Welcome to Gaia! ::

The Good Guys:

Name: Jake Mason Connor. Overlord of the Universe.
Age: Not yet old enough.
Appearance: Black hair, blue eyes, pale, anemic. Sinister, some might say.
Occupation: Creating schemes to take over the world.

Name: Flora Cassandra Dex. Also known as Dex.
Age: Under-eighteens womens tackle football club vice-president.
Appearance: Cropped brown hair, brown eyes, mean.
Occupation: Evil sidekick to the cause.

Name: Arthur Lloyd Jason Smith. Also known as Art.
Age: Youngest president of the chess-club. Ever.
Appearance: Blond hair, brown eyes, black-framed narrow glasses. Has a limp. Nerdy or Geeky but at the same time... innocent.
Occupation: Intel and Info.


THE ENEMY

Name: Benjamin Reichardt.
Age: Oldest male in the school football league.
Appearance: Dumb glint in his eye, ridiculously short hair, too much muscle.
Occupation: Dumbass repeater for three years. Sport-nut.

Name: Melissa Lucia Jabobs. Also known as Minnie.
Age: That age.
Appearance: Anorexic, fake blonde, fake tan. Flirty, disgusting, cruel.
Occupation: Cheerleader, and worlds largest loudmouth. b***h.

Name: The Posse. Also known as the minions.
Age: Faked.
Appearance: Minnie-clones.
Occupation: Worthless followers of the Enemy.


How I hate the enemy. I hate the lot of them, and imagine their souls burning, or rotting, yes, rotting away in fiery hell reserved only for those who oppose an evil genius. As they teetered like small insects of the tinted-green grass of the school's sports oval, I glared at their forms, their shapes, even their white colours which they deserved, the so-said 'superheroes'.
"Jake, you're brooding again." I looked at the Intelligence Officer, who sometimes didn't appear to be that intelligent.
"Art, mind your own. I'm not brooding!" Art just shook his head. We squatted like lowly pigs on the food-smothered benches of the school's one and only pull-apart and indeed breakable grandstand. Chewing gum forming a thick gooey layer on the bottom of all the seats here was probably the only thing that still kept it together. Oh, how unhygienic it all was! But the only reason we were here was because of Dex. She was down there, a strand of grass amongst the stones. Fortunately, this particular strand of grass tackled the s**t out of the sport-headed stones. I hope she broke some noses. Knowing Dex, she would have as well.
"Yeah, you were," Art objected. Imagine, objecting to a genius such as I! So I hit him, and he almost fell off of his seat, glasses going askew and clattering to the floor that was inlaid with the dirt and s**t tramped by thousands of sport-fan's boots. He laughed anyway. "Told you so. You always hit me when I pick up on your lies. What's got you down today?" I glared at the ground as Art crouched painfully to retrieve his specs. Deformed bones. Pain when he walked. Takes calcium pills, muscle relaxant and Panadol before he goes to bed every night. Probably why he joined the chess club, debating teem, book club, and is known to spend time after school helping out in the library, and sorting out student profiles and portfolio's for the office. He deserved to be a nerd anyway, with a name like Arther Lloyd Jason.
"Nothing," I replied... broodily. Fixing his frames, Art stood and called a loud cheer as Dex flew at a boy twice her sizeand tackled him to the ground, foot strategically and 'innocently' placed between his legs and an elbow in the middle of his face. She grabbed the ball and dodged forward.
"Stop lying." I reached up and hit him again. He rubbed his undersized cranium that housed an oversized brain, and sat down. His hair falling over his eyes, he made his thinking noise - a clicking of his tongue that sounded like he was a leech sucking at something juicy and full of blood. Damn it was both disgusting and irritating. "I'm going to say that you were bullied again yesterday, by Benjamin." I scowled. Alright, he was good."You were late to lunch - and the office records state that you went to sickbay, claiming to have fallen down the B-block stairs when it's well known that you do not have any classes in B-block. Benjamin glared at you as you walked into the school just now, and you're late for your lunch detention with Mister Harker."

Regret. I suppose I should have felt this foreign emotion, but anything to spite Benjamin via words felt good in any universe. It was sure as hell is frozen that no muscle except for Dex's could hurt that hulking mass of flesh. I suppose I should have felt regret that he had blackened my eye, split my lip and almost broken my arm so I looked like something out of one of those idiotic teenage sitcoms, but it was Friday. And Friday was bitchy-scheme night, this time at Dex's house.
People who know Miss Flora for who she i, would not expect the pink walls of her bedroom, nor the jewelry on the desk, and large mirror decorated with sparkles. The makeup pile in a corner on the floor, the mountain of stuffed toys placed everywhere, the multitudes of floral dresses, and not a football or soccer poster in sight - instead, dominated by pop-boy bands and fairy-princesses. It certainly seemed out of place, considering that this was Dex's room, and that not many people knew that Dex had a sister, and that they shared. Dex's bed was just a fold-out that was kept underneath Harriet's bed. If Art and my own reaction were anything to go of, it was very, very shocking to see Dex in her tackle-gear perching on the edge of a bright pink and purple doona cover featuring princess Barbie.
She tossed a Soccer ball at us when we entered her house. I ducked, so it hit Art in the face. He would be lucky if his glasses didn't break.
"Jakey boy, 'sup?" Somebody pull your hair? Steal your nose again?" I scowled at her.
"That was in kindergarten, Flora," I replied quickly. Of course, it was reason enough to almost drown the poor kid in the kindergarten toilets for the old gag of nose-stealing. Speaking of which, he never did give me back my nose. Dex jumped up and slapped me hard, across the face. I suppose I deserved it, and she grinned as she committed the crime. That little sadist! Then again, she was taller than I was. Art entered the fluorescent bedroom, playing with his face and bouncing the ball with one hand, extremely uncoordinated as the ball missed his hand and went for the mirror. Dex dove and caught it, rolling into the middle of the room and standing in a movement that would shame the best gymnasts. Flora hated the name Flora almost as much I did Jakey, and Art, Arthur.
"Benjamin again, Jakey?" Alack, I hate pet names, but Jakey appears to have been engraved into my forehead, as everyone either addresses me as such, or Connor. I wasn't sure which one was worse. Saying that I didn't like it would only cause more widespread usage of the dreaded nickname.
"No, this time it was D-block," I replied quickly.
"Everybody knows D-block ain't got stairs, dickhead," Dex said, having to get her two-cents into the debate.
"It could," I sighed. There wasn't really much point in arguing with them, but we were always fighting over something, whether it was the strength of Art's glasses, to who would win the next football match, to who blew up the last experiment to make an extremely unstable chemical that smelt like dog crap. Then, we heard a shrill scream, and we all looked down.
"Who ran mud all through my carpet!?"