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Hound55 Member
Create-A-Hero RPG GM, Blue Bringer of BWAHAHA!
STATUS: A Perpetual Motion Engine of Anxiety and Self-Loathing 3 yrs ago
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A Perpetual Motion Engine of Anxiety and Self-Loathing
Bio
So there I am, in Sri Lanka, formerly Ceylon, at about 3 o'clock in the morning, looking for one thousand brown M&Ms to fill a brandy glass, or Ozzy wouldn't go on stage that night. So, Jeff Beck pops his head 'round the door, and mentions there's a little sweets shop on the edge of town. So - we go. And - it's closed. So there's me, and Keith Moon, and David Crosby, breaking into that little sweets shop, eh. Well, instead of a guard dog, they've got this bloody great big Bengal tiger. I managed to take out the tiger with a can of mace, but the shopowner and his son... that's a different story altogether. I had to beat them to death with their own shoes. Nasty business, really. But, sure enough, I got the M&Ms, and Ozzy went on stage and did a great show.
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Banjo gazed into the bathroom mirror at the battered and marred face that looked back at him.
He smiled, and watched as it twisted. The hitched curl of his lip, the new gap in his brow. The places where it would scar, and the left cheek around his eye which swole and raised to slightly close it over.
He washed his hands in the basin and looked up his arms. Some superficial damage, protective wounds but nothing deep.
He thought back to that night and Cass' arms. The burn marks which had been there for years, and would have for more if he were still drawing breath. The cigarette burns, that round burn he barely got a look at which he first thought may have been a cigar, but now seemed more likely a lighter burn. His own arms were spotless, unblemished, prior to the day before last night, which happened a week ago. Even if the trauma which caused them still remained.
He dried his hands with a paper towel and turned and, turning his whole body to avoid the pain, threw it in the toilet. He turned back and looked at his face again in the mirror.
He kind of liked it. It seemed more honest. He wondered what that same face would look like if everything he'd been through down the years still left their marks. What about the rest of him?
He couldn't juice up whilst he was healing his fresh wounds. It'd do more harm than good. So maybe this honest face would hold for a month. Maybe two. But for now, a least, he believed the outside looked like the inside felt.
He smiled, and watched as it twisted. The hitched curl of his lip, the new gap in his brow. The places where it would scar, and the left cheek around his eye which swole and raised to slightly close it over.
He washed his hands in the basin and looked up his arms. Some superficial damage, protective wounds but nothing deep.
He thought back to that night and Cass' arms. The burn marks which had been there for years, and would have for more if he were still drawing breath. The cigarette burns, that round burn he barely got a look at which he first thought may have been a cigar, but now seemed more likely a lighter burn. His own arms were spotless, unblemished, prior to the day before last night, which happened a week ago. Even if the trauma which caused them still remained.
He dried his hands with a paper towel and turned and, turning his whole body to avoid the pain, threw it in the toilet. He turned back and looked at his face again in the mirror.
He kind of liked it. It seemed more honest. He wondered what that same face would look like if everything he'd been through down the years still left their marks. What about the rest of him?
He couldn't juice up whilst he was healing his fresh wounds. It'd do more harm than good. So maybe this honest face would hold for a month. Maybe two. But for now, a least, he believed the outside looked like the inside felt.
- - -
Location: Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean
First Class: # 2.26 Time Flies When Your Two Nights Is Everyone Else's Week
Interaction(s): Trace - @psych0pomp, Elodie - @Skai
Previously: New Awakenings
A flush, and bare footsteps moved gingerly back towards the bed. Every step felt like it rattled his broken core. Every breath came with a rustle or scrape.
His condition had apparently been stabilised and he'd been moved here, to the Special Ward, a place presumably used for if Ranking Officers or dignitaries needed care away from prying eyes, back in the days of when this place was a military hospital. There were a few people here for his care, and otherwise it was a ghost-town. He wasn't sure if they were going to eventually move him to a general ward, or whether this was to keep people away. Technically he was now going to be allowed an expanded visitor list. But the regular student base, they wouldn't know he was here. Broken and tucked away, with a scratchy voice that would struggle to be heard over a stiff breeze.
He rounded a solar lamp, which some genius who'd read a basic report or profile on him had figured was a good idea. He didn't like it and didn't want it, but it wasn't worth the argument to explain why. He said 'saccharine', it was the quickest and most painless way he figured he could explain the sensation. Three syllables. It only made him feel more confined. Tasted wrong. The walls shrank in on him, and it reminded him he couldn't leave.
He reached the corner of the bed and made a decision, slowly he stepped out into the corridor of the Special Ward.
Finding an answer, he smiled.
"Not strong enough now though. But you know it's there."
Beyond the claustrophobia itself, he was fearful of getting triggered by that claustrophobia into a panic, here and now when it could be agony to draw breath.
"Rest now. Then leave."
He gingerly lay back on his bed with a heavy wince. Imagining what the sun would feel like on his skin, and daring to hope that Calliope might happen to be out there when he does burst back into the daylight.
He got to his feet again ten to fifteen minutes later. It shouldn't take so much out of a person just to go to the bathroom, but evidently it had. He walked back to the corridor and carefully trod a path to his goal.
An electric, stick-driven wheelchair which someone had abandoned further down the ward.
Every step hurt, but he was re-doubled with purpose now. He felt a cough coming on, and used the thought of the pain it would cause him to fight it off, as well as the attention it would draw.
He turned and sat, and cringed with pain, before moving gingerly to find a comfortable resting position.
A sigh. He took the stick and with quiet whirring, made his way to the end of the ward, and the elevator bay which awaited him.
Trace sat on the lip of the fountain, glancing into the water and catching the sun’s mottled rays. Their cheeks were hot from the unfiltered sun, but they’d applied a heavy enough sunscreen that they shouldn’t have to worry about creepy blue blistering on their face. The red hibiscus was in their hand. It looked as sad as Trace felt. Dejected and defeated in the face of their classmates. They weren't an eloquent speaker. Maybe they'd spoken wrong. No. They were right. They weren't going to back down from that stance. Maybe the others would see reason. Maybe they wouldn't.
"Good arvo, eh..?
For a second, Trace assumed that Haleigh had ramped over the anger stage of grief with the expediency of a pro skater, but that was not the case. Instead, Banjo rolled up to them. “Despite our accents havin’ bloody similarities, I don’t know what fuckin’ arvo means. So, you might want to try that again, or just motor off. I saw Calliope around here somewhere. She’s probably a more welcome face than my ungodly abomination.” They looked up, and their nearly transparent brows knitted. “Though, you look like someone tried to crisp up a dead opossum they found on the road. Might want to buff off the tire tracks before seein’ your girlfriend.”
Banjo smiled and tried to fight a chuckle from attacking his broken core. He deserved that. With the damage to his face, his smirk took the form of a grotesque sneer.
"It means good afternoon, Short White and Hands-y. And while I won't lie and say I wouldn't have rathered see her out here than yourself. You're probably a pretty clear second anyway."
The look of surprise was clear on Trace's face, and only sold further by their blank eyes.
"Admittedly a very distant second... but a clear one. And not just because you're bloody near translucent." Again, the grotesque sneer. His lip was curled and starting to scar in a rough way.
"And since I'm still supposed to be on a hospital bed, and not out here talking to you in a stolen wheelchair, I'd just as soon not go chasin' people 'round campus. It is good to know that the outside now looks like the inside feels, but. I'd hate to think I'm misrepresentin' meself."
Trace sighed. "It's probably better that you stay away from that lot, anyway. They wouldn't be good for you in this state. Your face might stick like that bloody permanently. And then what would your adorin' fans say?"
"Wouldn't bloody know. Would love to meet one one day."
"Come on, chickenshit. Get this kicked in the arse and done with. You know it's the right thing, even if they won't make it easy for ya." Banjo thought to himself. "You've sat on it for two days, they've had to fester on it for a week."
"Speakin' of ungodly abominations..." He spoke. "--And masterful segues." "...I wanted to have a quiet word with you about that. What I said, and did - I guess, was fucked up. And bullshit. It's a shitty thing to go feedin' and throwin' another person's biggest insecurities in their face. Fact is, I don't even believe it. Hell, I don't really know anyone here who does... but then it's not like I'm takin' polls on you with others. I just knew that deep down, for some fucked up reason or another, that YOU Ahh fuck... ...think that bullshit. And I knew it'd hurt to drag that one out and beat you with it. Which is-- well, it's a fucked up thing to do, and ahh'm sorr--y." He gasped for breath towards the end, with a splutter. It was too long for him to go on.
Trace narrowed their eyes at his words. It'd felt like entire years had passed since that moment, and here they were talking about it. He wasn't wrong. Most of the self-loathing was created by them and for them. Yet, it didn't start that way. It only festered after the initial wound had been made, and it'd been made far before they'd ever met Banjo. They couldn't forget the screaming.
Banjo's apology was surprising, but it wasn't unwelcome. Maybe Trace was going to say something nice at that moment. They weren't feeling too grand about themselves, and hearing something positive was a way to alleviate that sinking feeling. Yet, Banjo kept talking...
"I mean... I found a lottery ticket in the dirt. Wait, no, that'd imply initiative on my part-- A lottery ticket blew into-- no. A lottery ticket JUMPED into my hands and said 'Oi, mate. Check out the numbers.' and it was a winner." He said, raising a hand to take a few breaths, with a wince. "I mean she's beautiful, she's smart, she's - fucked if I know how this happens, because I hear beautiful people all too often feel they don't have to be - ACTUALLY FUCKING kind. She's from like a well-to-do family or something, her father's a senator... alright, sounds like one with some shitty bigoted views, but still... I'm not usually one to care about bullshit like that, but people do." He paused for some more breath. His ribs were starting to ache from pushing himself too hard, but he wasn't one to let a thing like that stop him.
"Now, I'm not generally chopped liver to look at-- Shut up." Banjo pre-empted the smartarse comeback. "--but that aside, I'm a broke, clusterfuck of a prick, with fuck all prospects or ambition, who was ditched by his parents from Who-the-fuck-knows-couldn't-even-tell-ya Australia. Oh! Who can't even go back to Aus if he wants to anymore, because coming here outed me as a Hyperhuman. And somehow, despite ALL of that, I still had a shot with HER. And then my dickhead mate, who I fuck about with and shitstir, decided it'd be a laugh to come up and joke about tearing my lottery ticket up in front of me." More breaths before his conclusion.
"Now, I'm not looking to justify it. What I did was absolutely fucked. And on top of that, I don't even believe any of it. I'll cop to all of that. But that's where me head was, when I said that bullshit to you." His ribs ached. He could tell he'd gone on far too long. It felt like his chest was throbbing and pulsating.
"Banjo. I say this with all the sympathy my body can muster: shut the fuck up." They pushed themselves up, standing at full attention in front of him. Usually, it wouldn't mean much. But he was sitting, and for once, they lorded over him. "If anyone is goin' to rip a lottery ticket out of your hands, it's goin' to be you with all this blabberin' on. So, I made a shit joke about gettin' your dick wet. Why should that bother you? Why should that bother Calliope? Peoples' worth aren't dependent on their sexual prowess. It's a bloody fuckin' antiquated way of makin' women's virginity feel like property, and makin' men feel like if they haven't conquered that property then they're sad little wankers. You're not a sad little wanker Banjo. Do you fall into society's little bubble, Banjo? Are you their perfect little round peg for their perfect little round hole? No. No you're not. So, don't fall into the preconceived ideals that society has about sexuality and masculinity. Own your past, your present, and your future. Jesus, I'd think of all these swaggerin' loons in this camp, I wouldn't have to explain this to you." They sighed, crossing their arms over their chest. "That bein' said, you don't have to worry about me sayin' anythin' else about it. It was a low, bloody blow, and I was feelin' a bit raw at the moment due to shit that had nothin' to do with you."
"So what's been goin' on with the rest of you peanuts? Whaddid I miss?"
They glanced at the somewhat crumpled-up flower. "War bein' declared on Hyperion. And not just the type where someone goes 'ah, fuck that wanker, let's gettum.' No. Haleigh wants to kill 'em, as does Luce, and--Calliope. Luce is actually lookin' for you. She's going to kiss your feet like your Jesus and beg for your forgiveness that we were all too scared to say nothin'. Rory's the voice of reason in all that." They sighed. "And it's not like I'm sayin' we shouldn't do shit. Just, all this happenin' feels like something bloody else is goin' on too. But apparently, I'm performin' oral on Hyperion for just thinkin' that."
"The fuck is with this crazy country? Bloody canucks. I've never had so many people so aggressively looking to apologise and beg for forgiveness in me life. Normally, it's the people demandin' it from me in the other direction... Look, just hold tight and don't broach the issue for a bit. I'll see if I can have a word. You do it first and they'll try and throw some bullshit in your face that it's because you don't give a shit or something. You don't need that." He paused for a second and considered how they'd answered the question. "Y'know what's goin' on with everyone includes you too, right? How're you holdin' up?"
They paused, momentarily. Their thoughts getting caught in their throat at that question. No one had really asked them about themselves. They acted as if Cass's death and Banjo's injury were the only things that happened. And they truly were the worst things that happened, but other things had hurt too. "Weird." They said. "No one has ever said anythin' nice about the way I look since I started to look this way. I had brown skin and black hair before this, Banjo. I was proud of my Indian heritage. And now I'm this--thing. And if people don't find me horrid to look at, I'm off puttin'. And for a flyin', magic supremacist to tell me that I'm 'beautiful' kind of hurts my brain. I mean, Hyperion's wrong. But if he's so wrong, does that mean I'm also a monster? But that's all small compared to everythin' else. I know that. Still feels weird, though."
"The whole thing was off. Did you hear the bullshit spiel he tried to sell me? Its like he-- He's reading broad facts off some basic cheat sheet or report, and then trying to work backwards to come up with assumptions which don't make sense, to try and tell us shit he thinks we want to hear regardless of how fucking off it sounds." He thought about it. "Anyone who would actually know me, would know that telling me you know my parents is not exactly going to win me over to your side. With you, I mean, I'm not saying he's wrong... but it's not something you'd ever be willing to hear or accept..."
"I think-- I think he might have a line on either the H.E.A.T program, the school or maybe even H.E.L.P itself. Because... he's got some of his facts right. But none of it actually connects beyond the superficial. He can't be a telepath, or he wouldn't be so off on us. It's like he's doing that cold reading bullshit like that John Edward bloke. And he got a big enough crowd of impressionable young kids, he only has to hit on a few. He's playing the numbers. Like the desperate bloke at the pub who hits on everyone with a pulse..." He took some breaths.
"I mean, you've seen how bloody exciteable these kids get. See, this is what I'm talkin' about with you. You're by far the fuckin' coolest one of us. Who the fuck else am I gonna talk to when the Seppos and canucks are acting lame and fuckin' weird, it's like they don't even see themselves. You know they actually came up to my hospital bed and told me that the Team swap and house selection was still going to be happening today? Like I'd give a shit, and I'm not just trying to figure out how to breathe without hurting..."
"It wouldn't hurt so bad if you didn't bloody talk so much," Trace remarked. Banjo's grin widened. "You're preachin' to the choir. I agree with you about the entire thing. And, seriously, they're continuin' on with that shit? Ugh. I probably need to change, then. Fetch my umbrella if I have to stand out in this damn heat any longer. "
"Anyway... can you go run messages and let 'em know they moved me out of the ICU? They've chucked me in me own ward and I can have visitors now. Particularly Calli', she's been runnin' around like a blue arsed fly trying to see me enough already. I'd hate to think she'd go to all the trouble and not know, now that I can."
"Oh. Is that why you're bein' nice to me? So I can find your girlfriend." They snapped the bottom of the stem of their flower off and ran their cool hands over the warm petals to make them seem more alive. Trace then leaned over Banjo and slid the flower behind his ear, being sure to tuck it all the way in. That involved them placing their hand on his shoulder and leaning over him. "I'll get the message to Calliope. You just promise me that you'll get better. Because if you die, then who am I bloody supposed to bitch at? I'd just feel bad takin' it out on Rory. He means well, he's like a bloody human golden retriever, and the more I bitch at him the closer I feel like I'm gettin' to the concept of hell." They leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his cheek, avoiding anywhere the skin was bandaged or bruised.
Trace then pulled away, their eyes not seeming to focus on anything in particular, before turning on their heels and heading back to the intake house.
