A/N: What is with me and OC stories. I need to quit writing them and get some better inspiration. Oh well. This my third one to be uploaded to this site, and I have to say, I like this one the most. It will be following my OC, Phoenix, and Beyond. It is not a Whammy's fic. However much it might seem like one at first, it isn't. Though it might become a pairing fic. Depends. If it does, then it will be OCxBB.


My name is Phoenix.

My life wasn't something you would call oridinary. It wasn't ordinary to be deemed a genius by some old man and taken to an orphange. It wasn't ordinary to live in that super-orphanage that drills you to the core to work to their expectations. It wasn't oridnary to be only fifteen years old and be taking college-level calculus and college-level chemistry. It wasn't ordinary to work with groups of children to solve minor murder cases. Nothing about it was ordinary.

It was a life that I have grown used to living, though.

My parents died in a car accident when I was three years old. I don't remember them, not clearly at least. I knew they were caring people who loved me very much. It was my mother who had been the one to shield my fragile body right before our car collided with another head-on, paying the ultimate price so that I would live.

I was taken into custody by the police, who then transferred my ownership to a small orphanage. This was home sweet home until I was six. I was then adopted into a foster home, where I live until I was nine. Both households were wonderful; everyone was very generous. Most people are, though. We're just pitiful little orphans in their eyes, after all.

I was intelligent. They never denied that. School was a piece of cake to me, so my foster mother just home-schooled me. I flew through middle school and high school courses without breaking a sweat. By the time I was nine, I had nearly half of my high school credits knocked out. Technically I was an eleventh grader in intelligence. Remember, I was only nine.

Word caught on somehow. Maybe this old guy got a tip from the company who sends me my courses, or maybe he heard from the community. It doesn't matter how it happened. On a cloudy afternoon one September day, a man who called himself Roger stopped by to talk to me. He talked to me as if I was an adult. I was surprised; most people didn't. I certainly don't look it.

"How would you like to go to a super school?" he had asked softly after a while of conversation. His slightly wrinkled face was leaning against his fist as he looked at me through shining glasses. "A school that has everything you would ever need to live your life to the fullest."

I had tipped my head, my purple eyes filled with confusion. "A super school? But I can't leave Ms. Phelps. She's single and likes my company."

"So you're saying you would like to?"

I had fidgeted in my seat and twirled my orange hair a bit anxiously, my gaze flicking downwards. "Yeah, but..."

"Then you should."

"I'll hurt her feelings!" I protested when I had watched him stand and approach the doorway where my foster mother was waiting on the other side.

She had opened the door abruptly, smiling sweetly. She was a woman in her late fifties, a woman who was certainly not fit to raise a child but did so completely out of her own generosity. Her husband had died years ago by some horrible, freak accident and she had never had the heart to marry again. She treated me as if I was her own daughter, which was warming as much as it was welcoming.

"You can't hurt my feelings, Piper." My name always sounded so caring coming from her. She almost reminded me of a grandmother, never quite scolding you, and always trying to give you what you want most. "I know that I'm getting to where I can't monitor your schoolwork anymore. Not that you like doing it, anyway. It bores you; you said it yourself the other day. I'm not going to stand in the way of you going with him, if what he says is true."

Roger had nodded. "It is indeed genuine. It's on the other side of the country, but I can have a plane ride arranged. Completely free of charge. We're trying to locate gifted orphans and give them second chances in our academy."

"So Piper would live there?"

"Yes."

She had looked at me. "Well, you better pack your things."

After a bit of arguing, my foster mother had convinced me to depart across the country to this eccentric orphanage known as Whammy's House. It is very odd in appearance, quite intimidating, really. It looks like an old, Victorian mansion that was transformed into an orphanage. The interior was furnished with old, classy furniture. It gave a sophisticated air to the entire building. Even our dorm rooms had a rich, high class mahogany bunk bed and dressers to match. Everything appeared like heaven.

But every heaven has a bit of hell.

This orphanage... It killed people. Not literally, no. But the pressure of trying to come out on top, trying to surpass the rest to be crowned smartest child at Whammy's... For some of them it was just too much. Children weeped nightly, their cries echoing throughout the halls. Many were clinically depressed and required medication. Some ripped their own hair out of simple frustration... The old house held a lot of sorrow inside its classy shell.

I was not among the select few. No, I knew my place here at Whammy's House. I was definitely not amongst the orphanage's elite. Perhaps I placed thirteenth on the list of intellects, but you can forget being admired unless you're in the top three. Everyone strived to surpass that trio.

