<div class="floatleft">(http://origincache-ash.fbcdn.net/928248_636543246434014_1836941014_a.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Benson "Bence" Marconi<br/><strong>Alias:</strong>Red Ranger<br/><strong>Time/Date:</strong>October 1st, 8:45AM<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Room and then headed for the field/track<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Open<strong>Mention:</strong>Kara<br/><hr/><br/><br/>The walk back to his room had been peaceful once he had managed to get away from the other telepaths. Telepaths? No; that was just crazy talk. The further he got away from the others, the more he felt normal. The world just felt right again. In the end, he was still tired, and he intended to catch up on the sleep he had lost last night at the club. The doors of his dorm room swished open as he passed through them, the security cameras analyzing his face to make sure that he was a regular. As he crossed the lobby into the warp elevator, a man who was apparently in a hurry attempted to enter the elevator behind him, but was a few seconds too late and missed the ride.<br/><br/>Bence stepped out of the elevator on the third floor and headed to his dorm room with a sluggish gait. He rubbed at his eyes as a yawn forced its way out of his mouth.<br/><br/><em>Shit, I need some sleep</em>, he thought desperately. Removing his keycard, he swiped into his room and couldn’t have been any happier when the doors swished open. Just any old day, he thought to himself. Without removing his clothes, he went straight for his bed and spread his arms to flop facedown across his mattress. He low-crawled over to his pillow and embraced it, hugging it against his face with a content smile as he closed his eyes and decided to forget that day as though it didn’t even happen.<br/><br/>It hadn’t even been five minutes before he clocked out. The prospective chef was snoring softly as though Professor Lapere had been reciting a French lullaby to him.<br/><br/>(http://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjQ0LmM4MjcxOS5RbUZ1WnlFLC4w/cartoon-toy.regular.png)<br/><br/>(http://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjQ0LmM4MjcxOS5RbUZ1WnlFLC4w/cartoon-toy.regular.png)<br/><br/>(http://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjQ0LmM4MjcxOS5RbUZ1WnlFLC4w/cartoon-toy.regular.png)<br/><br/>Bence’s eyes flew wide awake and he raised his head to stare over at his dormitory door in wide-eyed confusion. The confusion twisted into irritation as he wondered who had the audacity to be banging on his bedroom door as though they were worth a damn.<br/><br/>“Oh my god…” Bence moaned as he barely made an effort to budge from his mattress.<br/><br/>When the banging came louder—so loud that he actually became a little fearful that the asshole would break down his door—Bence abruptly sat upwards and growled, “It better be the fuckin’ cops.”<br/><br/>Rising from his bed, he approached his dorm door and rubbing at his eyes, he asked, “Who is it?”<br/><br/>As his hand reached for the door terminal to open it, it paused when a deep voice entered his mind:<span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: times new roman;"><em>Don’t answer it!</em></span><br/><br/>The voice made the hairs on the back of Bence’s neck stand on end. The voice sounded as though it was right behind him. Where was he? In prison? He swore someone was planning to rape his asshole. As he slowly turned disturbed eyes over his shoulder and saw no one, he silently looked up, down, left, and right…was he going insane?<br/><br/>The banging continued and the voice spoke again, this time he recognized it to be coming from his own skull…his own being,<span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: times new roman;"><em>You’re in danger. You need to leave.</em></span><br/><br/>Becoming even more scared, Bence grasped his skull and panicked, “What the fuck is happenin’ to me? Am I on some fucked up drug? Am I still at the club and just drugged out on some serious shit?”<br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: times new roman;"><em>Benson Marconi…this is not a dream and you’re not on drugs. You are completely healthy.</em></span><br/><br/>“Who the fuck are you? Are you some rapey guy somewhere trynna’ fuck with my head?” he exclaimed.<br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: times new roman;"><em>You do not find my voice suitable?</em></span><br/><br/>“No! It’s freakin’ me out!”<br/><br/>Suddenly, the voice in his head sounded feminine. It sounded like a matured woman and he thought he was listening to some sexy infomercial about a new hotline. Bence actually blushed a little upon hearing it.<br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: times new roman;"><em>How about now? You seem to be quite responsive to this voice.</em></span><br/><br/>“Different voice!” Bence demanded in his embarrassment. The banging on the door was getting on his nerves and he made another motion to open the door, but had felt a sudden resistance in his muscles. His hand had stopped of its own accord.<br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: times new roman;"><em>Don’t Bence!</em></span><br/><br/>The voice sounded like a little boy. He could tolerate that.