[center][color=a0410d][h2]Eastwood Evans - Light of Our Lives[/h2][/color][/center]
[center][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CvwQmxLaknc][i]ost[/i][/url][/center]

People liked to say stuff that they could do forever. [i]Oh, I could shop forever. I could eat here forever. I could binge this show forever.[/i] Well, Eastwood didn't know about overeating and he sure as shit wasn't no fan of sitting still for no TV show for all time, but there were some things he could do forever. He could drive and sing and shoot the shit atcha from a hundred yards away, there was so much life in him, but more than anything he felt like he could run forever - and with his power, now as long as there was daylight out or even if someone left the football field's lights on, he really could run forever.

But there were a handful of responsibilities that came from takin' the doc's pill, so instead of running forever, the big-hearted Texan lug had to call it quits after only two hours and a li'l change. He had gotten off of his last afternoon class - a snoozer of a Bio lab that had made Eastwood want to sprint for the exit instead of for fun - two and a half hours ago, changed within ten minutes, and had devoted the rest of his time to haulin' ass and croonin' to the empty practice field.

The alarm that had sounded on his iPhone, cutting him right outta his routine, was still hollerin' as he fished the device from his hoodie's pocket and slid his finger along the touchscreen. The cheerful techno noise cut out abruptly. It brought a grin to his face as he jogged much more casually up to one of the vending machines left out for the athletes. East ran his fingertips over the familiar button that would shoot one lemon-lime Gatorade his way and grinned wider.

Acheri and Soleil were always riding him about his sports drink tastes, and he had tried to give other flavors a fair shake. But got damn if there wasn't something heavenly about a Gatorade that was as sour as a rattlesnake's bite. Slipping a buck-twenty-five into the machine and pushing the button with his palm, Eastwood stayed still long enough to crouch down and scoop up the Gatorade before playin' his music again and tearin' up grass on his way to the lab.

He moved so quickly that the [i]crack![/i] of the broken seal and the [color=a0410d][i]glugglugglugglugahhhhgotdamnthatsgood[/i][/color] of his chugging was almost lost in the rush of wind and blues in his ears. 

East slowed to a halt outside the lab where they had all gotten their powers - a lab that still held a li'l bit of anticipation and hesitation for the wayward cowboy at the same time. One of the other students was already outside takin' a drag on her smoke, which wasn't really Eastwood's cup'ah'beer 'cause of his runner's lungs and all, but more power to her. He flipped the empty plastic bottle in his hand upside down, so he had his index and middle fingers wrapped around the neck, and chucked it upside down into the trash can without even hitting the rim. [color=a0410d][i]Hooah.[/i][/color]

Were the girls around? He had to watch his accent around Acheri and Soleil. They rode his ass like Secretariat over his drawl. Seeing that the coast was clear, however, he put on a friendly beam and high fived the top of the frame to the building's entrance as though it could greet him back.

[color=a0410d]"Ayy, howdy,"[/color] he breathed out, only slightly winded from his hours of exertion. [color=a0410d]"How's things goin'?"[/color]