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 It's A Whole New World, Feb. 17th, 6:30am, open
Wicked
 Posted: Jan 8 2018, 07:27 PM
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It hadn’t been a full day since Wicked had been liberated from the camp in Genosha by the Brotherhood and some fellow Genoshan mutants. They’d wanted to have her join the other mutants and go hide in Europe somewhere. But, Wicked had flat out refused to do so. The Brotherhood was fighting for their people. And if there was one thing Wicked was down for, it was fighting for her people. She’d refused to stand by and do nothing in the camp and that didn’t change. How could she just go hide after everything she’d seen? All she and everyone else held prisoner in that camp had been through? No, she’d joined on up without any hesitation. Wicked was going to do whatever it took to help her fellow mutants.

There was a lot to take in. Like the fact that she had a whole room to herself. Not a bunk which she may have to share if they got a bunch of females in the barracks. And it had an actual bed. Not the halfassed structures that had filled the barracks of that were made so they could cram as many of them into the long room as possible. But an honest to goodness bed with a mattress. It didn’t matter to her if it was top of the line or just your normal bed. Heck, even a sort of run down one was better than the hard wood she’d laid on for over a decade. There was a place to put her things, which consisted of the clothes she’d been wearing, the needle and thread she always kept on hand, and the energy whip and knife she’d taken from Ponytail and Stupid.

She hadn’t gone to sleep yet. Everything that had happened was still racing through her mind. Wicked had to remind herself it hadn’t been a dream. This was all real. At the break of day, there’d been no blaring to wake up. No having to fight to get fed something which would barely qualify as fit for consumption and wasn’t enough to fill anyone, but had all the nutrients packed into it to get through the day. There was no going off to work from sunup to sundown only to trudge back to the barracks, exhausted. There wasn’t the threat at any moment of having electricity sent through her body. It felt so weird. Wrong, even. As much as she’d hated the camp, it dawned on her very quickly that was all she really knew. She knew what to expect. She’d had a routine.

Wicked didn’t know what to do with herself. The others had seemed to have gone to bed. But not her. She couldn’t sleep. Not with everything sinking in. So, she’d found the laundry room, stripped down to her underwear, figured out how the washing machine and dryer worked (they were like tiny versions of the ones at the camp) and begun washing her clothes. It’d felt weird, pulling her undershirt over her head and not feeling her collar. Her fingers ran over the scarred area where it’d use to sit. The skin still a bit tender.

Her clothes were in the dryer now. Tumbling around and around, making Wicked feel a bit dizzy to watch them too long. She’d taken her needle and thread out before putting her clothes in and had brought the pillowcase on her pillow with her. There wasn’t much else to do but wait. And Wicked didn’t want to walk around in just her underwear. So, she sat there in the laundry room, embroidering flowers onto the edge of the pillowcase with her black thread. Her back to the wall, and facing the door, constantly looking at it and half expecting to have one of the guards throw it open at any time now. So, when the doorknob began to turn, she got to her feet, setting her shoulders back, bending a bit at the knees, ready to defend herself against whoever came in. Pillowcase and needle still in hand.
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Rat
 Posted: Jan 11 2018, 10:20 AM
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It had been roughly twelve hours since the Brotherhood had arrived in Genosha and helped start a revolution. They had taken down guards and removed the collars from the prisoners allowing them to use their powers freely. Many of the prisoners had then turned on the guards in what could only be described as an act of karma. The prisoners had been powerless and had been subjected to all kinds of horrors now it was time for the guards to pay the price for all the misery they had caused. Rat would have been lying if he said he hadn't found it vaguely amusing. They had treated those people so badly and now the tables had been turned and they were the ones cowering in fear.

Now that that part was over many of the prisoners had been transported somewhere else. Someplace safe where they could try and live without being attacked. They had been through so much misery and suffering and for what? To make the lives of some bastards humans a lot easier! It was sickening. Even more sickening was how the world would be unlikely to care. It was only mutants that were being harmed after all. And who cared about mutants? Only other mutants and their opinions didn't matter apparently.

