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[h1][color=ed1c24]Johnny Van Ronk[/color][/h1]
Around a month ago
The Australian outback
[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dv1h3VSQjf8]Northern Lites[/url]
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Johnny's jacket billowed in the wind as the admittedly shoddily made and probably unsafe dirt bike he rode hopped another dune. A pair of goggles hung loosely around his bare neck as he peered out into the vast, seemingly never ending desert. His jeans, once fully blue now had the added shade of yellow, as sand began kicking up and blending in with the lower parts of the trousers. A cigarette hung loosely in his mouth, as per usual.

Two questions can arise from this situation. The first, and most obvious, relating to why Johnny was in the Australian outback. It was a pilgrimage of sorts. His father had always meant to take him there, but never got a chance to before his untimely death. Johnny decided to take the trip himself, especially with all the spare time he had after the school semester had ended. The second question is much easier to answer. Why was Johnny on a motorbike rather than just running at the faster rate he could? Simply because he thought motorbikes were cool. And because he didn't want to tire his feet out.

He quickly glanced at his watch, taking one of his hands off of the handlebars and raising his wrist to his face. This was all it took for him to spin out and fall into the sand below, not a great feeling in any respect. It also made a considerable amount of noise, enough to attract a nearby gang of dingo's in fact.

Johnny drew his gun, tucked away neatly in a shoulder holster close to his chest. He drew as fast as usual, but hesitated on the fire as he saw what he was actually shooting at. The dingoes began to circle him, the situation was getting worse by the second. He really didn't want to shoot the poor things, but he also really didn't want a trip to the hospital. He sighed, a plan had popped into his head, but it wasn't the neatest and by far wasn't the nicest, to him or the dingoes. 

A dingo leaped at him, he simply held out his forearm, letting out the appropriate yelp as it's teeth sunk deep into his arm. A snarl grew on both the dingo's and Johnny's face as he used it as a sort of makeshift baton to swipe away the other members of the pack as he made his way to the motorbike and got it standing. As soon as the conflict had started it had ended, and Johnny sped off, the dingo's becoming nothing more than a speck on the horizon as he shook off the one clinging to his arm.

Great, not only had he gained a considerable amount of sand in his shoe, now he had a new scar to explain.

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[h1][color=ed1c24]Johnny Van Ronk[/color][/h1]
Present day
Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters
[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RgNfTx9pGzA&list=RD-SEkmLVw_UE]The Headmaster Ritual[/url]
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Johnny raised a novelty [i]'The Smiths'[/i] zippo lighter to his mouth and lit the cigarette currently being held between his teeth. He was about 85% sure that the lighter was a fake, being that he bought it at a roadside store in Australia. It was back to school it seemed, and Johnny was early for once. He wore a black bomber jacket with a fur collar over a white t-shirt. Along with which he wore a pair of jeans, kept up by a black belt which matched the black boots he always seemed to wear on his first day back.

He made his way into the school, and then further down into the familiar basement training facility he had been taught in for years on end. If there was one person he was glad to see it was, Latour. He'd heard rumours that he was being replaced by some snotty strict old rich guy, and was relieved to hear that this was just hot air. 

As he made his way through the labyrinthine-like structure of the basement he couldn't help but wonder how those who hadn't braved this maze in the past would keep up. Eventually he appeared before Francis and Sophie, a cigarette still hanging from his mouth as he absent-mindedly tried to remember something he had told himself to do [i]before[/i] coming into the room.

Ah yes. That was it. Francis didn't like smoking in class. A small grin grew on, Johnny's face as he breathed out an apology with what smoke was left and took the cigarette out of his mouth, stubbing it on the sole of his shoe and tossing it into a nearby bin. He half-sat on the arm of the couch, on the away side of Sophie. Sort of the same kind of sit you'd see people doing at a bus shelter.
[color=ed1c24]"Before you say anything, prof. I know this is the first time in both of our lives that I've ever been early for anything, so you can put away whatever clever jokes you thought up about me being late to the side this time."[/color] He joked, something about as rare as an eclipse.