Zachary Brahmen

[Zachary Brahmen]

The easy S T U F F . . .

Name: Zachary Nicholas Brahmen
Nickname: The Doc, Zach, Zachie
Age: Thirty
Member Group: Local
Power(s): None.
Play By: Nathan Hippenmeyer

Let it F L O W . . .

It's eight o clock, and a small, eager boy is wrapped head to toe in warm winter clothes. Stamping his feet, he hugs his brother, gives his parents a kiss on the cheek, grabs his school bag and heads out in the chilly air. It's mid october, and even though the trees are bare and the ground is frozen solid, this small, cheerful boy runs along the pavement with his hands in his pockets. Carefully dodging the icy spots, he pops his brown fuzzy mop of hair over the top of a brick wall, and peers over, waving furiously to a pair of boys stood lingering beside a dead, frozen bird.

“Poor thing!” He shouts, climbing over the wall and dropping his bag on the other side. A few wiggles later, and he's on the other side of the fence, joining the others in their silent vigil of the bird.

“We should bury it.” He says, crouching down and poking the bird gently with a gloved finger. It's hard, like a rock, and the brown haired boy looks somewhat mournful. “Or at least put it somewhere out of the way, 's just distrespecturful leaving it out here.” The other two boys shrug and together they all tramp around the grassy area, eventually locating a squat evergreen hedge, and gently tucking the frozen animal underneath the branches.

“Didja bring the ball?” Asked the taller, blonde boy, prodding the brown haired one eagerly. “'Cause 's cold and I aint gonna stick around waiting to play.” Grumbling, the boy's face only cheered up when a red cricket ball was pulled out of a trouser pocket. The red haired boy, still looking at the hedge where the bird lay, let out a huff.

“My nose is cold.” He whined, eventually walking back over. “So who's going first?”

The brown haired boy grinned and tossed the ball high in the air. “I'mma go first 'cause I brought the ball.” He announced, chucking the ball as hard as he could towards the red head, who cried out and tried to both avoid AND catch the red bullet at the same time.

“Notsohard!” He shouted, tossing the ball to the blonde, who grinned expertly, then spotted a pigeon roosting in the tree up above.

“I'mma knock that pigeon down!” He shouted, hurling the ball up high, despite the brown haired boy's loud, angry shouts. “Oh crap!” The blonde covered his face as the ball sailed past it's target, and straight towards the elderly caretaker's window. The three boys all cringed when the window smashed, and, shuffling their feet, the blonde and red head started to back away. “Run!” They shouted, trying to tug the shorter, brown haired boy away.
But the brown haired boy was fixed to the spot, even as the Caretaker hobbled out and came face to face with him.

“Zachary Brahmen.” The elderly man said, with a terrible frown.

“Did you see who broke my window?”

The brown haired boy fidgetted with his glasses a moment, pushing them up his nose before looking up. “Yessir.” He swallowed, and hung his head. “I did. I'm sorry.”

Billy and Barney were two “twin” boxers.

Born from the same litter, Zachary's parents had decided to keep both as a gift to their children for christmas. The three children had loved the gift, and had spent many wintery mornings sat with the puppies between them, trying to teach them how to sit, and “shake”. Of course, when Zachary's sister, Adrienne, left and got married and his brother, Liam, moved to Singapore, then it was just Zach who took the two bouncing dogs for walks.

On a brisk, Spring morning, as Billy and Barney ran ahead in the fields, eagerly chasing rabbits and scattering birds here and there, Zach was loitering. The weather was pleasant enough for the tall brunette (who had suffered a growth spurt aged 15) to simply amble along, watching the two dogs enjoy themselves. Adjusting his glasses, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and let out a sharp whistle, nodding his head to the large dogs, their small, nubbed tails wagging at 100 miles an hour. As they charged over, however, they sharply beelined to the right, and, jogging over through the hedgerow, Zach looked dismayed.

“Boys. Leave.” He said firmly, wriggling through the few branches blocking the path, then dropping to a crouch. Mixed with the greening branches of the hedge, was an abandoned bundle of feathers. Snorting, Billy tried to lick this furry conundrum with a curious expression on his wrinkly forehead. Barney, however, simply blew hot air in Zach's ear as the vet looked around curiously. There wasn't any sort of tree or nest in sight.

Gently, the tall man scooped this little heap of fluff up, and gently cradled it. “Hello there.” He said soothingly, running his fingers through the small creatures feathers, and frowning heavily when they drew back with blood. “And what have you done to yourself, little one?” Straightening up with this little fluffy bundle in his arms, he whistled again. The two dogs leapt to attention and eagerly followed their slightly more speedy owner back home. Jogging across the fields, with two loping boxers behind him, Zach burst open the back door to his parents large family house, and set this small precious bundle on the table. Ignoring the mud now smeared across the linoleum from both his, and the twin's feet, the man began gently pulling the feathers away from a bite mark.

