Perfect Crime

"This is fan fiction for the Whateley Academy series. It may or may not match the timeline, characters, and continuity, but it's fan fiction so I hope it's forgivable.

This is an introduction for a character I plan on eventually fitting into Fate Sucks. I don't like having all goody goody's for characters.

Upper Peninsula, Michigan,
September 15th, 2006

“You've got to help me, Ricky!” Chase said, grabbing my shoulders, and nearly knocking me to the ground.

“What's wrong?” I said looking into his jade coloured eyes. My stomach did a somersault, Chase had blue eyes.

“My eyes changed colour. Mom and Dad are freaking out! They were calling me a mutant and everything! And then, I started to freak, and, and Mom's roses fucking died.” He tried to catch his breath. “Dad grabbed a knife, he was going to fucking stab me! I have to get out of town.”

Being best friends with Chase since we were able to pick our noses, I ignored the fact that my buddy was a freaky ass mutant and started thinking about our options. At thirteen it wasn't like we could just hope into a car and go, and our small town wasn't exactly well known for having teen hitchhikers, even if he wouldn't get picked up by some creepy pedophile who'd be all over him as soon as they found a deserted side road.

“We gotta go to the sheriff. He'll do something.”

Chase looked at me like I was nuts. “Are you high! He's always at those meeting our parents go to about how to deal with mutants. He'll shoot me in the head.”

“Ok! Ok! Go to the old broken tree,” I told him, thinking our favourite hideout would be far enough away from the adults that we could buy some time and come up with something. “I'll get some food and my old tent. We can walk to the next town, and then call a superhero or something.”

“Alright. Don't take too long,” he begged, looking at the pine tree's that surrounded us, like he was worried they'd leap out and kill him.

“I won't. Now get going,” I said, giving him a push.

It took ten minutes to run back home, my parents were at work so I was able to grab some cans of soup, crackers and jerky from our camping gear. We wouldn't be going hunting again for a few weeks, when we did our annual three day moose hunting trip, so my parents wouldn't miss anything. My little hiking tent and two thin, thermal sleeping bags were shoved into my hiking bag, along with a two large jugs of water, waterproof matches, water purification tablets, two warm coats and a spare bag for Chase. It would be a pain in the ass to carry it all but once we evened out the load it wouldn't be too bad, and the trails which threaded through the forest would get us to a nearby town in two or three days. I raided my piggy bank, and my parents emergency stash, getting two hundred dollars which would probably let us get a ride to Sault Ste. Marie. They had a part time hero there, some lame guy called Mishipishu, whatever the hell that meant, but he could probably help us, it was his job after all.

A little less then two hours after getting the call from Chase as I was about to leave for school, I was at the broken tree. It was a huge, and a widow maker, the top half had snapped last winter, and when it fell it had gotten caught on the nearby tree's, threatening to come crashing down, but was still holding up and under it formed a nice protected spot from the elements and the outside world.

Chase was there, shivering and sniffling. I called out quietly, giving him a chance to stop crying.

“Thanks man,” he said as we divvied up the gear. “I owe you so much.”

“Don't mention it. I always wanted to go on an adventure.”

When we were almost done, we both heard dogs barking in the distance. We looked at each other, white as sheets. Throwing the rest of the stuff into the bags, we started running. The dogs got closer, and we started to hear people shouting.

Chase was gasping for air, but he turned to look at me, as pine branches whipped at our faces. “Go! Get away from me!”

“Fuck no!” I shouted back.

“They want me, not you. Go.”

“Fuck you! Save your breath and run faster.”

We ran for another five minutes before the dogs caught up and circled us, growling and snapping like were one of the bears or deer they'd been trained to hunt. The guys hunting us, shouted and whooped as they came closer.

“Can you kill the dogs?” I asked Chase who was standing at my back so we could watch all the dogs.

“No,” he sobbed. “I'm trying, but it's not working.”

I looked around and saw the pine trees around us turning orange, the bark crumbling into dust, the branches and trunks creaking and swaying in a non-existent wind.

Dad came storming out of the trees, his shotgun at the ready. Ten more followed him, including Chase's father, everyone was armed.

“Ricky,” Dad said very carefully and clearly, “step away from him. He's mind controlling you or something. He's dangerous.”

“Dad, he's my best friend. He doesn't want to hurt anyone. Just let him go,” I begged. “He's leaving town, he won't come back.”

Chase was crying, his voice quavered, “Dad. Please.”

I saw some of the men taking the safety off of their guns. “You can't kill him. He's just a kid.”

