[center][img]https://i.gyazo.com/f4489a83c66878c4ea30106fe466b964.png[/img]
[h3][color=ed1c24]Jonas Highwind[/color][/h3]
[@Krayzikk][@Plank Sinatra][@Write][@Caasicam] (text) [@NeoAJ][@Altered Tundra][@Rockette][@Inkarnate] (mentioned)[/center]

[color=ed1c24][i]What an utter anathema.[/i][/color]

Setting the door to Apartment 2A shut behind his back, the dark-haired son of War itself dispassionately placed an array of overpriced groceries from the campus market onto the marble countertop that flanked their new range. With how they had needed to scramble to put their faculty-maligned bash together in the span of the afternoon, the space was for all intents and purposes pristine save for a sea of boxes— they'd just barely managed to unload his Ford and Dallas's Subaru before setting off to work.

He doubted either of them would be in the mood to settle into this place for a while longer. It was only in search of pots, a pan, and a whisk that he even thought to tear one open. And only because he immediately needed them, at that. With the threat of expulsion looming over their heads for the crime of [i]daring[/i] to stand against a glorified punching bag rather than run, Jonas saw no real reason to go through the work of turning this place into a home just yet.

Not when there was every likelihood this exact course of events would happen again, party or no.

He and Dallas had argued until they were blue in their faces about that point— with nothing to show for it. Not even a concession that they hadn't been able to alter its strength for four years prior. That paths they could only sneak through as a duo had not gotten progressively wider in the slightest, that nothing else had proven capable of slipping through—

Nothing.

[color=ed1c24]"These are gas burners? Nice."[/color]

They had to hoof it to get the party favors delivered this time, yeah— but that was precisely because they never skimped on their method of exfiltration and infiltration of the Academy's defenses. It was threading a needle. Even after years of searching, they'd only found a precious handful of points of entry wide enough to accommodate his Ford. Nothing so large as a two-story 'Shadow'. They'd always made sure to give it a solid whack on their way back in, time and again, as a way of "covering their tracks". Whatever weakening their escapades had done, surely the absorbed power was enough to rectify it.

They were mindful. They were studious. They were experienced with this barrier. Probably moreso than most of the faculty that professed to maintain it. Their technique to bypass the field, even if somebody had observed the two beneath both of their notices, was singular to Dallas alone. Nobody else could have fine-tuned a replica version of themselves to throw at the thing— They would have [i]seen[/i] this hypothetical third party emulate them by now. They had been doing this since 2013. It wasn't covering their own asses, they [i]understood[/i] how the damn thing worked.

It all fell upon deaf ears, and had driven his best friend speechless with fury. Every single time something went tits up, he was regarded as though the organizer of every event that took place. Made a martyr and "example" to others, ignoring the very real threat that they'd stood against. It had been close to an hour since he'd last seen the Son of the Sun, stalking off towards open air and a serene surrounding to attempt to cool his head. Jonas had seen him get like this before- he usually said he needed the space. That it'd be better if he didn't wreck their walls.

This time, he couldn't bring himself to say anything. 

[color=ed1c24][i]I get that.[/i][/color]

He felt a scowl grow upon his face, brow furrowing further and further, each time he replayed the last fourteen hours in his head.

[color=ed1c24][i]We pull up to the barrier. We aren't followed. We use the lull to sneak my truck through. We hit it with a couple of "failed" attempts at escape. The damn thing absorbs enough juice to the point that I can actually see it. All is standard procedure.[/i][/color]

With a trio of clicks, a blue flame kissed the bottom of a saucepot, warming the few tablespoons of butter that began to coast within. Another held a bath of water, slowly rising to temperature. Into a glass bowl he deposited a trio of egg yolks, reserving the whites in a measuring cup off to the side. Omelette for tomorrow.