“Fox.” He said with a sigh, raiding through the kitchen cupboards with little care for the mess he was making. “You're lucky you didn't get eaten, my little fluffy friend.” Turning and making a mixture of salt water, he looked back at the tiny bird. “Even more so that I found you before something big and scary did.” Mopping the wound, he laughed.

The little barn owl hooted.

It's a balmy July day. The heat is somewhat uncomfortable, and men and women sit in plastic chairs, fanning themselves to keep the heat away. A few of the people in the chairs appear to be holding cameras, while others seem emotional, eyes fixed forward.

“Zachary Brahmen.” Announces a man in a suit, holding a scroll with a smile. A lanky, friendly looking man with large blue robes and a slightly tilted cap steps forward, shaking the suited man's hand, and taking the scroll with a smile, giving a thumbs up to the crowd. A small crowd of people, a tall, slender woman with greying hair and her balding husband, four elderly relatives and two younger, fresher faces burst into applause. Giving a wide grin, the tall brown haired man stood in line with various other men and women, waiting patiently for everyone to have their names called.

Eventually, with a loud cheer, a storm of hats flew into the air, and the crowd of people stood to applause, ignoring the sticky heat to cheer on those who have graduated.

An hour later, and sat in a small cosy restaurant are a group of smiling people. It's easy to see they're all related. Several mops of brown, messy hair, similar eyes, noses and mouths, and a few gangly limbs. With four grandparents, two parents, and three young people, the table is crowded, but none of them seem to mind. Passing garlic bread around, there are jokes being told, and a graduation hat being tried on by the various members of the Brahmen clan.

Anyone passing by would probably be slightly intimidated by the large gathering. Each person seems to be brimming with personality, loud, warm laughter and joy. In the center of the party, Zachary cradles a small pouch to his chest, and a curious sister, Adrienne, coos delightedly at a pair of large, black eyes. “He's beautiful!” She exclaims, sipping more wine and leaning over her brother's shoulder. “Get him out! Please...” She begs, nudging the taller, brown haired man till he eventually fishes out the mystery creature in the pouch.

A soft, fuzzy grey head (www.tcfexotics.com/animalpic/sugarglider-main.jpg) pokes out the top of the black bag.

Grinning, Liam gave his brother a thumbs up. “It's a good job I spotted him this morning, huh?” He asks, stealing a pasta shell off his mother's plate. “I mean seriously, who sells these things around on market stalls?” Zach doesn't answer. His hands rest protectively on the little creature, and he thoughtfully offers a pea from the salad out to the unusual looking creature. Grasping the pea with tiny hands, the little furry head disappears back in to the bag, and finally, the brown haired man looks up with a wonky grin.

“He's beautiful Liam, best graduation present ever.” Wincing at the look from his parents and grandparents, he raises his hand.
“Of course, dinner and money is also awesome.” Laughing, the siblings all try and steal the last piece of garlic bread, and the husband and wife look to each other, smiling.

“We love you three.”

On Saturday morning, Zachary Brahmen received a set of calls that would change his life.

The first call was from his sister's son, his nephew, Akira. Akira was babbling franticly about some meta school and that he had powers. After repeated requests to SLOW down, eventually, the young Vet got the message, wrote a note down on a piece of paper, and promised that come lunchtime, he would drive down and visit the young boy, and talk properly.

The second call was from his sister. Adrienne seemed rather rushed, much like her son. This time, however, he could understand exactly the implications of the matter. Akira had been diagnosed as a meta-human. A very gifted young boy with an awful lot of talent ahead of him. Gently talking to his sister, Zach managed to wrestle a particularly fiesty rabbit into a cage, then wrote down a few more notes on the same piece of paper. “I'll be over after work, I promise.” He'd reassured her, before hanging up and continuing with his morning's work.

The rest of the morning went without much event. Two small canaries with a parasite eating their feathers, a puppy with a torn ear, and a goat with it's head stuck in a fence, which Zach had to cut away very gently, while trying to avoid both hooves and horns. It was twelve o' clock before the gangly brunette found the time to clean his glasses, wash his hands and have a tea break. Staring at the note by the phone, he threw a sandwich down his neck, waved a farewell to his colleagues, and climbed in the jeep, ready for a long drive up to his sister's marital home. Making sure to pick up a few little treats for his nephews and niece, he took the back roads, mostly to avoid the weekend traffic.

When he pulled up outside the family home, his sister greeted him eagerly.

“Zachie!” She shouted, nearly hugging him before he'd wrestled his seatbelt off. Calming his sister, he climbed out the vehicle and took out his messenger bag. “I've called Mum and Dad as well, and they're pretty happy but...”