After returning to the base, Rat had been exhausted and had crashed out for a few hours. The weapons he had looted from the guards lay abandoned on the floor a few feet from his bed. There would be time to deal with those later. After he had slept. Which was not long and he found himself wide awake and rather jittery at around five am. Something had woken him up but he couldn't quite remember what it was. Probably something to do with the dream he had been having. A dream he had had where they repeated the events of the previous evening... except when it came to the prisoners... the prisoners had been his little brother and sister for some reason. This thought had shocked him, and maybe that was why he was awake and unable to get back to sleep.

By the time six am rolled around he was pacing back and forth across his room, trying to settle his mind. He had known things were bad for mutants in some places but the conditions in Genosha had horrified him and he needed to get it together. His gaze fell upon a pile of laundry he had yet to do and he sighed. Why not? Do some laundry. It might bore him to sleep for a little. Besides, there was some blood, not his, on the tshirt he had been wearing in Genosha and it was probably a good idea to deal with that.

With a sigh he gathered everything up and dumped it in a basket. And stopping only to grab a book, his current one being Desperation by Stephen King, and headed towards the laundry room. His wristband was on and he was visible for the moment. As amusing as it would be, making someone think the laundry room was haunted was not his aim for that morning. He could do that later.

With it being so early he had not expected to see anyone, so he was more than a little surprised to see someone there. A lady who was in her underwear to be exact. She was stood brandishing a... sewing needle (?) like it was a weapon and the surprise really showed on Rat's face.

"Ummm... hi...?" he said, trying to avoid staring at her. Damn this was weird. "I didn't realise anyone would be... in here.... Would you like a.. blanket or something?" Not his most awkward attempt at conversation but still not his best. "I'm Rat."

Wicked
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Wicked
 Posted: Jan 12 2018, 03:59 PM
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Wicked had yet to let her guard down. It'd been a very long time since that had last occurred. She was used to finding herself trapped in a corner, no way out and no weapons. There was the word mutant emblazoned on her right forearm in black ink. Scars covered her back and formed a ring of scars and flesh rubbed red and raw where her collar had sat. She was used to being stripped of anything resembling humanity, including her clothes. And she was also ready to give whichever guard came through the door absolute hell. Just another, whatever day it was.

But, it wasn't one of the many guards. It was a kid. With a basket of laundry and a book. Tensed up muscles and a facial expression that screamed I’mma fight you gave way to confusion for a moment until Wicked relaxed a bit and lowered her needle. Shit. That’s right, she thought. She wasn’t in Genosha anymore. There weren’t anymore guards bursting in to drag her or whoever else they were coming for off to have who knew what done to them. She knew that. She knew that this wasn't the camp. And that she was supposedly safe here. This kid was one of the Brotherhood members, right? So, he was ok. He wasn’t going to hurt her. He was one of her people.

That didn’t mean she completely relaxed or let her guard down, though. It just wasn’t something she did. Wicked did feel a bit ashamed though. He wasn’t a threat. And her first reaction was to be ready to attack him. ”Sorry, I didn’t mean to-” Hanging her head a bit and looking at the needle and pillowcase in her hand before looking back up at the boy, Wicked wasn’t entirely sure how to do this. Interacting with a guy who wasn’t either a guard or on the other side of a fence. Of course, she had done so hours prior, obviously. But, she’d had a bunch of blood pumping through her veins at the time. This was different. ”Force of habit.” The sarcastic asshole part of her chimed in, no shit, sherlock. But it needed to shut the hell up right now.

At least she didn’t seem to be the only one who was feeling awkward from what she could tell. Sure, Wicked wasn’t an expert or anything, but she also wasn’t a complete idiot. Clearly, this wasn’t normal. She wasn’t normal. Freak. Monster. Abomination. Those words echoed in her mind and she shook her head a bit to try and make them go away. Forcing them back into the cold, dark space in the very back of her mind which she tried to avoid. They’d been wrong. Hell, they’d lied. She could do this.