[color=ed1c24][i]We arrive at dusk, requisitioning the girls for help with transport. Everything kicks off properly. People are getting along, enjoying drink, music, eachother's company. The worst they could do is come at us for contraband alcohol from Denver. That's barely even mentioned post-mortem. This is at least an hour after we make our pass through the barrier. After we verify that it's absorbed equivalent force to what we used in passage, leaving it as strong as it had been in the months prior to our return. At this point, they have as much reason to concern themselves with the main road in we all took to get on campus.[/i][/color]

A small splash of white wine vinegar fell into the yolks, acidity brightening the rich orange orbs within. As the pot with water came up to a simmer, he placed the bowl atop it. A bain-marie, the perfect source of indirect heat to cook these things through without scrambling them. Whisk in hand, he began to mix vigorously.

[color=ed1c24][i]More time passes. It feels like an hour, but at this point it doesn't matter— if we were followed, we'd have known well before then. I begin to fend off unwanted advances. Dallas begins to make a psychological attack against my composure— Off-track. Unimportant.[/i][/color]

Now he reached the part that had personally pissed him off: everything involving 'Shadow'. They were told by the teachers in no uncertain terms to never speak of this event— and that they had made it through by the skins of their teeth until the faculty had dropped in. It was dead. They had Original the Character dead to rights. It was literally falling through the portal when those idiots had closed it up on them.

The butter had melted. The yolk and vinegar mixture had taken on a creamy, ribbonlike texture. Time to incorporate. Pouring the hot fat into the bowl in small, controlled streams, just a tablespoon or so at a time, Jonas let some steam off as he whisked— the eggs needed to be constantly moving anyway as each portion of butter was homogenized into the Hollandaise, and he needed to get himself back to objective review. Inhaling and exhaling deeply, he turned the full force of his mind back onto the problem.

[color=ed1c24][i]Vivian shows up. With her, hounds. Obviously she's not at fault and is fleeing. They at minimum quintuple our group in number, and form a wall that pins us to the coastline. Nowhere to "run" as the staff so prudently suggest. I get the ball rolling tactically as they begin their wave tactics. Non-combatants stick to the lakefront, where Rhea's hydrokinetics prove stalwart defense against any that slip through both my point defense and the firing position I've set Rebekah, Danaye, and Kelsey onto. Ten minutes of combat pass without tragedy.

Without casualty.

Without even [b]injury.[/b][/i][/color]

Last of the butter incorporated. The texture resembled custard. Perfect. Seasoning with a bit of salt, pepper, and the juice of a lemon to cut through the richness of the fat upon the palate, he set the simmering pot aside, leaving the bowl over the warm water to prevent it from going cold while he moved onto the next step.

[color=ed1c24][i]It's by every account a perfect defensive position. It was the only choice we had to begin with, and as a group we excelled. Then as their numbers wane the thing coalesces from the remainder of the hounds, naming itself 'Shadow'. I still can't take that seriously. It never gave me a reason to in the first place. What the hell kind of hero would run from something that barely fights back? From a big target more interested in trying to belittle as opposed to kill or maim?[/i][/color]

He quickly bisected a series of English Muffins before heating up the frying pan and laying in one, two, three strips of bacon. He'd do those in batches given the premium on space. More time to think. To try and come up with a fault in their actions, one so worthy of scolding by the higher-ups of the Academy.

He struggled to conjure an answer in their stead. He doubted a worthy one existed. 

[color=ed1c24]"Aha. Ahahahaha."[/color]

He still couldn't contain his mirth at how wholly [i]wrong[/i] they had been. 

[color=ed1c24][i]"Threat to the campus"? 

"Powerful enough to merit our arrival"?
 
"You obviously had a hard fight"? 

I've taught kindergartners that offered more resistance than "Shadow"— And it only ever struck at me and that one Nyx girl. Didn't even attack [i]her[/i] outright, it just opted for another attempt at mental warfare. El Cid's blades cut through it like butter, even if it did not feel fear. It had no answer for my Ornithes Arrows. If I wanted, I could snipe at it with impunity until the explosions rendered it smoke. I could easily go toe to toe with it in a contest of pure strength even before Haluk shot me full of adrenaline. Eckeseax nearly cleft it in two with one swing. And that was just me.