They raised their guns aiming at Chase, and me.

Chase shoved me in the back as hard as he could. The second I hit the ground, the killers fired. They didn't stop until they ran out of ammo.

Dad came over to pick me up off the ground, asking if I was ok, if Chase had hurt me. I slugged him in the jaw. He was bigger than me, but I put everything I had into the blow and he fell to the ground. I was on top of him punching as hard and as fast as I could, so focused on breaking his face it was like the rest of the world didn't exist. At least until a rifle butt connected with my head.


May 5th, 2007

I sat down for breakfast, not saying a word. Dad looked up me from his eggs and bacon and smiled. “It's a beautiful day, Rick. How about we go and do some fishing on the lake?”

“How about we practice some boxing instead?” I asked with a smirk.

That shut him up. Since he murdered my friend, actually being congratulated for it by the sheriff, I'd started working out and learning how to fight. I'd done it religiously, learning every dirty trick I could find on the net, and joining the local gym where I first paid the better fighters to teach me until they saw I was serious and began teaching me for fun. Two months before, I'd pretended to warm up to my Dad, actually talking to him, smiling and acting like I'd forgiven him. As a father-son activity I'd asked him to spar with me, to show me his famous one two punch. He'd accepted.

In the ring I broke his nose with my first punch, and snapped off three of his teeth at the gum line before the other fighters could pull me off. I wasn't allowed back in the gym, but I still trained on my own.

Mom placed the plate of bacon and eggs in front of me, watching the two of us with a worried, helpless expression, while my twin sisters tried to ignore the tension digging into their fruit loops with renewed energy.

We ate in silence, then I took off to go for a walk in the woods with my bag. It had a bit of blood on it, Chase's blood, I hadn't tried to wash the stain out. It was always stocked with a small collapsible fishing pole, a hatchet, a good hunting knife and enough supplies to survive overnight in the forest. No sleeping bag or tent, but it did have a thermal blanket, just in case.

Jogging along the trails, I felt the stress falling away from me. The knowledge I lived with a murderer who would easily kill me if I turned out 'wrong', and the law not only let him live, but thanked him for his efforts. I couldn't wait until I was eighteen. If I was just a little older I'd just keep running, but at fourteen, I couldn't pass myself off as sixteen yet, and I knew from reading up on how to survive on the street that I'd end up dead or being pimped if I tried. Just another year though, another year of working out, and I'd pass for a sixteen year old, maybe even eighteen.

I couldn't wait for the day I wouldn't have to look at my father again, hear his voice, or smell his aftershave. Mom was no better, she'd cheered when she she heard that Chase had been murdered, telling me that she was so happy the dangerous mutant was dead and I was safe.

Looking in a mirror was torture now, because I looked so much like my Dad. I was thinking of getting tattoos and piercings just so I wouldn't be his spitting image.

Reaching the broken tree, which had fallen during the winter, I took off my bag and began pounding on the old cushion I'd nailed to the tree stump. The slowly rotting remains of the tree which was a good twenty feet high, shook and groaned as I punched it.

I remembered the last time I saw Chase here, how scared he'd been. He had had big dreams, he had wanted to go to college, he actually tutored me in a bunch of subjects, bringing my marks up as he made sure he really understood whatever problem I was having that month. We would go out fishing all the time, organize campfires with our friends making sure no adults knew exactly where we were going, talk about girls, we were going to ask some out for the first time for the Halloween dance.

The tree snapped in half.

Dodging to the side, barely avoiding the falling branches, I looked dumbly at the tree and then at my fist. My hand, arm and shoulder was bigger, like something you'd see on a body builder who had been training and taking 'roids for ten years.

Very slowly and carefully, I touched my new arm. It felt real, warm to the touch, feeling for a pulse revealed a strong steady beat.

My knees gave out and I found myself sitting, rather painfully on the ground. It was kind of cool having a super strong arm, but having just one, especially one that was so out of proportion with the rest of my body seemed pretty useless.

Studying it more closely, I realized the sleeve of my t-shirt was actually under the 'skin' of my new arm. Pulling on my shirt, I could feel a slight tugging under the muscle. So whatever this was, it had probably just covered my real arm, I reasoned.

All I had to do was will it away.

Easier said than done.

It took five hours of thinking, yelling at it and actually tearing at the 'flesh' before I figured out how to make it evaporate into a misty white cloud.

Getting it to come back on both arms was easier, I just had to get pissed and the white mist built up over my skin as thick or thin as I wanted it.