”I didn’t think there’d be anyone in here either.” Most of the Brotherhood members had been asleep, as far as she’d known when she’d first come in here. Her body was still on Genoshan time. Which meant she was incredibly out of whack with whereever the Brotherhood base was. His offer of a blanket kind of took her back for a second as she wasn’t used to guys doing nice things. At most, there’d been words of encouragement or hushed compliments from the other side of the fence. ”Ummm, yeah. A blanket actually sounds really nice. Thanks.” She hadn’t even thought about getting one because it wouldn’t have been allowed back at the camp. All she really knew was how things worked there. And it seemed that things were different here. Which was good, but also kind of scary because she had no idea how different.

”Nice to meet ya, Rat. I’m Wicked.” For some reason, hearing that someone else had a name which people tended to use as an insult made Wicked smile a bit. She didn’t know if he’d picked that name for himself or if it’d been given to him like hers had. But, she was no stranger to being called vermin. So, the fact that he went by Rat made her like him.

It took her a hot second to realize Rat was, A, not in his underwear to do laundry. And B, he had a whole basket of clothes to wash. Her being half naked probably wasn’t normal. Shit. She knew from before her time in the camp that the way things were done there wasn’t how it was done in the outside world. But, she’d spent so much of her life doing it this way with no other options. ”Fuck, I probably look a bit… shocking or something. Sorry. I just couldn’t sleep and my clothes were dirty.” And she didn’t have anything else to wear while they were being washed.
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Rat
 Posted: Jan 12 2018, 05:41 PM
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It seemed like it was going to be a rather interesting day already. Rat was trying to avoid staring at the lady and it was kind of hard. Not just because she was in her underwear but because she was scarred in so many places. It was disturbing and another sign that they done right by attacking that camp and freeing people. "Its ok." Rat said seriously before adding, "I'm sure you could be very threatening with that sewing needle of yours." She probably could. He didn't know what her powers were, meaning she might probably be able to do something weird, like channel fire electricity through it or use it to unpick him one molecule at a time.

"It is a bit early to be up. I suspect many of the others are having a lie in." Destroying a work camp was tiring after all. He was only awake because he of a bad dream. He doubted the others were having such issues, or if they did they had a way of dealing with them that didn't involve laundry. Their ways probably involved training or alcohol. When the lady said she would like a blanket he dumped his basket on the nearest table and went to cupboard where he was likely to find one. He had tidied the place recently on one of those long, dull days before anyone had been able to see him and knew they would be there. "There you go. There might be some clothes available somewhere..." Rat wasn't so sure of that part. He had arrived with his own clothes and so far hadn't found a room containing spare clothes. But you could never tell with this place.

So her name was Wicked? That was pretty neat. "That's a cool name." he said as he began loading up an empty machine. "You choose it?" He had chosen his and felt better for using it and not the name his parents had given him.

"I'll admit it's a bit of shock. You don't see many people wandering around here in their underwear, but if the only clothes you have are in the wash, then you've got a good reason." It wasn't like she was doing that for the sheer hell of it, right? "And I can imagine it'd be a bit hard to sleep after yesterday. By the way, do you know how to get blood out of something?" he asked, holding up the bloody shirt. "One of those tossbags guarding the camp was rude enough to bleed on me." Such rudeness, that man had certainly deserved the smack round the head he had gotten.
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Wicked
 Posted: Jan 14 2018, 06:29 PM
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Having someone seem to overestimate her was new for Wicked. It felt like a compliment, and she wasn’t used to those at all. But, it felt good as it sent a surge of pride through her for no good reason. She couldn’t help but crack a grin and let out a laugh. ”Yeah, I’d have you in stitches real quick.” Literally. It would only take her maybe a few minutes to stitch him into his current clothing so he’d be trapped in it if she wanted to. As of right now, she didn’t want to bring about any sort of harm to Rat. So far, he hadn’t done anything threatening. Or mean. Basically, he’d done nothing within the realm of how Wicked expected to be treated.

Blinking at him in confusion, the question of, ”What’s a lie in?” slipped out of her mouth before she could really think about it. Taking a moment to really consider it, she figured it was probably like sleeping late or something. Another concept she wasn’t used to. Perhaps she should make a list of those, because she was taken aback when Rat didn’t just offer her a blanket, but actually got one and offered it to her. Wrapping it around herself, she was pleasantly surprised by his kindness. He’d mentioned there might be some clothes available somewhere. She hadn’t really looked. ”Well, I can make my own if I get some fabric and find out what the regulations are.”

