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"Oh, no, genuine. It's very genuine. Vera is the devil."

Peter nods. "Ariel does have a way of being flippant about things, even when those things involve, ah, protracted history. But yes, Vera is the devil."
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"What variety of devil in particular?"

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"Manipulative brainfucking murderous monster kind of devil," Ariel mutters.

"She has a history of... acquiring people who are useful to her, who end up loving her unconditionally and helping her do whatever she wishes of them regardless of how they would normally behave. Although Miss Lionel is a high-grade psychic, psychic tampering has been ruled out by a panel of experts. Which means something, but does not actually mean that she is not brainwashing them. Because she is."

"And she tried to steal Sally freshman year."

"Which is why I am not sticking to impersonal staffmemberlike neutrality on the subject, yes," Peter half-growls. "She tried to do the same to an associate of ours, which we both personally witnessed, but our testimony was ruled unreliable because I'm a psychic null with a history of mental instability and Ariel tried to obliterate the defendant's stand when Vera claimed Sally had cooperated of her own volition."

"I said I was sorry about that," Ariel mutters.

"Anyway. Hence, she is the devil. And Ariel heckles her matches from the stands."
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"Thank you for this information," says Mark.

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Ariel waves a hand dismissively. "You're more'n welcome to the campus roadmap, especially when it comes to people who should be stayed the fuck away from. Mostly that list is her and her clique, bar her boyfriend."

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"Boyfriend?"

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Ariel sighs.

Peter steps in. "Callum Donnelly. As far as anyone can tell, Vera's first... acquisition. A far better person than should be able to tolerate Vera's existence, let alone her affections. He's about forty percent of the reason Ariel hasn't just murdered the girl in her sleep."

"He's real nice. Fine to hang out with, long as the conversation stays away from... sensitive topics. S'just kinda sad."
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Mark... refrains from commenting on the subject of murdering people in their sleep.

"Sounds it."
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Ariel claps her hands together. "Anyway! Enough about the Wicked Bitch of the East, a tour was discussed and I don't feel like watching her probably win another fucking game of Capture the Flag anymore. Where d'you feel like going? Mystic Arts? Dorms? Visit the heap of junk the lab techs want to be a giant robot? The world's your oyster, man. I mean, the couple thousand acres of world surrounding this immediate area is your oyster."

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"Is it a particularly interesting heap of junk?"

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"...It's shaped like a giant robot? For what that's worth?"

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"Well if it were a functional giant robot that would be worth looking at. If not," he shrugs, "I've no strong preference. Pick something fun. For whatever definition of 'fun' you like."

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"Hm... Jeez, you live here for years, but the second somebody visits it's just pop! Nothing of interest at the superschool. There's a library? It's got, like... history books? You could learn about how mutants fucked up history?"

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"Ooh. How did mutants fuck up history, pray?"

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"Well, I mean, I don't actually know how history went in your world, but one of the big effects is that everybody's kind of fucked-up about mutants. There's prejudice, but there's also this weird kind of fetishization, but then you've got the fact that the market's saturated with mutant-made supertechnology and shit... Complicated feelings. So a lot of that shows up in, like, the Nineties; that's kind of the defining feature of the decade. That and costumes with a ton of pouches."

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"I'm unusually well versed in the history of this approximate era for someone from the thirtieth century, but I couldn't give you an overview off the top of my head. Fucked-up history is one of my favourite kinds, though."

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"Well, the library's just a few blocks away. Wanna check it out?"

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