First there was A. Also known as Alternate, as in an alternate version of L, or Able, someone able to become L, A was the smartest child at our home-sweet-home. To the rest of the orphanage, he was known as Ace. But the professors and administrators called him Alternate.

B came in second. He was called Backup. A backup version of L and A. The rest of us called him Beyond.

Placing third was K, also known as Kagami. Kagami translated to mirror, as in a reflection of A and B. If they were to fall, then she would reflect them and take their place. We called her Karma.

A, B, and K. Those three were looked up to.

Oh, did I not explain? To make everything even more confusing, we go by a letter code. At least the smartest of each letter does, anyway. The letters are then arranged from smartest to dumbest. I am the smartest child with a name beginning with P, so therefore I am referred to as P to Roger and the proffessors. On top of all that, we go by aliases. Forget Piper, my name of nine years. I had to throw that away. Roger had said that it's to protect our identities. Just in case someone were to want to track us. Kill us, even. We're that important, he had said.

My alias is Phoenix. A mythological bird that rises from the ashes many times to start anew. I think it's symbolic, in a way. I was reborn upon entering Whammy's. I was given a career direction and a motive. I was treated as a college student, not a elemantary kid. While the pressure was enough to make any normal child explode, I managed to keep myself calm. But believe me, I had my fair share of breakdowns. I think everyone here has.

Perhaps if they didn't weigh us down so hard then we wouldn't break so easily. There's even more to this whole twisted orphanage. This man who called himself L was apparently a former student here who's very famous now. World's greatest detective, apparently. Everyone worshipped him. I admired him a bit myself, but some of them took it to extremes.

L talked to us sometimes over a computer, and it was usually the same group of children talking to L, not letting the rest of us speak. Not even A or B, the orphange's smartest, got to talk. I don't think they minded, though. L was very much aware that they existed, considering he was thinking about letting them be the heir to his fame and fortune.

Well, A was going to, anyway. L only cared about the sharpest knife in the drawer. Suppose you were point one percent duller. Well, even the slightest difference stood out, and L skipped right over you. B, despite being an insanely intelligent child, was overlooked because of A. Sometimes I felt he held a grudge over A... But then again, B was never one to do such things. He was a very quiet existence. Speaking, but not really ever getting involved in social activities.

A was quite the opposite. A, Alternate, he had also been called, was very outgoing. He reached out to people like B, tried to get them to be more involved. Most people detested him, thinking he was only trying to rub his stature in everyone's faces, but that wasn't his motive at all. Alternate/Able/Ace/A only wanted to encourage the rest of the students to work to their full potential. His hard work was often ignored.

Sun-up to sundown we worked. We got a two hour recess period at three in the afternoon, an hour lunch break, and an hour dinner break. But the rest of the time was either spent in the classrooms or in the investigation room. I was never exactly one to spend time in the investigation room. Maybe now and then I'd drop by and partner up with someone to convict a suspected murderer, but it wasn't on my daily list of activities. That room was normally solely occupied with the L worshippers, so I didn't want to stand in their way.

"I solved two cases today!"

"So? I solved five!"

Doesn't matter. A and B could knock out the entire stack in a day if they wanted to. But that room was filled with amateur cases, and they were far above that level. The most I've ever solved was ten, but I had help from O. They could solve them with their hands tied behind their backs. I was in no way a skilled detective. But that didn't mean I was normal on any sense.

Especially not after that one night.

My life was extraordinary. I was only fifteen and I took college level calculus and college level chemistry. I lived in a super-orphanage that drilled me to the core to work top their expectations. I was deemed a genius and brought to live at this orphanage. I had worked with other children to solve murder cases. Nothing was ordinary. Yet I had grown accusstomed to this odd lifestyle.

But one day was going to change everything. One mistake. Something that I wouldn't have had to witness, had I not wanted to use the bathroom late at night. If I had passed that one door five minutes later, my life would be different.

My name is Phoenix.

And on Friday, November 20th, 1998, I witnessed a murder.


A/N: This is more of an opening. I tried to get most of how she got to Whammy's over with, how she is viewed, and how my version of Whammy's runs. Next chapter should be up fairly soon, though it doesn't take a genius to figure out who was murdered.

For anyone concerned about my other two OC fics: Medical Murders bored me, so I never got around to writing more. As for Sight, I'm stuck. I'm in the dark on how to proceed and when the next update will be, so until then, it is on hiatus. Apologies. I hope you like this one.

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