well, I'm having to rework mine because of Cheshire's post about going home. lol. here's what it was:
Loren
Location: Vanguard headquarters, dormitories. Condition: uninjured, hungry. Company: None she knows of.
Loren's bag dropped onto the bed in the room that, for the time being, looked good enough to be hers. At least it was mostly vacant. The entire facility was eerily empty, quiet. While yes, the Vanguard compound was occupied, it's inhabitants- former inhabitants were no more. Only some staff remained, operatives from local and foreign governments. The dark blonde dropped the shoulder strap with a clutter of buttons and buckles atop the bulging duffel.
"This room used to…" the man at the door behind her started speaking.
"Don't tell me, please," Loren interrupted him.
She didn't want to know who had previously slept in that room. It wasn't like purchasing a used car and hearing who the previous owner was… most of the time it's not assumed the previous owner was dead. That the small knickknacks left scattered around were forgotten remnants of someone who wasn't supposed to go.
Everyone knew the great price the heroes paid last year. They were revered, held up as the epitome of what humanity could offer. Heroes true to the word. But they'd been people. And… she didn't want to think of… the situation nor the kind of lives they led. It was easier to think of going into Vanguard when they weren't people. Easier to think of her own role and her own possible fate.
"Why's there so much stuff left behind?" she asked, turning to face the man.
Sam Rutgers was a Fed and looked every bit like the disgruntled, overworked stereotype. Aging, in his fifties, with gray hair, slow way of speech and a complete loss of all emotions drained from him decades ago. The man was capable of sympathy and such, he'd looked out after Loren for a good bit and even had facilitated her coming to Vanguard to begin with, but without knowing him personally, the tall, weathered figure would just come off as… exhausted.
"No one knows what to do with it or wants to touch it. Some believe some of them will come back. Or… hope they will. It's a big risk for Vanguard to reach out to so many others. Implies that they are truly gone even if that's what most people think. Hope… can be a cancer sometimes."
"Yeah," she passively agreed, thinking back on the hearing the news herself.
Loren had been living the mild life of a teacher for the last year. History turned out to be a sort of passion of hers, as she loved learning about how the world got to where it was and why. Modern historians were still trying to piece together everything that happened to humanity in the last decade alone. She'd spent most of it trying to remain hidden but keeping up with current events all the same as if she'd one day have to help write them.
The program she was involuntarily a part of was gutted, shutdown, forgotten. She hoped at least that was true. Rutgers had never been part of that program, but when it first faltered, he'd stepped in to help her get back into civilization as everything else was begin shuttered and dismantled, redirected. Along with others who'd been supposed victims, she was isolated and kept to a quiet life where perhaps they too could be forgotten.
"I… managed to scrounge something up from the program for you. Should be arriving tomorrow."
"What?" Loren asked, curious as to anything from her time there could be worth digging up and worthy enough that Rutgers was giving it to her.
"Your old coil suit. I know, you probably don't want to see something like that."
"The Magnetron Suit?"
"Horrible name, I know. But the techs here can work with it. Get you something more comfortable, I'm sure. You'll need an outfit… a new name too, I'm sure."
Her uncertain expression resulted in a shrug from the man.
"I'm heading out. You've got my number should you need… in case this doesn't pan out like they think it should."
"Thanks, Sam."
Loren left her bags in the first room, grateful it was mostly empty. Seemed capable of housing two people but only had one bed. She'd never gone to college, never lived much on her own before, so she wasn't sure what life in a dorm was like, really. Vanguard's dormitories were… supposed to be pretty nice compared to other living spaces that used the same term.
She found weight rooms, pools, courts, wrestling mats and hard rooms, whatever those were. A lounge with enough space that seemed a couple dozen people could occupy themselves without having to come within several yards of someone else. But mostly… emptiness. While some rooms appeared like someone lived there, she wasn't sure they were still… alive. How many supers had actually been there to begin with? Several dozen rooms were available, but only one wing was open.
A growling of her stomach told her she needed to eat. Her scale indicated she was down ten pounds already… so it was definitely time to check out what Vanguard provided in terms of a food. A young guy polishing one of the floors with a machine, and appearing like he wasn't sure how it worked, was rather surprised to see her there but directed her toward what turned out to be a very empty cafeteria.
Settling on walking out into the city, Loren grabbed her hoodie and made her way out to find something to satisfy her hunger.
Location: Vanguard headquarters, dormitories. Condition: uninjured, hungry. Company: None she knows of.