Elle had not expected to see a patient outside of- no, entering, the building. Especially not this particular one. She stopped five feet in front of the entrance, blocking Banjo's way inside. Looking at his battered face, she couldn't help but remember how he hung in the air, inches away from Hyperion's mask before he was sent skyward. How she had to look away to avoid witnessing his fate. She felt a twist in her gut.
"You-" she stopped herself short as if she were about to say something right out of the subconscious parts of her mind. "You should be resting." It would be better to get him back upstairs. Before anyone walked by to see what Hyperion had done to him. She took command and gestured that he should head back towards the elevator.
He whirred back into the entrance, and tried to turn the corner for the elevator only to find it sluggish and unresponsive.
"Oh come on now... not now... Fuck! Ahh... shit, that fuckin' hurts. Great. Now what're you gonna do?" The battery was clearly dead.
She was just about to say "I got it", when she felt another sneeze pushing its way up. She turned herself to the side, out of Banjo's range, and released it into her elbow.
"Fuck. Sorry." She murmured as she instantly reached for the germ-x in her pocket and slathered it on her hands and elbow.
"Have you--? Have you got a cold? No. No, it's quite alright. I think that I read somewhere that the best thing to galvanise a collapsed lung or two, is a solid thick coating of phlegm. Keep wheeling. Just don't lick anything I'm gonna touch."
Sympathy damned, Elle couldn't help but roll her eyes as she stepped over to the wheelchair and gripped the handles. "Don't worry, prison break. The only way you'd catch my cold now is if we traded spit." A short moment of struggle for the initial push, and soon Elle was rolling him closer to the elevator. She moved to press the button with her knuckle and leaned against the wall to face him while they waited. A small smirk tugged at the edge of her mouth. "So, whose spit did you actually have in mind?" Her eyebrow rose just barely as she waited for his answer.
"That's not-- That's not what that was. That was a... friend..?" Is that right..? Trace? A friend? Felt weird to say out loud.
Elle's small smirk began to grow into a smile. She wasn't convinced. "Okay, casanova." She stood straight as she heard the elevator drawing close.
"No really. But... you may be right on that being... peripherally about someone who I hope to, as you so eloquently put it, swap spit with in the future. I just got moved out of the ICU. I don't have a phone. She's been trying to visit and can't get in... I was just letting people know I've moved, and that now they can." He stopped for a spell. It was too much to say at once, all too soon. He tried to catch his breath without taking any deep painful ones, and it was difficult. "...Hell, faith should be rewarded at least some of the time." He added with some shallow breaths and a cough, which made him rattle and wince.
Elle's smile faded the more he spoke, her expression turning solemn once she was standing behind him again. His wheezing had reminded her that he'd just gotten out of the ICU. Perhaps it was better to stop teasing him so much. Even if it seemed his character was still intact. The doors opened and Elle turned him around gently before backing into the elevator. She stepped around to press his floor number. This time she remained next to him, but kept her eyes on the rising floor numbers. She took a breath before subtly looking down at him. "I can let her know, but you have to promise me you'll get your rest."
"Hardly necessary now, is it? Did me own legwork." He smirked. Elle shook her head, but she had to give him a hint of a smile because he really had done the work, even if it was sitting on his ass in a wheelchair. But then he stopped to think. "There is something you could get me though... I could use some stuff from the library. A few books. You know, get the reading done before term starts, since I can't do much else here. Could you help me out there, if I write you a list?"
Elle looked down at him now, that playful smirk returning. "I didn't take you as the study type." She nodded. "I can do that for you." The elevator was soon nearing his floor, but Elle had to say something before any other ears could hear her.
"You're doing great, considering... but you have to listen to the doctors. I'll ask about taking you out for fresh air as soon as it's allowed." She chewed on her lip for a moment. "Hyperion-... he singled you out. You're going to need your strength if he comes back."
"Well, that's pretty bloody hospitable of you." He said with a twisted up smile. Elle returned the gesture with a shrug. "Way I see it... I pretty much singled myself out. And fuck him if he can't take a joke, eh?" That same grotesque snarl of a smirk.
Elle couldn't muster up her own witty remark. The consequences were written clearly across Banjo's face. "I take it by your silence, you reckon I'm not quite ready for yearbook photos just yet, yeah?" He chuckled with a slight cringe of pain. She gave him a polite smile, yet it didn't reach her eyes.
"Whaddid you say your name was, by the way? Makin' a point to make the effort with people from now on. The last bloke I knew where I didn't, wound up a shish-kebab before I ever got the chance... I'm Banjo."
Elle had moved to stand behind him again. She found herself grimacing as she gripped the handles, flashbacks of that horrible death flashing through her head again. Yet when she spoke, her voice was as collected as moments before. "Elle Miller, at your service."
As the elevator doors opened, the handles surged forward out of her grip. Banjo turned with a flick of the stick. "Well, you're alright Elle. But it seems like there was a little more life left in it than it looked..." He said, with a wink and that sneer of a smirk. Before turning around and rolling back towards his room.
Elle was dumbfounded, just for a moment. Before she decided that he wasn't going to get an epic getaway. Not after he risked scaring his nurses half to death. She stepped out of the elevator and turned to watch him, guessing he had a pretty smug look on his face at the moment. Elle counted to five before clearing her throat. "Aren't you forgetting that list, plucky?" Her eyes were amused, but her expression looked impatient. Even if she still had thirty minutes until the ceremony.
The wheelchair stopped. Then backed up, before doing a three-point turn and returning to the elevator bay. An amused look on his face.
"Y'know the nice thing to do, might have been to let the crook bloke reckon he was gonna have a win..."
Elle raised her eyebrows in response.
"Yeah... no, I'm not that nice either..." He chuckled with only minor discomfort. "Now, ya comin?"
Elle grinned and, as ever the lady she could be, gestured for him to lead the way until she found an open office to collect a notebook and pen. "I'll ring for a nurse to get you some pain meds while you're jotting it down."
He started to scrawl on the paper a short list. "A little dry. But like I said. Pre-term reading." His broken ribs ached, but he fought the urge to grab at his chest.
As he wrote it all down, Elle moved back into the office to call a nurse to his room. She didn't mention his midday stroll, but let them know that he had complained about the pain. She even asked them to send up some lunch for him. It was highly doubtful that he'd made it to the cafeteria earlier.
"While I'm working on it, I might just get on the visitor list, if you can have it go to the right hands?"
"I'll do my best." She called out from in the adjacent room.
He scrawled Calliope's name at the top, then wrote "Team Blackjack" underneath, before extrapolating and writing the names as he remembered them from that night. He only knew about three of his teammates surnames though - Trace's and Rory's from when he'd made a mental note to look out for his brother and sister when working at the Collegiate Library. He thought for a second before adding one final name and detail at the bottom.
"Consider that little embarrassment your punishment for grand theft auto. Next time you won't get off so easy." She re-emerged from the office with a smirk on her face. She glanced down at the paper, the first and last names on the visitor list catching her attention.
"Unfortunately they don't send megalomaniacs to your floor." She quipped.
"Yeah? What floor do the doctors and Medical Board get off at..?" He chirped back. "No..? Haven't been here long enough for that animosity with the docs to creep in yet? I'll give it a few weeks. When they wheel me back in 'cos your cold's what's killing me, I'll check in then."
Elle was extremely tempted to feign licking her hand and wave it at him. Instead she clicked her tongue and took the paper from his hand. "How you wound me." She held her hand out for the pen and smiled. "I licked the pen, by the way." Maturity was no fun anyways.
"I wound you. You kill me. Sounds equitable. Mightier than the sword."
"It's a deal then." Elle grinned. "Let's postpone it until after the ceremonies tonight, though. I want to know what color I'll be sporting."
"Oh. Ohhhhh. You're new here too. Yeah. They told me that thing was happening. I don't know why they'd reckon I'd find it to be important enough to tell me, or that I'd give a shit right now. But hey. They did. Said something about 'Team Swap' as well, yeah. Which one're you in? I don't think I saw you in Eclipse, but I saw those kids for all of about five seconds. I knew everyone over in mine. Eventually... So who's that leave?"
Elle pressed her lips together for a moment, thinking of those students that left with Hyperion. "I wasn't inclined to drop out so early." She smiled. Banjo furrowed his brow, not catching the reference. "I'm on Firebird. Haven't gotten to know any of my teammates, though. I've mostly been mourning my life in the city."
"I'm gonna play it by ear, see if anyone else swaps. You have some fierce teammates. I overheard a few of them swearing vengeance already. Still not sure if that's a good idea or not, or if I'd get pulled into it if I were on Blackjack too."
"From the looks of you, they might need my help." She teased.
Banjo's brows knitted tighter still. If it was so blatant that people on other teams were starting to pick up on it, maybe the situation was even more severe than Trace had him think. And he already took them seriously.
Banjo's tone became noticeably more earnest. "Yeah... the sooner the better on those books. I reckon. If you could, maybe you could pop in there after the ceremony? Bring em in showing off those new colours you're so excited about?" He tried to lighten up again at the end, but he could hear the tone change in himself. This was Calli, though. He was pretty sure he had some ideas, but she'd hold him to account. He'd have to do his homework. Have to make sure he had his 'I's dotted and his 'T's crossed. He lost a week with her already. He had no intention of losing her to some batshit crazy crusade for a narcissistic fundamentalist nutbag's head.
Elle noticed the change in his demeanor. If she hadn't already decided that she liked the firecracker because of his wit, this settled it. Elle simply nodded, no hint of amusement in her eyes. "I'll make sure to bring them by tonight." She gently folded the paper and stuck it into the pocket of her skirt. She knew the nurse would be up soon, and she'd better get going. So she decided to end their visit on a happier note.
"And I'll make sure your girl knows you're thinking about her." She smiled. "Try to get some rest while you wait. She's not going to want to trade spit if you look miserable."
His condition had apparently been stabilised and he'd been moved here, to the Special Ward, a place presumably used for if Ranking Officers or dignitaries needed care away from prying eyes, back in the days of when this place was a military hospital. There were a few people here for his care, and otherwise it was a ghost-town. He wasn't sure if they were going to eventually move him to a general ward, or whether this was to keep people away. Technically he was now going to be allowed an expanded visitor list. But the regular student base, they wouldn't know he was here. Broken and tucked away, with a scratchy voice that would struggle to be heard over a stiff breeze.
He rounded a solar lamp, which some genius who'd read a basic report or profile on him had figured was a good idea. He didn't like it and didn't want it, but it wasn't worth the argument to explain why. He said 'saccharine', it was the quickest and most painless way he figured he could explain the sensation. Three syllables. It only made him feel more confined. Tasted wrong. The walls shrank in on him, and it reminded him he couldn't leave.
He reached the corner of the bed and made a decision, slowly he stepped out into the corridor of the Special Ward.
Finding an answer, he smiled.
"Not strong enough now though. But you know it's there."
Beyond the claustrophobia itself, he was fearful of getting triggered by that claustrophobia into a panic, here and now when it could be agony to draw breath.
"Rest now. Then leave."
He gingerly lay back on his bed with a heavy wince. Imagining what the sun would feel like on his skin, and daring to hope that Calliope might happen to be out there when he does burst back into the daylight.
- - -
He got to his feet again ten to fifteen minutes later. It shouldn't take so much out of a person just to go to the bathroom, but evidently it had. He walked back to the corridor and carefully trod a path to his goal.
An electric, stick-driven wheelchair which someone had abandoned further down the ward.
Every step hurt, but he was re-doubled with purpose now. He felt a cough coming on, and used the thought of the pain it would cause him to fight it off, as well as the attention it would draw.
He turned and sat, and cringed with pain, before moving gingerly to find a comfortable resting position.
A sigh. He took the stick and with quiet whirring, made his way to the end of the ward, and the elevator bay which awaited him.
- - -
Trace sat on the lip of the fountain, glancing into the water and catching the sun’s mottled rays. Their cheeks were hot from the unfiltered sun, but they’d applied a heavy enough sunscreen that they shouldn’t have to worry about creepy blue blistering on their face. The red hibiscus was in their hand. It looked as sad as Trace felt. Dejected and defeated in the face of their classmates. They weren't an eloquent speaker. Maybe they'd spoken wrong. No. They were right. They weren't going to back down from that stance. Maybe the others would see reason. Maybe they wouldn't.
"Good arvo, eh..?
For a second, Trace assumed that Haleigh had ramped over the anger stage of grief with the expediency of a pro skater, but that was not the case. Instead, Banjo rolled up to them. “Despite our accents havin’ bloody similarities, I don’t know what fuckin’ arvo means. So, you might want to try that again, or just motor off. I saw Calliope around here somewhere. She’s probably a more welcome face than my ungodly abomination.” They looked up, and their nearly transparent brows knitted. “Though, you look like someone tried to crisp up a dead opossum they found on the road. Might want to buff off the tire tracks before seein’ your girlfriend.”
Banjo smiled and tried to fight a chuckle from attacking his broken core. He deserved that. With the damage to his face, his smirk took the form of a grotesque sneer.
"It means good afternoon, Short White and Hands-y. And while I won't lie and say I wouldn't have rathered see her out here than yourself. You're probably a pretty clear second anyway."
The look of surprise was clear on Trace's face, and only sold further by their blank eyes.
"Admittedly a very distant second... but a clear one. And not just because you're bloody near translucent." Again, the grotesque sneer. His lip was curled and starting to scar in a rough way.
"And since I'm still supposed to be on a hospital bed, and not out here talking to you in a stolen wheelchair, I'd just as soon not go chasin' people 'round campus. It is good to know that the outside now looks like the inside feels, but. I'd hate to think I'm misrepresentin' meself."
Trace sighed. "It's probably better that you stay away from that lot, anyway. They wouldn't be good for you in this state. Your face might stick like that bloody permanently. And then what would your adorin' fans say?"
"Wouldn't bloody know. Would love to meet one one day."
"Come on, chickenshit. Get this kicked in the arse and done with. You know it's the right thing, even if they won't make it easy for ya." Banjo thought to himself. "You've sat on it for two days, they've had to fester on it for a week."
"Speakin' of ungodly abominations..." He spoke. "--And masterful segues." "...I wanted to have a quiet word with you about that. What I said, and did - I guess, was fucked up. And bullshit. It's a shitty thing to go feedin' and throwin' another person's biggest insecurities in their face. Fact is, I don't even believe it. Hell, I don't really know anyone here who does... but then it's not like I'm takin' polls on you with others. I just knew that deep down, for some fucked up reason or another, that YOU Ahh fuck... ...think that bullshit. And I knew it'd hurt to drag that one out and beat you with it. Which is-- well, it's a fucked up thing to do, and ahh'm sorr--y." He gasped for breath towards the end, with a splutter. It was too long for him to go on.
Trace narrowed their eyes at his words. It'd felt like entire years had passed since that moment, and here they were talking about it. He wasn't wrong. Most of the self-loathing was created by them and for them. Yet, it didn't start that way. It only festered after the initial wound had been made, and it'd been made far before they'd ever met Banjo. They couldn't forget the screaming.
Banjo's apology was surprising, but it wasn't unwelcome. Maybe Trace was going to say something nice at that moment. They weren't feeling too grand about themselves, and hearing something positive was a way to alleviate that sinking feeling. Yet, Banjo kept talking...
"I mean... I found a lottery ticket in the dirt. Wait, no, that'd imply initiative on my part-- A lottery ticket blew into-- no. A lottery ticket JUMPED into my hands and said 'Oi, mate. Check out the numbers.' and it was a winner." He said, raising a hand to take a few breaths, with a wince. "I mean she's beautiful, she's smart, she's - fucked if I know how this happens, because I hear beautiful people all too often feel they don't have to be - ACTUALLY FUCKING kind. She's from like a well-to-do family or something, her father's a senator... alright, sounds like one with some shitty bigoted views, but still... I'm not usually one to care about bullshit like that, but people do." He paused for some more breath. His ribs were starting to ache from pushing himself too hard, but he wasn't one to let a thing like that stop him.
"Now, I'm not generally chopped liver to look at-- Shut up." Banjo pre-empted the smartarse comeback. "--but that aside, I'm a broke, clusterfuck of a prick, with fuck all prospects or ambition, who was ditched by his parents from Who-the-fuck-knows-couldn't-even-tell-ya Australia. Oh! Who can't even go back to Aus if he wants to anymore, because coming here outed me as a Hyperhuman. And somehow, despite ALL of that, I still had a shot with HER. And then my dickhead mate, who I fuck about with and shitstir, decided it'd be a laugh to come up and joke about tearing my lottery ticket up in front of me." More breaths before his conclusion.