She let out another chuckle at the question about her name. There was a slight stroke to her ego there upon hearing he thought her name was cool. ”Not exactly. It was given to me and I decided I liked it.” What had been meant to be a cruel joke had gotten thrown in the guards’ faces when she’d decided to take up that name. One of her many ways to go fuck you to them.

A loud beep came from the dryer, alerting her to that her clothes were finished drying. Opening it up, she grabbed her undershirt, work shirt, and pants out and pulled them back on. As she buttoned up her work shirt, she felt for the spot where she’d embroidered the name her parents gave her in hangul. She looked at his blood stained shirt Rat held up. ”Better their blood than any of ours. You could soak it in cold water and try and scrub it out. Or use bleach? That might harm the fabric though. Sorry, I can’t be more help with that. I’m a seamstress, not a laundry expert. But if you have anything that's ripped or needs to be repaired, I can do that, no problem.” She shrugged her shoulders in a sorry, but what can you do manner.

Her stomach decided that would be a great time to make a very loud growl. The sort that you really can’t miss. This wasn’t the first time it’d happened. In fact, it was far too common of an occurrence that she went for a while without eating. She’d learned how to deal with it. But, it did remind her last time she’d eaten was before going to work in the laundry room for the day. And then the revolt had happened. So, it’d been a while since her last meal. ”Sorry about that. When do you guys have breakfast? Or your morning meal? Whatever you call it?”
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Rat
 Posted: Jan 15 2018, 04:47 PM
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At first Rat was confused by the way she didn't know what a lie in was, but then he reminded himself that she had been a slave to those twats in Genosha, she had probably only just been allowed to sleep for a few hours. "Um... they're just sleeping til a bit later in the morning." Which was likely, the others had done a lot of work the day before. After he gave Wicked the blanket she said something about making her own clothes. "You know how to make you're own clothes? That's a useful skill." It really was. Wicked might be able to help with repairs done to the others uniforms and stuff. It wasn't like you could take those to one of those places that did repairs to clothing. "So... if you were to get hold of some fabric and a sewing machine you'd be able to make what you'd need?" One thing she said puzzled him. "What regulations do you mean?" Were there regulations for clothing or something?

Ah, so that was how she had gotten her name. There were probably more mutants who chose their name like that. Rat was one of them. "Oh. That's how I got Rat. Got called it loadsa times by my parents so I decided it was my name. Not used the other one they gave me since." Although at one point he had thought that Rat was his 'real' name and the one used by other adults was just a weird nickname. He had dropped that idea when he realised there was no one in the world who would happily have 'Arnold' as a nickname.

While Wicked got dressed, Rat loaded up the washer with his clothes. This was one of the few times when it seemed his parents had done him a favour by leaving some of the household tasks up to him. He could clean, do laundry, iron and sort of cook. Which was better than some kids his age. He looked thoughtful when Wicked pointed out that it was good that it was the guards blood on his shirt and not his. "True enough." He went to the sink and switched the cold tap on before fumbling around with the plug as he put it in. "I'll leave this to soak for a bit... and if all else fails I can get a new one." That was one thing he could guarantee. The tshirt was not special, a plain grey one he had gotten from Primark, so he was not too worried about having to replace it. Although there were no Primarks in America. He could easily someplace else.