Seated at the breakfast table, Zachary listened quietly to his sister's dilemma, head tilted to the side. Akira had to go to Vermont to start training, so his powers would be under control. The family couldn't really afford to move with him, since Seta was studying, and Midori, too, was settled in school. This would mean their youngest child would have to travel, alone, to a brand new, weird place, and only see his family at the weekends.

“He has Moxie.” He said calmly, resting his chin on his fingertips as he listened to Adrienne mutter unhappily about sending her little boy alone in the world without anyone to take care of him. Holding his sister close, he offered her a warm smile, and tickled under her chin. “Adrie, I'm sure something will turn up. Don't you worry.”

And it did.

Barely two days later, on Monday afternoon, Zachary received a call from his father. This call, beyond the other two, was the second most important call of his life. His mother had been lazily searching for properties in the Pilot Ridge area, where the school was located, and she had found an old veterinary clinic that was for sale. His father calmly detailed the plot of land, complete with upstairs living accommodation, enough for himself, and for Akira to visit. He continued to describe this one property with enthusiasm, then grew silent.

“You want me to buy the place, don't you?” Zach asked quietly, pressing his fingertips into his temples and massaging. “I don't know if you'd noticed Dad, but Vets earn distinctly less than Brain Surgeons, and I couldn't afford that place if I sold all my earthly possessions.”

“We don't want you to buy the place.” His father replied. “We've bought it for you. Hand in your resignation notice, and get moving. This is your chance to have your own practice.”
The words weighed heavily on his mind, and he let out a defeated sigh.

“Thank you. I'll get packing.”

Pilot Ridge was a nice enough place. Zachary had found the clients who came into his surgery as pleasant, and understanding. Whether this was because of the coffee and tea readily available, the aging, leather couches, or the slices of cake offered to any who waited longer than 10 minutes, he didn't know. He did constantly assure the people in the waiting room that he would one day give the reception area a makeover – the wallpaper was clearly from the 80's, and the linoleum was five years past its sell by date. Despite this, the gangly vet rarely had a bad word said about him; the waiting room smelt of cinnamon and home, the dogs that trotted gaily out the back rooms were cheerful and well looked after, and the fresh flowers that stood on the reception desk were always bright and cheerful, never wilting.

On a particularly busy Friday evening, Zachary had just been about to close up the surgery for the night, to pick Akira up for the weekend and call his sister and her husband to let them know how their son was doing, when an urgent phonecall came through. The man seemed desperate; his beloved Beagle had clearly swallowed something he wasn't supposed to, and was fading fast. With nothing more said than “Bring him here as fast as you can, I'll stay open”, the Vet rolled his sleeves up once more, and cleared the examination table, concerned.

When the beagle was carried in, Zach instantly knew that the poor thing was on death's door. The man, dressed in a suit with stubble, looked a mixture of angry and upset, and Zach carried the little creature through, pressing gently on the animal's stomach to find the blockage.

“I'll try and flush it out first before I try an invasive method.” He said calmly, fetching a set of tubes from one of the storage cupboards and gently inserting it down the shivering pup's neck.

“I know, I know.” Zach said softly as the little dog whined, stroking over his side. Looking up at the other man, he nodded him over. “If you could hold him...” Then, wordlessly, the two men gently worked at the beagle, flushing fluids into it's stomach. As the blockage began to move, the young vet looked relieved. “I'll keep him here tonight, if that's alright.”

“Yes. Thank you.” The suited man said, stroking his hand over the beagle fondly. “You have quite a skill there. Magic, almost.”
Laughing quietly, the Vet pushed his glasses up his nose and shook his head. “If you want magic, you're talking to the wrong man. My nephew, Akira, however...” The man with the stubble looked surprised, then sharply stared at Zach with a curiousity. Running his hand across his stubbly face, he stretched and kissed the beagle on his muzzle.

“He's meta, this Akira?” He asked in a would-be casual voice, walking with Zach out the back to settle the little dog in a kennel for the night. Looking warm, Zachary nodded. “Oh yes. Animal Control, why? You meta yourself?” He asked cheerfully, hooking the water tube up the side of the kennel. The other man stayed quiet for a few moments, just looking at his beloved pet in the cage, then nodding with a smirk.

“You could say that.” He said calmly, giving the beagle one last kiss before walking back out to the waiting room. “Thanks for staying open.”

“My pleasure.” Zach said, taking his glasses off for a moment and thumbing through the pages in the reception book. “Can I have a name and number to call you when little Solo is ready for picking up?”

Offering a card out, the man bowed his head, then departed, smiling a small smile as a thank you.

Gabriel Underwood
589 777 32

Behind the M A S K . . .

Name: C to the hezuu
Age: 40 divided by 2.
RP Experience: Sometime.
How did you find us?: Voodoo.

Show your S K I L L S . . .

Derp. You've seen my threads, Tony.