<br/><br/>Bence stared down at his hand and retracted it, raising it before his face to inspect it.<br/><br/>“Did you…control me?” he questioned. “Where are you? Are you next door?”<br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: times new roman;"><em>I am you, Bence. This isn’t a good time to talk about this. We have to get out of here.</em></span><br/><br/>“Why? What’s goin’ on? What the<em>fuck</em>is goin’ on here?” he questioned.<br/><br/>Bence’s dorm door was suddenly kicked so hard that it bent inwards, startling the chef before a second kick sent the metal door flying into him. The slider door smacked into him, causing him to wince and stagger backwards. Bence continued to step backwards and rested a hand against his forehead, one of the places where the door had knocked against, and stared at the rather large fellow that marched into his room. He looked like one of the cadets from the war college, donning a military green shirt and gray university sweatpants. His brown hair was military cut and his tags bounced against his chest. He was just about as ripped as he was.<br/><br/>“What the fuck guy? You kicked in my door!” Bence growled.<em>Holy fuck, this guy must be strong as shit!</em><br/><br/>The cadet rested his hands upon Bence’s shoulders and the grip that Bence had felt made him tense with fright. This guy who came out of nowhere wanted to fight him. But why? What had he even done? Bence’s face paled a little. Wait…was he Kara’s boyfriend or some shit? He couldn’t think of anything else. But hadn’t she given her number to everyone? Why was he targeted!?<br/><br/>“Woah, hey…are you Kara’s boyfriend?”<br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: times new roman;"><em>Bence, I’m taking over</em></span>, came his little conscience or whatever it was that was talking to him.<br/><br/>“Huh?” he uttered in confusion.<br/><br/>Bence’s forearms swung upwards to knock against the cadet’s elbows, freeing his violent grip, and ripping his hoodie in the process. After Bence’s arms had flew up to free himself of the cadet’s grip, his palms forcefully thrusted out at the cadet’s chest, causing him to stagger backwards. Bence froze there with his hands thrust out and mouth agape in speechless awe at what had just happened. He hadn’t even done anything. Well, he did, but he didn’t. That hadn’t been him!<br/><br/>The cadet’s face flushed red as he threw the pieces of cloth aside.<br/><br/>“It…it wasn’t me!” Bence attempted to explain.<br/><br/>The cadet charged him, throwing a fist at him. Bence’s hand pushed the side of the cadet’s fist aside and the back of his other fist, slapped against the cadet’s face. The blow had been strong, causing the cadet’s head to turn from the impact. Bence saw saliva and blood spurt from the guy’s lips, frightening him a little.<br/><br/>“I’m sorry! It’s not me I swear!”<br/><br/>The cadet swung at him two more times and both swings were similarly countered until the cadet with an enraged roar raised his leg to send a Spartan kick aimed at Bence’s chest. Bence crossed his arms in an X before his chest. His forearms absorbed the blow, but the strength of the kick had been so paranormally strong that his feet left the floor. Bence flew back with a wince. His back met the window and the glass gave around him. His back felt open air as the clatter and clang of glass filled his ears. The wind howled as he fell three stories from his room. His arms uncrossed and his knees rose toward his chest, sending his body into a backflip before he landed on the grassy turf below. He landed feet first, his knees bending, lowering his stance into a crouch as his hand slammed against the ground to catch himself. The earth beneath his feet burst with synthetic grass and dirt and sank a foot beneath him. The seams of his pants couldn’t hold out any longer as they split at the back and sides. Bence felt the breeze licking at the openings in his poor pants, but he was so stunned…speechless…<br/><br/>Did he just fall three stories and survive?<br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: times new roman;"><em>Bence!</em></span><br/><br/>Bence stared down at the sunken ground beneath himself and slowly straightened. He gazed at his fist full of grass and allowed it to drop from his hands.<br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: times new roman;"><em>Bence! We have to go! More are coming!</em></span><br/><br/>Bence’s eyes rose from the grass to those students around him. Some were standing there looking just as awe-struck as he was, and then there were those quickly walking toward him. They were wearing the same look the cadet had worn. Bence glanced up to his window and saw the cadet glaring down at him.<br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: times new roman;"><em>Run Bence! Don’t let them catch you!</em></span><br/><br/>Glancing back at the students that were now jogging toward him, Bence quickly turned to run toward the field. He figured that he had to go somewhere big and crowded. No one would attack him in public would they? He felt the breeze more than ever filtering through his torn pants, and he grasped them, trying to hold them up to hide his boxers as he ran.<br/><br/>“This is so fucked up,” Bence complained. Nothing was making sense!