Heyo! I'm still alive here, even though I've gotten swamped in summer work recently. Hopefully the next update will come sooner, because it will have more action. I dunno, I just find character dialogue a pain at times. Maybe it's my headache though.

The second half of the cast will be revealed in the next chapter.

Yet again, this isn't a complete eyesore because of the awesomeness incarnate - pinkpencil3498. And now, the story!

Marisol Cabrera couldn't help but panic when she woke up.

There was a complete hole in her memory. Vaguely, she recalled details about a fancy school and a vacation in the Caribbean, but that didn't do anything to explain why she was in this situation: in an unfamiliar place, on an unfamiliar (although comfortable) bed, with absolutely no inkling of what she could do.

Relax, Mari, she told herself. Take deep breaths. You're still alive - go from there.

With a sigh, Marisol looked around the room. It at least felt a little like home; the walls were painted with soft oranges and pinks, and a beautiful painting of a sunset was framed on the wall opposite her bed. Both her carry-on and checked luggage had made it with her to wherever she was now, so there was no concern about running out of clothes or hygiene. It's nice here, at least, she thought. It could be a lot worse.

Rubbing her hands together (she grimaced; there was still clay stuck to them), Marisol decided to explore the rest of her current location. I can't be the only one here - maybe someone else will have an idea of where to go or what to do. First, though, a shower.

Once she had finished showering, Marisol changed into a florid floor-length dress and sat on the edge of her bed, trying to figure out as much as she could. The facilities seem to be in very good quality - it almost reminds me of a vacation house or hotel. But what do I do now? Is exploring worth the risk?

Biting her lip nervously, Marisol walked towards her door. She hesitated as her hand fell on the doorknob - then threw all restraint to the wind and flung the door wide open, cringing as it collided with the nearby wall.

She looked up to find a wide pair of hazel eyes watching her.

Aaah, why did I think this was a good idea?


"Ah - no, no, no, wait!" Lyra cried as the girl across from her began to close the door hastily. You're the first person I've seen here - please don't leave me!

She jogged across the hall and knocked on the other girl's door, whistling as the time passed by. At last, the door opened a crack, and the other girl peeked out, her visible dark brown eye narrowed in suspicion.

"Hey!" Lyra greeted cheerfully. "What's your name?"

Silence.

Lyra frowned. "You could at least acknowledge that you heard me, you know! You're really being quite rude."

More silence.

Ohmygosh, what if she's deaf? Lyra thought nervously. Ah, I don't know sign language! What do I do-? Looking around frantically for some sort of way to communicate with her soon-to-be friend (assuming that all went well), Lyra spotted the Spanish flag on the other girl's door. Oh! She's probably from Spain!

"Aha!" Lyra muttered under her breath. "This is going to be a little rough ... ¿Hablas español?"

"...sí," her companion replied, opening the door a little more. Taking this as an invitation to come in, Lyra strode in. Ignoring the "¿Qué-?" from the room's owner, Lyra went to the dresser that she knew would be in the room, opening the first drawer to grab a complicated, somewhat tangled technological device that came with an earpiece and a microphone and begin typing on it.

"And - there!" Lyra exclaimed as she finished typing; she lunged forward, tackling the other girl on to the ground. They grappled for a few moments, and the other girl yelled frantically in Spanish before Lyra finally accomplished her goal: hooking the earpiece and mic around the other's face. "There - talk," Lyra said, pulling the other up.

"What did you do - wait, what - how?" she exclaimed, her voice softening as her furrowed brow lifted in confusion. "You don't really speak Spanish, do you?"

"No," Lyra explained. "Didn't you see the notice on your door?" The other girl shook her head. "Ah," Lyra continued, "that explains it. See - it says (probably in Spanish for you) to go into the first drawer of the dresser by the bathroom door and take out the headset. If you configure it properly, then when you speak, it'll automatically come out in English! But, if someone else speaks, then it will go back to your ears in your native language. I couldn't explain it to you at the time," she finished, a sheepish half-smile on her face.

"Oh. Well, ah, nice to meet you, I guess, and thanks for configuring this thing. I'm Marisol Cabrera," the Spanish teenager said, nodding in understanding.

"Ah, that reminds me! I'm Lyra Harrington. Hey, were you by any chance accepted to Île des Rêves World Academy? I was accepted there as a Super High School Level Florist!"

Marisol's eyebrows raised at the last comment, and she replied, "Yes, I was as well. I'm an SHSL Sculptor," lifting her clay-caked hands for view. Lyra marvelled at the unusual sight, a large smile gracing her face.

"Hey," Lyra said suddenly, her hazel eyes wide as her grin, which was frighteningly large, "you know what? Let's go on a social adventure!" Before Marisol could protest, she was being dragged out by her new friend to explore their new home.

"What's with - the steel plates?" Marisol wheezed over the humdrum of their feet thumping against the floor. As they rounded a particularly sharp curve, Marisol stumbled, wincing at the aftermath; her lip had gotten caught against the braces on her bottom teeth.

"Come on, Marisol, hurry up!" Lyra said - right before she ran into another person, a tall blond male with a self-assured smirk.