The sound of Wicked's stomach reminded him of an important part of the morning that he had yet to see to; breakfast. He hadn't eaten since the day before and even then he had been too nervous to each much. So he was now very hungry and considering what he could have to eat. "Oh... We don't really have a schedule for that. Just whenever we get up. Meaning its time for breakfast now. You coming? I'm not good at cooking but I can make pancakes." he said as he headed for the door.
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Wicked
 Posted: Jan 31 2018, 06:25 PM
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Asking Wicked if she knew how to make her own clothes felt like asking a fish if it knew how to swim to her. Or a bird if it could fly. Sure, they all may not have been great at it at first. But, it was vital to their survival. It was what they did. She couldn’t remember a time when she didn’t sew and make things with a needle, thread, and fabric. Such a time had to exist, but Wicked couldn’t remember it. ”Hell yeah, I can make my own clothes. Don’t even need a pattern, but it’s helpful.” His question about regulations threw her through a loop. There’d always been regulations on what she could or couldn’t do to a garment in Genosha. No deviating from the pattern. No embellishments on work clothes she made. When she was allowed to do embellishments on the grander and more fun projects, they had to be of a certain kind. Sequins or beading or embroidery could only be of certain patterns. When it came to what she and the other prisoners wore, it was just the set of work clothes they’d been given. ”Like, what you’re allowed to wear?” She’d always had someone telling her what she could and couldn’t wear. Even before the camp, it’d been her parents. So, it just made sense to think that there was someone or some rules dictating what could and couldn’t be worn.

Rat mentioning that his parents had been the one to call him the name he went by now made her pause momentarially. She hadn’t really thought too much about her parents in a while. The image she had stored in her memory of her father was of his corpse lying there as the rest of the family was dragged into a van. Her mother’s face had been so tired when she’d last seen her. Thinner than it probably should have been. Her grandmother’s hands, lined with age and knotted with arthritis came to mind. Keeping her bottom lip from trembling took effort as her heart ached terribly at the recollection of her family. ”Mine was given to me by the guards.” As she thought about it, her voice got a lot softer as a realization hit her like the whips she’d become used to. ”I think I’m the only one left who remembers the name my parents gave me.” She’d been Wicked for so long. Sometimes, she forgot what her parents had called her. Hence having embroidered it into the inside of her shirt and keeping it close at all times. She couldn’t bear to let go of it.

Not the best at removing bloodstains, Wicked couldn’t offer any more advice for Rat in how to remove the blood from his shirt. She had gotten a decent look at it before he put it in the sink to soak. ”I can make you a new one, if you need one.” It didn’t look at all complicated. Her mind was already trying to take mental measurements and drawing out a pattern for the shirt. Some part of her mind balked at it and how incredibly mundane the whole garment would be. But, for once, she’d be making something because she wanted to. So, starting with simple wouldn’t be bad. Actually, she couldn’t help but perk up a bit just at the thought.

The potential of food helped too. Although, she gave Rat such a look as he told her that there wasn’t really a schedule. It was just people ate when they got up. It seemed almost like he was messing with her for a moment. But, he clearly wasn’t. ”Wait, are you telling me you eat whenever you want?” The very thought blew her mind. She’d had the times of breakfast and dinner pretty much carved into her brain for years and they were basically the only times she ate. She followed along behind Rat, wanting to see proof of this with her own eyes. ”Pancakes?” It wasn’t that she didn’t know what they were. She remembered pancakes. ”Last time I had those was another lifetime ago.”
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Rat
 Posted: Feb 2 2018, 12:27 PM
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"We don't seem to have any regulations here. Just wear actual clothes." That was what Rat had been told. As long as people weren't running around naked, no one at the base was bothered. As he was currently wearing jeans and a tshirt, with nothing on his feet and with his hair all messed up, Rat was a good example of the lack of rules about dress at the base. "And I guess its the same for outside of the base too, no one can tell you what to wear. Of course there are situations that would require things like formal clothing and shit like that, but that's a different matter." It was a bit more complex and mainly depended on the situation at hand. "'Sides, I think the guys here would let you make your own decisions on such things." If Wicked was old enough to fight for mutant rights, she was old enough to decide what clothes she wore.

