<hr/><div class="floatleft">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/85/e9/b1/85e9b1ed6621e1895679e71ed3c61a00.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Gabriel Alexander Summers | Vulcan<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Ms. Desjardins’ psychology classroom -<strong>COPING SKILLS</strong><br/><strong>Date/Time:</strong>Tusday September 9th - 7:35 AM<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Tessa Cantrell, Bridgette Desjardins, Neena Thurman<br/><strong>Content:</strong>Fascinated about the class<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Outfit (http://lj.mf-image.ru/d/eyJ0IjoiMjAxNy0wNC0wMlQwNTo1MDowMS4zNjcyMTQyWiIsInRtIjoxNSwiYmQiOjEsImZkIjo1NTcyNTMsInJmIjpudWxsLCJzbCI6MCwiZm4iOm51bGwsInIiOiJodHRwOi8vbXktZmlsZXMucnUvaXFtcGk2IiwibCI6bnVsbH0,.67362FF2B67BEC05F5ED04A20EFAF3E7./qw32NqT9yTs.jpg)<br/><hr/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> 7:35am was the earliest time some people thought existed; he could see it on the faces of some of the students here in class with him. Ms. Desjardins though looked as perky and chipper as he did. He was usually up no later than 5am(if he was lazy), so this was nothing to him. He was simply excited about the experience like he was about most things since coming back to Earth. He said hello in response to their teacher, easily understanding her accent after a lifetime of hearing far more harsh and exotic ones.<br/><br/> Attendance for this class had taken a deep nosedive, but a few dedicated students were still here to learn, him included. He was actually excited to share experiences and memories. Many of his were awful, horrible things to relive. But burying them wouldn't help him get better. Getting it out would. Not only had he been told that by professionals, but he felt it as well. Deep in his gut he knew telling people about his life would help him truly come to terms with what he was, what he'd lived through. <br/><br/>He looked at Neena when Ms. Desjardins was done talking, and cleared his throat. "Well, actually mutants <em>are</em> human, despite what the racists say. We're separated from "baseline" humanity by basically the same genome percentile difference that makes someone black or white, or have blue eyes. One extra genome for us though and we get unbelievable super powers. We're still human...it's just that from the studies I've read of this world. And even back on Chandrilar...if someone is equal to you, but different. <br/><br/>That difference can and usually is used as an excuse for violence. And that difference turns to fear, anger, resentment, for whatever reason. And it becomes a divide. Whites did it to blacks and other races. Rich did it to the poor. Japanese did it to Chinese. It's just a cycle of difference breeds hate, and...sorry," he stopped as he realized he'd gotten way off track. "That's politics and ethics. Uh, since my foot's already in my mouth, I can go first?" He cleared he throat before standing up. <br/><br/>"For everyone who doesn't know me personally, I'm Gabriel Summers. Salem is my big sister. And yes, the stories and rumors are true. I was abducted along with our parents when I was still in the womb. We were taken to an alien planet. And I was...well I was a slave for the Emperor up until a few months ago. His personal slave. Bodyguard. Poison tester. Anything awful, demeaning and sadistic you can think of. That was my life." They were free to check with Xavier, or any of the other staff who had run the tests and confirmed he was telling the truth. What reason did he have to lie? <br/><br/>"I remember once. D'Ken was visitng the slums, just to help his popularity among the poor. He felt I was the only protection he needed, so the rest of the Imperial Guard stayed behind. We'd been sightseeing for about an hour. That's when a man and woman jumped out of the crowd. They were screaming about vengeance for their son who'd been killed in the pits. They had knives; they were going to kill him. They were going to kill our Emperor. I didn't even think. I just reacted, like they trained me. I hurt them both, but I didn't want to kill them. D'Ken didn't give me that choice, though. He...he killed them himself to prove a point. It was agonizing how he did it. Slow. He wouldn't even let me look away while they...while they screamed and begged anyone passing by for help, for justice." <br/><br/>Finally his voice trembled and it was clear that as calm as he'd been, these still held sway over young Vulcan. "After he brutalized them, he commanded their bodies be left in the streets as a warning. They rotted there for <em>weeks</em> until it finally became a health hazard. And that...that was an average day for me. I've got, I've got stories for days. But almost all of them are just like this. Is that okay? To keep telling them?"<br/><br/></span>