. Guari looked up at this father’s brown eyes and noted the cautious curiosity within. “And we love you all the same… has something happened?”

Oh so much had happened…

“Yes, but no.” He shook his head a little, trying to figure out where to start. Or more importantly where to go. “I’m just not sure what I should be doing, but I don’t think I want to hide what I can do. I’m not even sure all of what I can do.” he said admittedly. Turning his palm towards the ceiling, he caused the air over his hand to burst into flames. Controlled flames, but it still gave his mother a startle.

“Baby, put that out… you’ll set something on fire. Or burn yourself.” Ellen shooed at the flame motherly.

“It’s ok mom… I can control it. I am in control of it.” he said as he forced it into a specific dance. Slowly, it even began to take on a vaguely humanoid shape. Her fear and concern seemed to melt away into awe sprinkled with skepticism.

“Have you been practicing this little parlor trick?” Steven inquired, although it was reasonable question, the tone seemed to be a bit more accusatory. Guari swallowed hardly, but nodded in confirmation. Instead of using words, he forced the dancing flame man to shrink steadily. Burning energy and getting less mental fuel, it soon became just a wisp of smoke in the dining room air. “Why…”

For the first time this conversation, he felt like he had a solid hold on what he wanted to say. “Because if I can’t control it, I can’t possibly have a ‘normal’ life. I’ll always be prone to having a bad day and burning down a building. Or setting somebody on fire. Or worse yet, hurting somebody I care about.” It was a solid argument that neither parent could mount a solid argument against.

“Since I’ve been going to New York, I’ve seen so much more of their life and what they have to deal with. People… non-mutants it seems hate us. Like serious, visceral, civil rights level hate. If you told me they were turning some sort of sonic hose on mutants, I wouldn’t be surprised.” Especially after the march on Trask’s building turned south so quickly. “I love you both and I’m thankful for everything you’ve done and the love you’ve given me.” The ‘but’ was all but palpable, “I still feel sheltered and tucked away from how bad this all has gotten around me. There are people out there, in New York City… like Danny Rand! The real Iron Fist I met him!” he said with some mounting excitement.

“I was trying to help this mutant who was getting bullied and he helped me keep everything under control.” Sort of…

“NO!” she nearly cried, “You’re not going to go be some costume vigilante. You’re not some crazy hero, you’re… you’re just a boy in high school.” Her eyes watered as she looked into a possible future of all the worst outcomes. “Why can’t you just go to college? You can help that way right? Be a lawyer or even a firefighter! That would fit right?” she seemed to plead with him. Her voice seemed to grow more frantic with each word and thought until Steven put his arm around her and held her against his body.

Guari hung his head as her near sobs stabbed at him unlike those strange magical fish had in the museum. Unrelenting, they just struck at him and his sensibilities. Was he being selfish? He could try to help them from a safer profession than ‘super hero’ or ‘mutant activist’. “Guari…” his father’s voice broke through the sobbing silence. Tossed to him like a rope to a drowning boy caused Guari to look up. “... you are a bright boy. You’re a good boy. Even though in your genes, you’re not our boy, know that we love you as our son.” he swallowed and seemed to hug his wife a bit tighter. “We have raised and guided you the best that we could, you will have to choose a path to walk soon. We will always love you, and we will likely always worry about you. Regardless of what you do, but please do what you believe to best and right.”

They all cried. Steven the least, but they all cried that night.
Dec 14 2017, 04:28 PM
It might have been weird to say, and he was sure not to say it around his parents, but he might be getting addicted to New York.

He hadn’t seen much of it before the start of this year. If you didn’t include television then he had seen nothing of the city prior to this year. And yet, every trip into the Big Apple seemed to fill him with a sense of excitement and energy that he dared to say he was getting addicted to feeling. It was something different than everything that his life had been before.

He had been around a bonafide superhero, and caught a quick lesson on how to be better at what he did. He had marched with a mutant group, although he wasn’t sure how good of thing that turned out to be. He had even stumbled upon a mutant sleep over. And all of that was mostly by accident.

Today though, he was looking for something different. He wanted to see where all of this, or at least some of it came from. He had back tracked to where he figured most of the mutants from the march had come from. While he wasn’t expecting to find a street party, he was ready to see something amazing. He smiled as he walked along the street towards Mutant town, even though he didn’t know it by that name, as he thought about the wonderful possibility of seeing nothing.

If he got there and they were mutants, but they were just being people. Taking out the trash, going to work, having a bad day, or trying to win the lottery. It was what he thought everybody should see, if it existed.