The guards had given her the name Wicked Obviously to them it had been an insult. A reminder that there was something 'wrong' with her and that she was not 'normal' like they were. Bastards. At least she had taken it and made it her own. It suited her. "You took their insult and turned it back on them. That's cool." Not many people would have done that. Taking someone's insult and using it against them was pretty cool. It was sad that she was the only one who remembered the name her parents gave her. Given the way she spoke it was possible that they were dead. Maybe they had been mutants too and been killed for being different. "So which name do you prefer? The one your parents gave you or Wicked?" He really just wanted to know which was best to call her. Some people used both their codenames and the others names they had been given. This was a rather sad subject, and he thought of a way to try and lighten the subject. "If you want, I can tell you the name my parents gave me. I think only one other person here knows it." That other person was likely to be Elle, she had had found him and given her thing with computers she pretty much knew everything. Sometimes he was tempted to search for all kinds of weird things on the internet just to see if she would do or say anything. The only thing stopping him was the possibility of her preventing him from using the internet or installing one of those parental filter things.

The though of someone making a tshirt for him surprised Rat. He was so used to them being bought that he forget that people could actually make them at home. He had always figured it was hard to do, but it probably wasn't. If you had the right equipment it was probably easy. "Are tshirts easy to make? I have no idea about sewing. They tried to teach me in school but..." he let the sentence trail off. It was pretty obvious he had no idea about certain things.

"Yeah, pretty much. Some people here keep to a schedule, others just... whenever they feel hungry." Rat had a sort of schedule to his meals, he tried to keep them roughly when they should be. It was sad to think that it would have been a long time ago when Wicked last got to choose what she had for breakfast, or even probably how much she was allowed to eat. Judging by the look of the ones that had been freed, they weren't exactly well fed.

The kitchen was clean and by the looks of it, no one had used it since the day before. That was good. Being the first ones up had some advantages, mainly that everything was clean. Rat flicked on the tv for a bit of background noise. There were cartoons on and cartoons were good. Better than watching the news anyway. "Right... we need... flour, sugar, milk, eggs and butter..." he said as he dug around in the cupboard and the fridge for the ingredients. Thankfully they had them and he began weighing out what they needed. During his time cleaning he had found various recipe cards and books and had stuffed them into a cupboard. No sense in having them all over the place. These proved useful, as otherwise he would have been guessing the weights of what they needed and that was not a good idea. He had discovered that a bit ago when he had tried to make brownies. That had been a disaster. While he melted the butter, he turned to Wicked, "You know this will be the first time I've made pancakes for about a year. They're kind of annual thing in Britain for some reason."
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Wicked
 Posted: Feb 17 2018, 05:03 PM
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There were no regulations. No. Regulations. No rules. No one telling her what she could and couldn’t wear. She could wear anything she wanted to. As that sunk in, the biggest grin came across her face, only to fall away when she began pondering what did she want to wear? Wicked had yet to realize it, but she hadn’t gotten the chance to really play with what she wore and figure out what her personal style was. She’d been wearing the same outfit for 11 years. Before that, her clothing had been dictated by her parents. She knew other clothes existed. She sure made enough of them. She knew what fabrics she liked to work with. What styles she liked making over others. And colors, she liked black. But, she wasn’t opposed to pops of other colors. There was a difference between what she liked to make and what looked good on her though. What she felt comfortable in. For the first time in over a decade, she could wear the clothes she made. That was such an exciting prospect.

Nodding her head that yeah, she had taken what was meant to be an insult and turned it on the guards, Wicked smiled again. She even let out a bit of a laugh as she remembered something. ”Yeah, they were fucking pissed when I started doing. Not as pissed as when I bit off part of their ears, though.” No regrets, there. That fucker had deserved it and more. ”Actually, I think it was that guy who started it.” That sounded about right. Rat’s question of which name she prefered threw her through another mental loop. She had to take a moment to think about it. ”I’m not sure.” She’d been Wicked for years now. While her birth name was probably in some Genoshan government file somewhere, it wasn’t in the forefront of anyone else’s memory but her own. She’d stitched her name carefully into her shirt so she wouldn’t lose it So she wouldn’t forget. It was the one thing she had left of her life before the camp. ”You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Wicked had enough of being forced to do things she hadn’t wanted to. The last thing she wanted was to force anyone to do that unless they were assholes. In which case, fuck ‘em. ”Mine’s Chae-Young.” A warm feeling surged through her as she said it. Comforting tingles danced down her spine and through her limbs. It was nice to say it out loud again.