Liam and Rebekah both exposed it to primordial destructive elements, expressions of pure power gifted to mankind and the world by the Gods themselves. It had no answer for those. They also mimed hypervelocity kill vehicles, just outright slugging the thing with pure kinetic energy. Between the three of us, we were chewing through its composition with impunity. Knocking it all over the place.

Even if that girl hadn't opened a portal for us to direct that merry session of kicking around a training dummy the size of a house towards, we had it handled. Damien, punk that he is, took out three of its limbs with no recourse. Kelsey spent the whole time filling it with arrows, just as I could have, and she hadn't even broken a sweat. Haluk's arrival and support were unchallenged. It couldn't even figure out that it was HIM that suddenly made everyone twice as strong.

I am fully confident that I could take that thing on my own without much trouble. A certain level of danger perhaps, but that is the nature of fighting. With everyone here?

All those teachers did was steal our rightful kill. They saved nobody. They prevented nothing. For all their talk of Gods-granted authority and power, they accomplished exactly none of what we hadn't already. And then, they had the gall to turn onto us with every bit of the fervor they should by all rights have confronted the thing with in the moment it had appeared.[/i][/color]

Even in the face of the smell of rendering pork fat that wafted through the room, Jonas's expression had hardened and set, his smug derision fading as his indignation swelled again. No matter how laughable their read on the situation was, no matter how much he, even in the midst of their lecturing, couldn't keep that smirk off of his face, they were still treated as the party in the wrong. Not even allowed to discuss the goings-on in the aftermath, to proceed as normal under heavy surveillance.

Prisoners in the very cage they'd defended.

He thumbed through his venerable iPhone, quickly finding the group chat Dallas had set up between their little contingent of demigods, and tapped out a quick message with one hand as the other laid crispy, smoky strips of bacon onto a napkin-lined plate to drain.

>Making food
>Grab a bite if you guys want
>Faculty's retarded

Three more strips sizzled as they entered the pan.

[color=ed1c24][i]I think I'd welcome an expulsion by now. Under the tutelage of those who do not understand my ability, I learn nothing of combat. I scour through more myth on my own than they teach, rebranding the same basic overviews of Grecian and Hellenistic stories that any fifth grader could recite at least semi-accurately. I already know how to read and write, and am more rigorously tested in anything STEM back at UT. It's only my peers that keep me caring. My student. My sister. The people I've grown to love and care for and trust to test myself against. Who I've taken it upon myself to teach and protect.

I wouldn't see them. The only reason I wouldn't accept expulsion is if they aren't expelled alongside me... And to a name, they've all been held just as responsible, and stand at just as much risk. If we leave as a group, what would I really miss?[/i][/color]

He hit send, and leaned against the counter as the meat cooked, folding his arms and regarding his still very-packed boxes.

[color=ed1c24][i]If I am punished for valiant deeds here, of all the places in the world, then the Age of Heroes really is dead and gone for good. I should have no attachment to a wannabe college campus actively stifling my ideals, trying to cast my dreams aside for the sake of being one of their good little students. Herakles would not have run. That man stood against my Father and won the day— a place that tells me to run against something that trivial in comparison offers me nothing. I'd never reach my goal. I'd never escape being anything more than what I am right now: Not Nearly Enough.

I cannot sublimate into legend if I do not take a stand against that which would bring ruin to me and my own. Nobody who doesn't put themselves in harm's way deserves to be spoken of alongside the names of mankind's storied pinnacle. I'd choke my potential, and my desires, to death if I didn't do what I had done. On some level I get their ruling on messing with the barrier— but to not stand and fight against a foe borne of the terrors of night itself? To not be a light in the darkness, a pure expression of humanity's hope and courage in the fight against all that would tear that which we love from us?

That, I cannot abide. I cannot obey. It disgusts me.

Were it not for my bonds with everyone I've met here, I think they'd not even need to resort to expulsion.

A place that so fundamentally clashes with me... I'd have left myself.[/i][/color]