"What the-" he managed to stutter before he was bowled over by the two girls. They rolled across the checkerboard-tiled ground for a moment before Marisol hastily shoved herself off, dusting off her dress as a faint blush colored her tanned cheeks. Lyra, who apparently was oblivious to the fact that she was currently sprawled over a guy she didn't know, took a significantly longer time to get off, although to her credit, she did help him up afterwards.

"So what's your name then?" Lyra asked once all three of them were standing. Taking the time to lean back against a conveniently located wall, he gave the two girls a lazy grin and answered that he was "Alexander Weiss, world-class hockey player" (in training, Marisol thought to herself). Lyra's next question of "So were you accepted into Île des Rêves World Academy too?", however, caused his face to contort into a fierce scowl as his posture stiffened.

"Yeah," he muttered, his eyes flashing a dangerous warning. Lyra once again managed to ignore this social cue and continued, "So are you excited, then?"

"No - going here is just going to be a waste of time and a loss of talent I could have been using with actual results," Alexander replied. Marisol coughed subtly to stop Lyra from continuing to pry into the personal part of their new friend's life.

"Ah! So then, er, how - how about we look around and see if we can get an idea of where we are?" Lyra yelped, her voice's pitch lowering as she realized not to press the subject. Alexander slumped again, the ireful glint in his eyes dying as he smiled at them again.

"Sure, why not; lead the way, ladies," he agreed, rising to follow them.


"What is with all these locked doors?" Lyra wondered out loud, voicing the others' thoughts, as they met yet another dead end. "Maybe someone is trying to get us to follow a certain path-"

"Right-o, bastards!" a sudden, somewhat familiar voice replied; Lyra, Alexander, and Marisol all gave each other confused looks. "If a pathway is closed off by barred doors, please take another route; rest assured, they will be unlocked in due time. Now run along - you don't want to be punished for breaking rules, now, do you?" At this, the metal doors started sparking and crackling ominously.

Wide-eyed, the three rising students backed away from the blocked exit. Alexander, the most coherent, asked, "What the actual hell was that?"

Marisol remained silent again, trying to figure out the source of the voice and why it rang a bell in her head. Speakers in the walls, maybe-? At last, Marisol shrugged; after all, she wasn't a SHSL Technician - she didn't really know how these things worked. Why bother figuring it out?

At last, the trio arrived at what seemed to be a waiting room. Lyra placed her hand on the cold handle cautiously, cheering as it opened with little resistance. With the other hand, she invited Alexander and Marisol in, letting the door close behind them as they stared at the room.

The checkerboard pattern was back again, this time on the ceiling as well. This created a disorienting effect, and Alexander rubbed his temples, groaning, "Please, please let's get out of here."

To his dismay, the doors behind him wouldn't open. Annoyed, he looked around the room for another exit, finding one across the room. He stormed over to the door, definitely ready to escape the headache-inducing nature of the room.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

While Lyra and Marisol gaped, turning to observe the fourth occupant of the room for the first time, Alexander ignored it, continuing on his warpath. However, once his hand fell on the door handle, Alexander felt an electric shock run through his body. With a harsh intake of breath, he let go, but he remained frozen, standing at the door for a couple of seconds afterwards.

"No, no," the same cheerful voice from earlier reprimanded, "that won't do. Take some time to get to know each other! You'll get to see the main event soon enough; don't be so impatient, ya little bastard!"

Alexander growled, his eyebrows furrowed; he moved as if to kick the door, but then thought better of it and left it alone.

Meanwhile, the last person of the room stood up, walking over to Lyra and Marisol. "And what are the names of you two lovely ladies?" he asked in a pleasantly deep voice, giving them a flirtatious wink. Before Marisol could stutter out a nervous reply, Lyra introduced the both of them.

"You were also accepted to Île des Rêves too, I presume?" Marisol asked once she had worked up the courage to speak to her new companion. He gave them a smile, replying, "Why, indeed I was, Ms. Cabrera."

"So what's your talent, then?" Lyra prompted him.

He gave the two girls a bow, at last explaining, "I am - SHSL Weapons Designer, Hadrian Marzipan Maddox," before he adjusted the navy-tinted goggles that hung loosely around his neck. Marisol accepted this declaration silently, nodding in agreement; Lyra, however, sent the conversation in a completely different direction.

"What's that - on your back?" she asked, her eyes wide with interest. During his bow, Hadrian's shirt had slipped up, revealing a dark red mark on his lower back.

"Tattoo," Hadrian replied noncommittally. At Lyra's next inquiry of "can I see?", he gave her a look of amusement; waggling his eyebrows, he asked in return, "Are you really that interested in seeing me take my clothes off? I didn't know we were at that level of commitment yet-"

"Ah - please don't - you really don't have to-" Marisol stammered (on Lyra's behalf of course); her cheeks flushed furiously at the idea. Hadrian, however, simply laughed at her nervous request and took off his shirt regardless, turning away to show off his tattoo (or to make Marisol feel less uncomfortable; it could have been a mix of the two). After a moment's hesitation (and Lyra's amazed gasp), Marisol peeked through her fingers, taking her hands away completely to stare, awestruck, at the remarkable design on the weapon designer's back.

