An idea that occurred to me when I learned a little about Alma from F.E.A.R and seeing pictures of Voyager Mindwipe from Revenge of the Fallen. This couple seems almost perfect in my mind. This is written with Alma starting out a normal teenager who later discovers how to use her psychic powers through the help of the mysterious Mark Whipingson, known mostly as Mindwipe. Another note, anywhere you see () will mean that there would be a curse word, but I'll leave that to your imagination to what it is.
Her dark yellow eyes examined the classroom as she listened to the teacher's lecture. Her long black hair came down over her eyes. Sighing, Alma flipped her hair back, pausing for but a second.
From the corner of her eye, she could see a tall, thin boy standing there, his long black hair gelled back. She didn't get a good look at him, finding herself lost in his blank, silvery grey eyes.
"Miss Wade, are you still with us?" the teacher's voice droned, snapping her out of what she saw. Looking again, she saw no-one standing there.
"Sorry sir, just spaced out for a second," she muttered, ignoring the few sniggers behind her back. She sighed as she pretended to pay attention to the teacher's words, her mind wandering elsewhere. Her nightmares had been getting better and worse at the same time.
Worse, as in the things she saw in them were more gruesome and terrifying with each night. Better, as in the fact she wasn't seeing these things alone. Always with her, standing at her side, was the silver eyed boy she had seen. She shook her head. That boy was a figment of her imagination, only seen today by a trick of the light.
She was just about to start paying attention when there was a knock at the door. When it opened, the school secretary walked in. She said something to the teacher, before heading back out, leaving the door open.
"Well class, it seems we have a new student. Say hello to Mark Whipingson," the teacher said, trying to put in some enthusiasm as the boy walked in. Alma looked up, her eyes widening in surprise.
The boy who walked in had long, gelled back black hair, a black jacket and trousers and trainers. What had shocked Alma were his eyes, which seemed to glow a bright silver. While the rest of him looked like a normal teenager, his eyes had a strange blankness that was apparent with his gaze.
"Now Mark, there's an empty seat next to Alma, so if you please sit down, we may continue. Just come to me afterwards if you have any questions," the teacher muttered, indicating to the chair. As Mark sat down, Alma tried not to stare.
"So, you're Alma Wade, daughter of Harlan Wade," Mark whispered, bringing Alma out of her fake concentration. As much as she was used to people knowing who she was, it was his voice that surprised her. It almost sounded hypnotic.
"Yeah, the freaky daughter of a rich man, that's me," she replied, trying to sound uncaring.
"I wouldn't say freaky. Just a little different. People just can't accept it," he whispered, his head facing forward, but his blank silver eyes were on her. She was finding it hard not to stare back, only to find it made her head hurt.
"I should know, I've been there," Mark whispered, returning his eyes to the front.
The cafeteria was crowded, but even so, Alma always had a table to herself. She was just about to bite into her lunch when something hit her, erecting a sigh before she took a bite.
"Who the heck threw that? I thought I just threw it at freaky girl," came the voice of the apparent thrower.
"Was that just a confession?" a low, dark voice whispered, making Alma whirl round. Looking down on her assailant was Mark, his blank silver eyes actually showing hints of irritation.
"So what if it was....?" the boy argued, stuttering when Mark's gaze grew intense. "I....I won't do it again....." the boy stuttered, quickly looking away. Mark simply grunted, drifting towards Alma's table.
"You didn't need to stand up for me. I'm used to all that," Alma mumbled, avoiding Mark's gaze.
"You shouldn't need to be. No-one should be," Mark whispered. "You can trust me you know. I know what you're going through," he reassured, this comment finally making Alma look him in the eye, ready to tell him he didn't know anything.
"Trust me, you really....." she started to say, stopping when his blank silver eyes intensified. Within the blankness, she could see the pain, anger and sadness they hid.
"No-one should go through anything alone. Especially nightmares," he said before walking off as the bell rang.
"How does he know about my nightmares? Not even my dad knows about them!" she wondered, lost in her thoughts as she walked home. She wasn't aware of the person following her.
"Hey you!" the guy shouted, clearly half drunk. Turning, Alma clenched her fists, at least until she saw the knife. There was no-one in the street, and now the man was standing in front of her.
"You're gonna go into that alley, and not make a sound. Am I clear," the man slurred, holding the knife close to her neck. With no other choice, Alma slowly backed into the alley, the knife close to her throat.
"Now, we get to have a little fun," the man grinned, taking another step.
"That's as far as you go!" a whispered warned, almost as though it was blowing in the wind. As the man ignored the warning, various junk was flung against each wall.
"I warned you. Now for my fun," the whisper laughed, some of the objects catching fire.
"What the () are you! Where are you!!" the man yelled, knocking Alma against the wall.
"I'm behind you," a voice whispered, the fiery objects being thrown around instantly ceasing. The man whirled round, met with blank silver eyes giving him an intense glare.
"To warn you again, I'll kill you if you dare touch her again. Am I clear? Or will I have to set you on fire first," Mark whispered, his silver glare close to glowing.
"How dare you threaten me punk! I'm gonna......!" the man yelled, flung back by an unseen force. As Mark stepped towards him, he pulled out a pair of fiery orange daggers.
"I'm not usually one for killing people, but if you do one more thing, I'll burn you from the inside," Mark growled, kicking the man hard before walking back to the unconscious Alma.
"Let's get you home," he whispered, picking her up and gently carrying her home.