"Now, I'm not looking to justify it. What I did was absolutely fucked. And on top of that, I don't even believe any of it. I'll cop to all of that. But that's where me head was, when I said that bullshit to you." His ribs ached. He could tell he'd gone on far too long. It felt like his chest was throbbing and pulsating.
"Banjo. I say this with all the sympathy my body can muster: shut the fuck up." They pushed themselves up, standing at full attention in front of him. Usually, it wouldn't mean much. But he was sitting, and for once, they lorded over him. "If anyone is goin' to rip a lottery ticket out of your hands, it's goin' to be you with all this blabberin' on. So, I made a shit joke about gettin' your dick wet. Why should that bother you? Why should that bother Calliope? Peoples' worth aren't dependent on their sexual prowess. It's a bloody fuckin' antiquated way of makin' women's virginity feel like property, and makin' men feel like if they haven't conquered that property then they're sad little wankers. You're not a sad little wanker Banjo. Do you fall into society's little bubble, Banjo? Are you their perfect little round peg for their perfect little round hole? No. No you're not. So, don't fall into the preconceived ideals that society has about sexuality and masculinity. Own your past, your present, and your future. Jesus, I'd think of all these swaggerin' loons in this camp, I wouldn't have to explain this to you." They sighed, crossing their arms over their chest. "That bein' said, you don't have to worry about me sayin' anythin' else about it. It was a low, bloody blow, and I was feelin' a bit raw at the moment due to shit that had nothin' to do with you."
"So what's been goin' on with the rest of you peanuts? Whaddid I miss?"
They glanced at the somewhat crumpled-up flower. "War bein' declared on Hyperion. And not just the type where someone goes 'ah, fuck that wanker, let's gettum.' No. Haleigh wants to kill 'em, as does Luce, and--Calliope. Luce is actually lookin' for you. She's going to kiss your feet like your Jesus and beg for your forgiveness that we were all too scared to say nothin'. Rory's the voice of reason in all that." They sighed. "And it's not like I'm sayin' we shouldn't do shit. Just, all this happenin' feels like something bloody else is goin' on too. But apparently, I'm performin' oral on Hyperion for just thinkin' that."
"The fuck is with this crazy country? Bloody canucks. I've never had so many people so aggressively looking to apologise and beg for forgiveness in me life. Normally, it's the people demandin' it from me in the other direction... Look, just hold tight and don't broach the issue for a bit. I'll see if I can have a word. You do it first and they'll try and throw some bullshit in your face that it's because you don't give a shit or something. You don't need that." He paused for a second and considered how they'd answered the question. "Y'know what's goin' on with everyone includes you too, right? How're you holdin' up?"
They paused, momentarily. Their thoughts getting caught in their throat at that question. No one had really asked them about themselves. They acted as if Cass's death and Banjo's injury were the only things that happened. And they truly were the worst things that happened, but other things had hurt too. "Weird." They said. "No one has ever said anythin' nice about the way I look since I started to look this way. I had brown skin and black hair before this, Banjo. I was proud of my Indian heritage. And now I'm this--thing. And if people don't find me horrid to look at, I'm off puttin'. And for a flyin', magic supremacist to tell me that I'm 'beautiful' kind of hurts my brain. I mean, Hyperion's wrong. But if he's so wrong, does that mean I'm also a monster? But that's all small compared to everythin' else. I know that. Still feels weird, though."
"The whole thing was off. Did you hear the bullshit spiel he tried to sell me? Its like he-- He's reading broad facts off some basic cheat sheet or report, and then trying to work backwards to come up with assumptions which don't make sense, to try and tell us shit he thinks we want to hear regardless of how fucking off it sounds." He thought about it. "Anyone who would actually know me, would know that telling me you know my parents is not exactly going to win me over to your side. With you, I mean, I'm not saying he's wrong... but it's not something you'd ever be willing to hear or accept..."
"I think-- I think he might have a line on either the H.E.A.T program, the school or maybe even H.E.L.P itself. Because... he's got some of his facts right. But none of it actually connects beyond the superficial. He can't be a telepath, or he wouldn't be so off on us. It's like he's doing that cold reading bullshit like that John Edward bloke. And he got a big enough crowd of impressionable young kids, he only has to hit on a few. He's playing the numbers. Like the desperate bloke at the pub who hits on everyone with a pulse..." He took some breaths.
"I mean, you've seen how bloody exciteable these kids get. See, this is what I'm talkin' about with you. You're by far the fuckin' coolest one of us. Who the fuck else am I gonna talk to when the Seppos and canucks are acting lame and fuckin' weird, it's like they don't even see themselves. You know they actually came up to my hospital bed and told me that the Team swap and house selection was still going to be happening today? Like I'd give a shit, and I'm not just trying to figure out how to breathe without hurting..."
"It wouldn't hurt so bad if you didn't bloody talk so much," Trace remarked. Banjo's grin widened. "You're preachin' to the choir. I agree with you about the entire thing. And, seriously, they're continuin' on with that shit? Ugh. I probably need to change, then. Fetch my umbrella if I have to stand out in this damn heat any longer. "
"Anyway... can you go run messages and let 'em know they moved me out of the ICU? They've chucked me in me own ward and I can have visitors now. Particularly Calli', she's been runnin' around like a blue arsed fly trying to see me enough already. I'd hate to think she'd go to all the trouble and not know, now that I can."
"Oh. Is that why you're bein' nice to me? So I can find your girlfriend." They snapped the bottom of the stem of their flower off and ran their cool hands over the warm petals to make them seem more alive. Trace then leaned over Banjo and slid the flower behind his ear, being sure to tuck it all the way in. That involved them placing their hand on his shoulder and leaning over him. "I'll get the message to Calliope. You just promise me that you'll get better. Because if you die, then who am I bloody supposed to bitch at? I'd just feel bad takin' it out on Rory. He means well, he's like a bloody human golden retriever, and the more I bitch at him the closer I feel like I'm gettin' to the concept of hell." They leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his cheek, avoiding anywhere the skin was bandaged or bruised.
Trace then pulled away, their eyes not seeming to focus on anything in particular, before turning on their heels and heading back to the intake house.
- - -
Elle had not expected to see a patient outside of- no, entering, the building. Especially not this particular one. She stopped five feet in front of the entrance, blocking Banjo's way inside. Looking at his battered face, she couldn't help but remember how he hung in the air, inches away from Hyperion's mask before he was sent skyward. How she had to look away to avoid witnessing his fate. She felt a twist in her gut.
"You-" she stopped herself short as if she were about to say something right out of the subconscious parts of her mind. "You should be resting." It would be better to get him back upstairs. Before anyone walked by to see what Hyperion had done to him. She took command and gestured that he should head back towards the elevator.
He whirred back into the entrance, and tried to turn the corner for the elevator only to find it sluggish and unresponsive.
"Oh come on now... not now... Fuck! Ahh... shit, that fuckin' hurts. Great. Now what're you gonna do?" The battery was clearly dead.
She was just about to say "I got it", when she felt another sneeze pushing its way up. She turned herself to the side, out of Banjo's range, and released it into her elbow.
"Fuck. Sorry." She murmured as she instantly reached for the germ-x in her pocket and slathered it on her hands and elbow.
"Have you--? Have you got a cold? No. No, it's quite alright. I think that I read somewhere that the best thing to galvanise a collapsed lung or two, is a solid thick coating of phlegm. Keep wheeling. Just don't lick anything I'm gonna touch."
Sympathy damned, Elle couldn't help but roll her eyes as she stepped over to the wheelchair and gripped the handles. "Don't worry, prison break. The only way you'd catch my cold now is if we traded spit." A short moment of struggle for the initial push, and soon Elle was rolling him closer to the elevator. She moved to press the button with her knuckle and leaned against the wall to face him while they waited. A small smirk tugged at the edge of her mouth. "So, whose spit did you actually have in mind?" Her eyebrow rose just barely as she waited for his answer.
"That's not-- That's not what that was. That was a... friend..?" Is that right..? Trace? A friend? Felt weird to say out loud.
Elle's small smirk began to grow into a smile. She wasn't convinced. "Okay, casanova." She stood straight as she heard the elevator drawing close.
"No really. But... you may be right on that being... peripherally about someone who I hope to, as you so eloquently put it, swap spit with in the future. I just got moved out of the ICU. I don't have a phone. She's been trying to visit and can't get in... I was just letting people know I've moved, and that now they can." He stopped for a spell. It was too much to say at once, all too soon. He tried to catch his breath without taking any deep painful ones, and it was difficult. "...Hell, faith should be rewarded at least some of the time." He added with some shallow breaths and a cough, which made him rattle and wince.
Elle's smile faded the more he spoke, her expression turning solemn once she was standing behind him again. His wheezing had reminded her that he'd just gotten out of the ICU. Perhaps it was better to stop teasing him so much. Even if it seemed his character was still intact. The doors opened and Elle turned him around gently before backing into the elevator. She stepped around to press his floor number. This time she remained next to him, but kept her eyes on the rising floor numbers. She took a breath before subtly looking down at him. "I can let her know, but you have to promise me you'll get your rest."
"Hardly necessary now, is it? Did me own legwork." He smirked. Elle shook her head, but she had to give him a hint of a smile because he really had done the work, even if it was sitting on his ass in a wheelchair. But then he stopped to think. "There is something you could get me though... I could use some stuff from the library. A few books. You know, get the reading done before term starts, since I can't do much else here. Could you help me out there, if I write you a list?"
Elle looked down at him now, that playful smirk returning. "I didn't take you as the study type." She nodded. "I can do that for you." The elevator was soon nearing his floor, but Elle had to say something before any other ears could hear her.
"You're doing great, considering... but you have to listen to the doctors. I'll ask about taking you out for fresh air as soon as it's allowed." She chewed on her lip for a moment. "Hyperion-... he singled you out. You're going to need your strength if he comes back."
"Well, that's pretty bloody hospitable of you." He said with a twisted up smile. Elle returned the gesture with a shrug. "Way I see it... I pretty much singled myself out. And fuck him if he can't take a joke, eh?" That same grotesque snarl of a smirk.
Elle couldn't muster up her own witty remark. The consequences were written clearly across Banjo's face. "I take it by your silence, you reckon I'm not quite ready for yearbook photos just yet, yeah?" He chuckled with a slight cringe of pain. She gave him a polite smile, yet it didn't reach her eyes.
"Whaddid you say your name was, by the way? Makin' a point to make the effort with people from now on. The last bloke I knew where I didn't, wound up a shish-kebab before I ever got the chance... I'm Banjo."
Elle had moved to stand behind him again. She found herself grimacing as she gripped the handles, flashbacks of that horrible death flashing through her head again. Yet when she spoke, her voice was as collected as moments before. "Elle Miller, at your service."
As the elevator doors opened, the handles surged forward out of her grip. Banjo turned with a flick of the stick. "Well, you're alright Elle. But it seems like there was a little more life left in it than it looked..." He said, with a wink and that sneer of a smirk. Before turning around and rolling back towards his room.
Elle was dumbfounded, just for a moment. Before she decided that he wasn't going to get an epic getaway. Not after he risked scaring his nurses half to death. She stepped out of the elevator and turned to watch him, guessing he had a pretty smug look on his face at the moment. Elle counted to five before clearing her throat. "Aren't you forgetting that list, plucky?" Her eyes were amused, but her expression looked impatient. Even if she still had thirty minutes until the ceremony.
The wheelchair stopped. Then backed up, before doing a three-point turn and returning to the elevator bay. An amused look on his face.
"Y'know the nice thing to do, might have been to let the crook bloke reckon he was gonna have a win..."
Elle raised her eyebrows in response.
"Yeah... no, I'm not that nice either..." He chuckled with only minor discomfort. "Now, ya comin?"
Elle grinned and, as ever the lady she could be, gestured for him to lead the way until she found an open office to collect a notebook and pen. "I'll ring for a nurse to get you some pain meds while you're jotting it down."
He started to scrawl on the paper a short list. "A little dry. But like I said. Pre-term reading." His broken ribs ached, but he fought the urge to grab at his chest.
As he wrote it all down, Elle moved back into the office to call a nurse to his room. She didn't mention his midday stroll, but let them know that he had complained about the pain. She even asked them to send up some lunch for him. It was highly doubtful that he'd made it to the cafeteria earlier.
"While I'm working on it, I might just get on the visitor list, if you can have it go to the right hands?"
"I'll do my best." She called out from in the adjacent room.
He scrawled Calliope's name at the top, then wrote "Team Blackjack" underneath, before extrapolating and writing the names as he remembered them from that night. He only knew about three of his teammates surnames though - Trace's and Rory's from when he'd made a mental note to look out for his brother and sister when working at the Collegiate Library. He thought for a second before adding one final name and detail at the bottom.
" Hyperion - * You See This Prick, Let Him Right On Through And Get Another Bed Ready * "
"Consider that little embarrassment your punishment for grand theft auto. Next time you won't get off so easy." She re-emerged from the office with a smirk on her face. She glanced down at the paper, the first and last names on the visitor list catching her attention.
"Unfortunately they don't send megalomaniacs to your floor." She quipped.
"Yeah? What floor do the doctors and Medical Board get off at..?" He chirped back. "No..? Haven't been here long enough for that animosity with the docs to creep in yet? I'll give it a few weeks. When they wheel me back in 'cos your cold's what's killing me, I'll check in then."
Elle was extremely tempted to feign licking her hand and wave it at him. Instead she clicked her tongue and took the paper from his hand. "How you wound me." She held her hand out for the pen and smiled. "I licked the pen, by the way." Maturity was no fun anyways.
"I wound you. You kill me. Sounds equitable. Mightier than the sword."
"It's a deal then." Elle grinned. "Let's postpone it until after the ceremonies tonight, though. I want to know what color I'll be sporting."
"Oh. Ohhhhh. You're new here too. Yeah. They told me that thing was happening. I don't know why they'd reckon I'd find it to be important enough to tell me, or that I'd give a shit right now. But hey. They did. Said something about 'Team Swap' as well, yeah. Which one're you in? I don't think I saw you in Eclipse, but I saw those kids for all of about five seconds. I knew everyone over in mine. Eventually... So who's that leave?"
Elle pressed her lips together for a moment, thinking of those students that left with Hyperion. "I wasn't inclined to drop out so early." She smiled. Banjo furrowed his brow, not catching the reference. "I'm on Firebird. Haven't gotten to know any of my teammates, though. I've mostly been mourning my life in the city."
"I'm gonna play it by ear, see if anyone else swaps. You have some fierce teammates. I overheard a few of them swearing vengeance already. Still not sure if that's a good idea or not, or if I'd get pulled into it if I were on Blackjack too."
"From the looks of you, they might need my help." She teased.
Banjo's brows knitted tighter still. If it was so blatant that people on other teams were starting to pick up on it, maybe the situation was even more severe than Trace had him think. And he already took them seriously.
Banjo's tone became noticeably more earnest. "Yeah... the sooner the better on those books. I reckon. If you could, maybe you could pop in there after the ceremony? Bring em in showing off those new colours you're so excited about?" He tried to lighten up again at the end, but he could hear the tone change in himself. This was Calli, though. He was pretty sure he had some ideas, but she'd hold him to account. He'd have to do his homework. Have to make sure he had his 'I's dotted and his 'T's crossed. He lost a week with her already. He had no intention of losing her to some batshit crazy crusade for a narcissistic fundamentalist nutbag's head.
Elle noticed the change in his demeanor. If she hadn't already decided that she liked the firecracker because of his wit, this settled it. Elle simply nodded, no hint of amusement in her eyes. "I'll make sure to bring them by tonight." She gently folded the paper and stuck it into the pocket of her skirt. She knew the nurse would be up soon, and she'd better get going. So she decided to end their visit on a happier note.
"And I'll make sure your girl knows you're thinking about her." She smiled. "Try to get some rest while you wait. She's not going to want to trade spit if you look miserable."
- - -
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Adie's small stature hid her well within most of the crowd. Her drone recorded everything, hovering within the cover of a tent with a shorn off roof.
They were snatching up kids. Making their sales pitch.
Adie reached out into the humm.
"Come on, dammit... gimme something to work with here..."
She reached out as far as she could... and had a handful of minotaurs, her drone, and a bunch of kids cell phones. The distant hedge also seemed to be buzzing with the humm as well, but it had some form of security which would take some time to crack, and everything the humm influenced seemed to be directed inwards.
Then the masked leader lifted another closer and brought him straight to their face. They were talking, but Adie blocked it all out, twitching slightly, with all focus on the humm.
Her teeth clenched. "Rrrr... you've given me nothing to work with..!" "Maybe, I could pull a car in for cover, but how long would that..."
