Intro / Quiet Yet Weird.
Disclaimer; Don't own 'em.
Stillness, quietness, boringness. Why on earth did the forest's green blanket of leave's have to sit in one place, as if it was… magic? No, no such thing. Down below the view from above, an awkward, high-pitched, almost disturbing whistling noise stirred the silence. Birds rose from trees, flying with little grace… They were weighed down with fear, flapping their wings in a hopeless escape, crying out for attention. The birds knew what might just happen, as did the creatures in the so-still wood. But did the rest of the world know… Or did they want to?
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The "ski-hotel" was approximately a mile away from nowhere. There was no snow on the hills, nothing. Well, maybe there was. But through theblue eyes of a fifteen-year-old boy, there was nothing. Nothing. No reason to leave the comfort and safety of his home. His home, not some 'talent agency for young teens — come today!' viewing pleasure. And why him, anyways? Clearly this was all some scheme of something… right? Some kind of scheme. "Hey—you! Over there, the skulking one. Lighten up, okay? No one wants to be here." A young girl, Corey or something, called out to the boy. "U-um, why are you talking to me?" He stuttered. "You look… erm, decent enough. Do I need an excuse to make a friend?" She wanted to mouth the words, new friend of Earth, but the red-haired green-eyed girl remained silent.
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Drums rolled, trumpets sounded, and another bus pulled into the station. "Fifteen more talented kids- this is gonna be a tough competition!" A speaker blasted the words without feeling, without… caring, or even a bit of sense. A girl, about Corey-or-something's age walked out, with… whoa… violet eyes? The boy blinked, as another kid his age walked out. Green-ish skin? No way... no way… This was not a talent search for the regular kids of the earth, but more of a freak show.
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The kids, all 40 of them sat in the hotel's lobby, and a man stood in front of them. He smelled horrid, and had deep black glasses on. Along with that, a rather formal tie and suit set. His forehead ran deep with wrinkles, but not wrinkles of care. The type a businessman gets after too many stock drops. "Okay. I'm not here for some childish beauty competition, but more of, oh, say, a talent wrangling? The winner of the pageant will win a 'big old wad of cheddah' as you kids call it now-a days." Groans, laughs, and nudges stirred the audience, and the man in the suit attempted to calm them down again. "Anyways, moving on to dormitories. When I call your name, stand." He walked over to a marble-white counter, picked up some paperwork, and began. "Richard Grayson? Is there a Richard Grayson here?" The boy blinked and stood. This is too weird.
AN; Cliffhanger, I guess. Writer's block-age, though. Puh-lease R&R.