As he drew closer, he realized that like every other community that was barely suffered, it was an area that was surviving by sheer force of will. He glanced at the cracked sidewalk and wondered how many mother’s backs had been shattered on this day alone. As his eyes ventured back upward, he noted some of the ‘people’ he was envious to see were bundled and still hidden as much as their oddly colored skin or animalistic tail were mostly hidden under winter coats and carefully half concealed by their attires.

Maybe it was because he was so close to the edge of town… but he was honestly hoping to see a different type of place. One a bit more free of judgement, especially for those who had physical mutations. As he walked down the street, he wondered if there were mutants who couldn’t stand other mutants. The question only spurred his expedition into Mutant Town on.

He had no idea what he was actually looking for or what he might, find, but the teenager was eager to find out what he would find..

Nov 6 2017, 03:04 PM
He had worked hard convincing his parental units that it would be ok for him to go on this field trip to New York City to see a musical. And yet he wasn’t thrilled to ride with the menagerie of people who were also going on a field trip. In reality, he didn’t have any interest in the musical either. His true goal was in the city itself, he had felt trapped for entirely too long. He had an itch to travel, to explore and see what he could see. He worried that the rest of the world was as bad as Maryland and New Jersey had been to him, but he just had to see for himself.

As much as he wanted to sleep on the bus trip into the city, he couldn’t help but watch the scenery passed his small window. Even with the ride and and a full day of school, he was wide eyed and quite ready to be in New York. He had worked hard to save up the money for this trip to spend the weekend in the Big Apple. After suffering the early hours and irritating patronage, he was beyond ready to see what all the talk about this city was.

He didn’t even bother to unpack his bag when they checked into their hotel. He tossed the other kid some lame excuse about having to go get ice for the room and he was off and running. Ducking and dodging the two chaperones and the lucky teacher that was accompanying this field trip was the extent to the security he had to overcome. As he stepped out of the hotel, he checked himself for his necessary items.

Wallet; check. Money was present and so was his room key. While he didn’t plan to spend much time there, he recognized his need to get back to the Sheraton at least semi-regularly to bath and maybe even sleep.

Cell phone; check. It was a little flip phone that his dad had caved and got him at his mother’s request. It had a charge, but he wasn’t too worried about that.

Pair of lighters; check. He ran his thumb along the sparkwheel and lit the lighter to his calming satisfaction. He lifted his thumb off of the jet and willed the flame out. It wasn’t necessary, but it had become habit for him.

Smiling he looked around at the still busy streets and sidewalks and simply started walking. He had made a mental checklist of places that he wanted to see and visit on his expedition, but there wasn’t any order to it. So he figured he would just take off and see what happened. He figured he’d pick up a map somewhere and use that as a guide. He made the end of the block when he realized that he was hungry with an audible grumble from his stomach.

He almost chuckled as he spoke to himself. “First order of business has officially been decided: food.” He crossed the street looking from location to location for something that he wanted to eat. He wasn’t sure how often he was going to be eating if he was going to be walking everywhere, but he also wanted something decent. He hesitated at a hot dog vendor for a moment before he decided against it. If he got sick from some street food he would never let himself live this opportunity down.

Walking, he saw interesting restaurants a plenty, but none that he felt was within his criteria at the moment. Despite that he was all smiles and excitement. The more he walked the more he saw and that was just fantastic and the entire point of this breaking of rules he had assured the school he would adhere to. He wondered for a moment if they had realized he wasn’t in his room, or even the hotel, yet. He hadn’t gotten a call yet so his parents hadn’t been called yet. After all what teacher wants to call parents about a missing kid at hour one? Even if he was discovered he figured that he had at least til midnight before he would get a call from a concerned party. If it was the teacher or parents would be an interesting and telling moment.

So distracted by the thoughts of his eventual ordeal, he didn’t even realize that he had stumbled upon one of the most notable and popular intersections ever, or at least to him it was. His head slowly leaned back as he basked in the digital glow of Times Square. Everything seemed to be selling something. And somehow everybody was either in one of two groups; they were blase about it or completely enamored and amazed. He wasn’t the least bit ashamed to admit that he was of the latter two groups.

Among the numerous bright lights, he saw his first answer. Those golden arches would do just fine. A treat for a hungry stomach, but a gentle blow to one's finances. At a jog he made the most direct path he could to the fast food restaurant. Not because they would close soon, but just because he was happy and hungry. He wasn't the biggest fan of McDonald's, but it did sound like the perfect option at this moment. As he pulled open the door, the smell of the processed meet and cheese his nostrils hard.

Eager, but somehow patient, he waiting in line ready to order 6 orders of their nuggets from the dollar menu. And a large drink.
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