A sudden gasp and scream distracted her from the humm. The boy was airborne. Pandemonium. Another boy saw an opening to attack the masked man, threw some kind of distracting pyrotechnic, and then performed a remarkably acrobatic roll to a firearm, which he fired upon the masked man.
To minimal effect.
The masked man's hand came to a single point and skewered the boy. His body slumped to the ground. More gasps and screams.
Adie's breath quickened. She was frustrated. She felt useless. "Nothing? Not a Goddamn thing to work with in this whole fucking open field?!"
The masked man, his accomplice and their new followers left, with minimal effort or concern from reprisal.
She tapped into the humm and sent minotaurs to the crumpled students and another to the faculty members where one was missing an arm.
"WAIT!" She called out to the students gathered by the one who fell from the sky. "Don't move that one without a stretcher! Check the car for one! Might have neck or spinal damage!"
They were snatching up kids. Making their sales pitch.
Adie reached out into the humm.
"Come on, dammit... gimme something to work with here..."
She reached out as far as she could... and had a handful of minotaurs, her drone, and a bunch of kids cell phones. The distant hedge also seemed to be buzzing with the humm as well, but it had some form of security which would take some time to crack, and everything the humm influenced seemed to be directed inwards.
Then the masked leader lifted another closer and brought him straight to their face. They were talking, but Adie blocked it all out, twitching slightly, with all focus on the humm.
Her teeth clenched. "Rrrr... you've given me nothing to work with..!" "Maybe, I could pull a car in for cover, but how long would that..."
A sudden gasp and scream distracted her from the humm. The boy was airborne. Pandemonium. Another boy saw an opening to attack the masked man, threw some kind of distracting pyrotechnic, and then performed a remarkably acrobatic roll to a firearm, which he fired upon the masked man.
To minimal effect.
The masked man's hand came to a single point and skewered the boy. His body slumped to the ground. More gasps and screams.
Adie's breath quickened. She was frustrated. She felt useless. "Nothing? Not a Goddamn thing to work with in this whole fucking open field?!"
The masked man, his accomplice and their new followers left, with minimal effort or concern from reprisal.
She tapped into the humm and sent minotaurs to the crumpled students and another to the faculty members where one was missing an arm.
"WAIT!" She called out to the students gathered by the one who fell from the sky. "Don't move that one without a stretcher! Check the car for one! Might have neck or spinal damage!"
Location: Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean
First Class: # 2.16 Devices Not Detected
Interaction(s): Nil
Previously: Roomies and Being Recognised
"Jonas! You left me ass out in the breeze!" Adrianna leapt from the minotaur as it continued on towards the infirmary.
Surrounded by members of H.E.L.P.'s Enforcement Division, Jonas was mid conversation with a H.E.R.O. Unit when he turned to dismiss Adrianna.
"Miss Dahl, I really don't have the time right now..." The normally unflappable Chancellor looked rushed. "I need a full sweep of the grounds, Hyperion and Miss Miracle abducted several students, they could still be on this island. The remaining students need to be evacuated from the Plateau and returned to the campus. Have security perform a full lockdown, no one goes out and no one else is gettin-"
"No. I'm sure you don't. And I'm betting it's part of the same thing."
He stopped and his jaw clenched tightly for a second. Then relaxed again. So quickly you could scarcely be sure it happened at all.
"Not here and not now. I'll meet you in my office when I am done coordinating efforts to catch the son of a bitch who violated the sanctity of my sanctuary. Thusly, I am quite busy right now, and do not have the time to hear individual concerns."
"Now, what was so important you had to accost me publicly? I presume this was about the incident of--" He was understandably defensive. He'd undoubtedly been fielding questions about this all day, and it doubtless had this negative effect on his mood.
"Whoa, Jonas! Not a reporter. That's not what this is."
"Really, you're not here to tell me that the school left one of many students vulnerable to--"
"Climb. Down. Off. The Cross. Jonas. This is about what the school could do to prevent this from happening again, and what, incidentally, may well have prevented this..." She'd already used incident- "...happenstance?"
"What point exactly are you driving at?"
"Verstile electronic infrastructure with the potential for defensive capabilites. In the 'deadzone' vulnerabilities. In particular that massive Plateau. Between myself and Isabella you have access to two of the preeminent technopaths on Earth. By not providing us with the resources to maximise our abilities, Jonas, not only are you endangering students by failing to provide adequate protection from threat, but you're preventing me from maximising my hyperhuman potential as a student."
Jonas soured. "Your Hyperhuman potential as student?" Jonas removed his glasses, massaging the bridge of his nose briefly before replacing them on his face with a sharp inhale.
"The only potential you should be optimizing your learning outcomes and career prospects. I have no intention of allowing you to turn this island into your own private panic room or war room."
"But I could've--"
"I have been accommodating enough. In your own words, you said you wanted to be treated as just another regular student, yes? You are not behaving--"
"But Jonas--
"Miss Dahl, while I've appreciated your investment in the past, you are no longer in that position and so long as you continue as a student at this institute you will respect my authority and act accordingly. Should you wish to reevaluate your station here at Pacific Royal we can have a different discussion."
Cold washed over the conversation, as Adie noticed a palpable shift in the man. How exactly, she couldn't put her finger on. If nothing else it made her think, and not just throw up emotional rebuttal. That was going to get her nowhere, and honestly, was beneath her. A different tack.
"Alright. Fair enough. You are correct. I apologise for my behaviour. I may have... been taking some liberties due to our past relationship. But I am here as a student."
She continued.
"As a student, the discretionary decisions for the construction of infrastructure of any kind are ENTIRELY out of my purview, and solely yours. When I was investing, I had my faith in you to make sound decisions, as I still do now. I had a suggestion, and delivered it in a less than reasonable fashion, and certainly crossed lines. I am a student."
Adie got to her feet. She turned.
"Just checking. The students of the university... They still have access to the resources of the Laboratories and Tech Wing leading up to term as well, yes? Well, I've got to go now, Professor Lehrer. As a student I've been inspired. I'm feeling this great NEED to start right away. And you know what they say about necessity... it's the mother of what comes next..."
"Stop right there." Jonas ordered, "Before you do something rash, as a student, who can be expelled and removed from these premises. How about you instead, as a student, go and see Professor Christianson." Pausing, Jonas stood and opened the door for Adrianna.
"I know you're used to being in charge, however being a student at Pacific Royal means that there are already people in place with talents for taking care of these issues. While I don't enjoy the idea of turning the Plateau into some technological horror, I do agree with the sentiment of further improving the defenses of the school and her campus. Professor Christianson is already working on this and could perhaps use a second perspective."
Adie considered the offer, and accepted. She wasted no time beating a path to the door of the Dean of Computer Sciences' door.
Surrounded by members of H.E.L.P.'s Enforcement Division, Jonas was mid conversation with a H.E.R.O. Unit when he turned to dismiss Adrianna.
"Miss Dahl, I really don't have the time right now..." The normally unflappable Chancellor looked rushed. "I need a full sweep of the grounds, Hyperion and Miss Miracle abducted several students, they could still be on this island. The remaining students need to be evacuated from the Plateau and returned to the campus. Have security perform a full lockdown, no one goes out and no one else is gettin-"
"No. I'm sure you don't. And I'm betting it's part of the same thing."
He stopped and his jaw clenched tightly for a second. Then relaxed again. So quickly you could scarcely be sure it happened at all.
"Not here and not now. I'll meet you in my office when I am done coordinating efforts to catch the son of a bitch who violated the sanctity of my sanctuary. Thusly, I am quite busy right now, and do not have the time to hear individual concerns."
"Now, what was so important you had to accost me publicly? I presume this was about the incident of--" He was understandably defensive. He'd undoubtedly been fielding questions about this all day, and it doubtless had this negative effect on his mood.
"Whoa, Jonas! Not a reporter. That's not what this is."
"Really, you're not here to tell me that the school left one of many students vulnerable to--"
"Climb. Down. Off. The Cross. Jonas. This is about what the school could do to prevent this from happening again, and what, incidentally, may well have prevented this..." She'd already used incident- "...happenstance?"
"What point exactly are you driving at?"
"Verstile electronic infrastructure with the potential for defensive capabilites. In the 'deadzone' vulnerabilities. In particular that massive Plateau. Between myself and Isabella you have access to two of the preeminent technopaths on Earth. By not providing us with the resources to maximise our abilities, Jonas, not only are you endangering students by failing to provide adequate protection from threat, but you're preventing me from maximising my hyperhuman potential as a student."
Jonas soured. "Your Hyperhuman potential as student?" Jonas removed his glasses, massaging the bridge of his nose briefly before replacing them on his face with a sharp inhale.
"The only potential you should be optimizing your learning outcomes and career prospects. I have no intention of allowing you to turn this island into your own private panic room or war room."
"But I could've--"
"I have been accommodating enough. In your own words, you said you wanted to be treated as just another regular student, yes? You are not behaving--"
"But Jonas--
"Miss Dahl, while I've appreciated your investment in the past, you are no longer in that position and so long as you continue as a student at this institute you will respect my authority and act accordingly. Should you wish to reevaluate your station here at Pacific Royal we can have a different discussion."
Cold washed over the conversation, as Adie noticed a palpable shift in the man. How exactly, she couldn't put her finger on. If nothing else it made her think, and not just throw up emotional rebuttal. That was going to get her nowhere, and honestly, was beneath her. A different tack.
"Alright. Fair enough. You are correct. I apologise for my behaviour. I may have... been taking some liberties due to our past relationship. But I am here as a student."
She continued.
"As a student, the discretionary decisions for the construction of infrastructure of any kind are ENTIRELY out of my purview, and solely yours. When I was investing, I had my faith in you to make sound decisions, as I still do now. I had a suggestion, and delivered it in a less than reasonable fashion, and certainly crossed lines. I am a student."
Adie got to her feet. She turned.
"Just checking. The students of the university... They still have access to the resources of the Laboratories and Tech Wing leading up to term as well, yes? Well, I've got to go now, Professor Lehrer. As a student I've been inspired. I'm feeling this great NEED to start right away. And you know what they say about necessity... it's the mother of what comes next..."
"Stop right there." Jonas ordered, "Before you do something rash, as a student, who can be expelled and removed from these premises. How about you instead, as a student, go and see Professor Christianson." Pausing, Jonas stood and opened the door for Adrianna.
"I know you're used to being in charge, however being a student at Pacific Royal means that there are already people in place with talents for taking care of these issues. While I don't enjoy the idea of turning the Plateau into some technological horror, I do agree with the sentiment of further improving the defenses of the school and her campus. Professor Christianson is already working on this and could perhaps use a second perspective."
Adie considered the offer, and accepted. She wasted no time beating a path to the door of the Dean of Computer Sciences' door.
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As this has been discussed before, this is a large school. It is very likely you will run into someone with similar powers to yours. Harlowe and Mackenna as an example.
This is a crossing of paths I can't wait to see... particularly on Makenna's end.
And because I can't post often enough, like the lunatic I am... For those who are looking for even more content to read than the IC of a game with 20-odd active players can produce.
The first of that Alternate Future Banjo Arc I was talking about:
The first of that Alternate Future Banjo Arc I was talking about:
“If you come home, I will unfold your future. It doesn’t lie here, in this military academy. This is built to appease those who are beneath you. To restrain and limit you, I give you a world with no limitations, I will unfold your future.”
"Alright, settle down Squid Game. We've got enough bloody fun and games on the itinerary already... Red Light!"
Hyperion’s head seemed to swivel free of its neck as the cold empty eye sockets of their mask landed on Banjo. Something in their demeanour changed as they gleefully pushed students aside until Banjo was centred out by himself.
“Don’t you get tired of feeling alone, having to always wear that armour you lug around? You have so many looking for you,” Hyperion paused and even with the mask, Banjo could practically see the smug grin on their face.
“I’ve met them, your parents that is. Don’t you get tired of running? Have you ever wondered if he truly has your best interests at heart or if you’re just a burden of obligation? Stand with me instead, I assure you I want you by my side and there will be no more running.”
"Yeeeeeeah... the kind of dynamic I suspect you would want you and I to have..? I'm pretty bloody sure I'm gonna clash... sorry, correction, don't want to give you the wrong idea... I WOULD MAKE IT MY BUSINESS to ensure that I clash."
With a twist of his wrist, Hyperion lifted Banjo into the air. Holding Banjo briefly, the masked figure pulled the suspended teen closer, inspecting the boy.
“I’ll give you one more chance to answer.”
"Go fuck yourself." Banjo smirked.
“I’ll be back for you later.” He hissed directly into Banjo’s ear, out of earshot of the others before tossing Banjo into the air. The force of the momentum sent Banjo sailing much to the horrified gasps and screams of the gathered student body.
Banjo saw the grounds, and student body shrink away from him. His arms thrown forward from the force. As he was hurled skyward.
"Well, this is gonna get a lot worse before it gets any better." He thought to himself. Can't fly. Long way up.
Far below him he saw blue flashes and the quick white light burst of gunfire. Hey, maybe Sparky McGee's got nut about him to actually get this done. He searched for Calliope in the crowd, hoping she was safe, as he came to the apex. As he got closer, he could see the fear on her face.
"Hey, your last words really were 'Go Fuck yourself.', I mean it was probably always better than 50/50 odds that that'd be the case, but that was pretty bada--"
He came to earth.
Location: Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - Infirmary
First Class: # 2.03 New Awakenings
Interaction(s): Nil
Previously: In-Tents-ive Care. I Don't Know. Titles are Hard.
The steady rhythm of the patient monitor was occasionally drowned out by the tube that was keeping him breathing.
At first he was on the ventilator because of the collapsed lung, with the other fast on the way. Now it was necessary predominantly because of the induced coma to ease the head trauma, to keep him breathing.
Five broken ribs, a torn spleen, a collapsed lung which almost became two, a bruised kidney, some head trauma and a partridge in a pear tree...
But he'd live. Which not everyone who was there then could say.
"Mmm... Mmm-mi-mo-mmm!" He stirred and with an outburst tried to sit up. Searing white-hot pain seized him first from his core and radiated throughout, and then the darkness took him back.
Stupid...
"Doctor!
So bloody stupid...
"...Stabili--...--emove tube... --gained conscious--...notify..."
He was floating on a drugged out cloud of semi-awareness.
The next time he awoke, the tube was gone, but he found himself strapped down to the bed. Whaddid they think he was going to run..? The last time he tried to sit up too fast he blacked out. Seems a little unwarranted.
"G'day... ...Oi. Mornin' kiddo, I know you're awake."
The Butler. Figures. Next of kin, probably guardian was all they'd likely let see him.
"Throat hurts. Not gonna shut me up though..."
"What was that?"
"I said my throat hurts... but don't think for a minute it's gonna bloody shut me up though."
The Butler laughed hard in his chair. "Nah, mate. I wouldn't imagine it could. They had to tube ya. First when your lungs collapsed, and then to keep you going when they put you to sleep for a bit. That's why it hurts. You've uhh-- You've been out for the better part of a week."
"I know why it hurts. I woke up with a bloody great tube down my gob."
"So whaddid I miss? Who took that colossal masked prick down in the end?"
The Butler looked furtively. "Look. Ya did a Hell of a thing. Not too many people have stepped up to that guy and walked awa-- well, you haven't walked yet. But you will! You're a tough little nugget..."
Banjo glared at him.
"No one took him down. He waltzed out. With a few kids too. And... he killed one."
Banjo winced. And wincing made his... well, everything... hurt. Which made him want to wince again.
Then his mind kicked in to hyperdrive. Calli. Her father's a senator with an anti-Hyperhuman agenda. The potential statement--
"WHO?!" He growled gutterally, at the expense of his throat. More wincing, more pain.
"Easy mate... shit. Some kid called Cassander Charon. He was in your group. They're having a funeral for him tomorrow."
Banjo furrowed his brow. "Our group? Which one was he?"
"He had this explosive kind of fireworks power. Had a not too dissimilar upbringing to you. You'd have probably got on."
"Fuck... That's what I saw when I took the bloody express elevator up--"
The Butler looked at his reaction with quizzical interest.
"There was--- ah-- some girl, who's been asking and trying to come in to see you. They keep sending her away. Family only. That's why you just asked, isn't it? Is that something I'm going to have to be concerned about..?
"Go fuck yourself."
The Butler grinned. "Whoa-ho, mate! Back on that wagon already, huh. And the doctor's tried to tell me it'd be a while til you're back to normal..."