155 lbs. Wearing loose-fitting light blue jeans, a white knit top with a scoop neck and white off-brand running shoes. She has a gray pullover hoodie with her hair pulled back under a purple floral headband. No makeup on at this time.
Loren's bag dropped onto the bed in the room that, for the time being, looked good enough to be hers. At least it was mostly vacant. The entire facility was eerily empty, quiet. While yes, the Vanguard compound was occupied, it's inhabitants- former inhabitants were no more. Only some staff remained, operatives from local and foreign governments. The dark blonde dropped the shoulder strap with a clutter of buttons and buckles atop the bulging duffel.
"This room used to…" the man at the door behind her started speaking.
"Don't tell me, please," Loren interrupted him.
She didn't want to know who had previously slept in that room. It wasn't like purchasing a used car and hearing who the previous owner was… most of the time it's not assumed the previous owner was dead. That the small knickknacks left scattered around were forgotten remnants of someone who wasn't supposed to go.
Everyone knew the great price the heroes paid last year. They were revered, held up as the epitome of what humanity could offer. Heroes true to the word. But they'd been people. And… she didn't want to think of… the situation nor the kind of lives they led. It was easier to think of going into Vanguard when they weren't people. Easier to think of her own role and her own possible fate.
"Why's there so much stuff left behind?" she asked, turning to face the man.
Sam Rutgers was a Fed and looked every bit like the disgruntled, overworked stereotype. Aging, in his fifties, with gray hair, slow way of speech and a complete loss of all emotions drained from him decades ago. The man was capable of sympathy and such, he'd looked out after Loren for a good bit and even had facilitated her coming to Vanguard to begin with, but without knowing him personally, the tall, weathered figure would just come off as… exhausted.
"No one knows what to do with it or wants to touch it. Some believe some of them will come back. Or… hope they will. It's a big risk for Vanguard to reach out to so many others. Implies that they are truly gone even if that's what most people think. Hope… can be a cancer sometimes."
"Yeah," she passively agreed, thinking back on the hearing the news herself.
Loren had been living the mild life of a teacher for the last year. History turned out to be a sort of passion of hers, as she loved learning about how the world got to where it was and why. Modern historians were still trying to piece together everything that happened to humanity in the last decade alone. She'd spent most of it trying to remain hidden but keeping up with current events all the same as if she'd one day have to help write them.
The program she was involuntarily a part of was gutted, shutdown, forgotten. She hoped at least that was true. Rutgers had never been part of that program, but when it first faltered, he'd stepped in to help her get back into civilization as everything else was begin shuttered and dismantled, redirected. Along with others who'd been supposed victims, she was isolated and kept to a quiet life where perhaps they too could be forgotten.
"I… managed to scrounge something up from the program for you. Should be arriving tomorrow."
"What?" Loren asked, curious as to anything from her time there could be worth digging up and worthy enough that Rutgers was giving it to her.
"Your old coil suit. I know, you probably don't want to see something like that."
"The Magnetron Suit?"
"Horrible name, I know. But the techs here can work with it. Get you something more comfortable, I'm sure. You'll need an outfit… a new name too, I'm sure."
Her uncertain expression resulted in a shrug from the man.
"I'm heading out. You've got my number should you need… in case this doesn't pan out like they think it should."
"Thanks, Sam."
Loren left her bags in the first room, grateful it was mostly empty. Seemed capable of housing two people but only had one bed. She'd never gone to college, never lived much on her own before, so she wasn't sure what life in a dorm was like, really. Vanguard's dormitories were… supposed to be pretty nice compared to other living spaces that used the same term.
She found weight rooms, pools, courts, wrestling mats and hard rooms, whatever those were. A lounge with enough space that seemed a couple dozen people could occupy themselves without having to come within several yards of someone else. But mostly… emptiness. While some rooms appeared like someone lived there, she wasn't sure they were still… alive. How many supers had actually been there to begin with? Several dozen rooms were available, but only one wing was open.
A growling of her stomach told her she needed to eat. Her scale indicated she was down ten pounds already… so it was definitely time to check out what Vanguard provided in terms of a food. A young guy polishing one of the floors with a machine, and appearing like he wasn't sure how it worked, was rather surprised to see her there but directed her toward what turned out to be a very empty cafeteria.
Settling on walking out into the city, Loren grabbed her hoodie and made her way out to find something to satisfy her hunger.