Two dragons swirled around each other in a circle, almost as in a yin-yang formation; one was crimson red, the other cobalt blue. The intricate detail on each scale and the flames almost made it seem out of place, being on someone's skin instead of framed as a timeless piece of art in a collection.

"Hurt like hell at the time," Hadrian admitted. "And don't leave your mouths open - you'll catch flies."


"So - do we try to wake him, or-?"

This came from Shiki, who stood at the back of another checkerboard room. She motioned to the young man lying on the ground, fast asleep. Her companion nodded enthusiastically, clapping her hands together for emphasis.

"Yeah!" Elma cheered softly, gesturing quickly for Shiki to follow her. Checking every so often on her target, the motorcycle racer slumped, her posture changing as she went to imitate a T-rex and lunged across the room with an exaggerated gait.

"Ah - I really don't think this is going to work and all," Abel Hikari muttered, fiddling with the sleeves of his long white jacket. He was the most familiar with the sleeping boy, having dragged him over from their hallway into the waiting room of sorts.

"It has to work!" Elma objected. "If we're supposed to get to know each other, like the notice on the door says, then everyone's gotta be awake, right? And hey, Abel, what's his name anyway?"

"Il-ee-yas, I think-?" he replied, his mouth contorting as he tried to pronounce the name properly. After a little thought, he shrugged, giving up on figuring out the correct pronunciation. "Well, let's try to wake him, then!"

Abandoning the T-rex act, Elma walked over to Ilyas' limp body, nudging it with a foot. "Hello-? Anyone in there?" she asked, rapping the top of his head lightly to emphasize her point.

Ilyas made no motion to respond, if he even heard.

"...he's not dead, is he?" Shiki wondered, biting her lip. Her eyes flickered back and forth, narrowing in suspicion, and she took a step back from the other two members.

"Upupupupu, so exciting already? Which one of you bastards killed Mr. Pyrotechnist then? I'll place my money on Mr. Striker here, but who knows? Oh, this is too much!" a voice gushed through an unseen speaker, setting the room's awake occupants on edge. Abel shuddered at the random insinuation, and his brow furrowed.

"Huh? Last time I checked, he was still breathing..." he said hastily, kneeling by Ilyas' body. After holding his hand in front of the other boy's face for a couple of seconds, Abel stood up, nodding. "He is breathing - I guess he's just a deep sleeper or something. So in the meantime, do you want to do that whole orientation game thing? I mean, that's what the notice on the board said." He left out the "nothing XXX-rated in here, bastards!" part.

"Brilliant idea!" Elma concurred, motioning for the others to form a circle on the ground (she made sure to include Ilyas; maybe the supposed pyrotechnist would wake up later). "So then, Abel," she continued, "what's your whole SHSL deal? That announcement said something about a striker...?"

"I'm an SHSL Soccer Player," Abel explained, "and I play striker specifically. What about you guys then?"

"I'm a SHSL Motorcycle Racer," Elma responded cheerfully; to go with her explanation, she pretended to grip the handlebars of an imaginary motorcycle. "See - this is my racing uniform; it's white and blue because I'm from San Marino, and these are the flag colors. And the symbol across my belt, with the three castle towers? That's the coat of arms! Pretty cool, huh?" she finished; although her helmet concealed her face, both Abel and Shiki could hear the grin in her voice.

"Impressive," Shiki agreed. "I'm an SHSL Video Game Designer - I live in London, although I was born in Japan." She then went on to reveal that Sakamoto Inc. was her company (or, at least, it would be soon), and she had been able to incorporate a lot of her ideas into its more successful sci-fi titles. "Have you played anything from Sakamoto Inc.?" she asked, a curious smile flitting across her pale face

"Sorry; I'm not much of a gamer," Elma confessed, tilting her head as she shrugged. "What about you, Abel?"

Throughout Shiki's little speech, Abel had been oddly quiet; even now, as he was being addressed, the soccer player remained motionless.

"Abel? Earth to Abel?" Elma asked, rising to walk around the oddly silent boy. Suddenly, his glazed stare focused, and he gave another enthusiastic smile.

"Sorry, I just got lost in thought," he explained, blinking as if to drive his previous distraction away. "So what was your first title, Shiki?"

"Ah, it's not that good," Shiki replied evasively. "But hey; enough about me! My life's not even that interesting anyway. What was your life like before you got here?"

Abel grimaced for a moment before his usual smile came back on his face. "Well, I'm from Northern Ireland, but you could say I had a pretty normal family. Just one older sibling, my brother, and a mom and a dad. Nothing usual, you know. Why did you - ask?"

The doors had silently swung open. There was no light beyond the doors; they led into darkness. The white and black tiles on the checkerboard floor pattern had shifted to spell out "COME IN BASTARDS :)".

"That's as good an invitation as any," Elma commented, ignoring the language. "We should bring in our friend over here, shouldn't we?" she wondered, motioning to the sleeping young man. Together, the three of them grabbed part of Ilyas' limp body; Shiki, being the smallest of the three, struggled under his weight as they walked into darkness.

Just as they took the first step into the new room, the lights flashed on.