Banjo chuckled, then winced, then more pain. "Ah shit... Don't make me laugh, you arsehole."
The Butler laughed himself, then shook his head in disbelief. "You really came face to face with one of the most powerful hyperhumans on earth... And told him... to his face. To go fuck himself. I mean, I always knew you had more sack than sense, but..."
"Well, how many other times would I get the chance?"
"HA! True! Catch ya tomorrow at visiting hours. Don't go running anywhere til then!"
Banjo hummed a barely audible respnse. It did hurt to talk. He figured it would to wave. It hurt to be, at the moment.
But he was alive. He was awake.
At first he was on the ventilator because of the collapsed lung, with the other fast on the way. Now it was necessary predominantly because of the induced coma to ease the head trauma, to keep him breathing.
Five broken ribs, a torn spleen, a collapsed lung which almost became two, a bruised kidney, some head trauma and a partridge in a pear tree...
But he'd live. Which not everyone who was there then could say.
"Mmm... Mmm-mi-mo-mmm!" He stirred and with an outburst tried to sit up. Searing white-hot pain seized him first from his core and radiated throughout, and then the darkness took him back.
Stupid...
"Doctor!
So bloody stupid...
"...Stabili--...--emove tube... --gained conscious--...notify..."
He was floating on a drugged out cloud of semi-awareness.
The next time he awoke, the tube was gone, but he found himself strapped down to the bed. Whaddid they think he was going to run..? The last time he tried to sit up too fast he blacked out. Seems a little unwarranted.
"G'day... ...Oi. Mornin' kiddo, I know you're awake."
The Butler. Figures. Next of kin, probably guardian was all they'd likely let see him.
"Throat hurts. Not gonna shut me up though..."
"What was that?"
"I said my throat hurts... but don't think for a minute it's gonna bloody shut me up though."
The Butler laughed hard in his chair. "Nah, mate. I wouldn't imagine it could. They had to tube ya. First when your lungs collapsed, and then to keep you going when they put you to sleep for a bit. That's why it hurts. You've uhh-- You've been out for the better part of a week."
"I know why it hurts. I woke up with a bloody great tube down my gob."
"So whaddid I miss? Who took that colossal masked prick down in the end?"
The Butler looked furtively. "Look. Ya did a Hell of a thing. Not too many people have stepped up to that guy and walked awa-- well, you haven't walked yet. But you will! You're a tough little nugget..."
Banjo glared at him.
"No one took him down. He waltzed out. With a few kids too. And... he killed one."
Banjo winced. And wincing made his... well, everything... hurt. Which made him want to wince again.
Then his mind kicked in to hyperdrive. Calli. Her father's a senator with an anti-Hyperhuman agenda. The potential statement--
"WHO?!" He growled gutterally, at the expense of his throat. More wincing, more pain.
"Easy mate... shit. Some kid called Cassander Charon. He was in your group. They're having a funeral for him tomorrow."
Banjo furrowed his brow. "Our group? Which one was he?"
"He had this explosive kind of fireworks power. Had a not too dissimilar upbringing to you. You'd have probably got on."
"Fuck... That's what I saw when I took the bloody express elevator up--"
The Butler looked at his reaction with quizzical interest.
"There was--- ah-- some girl, who's been asking and trying to come in to see you. They keep sending her away. Family only. That's why you just asked, isn't it? Is that something I'm going to have to be concerned about..?
"Go fuck yourself."
The Butler grinned. "Whoa-ho, mate! Back on that wagon already, huh. And the doctor's tried to tell me it'd be a while til you're back to normal..."
Banjo chuckled, then winced, then more pain. "Ah shit... Don't make me laugh, you arsehole."
The Butler laughed himself, then shook his head in disbelief. "You really came face to face with one of the most powerful hyperhumans on earth... And told him... to his face. To go fuck himself. I mean, I always knew you had more sack than sense, but..."
"Well, how many other times would I get the chance?"
"HA! True! Catch ya tomorrow at visiting hours. Don't go running anywhere til then!"
Banjo hummed a barely audible respnse. It did hurt to talk. He figured it would to wave. It hurt to be, at the moment.
But he was alive. He was awake.
- - -
The Butler laughed himself, then shook his head in disbelief. "You really came face to face with one of the most powerful hyperhumans on earth... And told him... to his face. To go fuck himself. I mean, I always knew you had more sack than sense, but..."
"Well, how many other times would I get the chance?"
“I’ll be back for you later.” He hissed directly into Banjo’s ear, out of earshot of the others before tossing Banjo into the air.
- - -
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Location: Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean
The Homecoming Trials: # 1.113 In-Tents-ive Care. I don't know. Titles are hard.
Interaction(s): Calliope - @PatientBean
Previously: Campfire Tales and Terrors
Jim had sent them off to their tents with some folksy patter that rattled 'round heads and had the group dispersing.
Uncharacteristically, Banjo was all too willing to comply. He watched as Calliope made her way to their tent.
He stopped and looked up at the sky as if in thanks, a smile creasing wide across his face whilst he stood there shaking his head in a state of pleased disbelief, before continuing to follow her there himself.
She moved with a sort of effortless grace, which Banjo now realised probably came so effortlessly through years of practice. Holding form in the name of the father.
His own casual gait was anything but. She slipped within the tent. He fought off the urge to dance as he bounced onwards with a bop in his step.
Once inside the tent, Calli had a decision to make. How did she dress for sleep? Normally, she slept in her pajamas, but it wasn't like she was packed for this camping trip. And she didn't want to sleep in her athletic uniform. She took her shirt off and felt shame. It was instant. Her mind flashed back to middle school, the group of teenage boys who harassed her constantly, calling her a prude or calling her worse names because of how conservative she dressed. And that one boy who followed her into the bathroom.
She covered herself with her arms as Banjo walked in. Her back was to him. She instantly regretted this.
"Everything okay?" She heard a voice behind her. "Or did I get here too soon? Over-eager..?" He smiled warmly at her, in case she turned around.
"I mean, I get it. It's not like any of us had time to pack for this. We've all just got the clothes on our back."
He turned around to give her her modesty. "Hey, wanna know a secret? Maybe you'll get a kick... kind of dumb though" his mind raced, trying to come up with something to ease the tension. "When faced with the age old question of boxers or briefs... I picked... dun-da-da-duuuuun Speedos." He adjusted his shorts to show off the P.R.C.U swim gear underneath.
"That's how little time we had to get ready. So you won't be getting any judgement out of me. Now can I turn around, or would you still rather I not..?"
Calli felt second-wave embarrassment over this now. Banjo was more open with his body whereas she was covering herself like a nun undressing. She turned around now, allowing herself to be open, wearing her shorts and bra. "Sorry, force of habit. Never undressed myself around a guy before. Let alone a guy in nothing but a speedo."
Calli had to admit, he had a nice body. She commented on it before with Cass and Axel. And now here he was, alone with her. She thought back to her previous intentions, how she just wanted to unleash and forget the hell she subscribed herself to. Instead, she wanted a moment of calm before the oncoming storm that were the Trials.
And what did Banjo want?
He turned slowly and took her all in, before fighting to meet her eye.
"No need to apologize." He smiled warmly. "Everyone trying to apologize to me today. Sometimes multiple times, for the same thing. It's throwing me. I should have known Canada would be like this." He joked.
"You're comfortable when you're comfortable. You grew up where you grew up, I grew up where I grew up. Lakes, the beach, swimming pools, sporting fields... private school boys clothes would just be strewn everywhere. The most useless room in most any of the schools I attended, I tell you. The changerooms. We drop trow' at the drop of a hat. Which is to be expected... I guess. Because otherwise you'd be wearing a hat but no pants... And I'm not wearing nothing but a speedo. But I can take a suggestion." He took his shirt off. "...To put us on a somewhat even footing."
He dropped it on the floor. "See, look at that. Our clothes just go everywhere."
Calli watched as Banjo stripped down to essentially nothing. She had to admire his sheer 'dont-give-a-fuck' attitude. She wished she could be so free. But even now, she worried about her reputation. Her father's reach should not be in Canada, but given how political figures in America could have huge influence elsewhere, she wouldn't be surprised if someone here knew her father and, unfortunately, agreed with him.
"Okay, fair enough. We should sleep. Got to get ready for those trials tomorrow."
Banjo stood there with a big dumb grin on his face. He didn't let it drop and tried hard not to look disappointed.
"Yeah... Okay. Yeah, you're right. Got a... big day tomorrow, huh?"
"Man, did I read that wrong. Or did I screw up, or... What the bloody Hell happened there?" He felt like he'd been through a tumble dryer.
She knew he was disappointed, she could hardly blame him. She had promised something and then did not deliver. "It's not that I don't want to. When I suggested it, my intention was not good. I wanted to use you to forget about my own problems. To forget I was somewhere else and forced into it due to my own actions. But you showed me genuine kindness. No one has ever done that without wanting something from me. So, not yet. Soon, perhaps. But I want to get to know the real Andrew before then."
"Oh. Ohhhhh... Oh thank God. I thought I'd gone and screwed up or said... one of about a hundred bloody different things wrong or something. So this is a... good thing then, on your end? Yeah, if you don't want to rush into anything that's great. No rush. As for you, I'm an open book. Anything you want to know that I can answer, I will. Hell, I'll even let the 'Andrew' slide." He finally exhaled, more for his own benefit and the stress it relieved from his own side of the situation than anything else. The actual 'act' itself, he was still more than a little nervous about with his own lack of experience.
He piled into bed.
"Still okay to talk, or too tired?"
She hoped he understood that as she climbed into her own bed. "What did you have in mind?"
"I mean... you seem pretty switched on. What do you make of that rabble out there tonight? Reckon we can hold this lot together?" He asked, looking up at the tent ceiling. "Personally, I feel a lot better about how it ended than how the day started."
"Hard to say. I think we ended things on a more positive note, but I still get the sense that we're not a collective unit yet. Like I am sure Trace hates me. Rory still doesn't forgive me, which is fair. Mackenna is....Mackenna. And you made strides with Inigo, but even doing that seemed to ruffle some other people's feathers. There's no balance yet. There might be one day. No one was significantly harmed, so that's the best I think we could have gotten today."
"I don't-- I don't think Trace hates you. Don't get me wrong, I think they have enough vitriol in there for everyone... But we have this weird dynamic going on. Like I'm the annoying kid brother. We go back and forth at each other a lot. I don't want you to take this the wrong way... but what they said? I'm pretty sure that was just you getting caught in the crossfire, and it was meant for me. I crossed a line there, too. So maybe-- maybe they think you're responsible for turning me into 100% of an arsehole, up from about two thirds of one..? But I don't think they have any specific animosity towards you, in particular. I've got to straighten it out though, I shouldn't have said what I said. Really stupid thing about it all... I don't even think what I said. They just dragged you into it, and I saw red, and said whatever I could to hurt 'em and... well, whilst I don't think it, I know that THEY think it, even if it's stupid and--"
She'd been quiet for some time, and he'd been mumbling away on this weird tangent.
"Yeah. I'll straighten it out tomorrow." He finished.
He lay there for a few moments, unsure if she'd gone to sleep. Then decided to say it, even if it was only for his own benefit.
"Calli'..?" He said softly. Not sure if he wanted her awake to hear it or not. "I've never met anyone like you before, either."
Then he rolled over, and sleep fell upon him.
"Knock it off, Banjo!" Echoed around the tent. Banjo furrowed his brow and fought to ignore it. "I swear if this is some sort of prank."
Time passed and a rustle, a scuffle could be heard outside. Then louder.
"Did you hear that..?"
"Yeeeeah..." Banjo sighed, in frustration. "I'm pretty sure I heard someone say my name out there as well."
"You did? Why didn't you say anything?"
He raised his eyebrows in surprise at the question. "Well, because the only person I was really interested in hearing call my name out right now was you..." As he began to re-dress.
Calli shook her head, part in disbelief and part because, honestly, it made her feel warm. "As sweet as that is, dummy, if you are hearing your name whispered in the middle of the night, I want to know about it."
Once again, Banjo found himself hating himself for his decision to check on others rather than staying by the tent with Calli' as he looked around the floor for his shirt... This better be good.
It was very much not.
"What the Hell are you doing, boy!"
Uncharacteristically, Banjo was all too willing to comply. He watched as Calliope made her way to their tent.
He stopped and looked up at the sky as if in thanks, a smile creasing wide across his face whilst he stood there shaking his head in a state of pleased disbelief, before continuing to follow her there himself.
She moved with a sort of effortless grace, which Banjo now realised probably came so effortlessly through years of practice. Holding form in the name of the father.
His own casual gait was anything but. She slipped within the tent. He fought off the urge to dance as he bounced onwards with a bop in his step.
Once inside the tent, Calli had a decision to make. How did she dress for sleep? Normally, she slept in her pajamas, but it wasn't like she was packed for this camping trip. And she didn't want to sleep in her athletic uniform. She took her shirt off and felt shame. It was instant. Her mind flashed back to middle school, the group of teenage boys who harassed her constantly, calling her a prude or calling her worse names because of how conservative she dressed. And that one boy who followed her into the bathroom.
She covered herself with her arms as Banjo walked in. Her back was to him. She instantly regretted this.
"Everything okay?" She heard a voice behind her. "Or did I get here too soon? Over-eager..?" He smiled warmly at her, in case she turned around.
"I mean, I get it. It's not like any of us had time to pack for this. We've all just got the clothes on our back."
He turned around to give her her modesty. "Hey, wanna know a secret? Maybe you'll get a kick... kind of dumb though" his mind raced, trying to come up with something to ease the tension. "When faced with the age old question of boxers or briefs... I picked... dun-da-da-duuuuun Speedos." He adjusted his shorts to show off the P.R.C.U swim gear underneath.
"That's how little time we had to get ready. So you won't be getting any judgement out of me. Now can I turn around, or would you still rather I not..?"
Calli felt second-wave embarrassment over this now. Banjo was more open with his body whereas she was covering herself like a nun undressing. She turned around now, allowing herself to be open, wearing her shorts and bra. "Sorry, force of habit. Never undressed myself around a guy before. Let alone a guy in nothing but a speedo."
Calli had to admit, he had a nice body. She commented on it before with Cass and Axel. And now here he was, alone with her. She thought back to her previous intentions, how she just wanted to unleash and forget the hell she subscribed herself to. Instead, she wanted a moment of calm before the oncoming storm that were the Trials.
And what did Banjo want?
He turned slowly and took her all in, before fighting to meet her eye.
"No need to apologize." He smiled warmly. "Everyone trying to apologize to me today. Sometimes multiple times, for the same thing. It's throwing me. I should have known Canada would be like this." He joked.
"You're comfortable when you're comfortable. You grew up where you grew up, I grew up where I grew up. Lakes, the beach, swimming pools, sporting fields... private school boys clothes would just be strewn everywhere. The most useless room in most any of the schools I attended, I tell you. The changerooms. We drop trow' at the drop of a hat. Which is to be expected... I guess. Because otherwise you'd be wearing a hat but no pants... And I'm not wearing nothing but a speedo. But I can take a suggestion." He took his shirt off. "...To put us on a somewhat even footing."
He dropped it on the floor. "See, look at that. Our clothes just go everywhere."
Calli watched as Banjo stripped down to essentially nothing. She had to admire his sheer 'dont-give-a-fuck' attitude. She wished she could be so free. But even now, she worried about her reputation. Her father's reach should not be in Canada, but given how political figures in America could have huge influence elsewhere, she wouldn't be surprised if someone here knew her father and, unfortunately, agreed with him.
"Okay, fair enough. We should sleep. Got to get ready for those trials tomorrow."
Banjo stood there with a big dumb grin on his face. He didn't let it drop and tried hard not to look disappointed.
"Yeah... Okay. Yeah, you're right. Got a... big day tomorrow, huh?"
"Man, did I read that wrong. Or did I screw up, or... What the bloody Hell happened there?" He felt like he'd been through a tumble dryer.
She knew he was disappointed, she could hardly blame him. She had promised something and then did not deliver. "It's not that I don't want to. When I suggested it, my intention was not good. I wanted to use you to forget about my own problems. To forget I was somewhere else and forced into it due to my own actions. But you showed me genuine kindness. No one has ever done that without wanting something from me. So, not yet. Soon, perhaps. But I want to get to know the real Andrew before then."