After a quick check in the small compass mirror I kept in my bag, to make sure my eyes hadn't changed, I headed home. I wasn't sure how I'd use my powers yet, but I started to see how I could get my revenge.


The next month was spent experimenting.

I still had no idea what I was creating, but I could give myself a shell. As long as it was about the same size I was, it could come in any shape or size. I made myself into a eight foot tall giant that could break trees with my fists, and an Amazonian warrior woman with long legs who could outrun an Olympic gold medalist. I went out camping alone for a weekend, and kept the shell up with no trouble for the entire time. I couldn't do anything else with my powers, no weapons, no death beams, no flight, but it was enough.


June 2nd, 2007

“Mom!” I called out, trying to sound scared. This wasn't too difficult considering what I was planning on doing, but I would give her a chance. She had one chance to prove that my plan, as insane as it was, wasn't justified.

My sisters were with a friend, Dad was sleeping in the bedroom. He wouldn't wake up anytime soon thanks to the sleeping pills I'd slipped into his drink at lunch.

Mom came running into the bathroom, “What's wrong?”

I looked at her with shiny, tearful silver eyes. “Mom, I think I'm a mutant. You have to help me.”

She screamed, and ran to the bedroom. “Micheal! Help! Oh God!”

Grabbing the knife I'd hidden on the counter I ran after her, changing my shell so that I looked like Dad. She never made it to the bedroom before I was on her stabbing her in the back. “Why didn't you try to help me?” I asked her quietly. “Why did you want to kill me?”

I went over to Dad, who was still sleeping. Wiping some blood on his hands and arms, I quickly went back to the bathroom and washed my hands off.

Going to the gun closet I took out my Dad's pistols, loaded them up and went outside with them hidden under my Dad's coat. I had a list of houses to visit and only a short time to do it.


The sheriff and his five deputies were led on a merry chase, trying to catch the insane murderer who killed eight of his friends. The sheriff died making a valiant attempt at capturing the madman inside the mans home. Then the deputies were able to subdue the man who was found crying and screaming over his dead wifes body.

Everyone said it was a miracle the three children were out of the house at the time, and if I wasn't properly saddened about what had happened, it was well known I hated my father ever since a mutant had brainwashed me the year before. And while I had been wandering around the woods all day, no one suspected me of anything, dozens of witnesses had seen my father gunning down the victims often in front of their families, while spouting gibberish about mutants, aliens and the Illuminati.

My sisters and I went to live with our aunt near Chicago. And two weeks later, I manifested. Of course I rushed out of the house before anyone could see me, I had seen what happened to my friend Chase and was terrified. I phoned the Windy City Guardians, crying and sobbing. They picked me up an hour later, and were very caring for the scared teenage girl who had already suffered so much.

I told them who I really was, and after several hours of trying was able to make my real face appear for a few minutes before the ectoplasm covered it up again. They phoned my aunt, who came over immediately, shocked at what had happened. She didn't quite disown me, but she made it very clear she was open to any suggestions about how someone else could deal with the mutant gene freak.

They told me all about Whateley, and got me signed up with a generous hardship scholarship, and I spent more time with the WCG, then my aunt and sisters. They explained that I had MATD, manifestation augmented tissue deformity, which used ectoplasm, something else I didn't know about, to create a shell around me. They were confused that I could only create a female shell, and explained that I might actually start turning into a girl in reality. I didn't have to fake my fear at that, and almost let it slip that I was in full control of the shell.

But I managed to calm down. It was a perfect set up actually, what teenage boy wants to turn into a girl after all? If I could control it wouldn't I choose a handsome muscle bound man?

I had a perfect crime, and thanks to my powers I'd never have to see my Dad when I looked in the mirror ever again.

The week before going to Whateley, I arranged to visit Dad in prison. No one had told him about my change, I probably shouldn't have gone but I had to see his face one last time.

He was confused to see a muscular, pretty blonde behind the glass. He really looked bad, like he hadn't been eating or sleeping much.

“Hello. Do I know you?” he asked, after I finally got him to pick up the phone.

“Dad, it's me Ricky. I'm sorry to tell you, I'm a mutant.” I let my real face show for a second.

He started screaming, breaking the phone against the glass, screaming that I had to be the murderer. That it was all a set up. I fled crying uncontrollably. Did you know ectoplasm is great at making it look like you're crying?

I had the best sleep in my life that night, and I've slept like a baby ever since.

I can't wait to see what Whateley is like. They have me set up to go to Poe, it should be interesting. I just hope I eventually get used to being called Charlotte.

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