Wicked shrugged her shoulders when asked if shirts were hard to make. ”I don’t think they are. But, I’ve been sewing since.. Ever. And that’s kinda what I do, make clothes.” Rat’s mention of school elicited a gasp from her. ”Holy shit, that’s right. School!” She’d gone to school, a long time ago. ”I haven’t even thought about school in ages.” There’d been a time when it had taken up a good chunk of day and then bled into the rest of her day as well. But that’d been another lifetime ago.

Waling into the kitchen, Wicked had to just stop and stare at everything. It wasn’t her first time in a kitchen. It was just the first time she’d been in one in a long ass time. There’d been one at the camp. But, she’d never seen it. The guards probably hadn’t wanted her near any sharp implements but her sewing scissors which were carefully watched. Or maybe they’d thought she’d try and poison the food. The latter really hadn’t been likely, as it would have meant also poisoning her brethren. She took a step back in surprise at the TV turning on. She just watched Rat as he moved around the kitchen, gathering ingredients ang working on making the pancakes. ”Is that where you’re from, Britain? And it’s an annual thing to make pancakes there? Huh. Is it for a holiday or a festival or something? Like New Year’s?”
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Rat
 Posted: Feb 18 2018, 06:04 PM
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"You bit off part of someone's ears?!" Rat definitely wanted to hear about that. It sounded like Wicked had been doing a good job of defending herself before she had been freed. She was tough and was likely to do well in the Brotherhood. "Just out of curiosity, is it hard to rip bite off part of an ear?" Weird thing to be curious about but he couldn't help it. Part of him thought it would be a useful thing to know in case he ever got in a situation where taking an ear off would be useful. It was pretty cool that she had taken off part of the ear from the jerk that had insulted her. And to add insult to injury, she had taken the name he had given her and claimed it as hers.

"If you ever find you prefer one over the other just let me know." Rat was one of those people who knew how annoying it was when people insisted on calling you a name you didn't like. It had taken a while for many people to realise that he hated the name his parents had given him and preferred his nickname. Scraggy often had similar problems. He leaned forwards and in a low tone said. "My 'real' name is Arnold. You can see why I prefer Rat." In his mind Arnold was an old man name. Also the name of annoying character in Red Dwarf. Or the name of an actor who had been popular years ago and was now... kind of meh. “Granted its not the worst name imaginable, in fact my little brother has a worse name, but I just hate it.” He stopped when he heard her name, Chae-Young... that was quite a nice name. “Chae-Young...” he said slowly, sounding it out. “That’s nice.”


Rat laughed when she mentioned school. He had really enjoyed not being in school. He was still learning things but in a different way. “I don’t think anyone here is bothered about school. I haven’t been since I came here and there appears to be no plan to make me go. Beside’s, if I want to learn something I can ask here if people know anything about it or use the internet, or a book.” Both methods were good. He felt the internet was a bit quicker but for some things he would gladly get a book. “But... if you want to go back to school, there probably is a way.”

While Wicked gazed around the kitchen, Rat set about making breakfast. She was free to look about for as long as she wanted. If she was going to be living there it was a good idea to get acquainted with the place after all. Making pancakes was sort of easy, for some reason the recipe had stayed in his head and he carefully measured out the ingredients before sifting all the dry ingredients together and putting the butter in the microwave to melt it. “Yup, I’m from the north of Britain. From Yorkshire to be specific.” He whisked the wet ingredients together as he considered the best way to answer her other question. “It’s um.... meant to be the start of Lent or something. I dunno what that is, something to do with the church and starts in February, I think, anyway they wouldn’t have the stuff that goes into pancakes for a certain amount of time so day before Lent started, they’d make pancakes so they used up all the ingredients or something.” he mixed the batter and laughed. “Of course, no one really bothers with Lent anymore, we just have the day we make pancakes and carry on making them. Pancake day is celebrated and no one really cares what it used to mean. No one I know cares anyway.”