"Oh. Ohhhhh... Oh thank God. I thought I'd gone and screwed up or said... one of about a hundred bloody different things wrong or something. So this is a... good thing then, on your end? Yeah, if you don't want to rush into anything that's great. No rush. As for you, I'm an open book. Anything you want to know that I can answer, I will. Hell, I'll even let the 'Andrew' slide." He finally exhaled, more for his own benefit and the stress it relieved from his own side of the situation than anything else. The actual 'act' itself, he was still more than a little nervous about with his own lack of experience.
He piled into bed.
"Still okay to talk, or too tired?"
She hoped he understood that as she climbed into her own bed. "What did you have in mind?"
"I mean... you seem pretty switched on. What do you make of that rabble out there tonight? Reckon we can hold this lot together?" He asked, looking up at the tent ceiling. "Personally, I feel a lot better about how it ended than how the day started."
"Hard to say. I think we ended things on a more positive note, but I still get the sense that we're not a collective unit yet. Like I am sure Trace hates me. Rory still doesn't forgive me, which is fair. Mackenna is....Mackenna. And you made strides with Inigo, but even doing that seemed to ruffle some other people's feathers. There's no balance yet. There might be one day. No one was significantly harmed, so that's the best I think we could have gotten today."
"I don't-- I don't think Trace hates you. Don't get me wrong, I think they have enough vitriol in there for everyone... But we have this weird dynamic going on. Like I'm the annoying kid brother. We go back and forth at each other a lot. I don't want you to take this the wrong way... but what they said? I'm pretty sure that was just you getting caught in the crossfire, and it was meant for me. I crossed a line there, too. So maybe-- maybe they think you're responsible for turning me into 100% of an arsehole, up from about two thirds of one..? But I don't think they have any specific animosity towards you, in particular. I've got to straighten it out though, I shouldn't have said what I said. Really stupid thing about it all... I don't even think what I said. They just dragged you into it, and I saw red, and said whatever I could to hurt 'em and... well, whilst I don't think it, I know that THEY think it, even if it's stupid and--"
She'd been quiet for some time, and he'd been mumbling away on this weird tangent.
"Yeah. I'll straighten it out tomorrow." He finished.
He lay there for a few moments, unsure if she'd gone to sleep. Then decided to say it, even if it was only for his own benefit.
"Calli'..?" He said softly. Not sure if he wanted her awake to hear it or not. "I've never met anyone like you before, either."
Then he rolled over, and sleep fell upon him.
- - -
"Knock it off, Banjo!" Echoed around the tent. Banjo furrowed his brow and fought to ignore it. "I swear if this is some sort of prank."
Time passed and a rustle, a scuffle could be heard outside. Then louder.
"Did you hear that..?"
"Yeeeeah..." Banjo sighed, in frustration. "I'm pretty sure I heard someone say my name out there as well."
"You did? Why didn't you say anything?"
He raised his eyebrows in surprise at the question. "Well, because the only person I was really interested in hearing call my name out right now was you..." As he began to re-dress.
Calli shook her head, part in disbelief and part because, honestly, it made her feel warm. "As sweet as that is, dummy, if you are hearing your name whispered in the middle of the night, I want to know about it."
Once again, Banjo found himself hating himself for his decision to check on others rather than staying by the tent with Calli' as he looked around the floor for his shirt... This better be good.
It was very much not.
"What the Hell are you doing, boy!"
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Adie pushed on as their Faculty representative waded back through the group to check on everyone. She found their clearing and put her pack down. Putting her hands on her hips and taking in a deep gulp of the clean air, and looking deep into the darkest rain clouds she'd seen in a while. She checked her phone. Photos were perfect, as expected.
With the way the numbers worked, and Adie as one of the smaller teammembers she hadn't been given a tent to carry. She'd have to wait for one of the others who were carrying one to catch up in order to figure out sleeping arrangements.
Mulling around the campsite, Alyssa threw herself into making her pizza. Unable to limit herself to just one set of toppings, she divided the pizza into three evens sections. Mixing a white sauce and a tomato sauce, she created her base before mixing together mozzarella and provolone for her cheese. On the first third, she put chicken, bacon and sausage, before finishing with pineapple and jalapeños. On the next section went steak, red onions and mushrooms while the last section was pepperoni, bacon, green pepper, caramelized onions, and mushrooms.
Excitedly placing her masterpiece into the oven, Alyssa looked around for someone to talk to before spotting a familiar face. Her eyes lit up as she stepped forward, a hand shooting out to introduce herself.
With the way the numbers worked, and Adie as one of the smaller teammembers she hadn't been given a tent to carry. She'd have to wait for one of the others who were carrying one to catch up in order to figure out sleeping arrangements.
Mulling around the campsite, Alyssa threw herself into making her pizza. Unable to limit herself to just one set of toppings, she divided the pizza into three evens sections. Mixing a white sauce and a tomato sauce, she created her base before mixing together mozzarella and provolone for her cheese. On the first third, she put chicken, bacon and sausage, before finishing with pineapple and jalapeños. On the next section went steak, red onions and mushrooms while the last section was pepperoni, bacon, green pepper, caramelized onions, and mushrooms.
Excitedly placing her masterpiece into the oven, Alyssa looked around for someone to talk to before spotting a familiar face. Her eyes lit up as she stepped forward, a hand shooting out to introduce herself.
Location: Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean
The Homecoming Trials: # 1.104 Roomies and Being Recognised
Interaction(s): Alyssa - @Lord Wraith
Adie cocked an eyebrow, at the way she'd been addressed and started checking around the immediate vicinity.
"Did I say something to upset you, Adrianna Dahl? My mouth tends to run off without my brain, it was not my intention to do so."
"Nothing... you just... keep saying the full name. Makes me think I'm being recorded, or like someone's about to serve me a subpoena..."
Confident that nobody was paying any particular attention - she wasn't exactly going incognito, but she hadn't announced a press release that she'd be attending the school either, she relaxed into an easier state to complete the introduction.
"Pleasure to meet you, Alyssa Townsend." She replied. "Call me Adie." She said, for what would be the first of many times.
Adie swept past towards the pizza station, and got to work covering her base, she worked with a heavy tomato base with a single swirl of white sauce, and started piling on all of the other assorted toppings, stopping only to add palmfull layers of cheese after every few toppings. The ingredients she disregarded more noteworthy than that which she selected.
The final layer, she hammered still more cheese on and started to carry it to the oven.
"It's a camp-pizza." She explained cheerily, as if she'd been asked to explain her monstrosity.
"It's supposed to be a bit of a Frankenstein's monster."
While waiting for the pizza to cook, she asked the all important, presently obvious questions.
"So, Alyssa... Got a roomie yet?" As well as... "And how'd another Cali girl like you wind up here?"
Previously: Trekking Without the Stars
"You're Adrianna Dahl! I'm a huge fan of your work. It's incredibly upsetting what happened to you." She chattered energetically, "I'm Alyssa Townsend, it's such a pleasure to meet you, Adrianna Dahl!"
Adie cocked an eyebrow, at the way she'd been addressed and started checking around the immediate vicinity.
"Did I say something to upset you, Adrianna Dahl? My mouth tends to run off without my brain, it was not my intention to do so."
"Nothing... you just... keep saying the full name. Makes me think I'm being recorded, or like someone's about to serve me a subpoena..."
Confident that nobody was paying any particular attention - she wasn't exactly going incognito, but she hadn't announced a press release that she'd be attending the school either, she relaxed into an easier state to complete the introduction.
"Pleasure to meet you, Alyssa Townsend." She replied. "Call me Adie." She said, for what would be the first of many times.
Adie swept past towards the pizza station, and got to work covering her base, she worked with a heavy tomato base with a single swirl of white sauce, and started piling on all of the other assorted toppings, stopping only to add palmfull layers of cheese after every few toppings. The ingredients she disregarded more noteworthy than that which she selected.
The final layer, she hammered still more cheese on and started to carry it to the oven.
"It's a camp-pizza." She explained cheerily, as if she'd been asked to explain her monstrosity.
"It's supposed to be a bit of a Frankenstein's monster."
While waiting for the pizza to cook, she asked the all important, presently obvious questions.
"So, Alyssa... Got a roomie yet?" As well as... "And how'd another Cali girl like you wind up here?"
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Location: Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean
The Homecoming Trials: # 1.101 Campfire Contrition
Interaction(s): Listed below in quotes and Iñigo - @Mao Mao
Banjo made a double-take as the other of the football friends was backing him up on what he said. Something he really wasn't used to.
Most everywhere he'd been, pretty much any time he'd taken a stand, made a move or opened his trap he'd generally found himself on an island, having to go it alone against whatever force of nature of the day he was railing against. He wasn't used to having people support his comments, or in Calliope's case earlier, actually advocate for him. Let alone a person he hadn't said five words to previously. He didn't generally tend to make the best first impression, to leave people willing to go in to bat for him.
Maybe things could be different. Maybe things seemed to be coming together. Even if it was coming together over shared morbidity, he'd take it. He gave Calliope's shoulder a gentle, yet excited squeeze, hoping that she too had noticed the change in the atmosphere. He tried to sneak a subtle peek at her expression, but couldn't get the angle without being weird and sacrificing 'cool'.
By the time Banjo had turned back, Rory had already started to introduce himself. Banjo leaned back and started to listen in.
"Oh hey, he's got a brother and sister in the Collegiate group. Probably see them 'round the library." He thought to himself.
"He's a wrestler too. Football enthusiast. Probably an athlete in general, by the looks of him. Hockey would be probably be a fair bet as well, since he's Canadian. Kids up here are practically born with skates on... his poor mother." Banjo deadpanned internally, as he tried to 'round out what he could tell from this one.
Banjo suddenly tensed as he remembered earlier in the day...
"Ohhhhhh shit." Banjo thought to himself. Time froze for Banjo as his mind spun trying to figure out how to handle this fresh clusterfuck.
"Let's not panic... he just said it himself. He doesn't use it. He's not going to fool around and do anything stupid anytime soon. This is easy. You find him later, away from anyone else. No need to cause anyone any kind of panic, and you explain to him the 'rules' you came up with. The 'rules' for using it safely and not endangering anyone or... the world. I mean he can follow a simple set of rules, right?"
Banjo offered Rory a simple thumbs up and a strained smile, in support of Rory's willingness to share with the group, as he sat in more abject terror than he'd been in for quite some time.
He was pretty sure abject terror was generally an absolute for most people, and not a sliding scale. But Banjo did not grow up as most people.
Banjo enveloped her in his arms. It had taken a lot, the memories and the hurt still clearly fresh, but she'd finally laid out the full story from when he was setting up the tent.
He whispered something to her away from the prying eyes of others, as Luce - evidently the name of the blonde girl with the fresh change of vomit-free clothing - began her tale of woe.
"It's Okay. You can't choose your family, but you do get to pick your friends... You don't ever need to feel alone again."
He offered a warm sincere smile, and squeezed her shoulders with his arms, as he settled in to hear the other girl's story.
Luce delivered her story in clipped bites. Even by today's standards he got the sense that the trauma here was thick. She told of how she doesn't like open spaces - agorophobia. Which stood in stark contrast to his own troubles with claustrophobia, the unexplained nightmares... He rolled his own shoulders as he started to stiffen up at the thought, before writing it off as his muscles just atrophying as the time ticked further on from when he last 'juiced'.
Now this... this was a lot. There were 'near-death' experiences, but this-- this sounded a lot like Luce was covering a post-death experience. Banjo could eventually heal up deep scar tissue, the result of his body re-knitting tissue, after taking in enough new sunrises. But his powers did nothing for fresh wounds. He was, in fact, remarkably human in terms of his own durability - for all the advantages it gave him physically elsewhere. But he knew those scars he'd 'earned', every one of them still took a toll and left a mark. Even if they were no longer visible. What kind of mental scarring would there be for someone who came back from death?
Banjo wasn't completely lacking in self-awareness. He knew just not having parents had fucked him up somewhat. But this was a whole other thing. How much could someone really hope to get themselves back together, get their life back on track, when they'd lost their grip on the mortal coil... only to find themselves right back where they were. And here she was, right back here punching.
I mean, sure, she looked like she'd been through Hell and back. Quite frankly, she looked like shit warmed up. But going twelve rounds with death would probably do that to a person. Banjo had read about people coming back from wars with shell shock.
"It's fine." He said. "More than fine. I can bring panic out in a person." The smile drifted back into that joking smirk, before flashing back. "--And it sounds like you've been through a Hell of a lot."
Luce then started to bring Iñigo over. Banjo slowly started to unfurl himself from around Calliope.
He wasn't sure what was going on, but he knew there was a lot of powers around, and he didn't-- he WOULDN'T have Calli' taking any kind of stray shots from someone trying to take a poke at him, if that's what this was. He would separate himself, be his own target, and be ready.
Banjo thought for a moment. He'd put space between himself and Calliope, but he wasn't sure how much was necessary. He still had no idea what he was dealing with here, in Iñigo. Sure, he backed himself - liked his chances. He generally always did. But how much space was 'safe' he had no idea. He opened his mouth to reply, and...
Great. Just great...
"So have at it." Banjo said, looking up from where he sat. "Whaddaya want?"
Iñigo didn't appreciate being put in the spotlight by someone else, but it wasn't like they didn't anticipate it. So they sat down on a stone that served as a chair and spoke to Banjo while trying to ignore the curious onlookers around the campfire. "I just would like to apologize for my conduct towards you earlier. You were only introducing yourself with an act of kindness, and I spat on it for no reason. I don't have any excuses, nor will I make one. I am sorry."
"Oh... is that all? Pah! Don't worry about it. Mountains and molehills, and all of that junk. You said some things, I said... A lot of things. Water under the bridge. Yeah? Oh, hey, guys? This is Iñigo... Tell 'em about yourself... G'awn. Now's not a time for shyness." He made a handwaving gesture, to turn the conversation over to the newcomer, before turning back to resume his position around Calliope - comfortable and confident in the threat having been squashed.
And that was that, but... Iñigo didn't feel the sense of relief of being forgiven. Perhaps it was the way the subject was changed so fast. Or how they were expecting something different than a simple "all is well between us now" answer. Or maybe they were just overanalyzing the entire thing, making it a big deal for no reason. Yet, if they remained quiet on the issue, it would've driven them insane. Iñigo blurted out, still dumbfounded by the unusual response, "That... t-that... I just don't get it! How can you just accept my apology so... so casually? And then pretend like it was all a simple misunderstanding? You don't have to accept it out of formality, you know. Hell, you can go on ahead and be direct with me. I can take it, believe me."
Banjo cocked an eyebrow and turned back, "Sorry, Calli'..." He said softly as he turned back to face, the matter clearly only resolved on one side.
"I can accept it so casually, because I dealt with it at the time so casually. I was direct. I am still being direct. Trust me when I tell you... I will be direct. Difficulty with being direct is not an issue my people have, believe me. It's fine. Hell, out of the two of us, I'm working with English as my first language, and I suspect you're hardly the only person here who has wanted to cave my head in."
"I'm not about to go on some lifetime vendetta over a clumsy momentary lapse of politeness. If that were a reasonable response there'd be a neverending line of people beating down my door looking for blood. I'm not generally one for holding grudges."
"Never bloody stayed in one place long enough to ever need to hold a grudge..." He thought to himself, but that didn't need to be said.
"Okay then." Iñigo nodded out of an understanding with his words even though there were still doubts, which were buried deep in their mind—for the moment. Then, realizing the opportunity to introduce themselves had presented itself, they began with a correction towards Banjo in a light-hearted manner. "And for your information, English is my first language too. But my folks taught me their native tongue at a very young age. So I am bilingual in Spanish and English."
"Well... sorry, about that." He said, thinking that maybe if he apologised for something then it might break the chain and the other guy might stop. "Y'know. For the assumption. Accent's thick, but I'm not one to talk, I guess."
"Nah, no need to apologize."
Iñigo turned their attention to everyone else sitting around the campfire and started to talk. "So besides that tidbit about myself, my name is indeed Iñigo. Please at least make an effort to pronounce it correctly. Grew up on the outskirts of Las Vegas with my parents and little brother. My power was activated at some nightclub on the strip while I was celebrating spring break. Fun fact, I was in my third year of university when it happened—almost a year away from getting my bachelor's in history. After that..."
"Bueno, a ver cómo me va." Iñigo took a deep breath, prepared to divulge their big secret to strangers in the middle of the forest.
"...After that, Ispentfivemonthsinadetentioncenterandthenendedupherewiththerestofyouinthewoods. Now, does anyone want to see my power in action?" Iñigo awkwardly smiled, acting as if they were not nervous (and totally not sweating) in front of everyone.
"Fuck off!" Banjo barked, a big smirk on his face.
Everyone fell silent, as all eyes fell on him, wondering what horrible turn this conversation was about to take.
"¿Qué..?"
Banjo started up. "So you mean to tell me, that you somehow managed to survive... almost half a year... in prison... somehow dodgin' getting stabbed, shivved and otherwise brutalised on a daily basis... just to come here, and almost get your arse kicked by ME within five bloody minutes..?"
There was a few moments of uncomfortable silence before Banjo's cackle filled the campsite's air.
"You're bloody jokin' me!" Warmth and laughter once again filled the air, as people further introduced themselves to one another.
Previously: Campfire Tales and Terrors
Noticing the brief silence, Rory looked up to see a few eyes gaze in his direction. He hadn’t spoken up yet, and was only now slightly embarrassed about the playbook. He quickly slammed it closed, his leg shaking nervously as he took a breath. He looked up towards Trevor for some semblance of reassurance, before speaking to the group at large. ”Banjo’s right. Not all of us can control what we do. They let us work on that here, safely.” He turned his gaze to Haleigh, trying to offer a bit of a soft smile. His mother had always mentioned how useful her time at P.R.C.U. was in controlling her powers. Maybe it would help Haleigh too.
Banjo made a double-take as the other of the football friends was backing him up on what he said. Something he really wasn't used to.
Most everywhere he'd been, pretty much any time he'd taken a stand, made a move or opened his trap he'd generally found himself on an island, having to go it alone against whatever force of nature of the day he was railing against. He wasn't used to having people support his comments, or in Calliope's case earlier, actually advocate for him. Let alone a person he hadn't said five words to previously. He didn't generally tend to make the best first impression, to leave people willing to go in to bat for him.
Maybe things could be different. Maybe things seemed to be coming together. Even if it was coming together over shared morbidity, he'd take it. He gave Calliope's shoulder a gentle, yet excited squeeze, hoping that she too had noticed the change in the atmosphere. He tried to sneak a subtle peek at her expression, but couldn't get the angle without being weird and sacrificing 'cool'.
Rory placed his hands on his knees, willing his leg to stop shaking for a moment. It wasn’t very cooperative, sort of vibrating slightly still despite Rory’s efforts. He looked over to Calliope for a moment, his gaze turning cold for a moment as he did, before looking towards the others and letting his smile return. ”My name is Rory Tyler… My parents went here years ago. I live… lived in Ottawa. I’ve got a brother and a sister, they’re both twins here in the Collegiate program. I guess my fun fact is that I was a pretty good wrestler in high school…” Rory felt a little nervous at this point. He knew he was stalling from having to explain what his power was. He just flashed a smile, trying to make a good impression for those that didn’t already think less of him.
By the time Banjo had turned back, Rory had already started to introduce himself. Banjo leaned back and started to listen in.
"Oh hey, he's got a brother and sister in the Collegiate group. Probably see them 'round the library." He thought to himself.
"He's a wrestler too. Football enthusiast. Probably an athlete in general, by the looks of him. Hockey would be probably be a fair bet as well, since he's Canadian. Kids up here are practically born with skates on... his poor mother." Banjo deadpanned internally, as he tried to 'round out what he could tell from this one.
Rory flipped open the playbook and turned it to the last page, which was just a cut-out note in his Aunt’s handwriting with the name of his power. He read the note, and nodded. ”My power is Power Mimicry. I can borrow a power from someone I’m near for a short time… it’s why I’ve been writing notes down in this.” Rory held up his wrist, showing off the wristband and pocket playbook. ”I… I don’t really use it, honestly. Any time I do, I get really sick after.” Rory kept his nervous smile up, looking around to the others. ”So yeah… that’s me. Who’s next?”
Banjo suddenly tensed as he remembered earlier in the day...
”Look man, we need to be trying to get along here. If you need to walk things off, walk it off… but you can’t be talking to people that way, Andy. We’re a team, like it or not… so let’s just try to get along.” Rory pushed to jog a little faster to finish closing the gap, and accentuated his point by reaching out to grab Banjo’s shoulder in an effort to stop him for a moment and come to a sense of understanding.
Rory pushed to jog a little faster to finish closing the gap, and accentuated his point by reaching out to grab Banjo’s shoulder in an effort to stop him for a moment and come to a sense of understanding.
and accentuated his point by reaching out to grab Banjo’s shoulder.
"Ohhhhhh shit." Banjo thought to himself. Time froze for Banjo as his mind spun trying to figure out how to handle this fresh clusterfuck.
"Let's not panic... he just said it himself. He doesn't use it. He's not going to fool around and do anything stupid anytime soon. This is easy. You find him later, away from anyone else. No need to cause anyone any kind of panic, and you explain to him the 'rules' you came up with. The 'rules' for using it safely and not endangering anyone or... the world. I mean he can follow a simple set of rules, right?"
Banjo offered Rory a simple thumbs up and a strained smile, in support of Rory's willingness to share with the group, as he sat in more abject terror than he'd been in for quite some time.
He was pretty sure abject terror was generally an absolute for most people, and not a sliding scale. But Banjo did not grow up as most people.
Calli supposed she should also share. It was only fair. "So I admittedly grew up in a very privileged home. My father is a senator in the United States. He worked hard to get there, especially since the country looks down on people of color, even if they were here legally. To that end, once he achieved it, everyone else was expected to fall in line. We had to look a certain way, act a certain way. We couldn't hang out with certain kids if it made us look bad. We were limited in how we interacted with the world. Every time we left the house we were expected to be perfect. Get perfect grades. One slip-up and we paid the price. It was almost like we had to be one unit rather than be individuals."
"Recently, like a few months ago, the pressure got too much. I was out with my parents, making the rounds and showing how great we were, when I just...lost it. I knew what my powers were. Had known for a long time. I think my mother knew, but not my father. But when I lost it, there was ice everywhere. It destroyed the town center's water fountain. The cross-section streets were destroyed. Hell, it looked like fucking Christmas in July. I made it snow! And everyone just...looked at me like I was a freak. A monster. I could handle the strangers looking at me like that. But it was my father's expression that destroyed me. It's funny, he thinks I'm here to learn to hide it better. Jokes on him, I guess."
Calli brought her knees up to her and wrapped her arms around them. She felt lighter, but she would not say she felt better.
Better took time.
Banjo enveloped her in his arms. It had taken a lot, the memories and the hurt still clearly fresh, but she'd finally laid out the full story from when he was setting up the tent.
He whispered something to her away from the prying eyes of others, as Luce - evidently the name of the blonde girl with the fresh change of vomit-free clothing - began her tale of woe.
"It's Okay. You can't choose your family, but you do get to pick your friends... You don't ever need to feel alone again."
He offered a warm sincere smile, and squeezed her shoulders with his arms, as he settled in to hear the other girl's story.
"Hi everyone. Sorry about earlier. I'm Luce. It's really nice to meet you all. I'm from Canada - close by, relatively. Houston BC. Never knew my dad, but my mom worked really hard. Used to camp. I don't anymore. Lost my brothers in an accident. Don't like the trees anymore, or open spaces. But it's how I found out about my powers."
Luce delivered her story in clipped bites. Even by today's standards he got the sense that the trauma here was thick. She told of how she doesn't like open spaces - agorophobia. Which stood in stark contrast to his own troubles with claustrophobia, the unexplained nightmares... He rolled his own shoulders as he started to stiffen up at the thought, before writing it off as his muscles just atrophying as the time ticked further on from when he last 'juiced'.
"I don't know the rating, or category, or the official stuff. Whatever it is - I don't feel pain when I'm hurt. Hurt bad, I mean. It doesn't slow me down, doesn't stop me, I just keep going. It's like my body just...adapts. Whatever stops working, something else picks up the slack. And then when I'm out, when I'm safe...I heal up real good after. I'm um, I'm not sure I can actually be killed."
She took another deep breath, letting her top down and pulling from her water bottle. That was the most talking she'd done in a long time. "My mom sent me here for a fresh start. Small town stuff, you know. It's really nice to meet you all. Sorry for vomiting, Banjo. It wasn't you. I just panicked. I um...I panic a lot. I'm sorry."
Now this... this was a lot. There were 'near-death' experiences, but this-- this sounded a lot like Luce was covering a post-death experience. Banjo could eventually heal up deep scar tissue, the result of his body re-knitting tissue, after taking in enough new sunrises. But his powers did nothing for fresh wounds. He was, in fact, remarkably human in terms of his own durability - for all the advantages it gave him physically elsewhere. But he knew those scars he'd 'earned', every one of them still took a toll and left a mark. Even if they were no longer visible. What kind of mental scarring would there be for someone who came back from death?
Banjo wasn't completely lacking in self-awareness. He knew just not having parents had fucked him up somewhat. But this was a whole other thing. How much could someone really hope to get themselves back together, get their life back on track, when they'd lost their grip on the mortal coil... only to find themselves right back where they were. And here she was, right back here punching.
I mean, sure, she looked like she'd been through Hell and back. Quite frankly, she looked like shit warmed up. But going twelve rounds with death would probably do that to a person. Banjo had read about people coming back from wars with shell shock.
"It's fine." He said. "More than fine. I can bring panic out in a person." The smile drifted back into that joking smirk, before flashing back. "--And it sounds like you've been through a Hell of a lot."
Luce looked around the circle, smiling as warmly as she could muster and letting the nerves wash over her and depart again, allowing anxiety to come and go like commanding the tides. She noticed one missing among their number, and turned her head toward Iñigo, who was sat separately a little off from the circle, propped up against the trees. She shivered slightly to look at it, but raised her hand to wave.
"Iñigo, right?" She called out, putting on her best friendly voice. "Would you like to join us?"
Luce then started to bring Iñigo over. Banjo slowly started to unfurl himself from around Calliope.
He wasn't sure what was going on, but he knew there was a lot of powers around, and he didn't-- he WOULDN'T have Calli' taking any kind of stray shots from someone trying to take a poke at him, if that's what this was. He would separate himself, be his own target, and be ready.
But rather than introducing themselves right away, Iñigo turned their sights over to Banjo, ready to apologize for their behavior. "Before I introduce myself to everyone, I'd like to say something to Banjo about earlier. We can talk about it here or somewhere more private, whatever you want to do."
Banjo thought for a moment. He'd put space between himself and Calliope, but he wasn't sure how much was necessary. He still had no idea what he was dealing with here, in Iñigo. Sure, he backed himself - liked his chances. He generally always did. But how much space was 'safe' he had no idea. He opened his mouth to reply, and...
"Oh, don't worry Iñigo" She quickly spoke up, unprompted. "We're all opening up here, no more secrets. Share with the class." Her tone and smile were pure affability, internally she was desperate for something to end the circle of trauma dumping, and whatever petty drama had involved Calliope's new boy toy seemed a wonderful distraction.
Great. Just great...
"So have at it." Banjo said, looking up from where he sat. "Whaddaya want?"
Iñigo didn't appreciate being put in the spotlight by someone else, but it wasn't like they didn't anticipate it. So they sat down on a stone that served as a chair and spoke to Banjo while trying to ignore the curious onlookers around the campfire. "I just would like to apologize for my conduct towards you earlier. You were only introducing yourself with an act of kindness, and I spat on it for no reason. I don't have any excuses, nor will I make one. I am sorry."
"Oh... is that all? Pah! Don't worry about it. Mountains and molehills, and all of that junk. You said some things, I said... A lot of things. Water under the bridge. Yeah? Oh, hey, guys? This is Iñigo... Tell 'em about yourself... G'awn. Now's not a time for shyness." He made a handwaving gesture, to turn the conversation over to the newcomer, before turning back to resume his position around Calliope - comfortable and confident in the threat having been squashed.
And that was that, but... Iñigo didn't feel the sense of relief of being forgiven. Perhaps it was the way the subject was changed so fast. Or how they were expecting something different than a simple "all is well between us now" answer. Or maybe they were just overanalyzing the entire thing, making it a big deal for no reason. Yet, if they remained quiet on the issue, it would've driven them insane. Iñigo blurted out, still dumbfounded by the unusual response, "That... t-that... I just don't get it! How can you just accept my apology so... so casually? And then pretend like it was all a simple misunderstanding? You don't have to accept it out of formality, you know. Hell, you can go on ahead and be direct with me. I can take it, believe me."
Banjo cocked an eyebrow and turned back, "Sorry, Calli'..." He said softly as he turned back to face, the matter clearly only resolved on one side.
"I can accept it so casually, because I dealt with it at the time so casually. I was direct. I am still being direct. Trust me when I tell you... I will be direct. Difficulty with being direct is not an issue my people have, believe me. It's fine. Hell, out of the two of us, I'm working with English as my first language, and I suspect you're hardly the only person here who has wanted to cave my head in."
"I'm not about to go on some lifetime vendetta over a clumsy momentary lapse of politeness. If that were a reasonable response there'd be a neverending line of people beating down my door looking for blood. I'm not generally one for holding grudges."
"Never bloody stayed in one place long enough to ever need to hold a grudge..." He thought to himself, but that didn't need to be said.
"Okay then." Iñigo nodded out of an understanding with his words even though there were still doubts, which were buried deep in their mind—for the moment. Then, realizing the opportunity to introduce themselves had presented itself, they began with a correction towards Banjo in a light-hearted manner. "And for your information, English is my first language too. But my folks taught me their native tongue at a very young age. So I am bilingual in Spanish and English."
"Well... sorry, about that." He said, thinking that maybe if he apologised for something then it might break the chain and the other guy might stop. "Y'know. For the assumption. Accent's thick, but I'm not one to talk, I guess."
"Nah, no need to apologize."
Iñigo turned their attention to everyone else sitting around the campfire and started to talk. "So besides that tidbit about myself, my name is indeed Iñigo. Please at least make an effort to pronounce it correctly. Grew up on the outskirts of Las Vegas with my parents and little brother. My power was activated at some nightclub on the strip while I was celebrating spring break. Fun fact, I was in my third year of university when it happened—almost a year away from getting my bachelor's in history. After that..."
"Bueno, a ver cómo me va." Iñigo took a deep breath, prepared to divulge their big secret to strangers in the middle of the forest.
"...After that, Ispentfivemonthsinadetentioncenterandthenendedupherewiththerestofyouinthewoods. Now, does anyone want to see my power in action?" Iñigo awkwardly smiled, acting as if they were not nervous (and totally not sweating) in front of everyone.
"Fuck off!" Banjo barked, a big smirk on his face.
Everyone fell silent, as all eyes fell on him, wondering what horrible turn this conversation was about to take.
"¿Qué..?"
Banjo started up. "So you mean to tell me, that you somehow managed to survive... almost half a year... in prison... somehow dodgin' getting stabbed, shivved and otherwise brutalised on a daily basis... just to come here, and almost get your arse kicked by ME within five bloody minutes..?"
There was a few moments of uncomfortable silence before Banjo's cackle filled the campsite's air.
"You're bloody jokin' me!" Warmth and laughter once again filled the air, as people further introduced themselves to one another.
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Location: Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean
The Homecoming Trials: # 1.89 Campfire Tales and Terrors
Interaction(s): All quoted below, you know who you are. Calliope - @PatientBean, Cassander - @Lord Wraith
"Huh..." He stopped in his tracks. "I, uhh, didn't know you would know that..." He said to no-one in particular. Mainly himself. "Well, yeah it's independent of Vitamind D synthesis, actually, it's independent of everything. I think-- theoretically at least, it's independent of respiration. But that's a pretty big leap of faith to take, testing whether or not I can go without breathing when I juice. Oh, I... I call it juicing." He became aware he was distracting from the task at hand. "But yeah... yeah, anything else you want to know we can talk about that later."
Banjo's gears ran wild as he wondered just how much he'd been underestimating the football friends. And whether they'd caught on and were just too polite to say anything.
He shook it off and focused on what came next as the large South African sheila took centre stage.
"Oh no..." Banjo thought to himself at first. "I didn't just bloody inadvertantly open the floodgates on some kind of mass-trauma dump by everybody in attendance, did I?" But as Katja continued her story, and even heavier, the details which were so painful they must be omitted, Banjo started to justify his decision to himself further. "Actually... this might be for the best anyway. Like I said. Finding stuff in common. A dozen randomly assembled hyperhumans, with the oppression and abuse that we generally face, the odds aren't too bad that someone here might be able to relate to losing parents over it. I mean, it's at least peripheral to you and Sparky McGee over there anyway, huh?"
Most surprisingly of all, when she finished, she threw a smile on and asked Banjo if he was done with his food.
Banjo chuckled warmly, and returned his own smile.