When the batter was ready, he got out the frying pan and added some butter to melt. This was the harder part, making the pancakes and not getting them stuck to the pan. He was aiming to make the smaller, thicker ones as they were easier to do. Nothing worse than getting breaking fast stuck to the ceiling. “Right... this is just about ready.. would you mind grabbing a couple of plates? They‘re in that cupboard” he gestured towards the cupboard and added some of the batter to the pan. “These shouldn’t be too long.” Once that was done he could find the maple syrup, apparently you couldn’t have pancakes without them.
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Wicked
 Posted: Feb 23 2018, 05:55 PM
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Nodding her head, Wicked affirmed that she sure had bit off part of someone’s ears. That guy had totally deserved it. Rat seemed surprised by this, but to her, it was just a thing that had happened. One of many times when she had needed to take matters of defending herself and others into her own hands. Or, in this case, it’d been her teeth. She shrugged her shoulders as if to say she wasn’t exactly sure. At the time of that incident, which had been one of the more memorable ones, she hadn’t been really focusing on how hard it was to inflict the damage. She’d just been a bundle of adrenaline, rage, hatred, and pain. ”I mean, it isn’t impossible. S’not super easy either but also not super hard. I kind of wasn’t paying a lot of attention at the time. I was in a very fuck you, you giant bag of shit mode.” Kind of her default setting, actually. Rat didn’t need to know that. ”Wouldn’t suggest it though. Tasted gross.”

If Wicked hadn’t already decided that she liked Rat, she sure had now. He was the first person in a long time to give her a choice in who she wanted to be. What she wanted to be called. And he was down with respecting whatever she picked? Yeah, he was cool. The name his parents gave him however, she wasn’t sure about. Tilting her head as she considered the name Arnold, she just ended up shrugging her shoulders again. ”I don’t think it’s the worst name in the world. I mean, coulda been Dick.” Cracking a massive grin, she knew all the jokes that would have invited. She’d sure has hell have wanted to go by a different name if she’d been named that. Arnold, maybe? A warm sort of swelling sensation filled her chest as Rat said her name was nice. It took her off guard for a second as she tried to place it. Flattery and compliments had been few and far between in the camp. Wicked wasn’t used to them or the sense of pride that came with it. Her gut instinct was to be suspicious of Rat and wonder what he wanted. But, he had been cool so far. So, she didn’t say anything, yet.

No one here at the Brotherhood was bothered about school? That was good. Wicked didn’t exactly miss it. She didn’t remember a lot about school, to be honest. She hadn’t gone long enough to have a bunch of memories. ”I don’t want to go back. I’d just forgotten about it.” Education hadn’t really been a concern in the camp. As long as Wicked knew how to do her job, that was all the education she needed. ”Dunno if they’d let me even if I wanted to.” She didn’t know how it was here, but back home, she was pretty sure mutants weren’t allowed in schools.

The cartoons had caught her attention more than anything else. Fast paced with zany actions that people weren’t normally capable of. And the bright colors. So vibrant. So alive! Turning her attention back to Rat as he was telling her bout where he was from with a ”Huh?” He was from someplace called Yorkshire. ”Yorkshire.” She repeated it, the name seeming odd to her. What would a place called Yorkshire look like? Her mental picture of it had hills, people in weird overalls, and brick roads. Truthfully, she probably couldn’t find Britain on a map without help. But the mention of Lent struck a chord with her. She remembered getting dragged to church. ”I know Lent! It’s the time leading up to Easter or something.” She remembered Easter, at least. ”So, does that mean that whenever you make pancakes is pancake day?” Every day could be pancake day by that logic.

Craning her neck as she watched him make the pancakes and add butter to the pan, she stopped to look towards the cupboard Rat had mentioned. ”Sure.” Going on over to it, she yanked the door of the cupboard open and nearly smacked herself in the face, jumping back just in time to avoid that with a small yelp. Cabinets and the like had more weight to them in the camp, probably to deter prisoners from trying to take things from them. Not that there weren’t other deterrents for that as well. Once she got over being momentarily startled, Wicked got two plates from the cupboard and closed it. This time she kept in mind that it was lighter than she expected. Carrying them on over to where Rat was making the pancakes, she held them out. ”Wait, are they called pancakes because you make them in a pan?” Holy shit, that’d make a lot of sense.
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