"Have at it." He said, handing her the whole plate, and pointing to the sky. "I filled up earlier." Beween the heavy cloud cover and the late hour, the sun was a barely visible seam in the darkness, but she'd get the gist.
"Well, she seemed friendly enough." He thought to himself. "Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Trace didn't poison that well." He scratched his chin in contemplation with his now free plate hand, before considering what he could do with the arm. "Give it a shot?"
He put his arm around Calliope, who tensed slightly at the sensation, before relaxing into it after making eye contact and confirming it was indeed Banjo who was doing it.
"Whoa... Ok. That was-- Good. This is... Things are working out. This is all good. People are talking. Nobody's trying to kill each other. Calli's sensing it too, maybe? This is good..."
Slowly the supercharged Holden V8 engine which drove Banjo's self-confidence started to up its revs.
"Oh, so the dead Mum thing. That wasn't just bullshit." He thought to himself. Trace'd dropped that nugget so glibly he wasn't entirely sure that was actually true at the time. He found himself relieved he hadn't fired back a "That's probably why she didn't move around so much." Especially after what he'd said before.
Oh... what he'd said before.
They were noticeably avoiding eye contact too.
Shit.
Then when they showed off their power he found himself realising the depths of those self-confidence issues he'd exploited to fire back at them. The guilt made his stomach churn. He was still mad. He'd still probably wind up running damage control on what they'd said before, if and when - god willing - that came up later with Calli. But he still didn't like what he'd done. The depths of shittiness... it wasn't equitable. He just wanted to hurt because he hurt, and that was the clearest way to do just that.
He wasn't going to have to fucking talk about this later with 'em though, was he? I mean, Trace knew the score, right?
The churning didn't stop.
"Well, shit..."
Okay. So the guy who was interested in how his powers worked was called Trevor. If Trace wasn't lying before the other one was called Rory. With mental notes he started to piece together the names of those on the team, should they remain as such by the end of things.
He hoped so... wouldn't want to have to learn a bunch of new names.
He noticed Trevor didn't really share anything about himself of value. Was it shallowness, only really interested in discussing powers? Or was there something more there that was the reason why he really didn't want to share. Ten minutes ago he'd likely just chalk it up to a lack of depth, but Banjo had underestimated him already once, so now he wasn't so sure...
She rattled off a series of accomplishments like the rote recitation of her CV. Sure, Yale was impressive, even Banjo had heard about there. He knew they were an Ivy league school, bunch of schools famous for their prestige, and they had some weird thing with Harvard. He also knew they had a high end law school, and were known for business management and economics as well. But that was the sum total of what he knew. He supposed it was something to be proud of, and that Makenna was probably pretty quick to namedrop Yale to anyone new. It did after all pop up three times in the first complete sentence she'd bothered to say in his presence.
He wanted to redirect and see if he could get people back on track of actually sharing something meaningful about themselves, but Haleigh took to the stage and he immediately became mindful of criticising what people chose to share, particularly in front of the person who saw him chew out Inigo not that long before. So instead he ate his criticism, and listened in.
So... she was in the chair for all of our sakes, and not hers. Well ain't that a kick? Trailing off added weight to everything she had just said and every passing beat was uncomfortable. Full of newfound confidence from how things were going with Calliope, Banjo decided it was his place to say something, even though he'd barely spoken a dozen words directly to Haleigh since being here. "Hell, none of us knew each other until only recently, so why not me?" He justified to himself.
"It's ok. That's what I guess a lot of us are here for..." He hid behind the "lot of us", it was complete bullshit in his case. He was here because he was dragged here. "...and you wouldn't be the only person here who's scared of what they're capable of. Truth be told, when I first heard about the 'Big Bang' and the expansion of the universe, I figured I'd be responsible for the heat death of the whole shebang." What he kept to himself, was that it was still a nagging belief he couldn't shake. But to others he knew it sounded ridiculous, so maybe that might be helpful here.
"Not everyone here has control over what they do either." He gestured to Sparky McGee. "But maybe with time you'll be able to run down the street, stop on a button, and rise the dirt you're on a thousand feet in the air. Like shaping a mountain or a cliff-face... things take time. Hopefully, unlike a mountain or cliff-face, maybe this won't take quite so long."
The ending was a bit clunky, but he wasn't really used to offering reassurance. He couldn't relate to the last part at all either. He had almost perfect control of his powers, in his opinion. In part because they were straightforward in nature, but also because as he'd said - his powers terrified him into respect.
Previously: 'Most People I Know (Think That I'm Crazy)'
"So you metabolize sunlight?" he echoed, turning to Banjo, "That's so cool! I bet you have to ingest a lot more cholesterol to compensate unless it works independently of vitamin D synthesis. We can talk more about it later."
"Huh..." He stopped in his tracks. "I, uhh, didn't know you would know that..." He said to no-one in particular. Mainly himself. "Well, yeah it's independent of Vitamind D synthesis, actually, it's independent of everything. I think-- theoretically at least, it's independent of respiration. But that's a pretty big leap of faith to take, testing whether or not I can go without breathing when I juice. Oh, I... I call it juicing." He became aware he was distracting from the task at hand. "But yeah... yeah, anything else you want to know we can talk about that later."
Banjo's gears ran wild as he wondered just how much he'd been underestimating the football friends. And whether they'd caught on and were just too polite to say anything.
He shook it off and focused on what came next as the large South African sheila took centre stage.
”Well, guess it’s my turn. I’m Katja, but you can call me Kat if you want.” giving an apathetic shrug at the idea. ”My ability is density manipulation which means I can alter my own body mass and toughness. Basically I can turn myself into a human wrecking ball. Or punching bag, so if anyone needs a sparring partner who you want to try your abilities on, I’m your meisie” She punctuated that statement with a humorless chuckle before looking at Banjo.
”Guess I’ll follow your example and explain a bit more about myself. As most of you have probably picked up on by my accent, I’m not from this side of the Atlantic, not originally anyway.” Katja paused for a moment as she looked up to the sky and took a deep breath before continuing. ”I was born and raised in Bloemfontein. Now, that name might not say a whole lot to most of you, but a little over a decade ago there was a large anti-hype massacre over there. The munnies got to my parents and well…” She bit down hard on her lips, casting her eyes down for a few seconds before looking back at the people around the campfire with an awkwardly forced smile on her lips. ”I’m sorry for ruining the mood, just felt like the best moment to open up.”
”Anyway...” she took a shaky deep breath to regain her composure, hiding away her pain back into that deep corner before looking at Banjo with that same forced smile on her face. ”You euhm, going to finish that?” Katja said, pointing her thumb to the untouched plate belonging to the Aussie.
"Oh no..." Banjo thought to himself at first. "I didn't just bloody inadvertantly open the floodgates on some kind of mass-trauma dump by everybody in attendance, did I?" But as Katja continued her story, and even heavier, the details which were so painful they must be omitted, Banjo started to justify his decision to himself further. "Actually... this might be for the best anyway. Like I said. Finding stuff in common. A dozen randomly assembled hyperhumans, with the oppression and abuse that we generally face, the odds aren't too bad that someone here might be able to relate to losing parents over it. I mean, it's at least peripheral to you and Sparky McGee over there anyway, huh?"
Most surprisingly of all, when she finished, she threw a smile on and asked Banjo if he was done with his food.
Banjo chuckled warmly, and returned his own smile.
"Have at it." He said, handing her the whole plate, and pointing to the sky. "I filled up earlier." Beween the heavy cloud cover and the late hour, the sun was a barely visible seam in the darkness, but she'd get the gist.
"Well, she seemed friendly enough." He thought to himself. "Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Trace didn't poison that well." He scratched his chin in contemplation with his now free plate hand, before considering what he could do with the arm. "Give it a shot?"
He put his arm around Calliope, who tensed slightly at the sensation, before relaxing into it after making eye contact and confirming it was indeed Banjo who was doing it.
"Whoa... Ok. That was-- Good. This is... Things are working out. This is all good. People are talking. Nobody's trying to kill each other. Calli's sensing it too, maybe? This is good..."
Slowly the supercharged Holden V8 engine which drove Banjo's self-confidence started to up its revs.
“Bloody, ‘ell,” Trace grumbled. “I’m Trace Whitlock. They and them for the lot of you that didn’t get the memo. I’m from Sutton London. My dad is British Military, my mum is dead, and I was scouted for a professional football league before all this happened. And by football—RORY—I mean your fuckin’ soccer. Except better and with less bullshit.” They shrugged. “As much as my power goes. It’s easier to show you."
They pulled the back of their shirt up, which caused the front to ride up as well. Their torso was finely muscled, though far from the definition of Katja’s, and as pale as the rest of them. Their deep blue veins were obvious underneath. At first, it would be hard to tell what was happening in the light of the campfire, but it became apparent that a long limb started to form underneath the back of their shirt. At the end was a hand with fingers. The arm extended longer than a normal one should, lengthening out six feet in front of them. It was as pale as their flesh but didn’t seem to be made of skin. It looked to be denser and made of marble. While it bent in the middle, as if it had an elbow, there was nothing natural about it. The hand splayed its fingers and dove into the fire. It picked up some smoldering coals and held them there as if just holding a handful of rocks. It crushed them into a cloud of fine dust—easily—before dropping them back into the pit. The arm then crumbled away, landing on the ground like chalk before bubbling up as if someone doused it in vinegar before disappearing entirely. “That’s it. And I can produce six of those things.” They could do more with it, but they didn’t care to elaborate. Surprises might be fun in the future. Not to mention, they were already braced for whatever shit Banjo was about to spew.
"Oh, so the dead Mum thing. That wasn't just bullshit." He thought to himself. Trace'd dropped that nugget so glibly he wasn't entirely sure that was actually true at the time. He found himself relieved he hadn't fired back a "That's probably why she didn't move around so much." Especially after what he'd said before.
Oh... what he'd said before.
They were noticeably avoiding eye contact too.
Shit.
Then when they showed off their power he found himself realising the depths of those self-confidence issues he'd exploited to fire back at them. The guilt made his stomach churn. He was still mad. He'd still probably wind up running damage control on what they'd said before, if and when - god willing - that came up later with Calli. But he still didn't like what he'd done. The depths of shittiness... it wasn't equitable. He just wanted to hurt because he hurt, and that was the clearest way to do just that.
He wasn't going to have to fucking talk about this later with 'em though, was he? I mean, Trace knew the score, right?
The churning didn't stop.
"Well, shit..."
Trevor smiled at the group and gave a small wave.
"Hi everyone! My name's Trevor and I'm a H.E.A.T. program volunteer. My ability is..." He trailed off as he racked his brain for a good explanation. "It's easier to show than tell."
He reached down and placed his hand flat on the ground. In the next instant the skin of his arm started to disappear. Not into thin air and disappearing, it moved into the ground under his hand. But moving was also not quite the right word. His flesh was disappearing and reappearing in the dirt in a rough outline of his hand, then his wrist, and the better part of his forearm that filled in over a few seconds. At the same time, a mixture of dirt, rocks, and grass replaced the limb now half buried in the ground. He flexed his new fingers a few times as small bits of dirt fell back to the ground before taking a firm hold of his original arm and giving a firm tug to free it from the dirt. The arm dangled limply in his grasp as he gave it a good shake to dislodge any dirt stuck to it. He didn't seem to mind as drops of blood welled up near the lump of bone sticking out the top, but he was careful to hold it hand side down.
"I can move other stuff around too. It doesn't have to be part of me either. More importantly I'm with Calliope, cool name by the way. We should stick together."
By pure chance he happened to glance at Trace with all those arms behind her and gears turned in his head. Trevor looked down at his own disembodied hand and had to suppress a chuckle before he even started. This would be perfect, he just knew it. A joke would make her feel better after he spat with Banjo. Even at a distance it was obvious he was struggling not to laugh at his own joke as he tilted the severed limb in her direction.
"You seem like you got things handled but just ask and I'll be happy to lend you a hand."
Okay. So the guy who was interested in how his powers worked was called Trevor. If Trace wasn't lying before the other one was called Rory. With mental notes he started to piece together the names of those on the team, should they remain as such by the end of things.
He hoped so... wouldn't want to have to learn a bunch of new names.
He noticed Trevor didn't really share anything about himself of value. Was it shallowness, only really interested in discussing powers? Or was there something more there that was the reason why he really didn't want to share. Ten minutes ago he'd likely just chalk it up to a lack of depth, but Banjo had underestimated him already once, so now he wasn't so sure...
“Makenna, She began her introduction, shining smile at the ready as it came her turn. “Full merit scholarship Yale undergrad, treasurer of the Yale Daily News, and recipient of the Goldfarb Community Service award.” She paused for a moment, wanting so much it could have ended there. “Not that’s what any of you really wanted to hear about me.” She continued, still smiling as she folded her hands together, looking over the group.
“Four delta esoteric expulsive; vocal projection and mimicry. I can sound like whatever or whoever you want,” Her head tilted as she innocently lifted her eyes to the darkening sky above. “Or just a real screamer if it’s called for.”
With a final flash of white teeth, she looked expectantly to her left to continue the chain.
She rattled off a series of accomplishments like the rote recitation of her CV. Sure, Yale was impressive, even Banjo had heard about there. He knew they were an Ivy league school, bunch of schools famous for their prestige, and they had some weird thing with Harvard. He also knew they had a high end law school, and were known for business management and economics as well. But that was the sum total of what he knew. He supposed it was something to be proud of, and that Makenna was probably pretty quick to namedrop Yale to anyone new. It did after all pop up three times in the first complete sentence she'd bothered to say in his presence.
He wanted to redirect and see if he could get people back on track of actually sharing something meaningful about themselves, but Haleigh took to the stage and he immediately became mindful of criticising what people chose to share, particularly in front of the person who saw him chew out Inigo not that long before. So instead he ate his criticism, and listened in.
"I suppose I should probably explain some things. Hi, the name's Haleigh, though obviously some of you already know that. I'm from Vancouver—it's not that far from here, actually. About a day's worth of driving by car. Anyway, my dad is a Mountie. You know, the guys in red, one of the stereotypes when one thinks of Canada. Mom, well..."
Haleigh paused momentarily, before deciding to skip over that point. It was a topic she wasn't willing to go into.
"The Cascades were his stomping grounds, so he frequently brought me on his trips. To hike. Camp. Just anything to do with the outdoors. I guess he rubbed off on me in the end since I became an outdoors blogger and spent time out there solo before... well, the incident. I don't like to talk about it, personally. It's difficult to when one day you're... 'normal', and then the next you've buried yourself alive and become the reason people could've died back home. When your neighbors decide you needed to die over something out of your control."
She looked down at her legs, before taking a deep breath. They needed to know.
"Some of you are probably wondering about the wheelchair, I figure. Honestly, I hate it. I would much rather prefer to walk. But I can't. Not without people getting hurt. It's something that's been hanging over my head ever since I developed this stupid ability. I could sink this island with a stroll. Destroy the school with a jog."
Haleigh grimaced, clearly fighting back her emotions.
"I don't want to be the reason why more people get hurt, so I guess that's why I'm here. Tad's helped me with this inhibitor thing of his, but..."
She trailed off, unable to finish her statement.
So... she was in the chair for all of our sakes, and not hers. Well ain't that a kick? Trailing off added weight to everything she had just said and every passing beat was uncomfortable. Full of newfound confidence from how things were going with Calliope, Banjo decided it was his place to say something, even though he'd barely spoken a dozen words directly to Haleigh since being here. "Hell, none of us knew each other until only recently, so why not me?" He justified to himself.
"It's ok. That's what I guess a lot of us are here for..." He hid behind the "lot of us", it was complete bullshit in his case. He was here because he was dragged here. "...and you wouldn't be the only person here who's scared of what they're capable of. Truth be told, when I first heard about the 'Big Bang' and the expansion of the universe, I figured I'd be responsible for the heat death of the whole shebang." What he kept to himself, was that it was still a nagging belief he couldn't shake. But to others he knew it sounded ridiculous, so maybe that might be helpful here.
"Not everyone here has control over what they do either." He gestured to Sparky McGee. "But maybe with time you'll be able to run down the street, stop on a button, and rise the dirt you're on a thousand feet in the air. Like shaping a mountain or a cliff-face... things take time. Hopefully, unlike a mountain or cliff-face, maybe this won't take quite so long."
The ending was a bit clunky, but he wasn't really used to offering reassurance. He couldn't relate to the last part at all either. He had almost perfect control of his powers, in his opinion. In part because they were straightforward in nature, but also because as he'd said - his powers terrified him into respect.
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