2014-08-27 A Step In The Right Direction
This scene is rated Everybody
Warning: N/A
Players: Drake
GMed by Phoenix
Title: A Step In The Right Direction

It is an afternoon after school's let out, and some students are able to have a session in the Danger Room. It isn't every day that students are brought down here, and they're taking a big risk by bringing Drake down here. One of the teachers is standing near the door, looking down at a small tablet and checking the schedule.

Drake hasn't exactly been making his presence known, since the New Mutant deal is supposed to be on the hush-hush. At least, that's his understanding. But he's been making forays in for mandatory training - his extracurriculars have had to be in another chamber. While he'd like to continually use the Danger Room for his workouts, he's trying not to push the envelope with how much the school will tolerate. Despite his past on the West Coast, staying here actually means something to him.

So when the invitation came on a more official level, Drake couldn't have been more eager to accept. ..Or is it an invitation? An assignment? Who cares! If it's in the Danger Room, it means he gets to cut loose and /really/ work himself!

"Hey~," he calls in cheerful voice, hand raised in greeting as he enters the chamber.

"Hello there, Mister Vyril. I'm glad to see you were able to make it." The teacher seems to be in his early 20s, perhaps a student of Xavier's and the local community college. "So I guess the first thing is to ask a bit about what you've been learning so far and what you think you'd like to get out of these lessons."

"Learning?," repeats Drake. "Been learning how to push my limits, mostly - with the powers, anyway. Outside of that, it's been a lot of physical stuff. Maneuvering, attacking, things like that." At the follow-up question, the teen gives a little laugh and raises his hands in a shrug. "Everything! Is that not an option? Keep it comin'! It's cool to finally be doing something with all this!"

The older mutant nods, looking at the tablet. "Normally we control the Danger Room from above in the control room, but since it's your first time, I'll go easy on you. It's going to be a long process. We're trusting you to keep our secrets safe. If you're outside the school and you find yourself in a situation where you might expose yourself to others, what should you do first?"

Drake opens his mouth, then pauses. It's not his first time; not even close. Scott first tested his powers, and then with the enforced training to follow upon becoming one of the "New Mutants"… well, he's been around the block a couple times. But he's not about to mention that. It'll be more fun to surprise this guy. So with some considerable effort, Drake hide an impish grin under the veil of a pleasant, perky smile.

"Call someone at the school," he replies. The teen assumes a more 'militant' stance, his feet spreading to his shoulders' width apart, hands linking modestly behind his back.

"Good, good." He says absently. It might not be Drake's first time in the Danger Room, but it will be as a New Mutant. "Yes, always call someone at the school, first. Sometimes you can't help but have to use your powers, but letting someone know is the first step." He looks up from his tablet and backs up toward the wall as the lights come down, leaving Drake in the dark. "Let's get started."

The man's voice echoes through the room as all the lights go out except for one spotlight directly over Drake. It remains eerie like this for several moments, then several pairs of electronic eyes light up and begin coming toward him. Judging by their size, they are Sentinels.

Drake patiently stays put while the man moves back away from him. And then all the lights cut out but for that one spot.

"Is this a good time to mention I didn't prepare a monologue?," he calls mirthfully into the dark.

In the grand scheme of things he felt feasible to expect, this was not one of them. Prongs to zap? Sure. Holographic dummies to tangle with? Probably. Massively huge killer-bots with glowy eyes? Oh hells naw. His mouth drops open, and he shoots a look off to the left, then right. Nothing but blackness and him in a spotlight; unhelpful. His mind works quickly, blending his old know-how from the streets with what training and exercise he's had so far. The first order of business is to reduce his own visibility, so he darts aside out of the spotlight. From there, he simply 'reasons' out where the giant warmechs are by merit of their eyes, attempting to maneuver wide around them to end at their flank. Of course, if they can see through the dark anyway, this course of action isn't likely to see much success.

But he has a plan. And that plan involves getting close to one, if he can.

Getting close to one might not be so hard, but the longer he takes to get close to one, the longer they have to scan him and share information. They can indeed see in the dark, and one of them holds up its palm which glows for a second before letting loose a blast of energy. Because it's a training session it's only a stun beam, but packs quite a wallop anyway.

This is where those defensive training sessions come in handy. That glowing palm is enough of a tell for a teen on the lookout. The giant robomen can see him, and they're about to open fire. Drake abandons his flanking attempt in favor of outright diving to the side, narrowly avoiding that blast. He lands with a 'flump' on the floor, eyes widened, adrenaline pumping. Legs tuck under his torso, and he launches into a full sprint at the closest sentinel, only to spring at its enormous leg. He makes some effort to get a little ways up there, but quickly settles for what contact he's making. He's not quite /that/ trained yet.

"Time to show you what Scott didn't get to see…"

If he can maintain contact, Drake begins to rapidly drain the electricity keeping the sentinel running, redirecting it into himself, mounting more and more ionic energy within his being. He's not sure how this is going to work out, considering how… unlikely it is that these giant robots are really /real/, but he has to try.

"Don't use your biggest attacks right off the bat." The other mutant's voice echoes. "If you do, you'll wear yourself out before your enemy does, and considering these are giant robots, they're not going to get tired."

The one Sentinel is drained of energy, but there are two more who wait to see what he's going to do at the command of the instructor.

"That's the fun of it. When I do this, it gives me lots more to work with…," Drake murmurs as he steadily wears down the sentinel. When he's reasonably sure it's inoperable (and thankfully didn't take so long that the others filled him full of holes), he drops down and crouches by one of its legs for cover.

Draining an electrical source is a rush, like taking a hit of adrenaline on top of trying to jump the Grand Canyon on a motorcycle. Drake is always amped up after doing it, and that amount is the most he's ever taken from a source. Size matters, folks, and sentinels are big like the X-Box. But that's a quirk about draining something into himself. He has very little experience doing it, so keeping it stored for longer than a few minutes is out of the question. He has to burn it or lose it. In a case like this, wherein he's dealing with two oversized mechanical beings and has a huge surplus of energy to work with, Drake opts to spend it all between the two of them. How often will he get a chance to really explore the effectiveness of his electrical powers at this level over over-amping?

Drake steps onto the downed sentinel's foot and springs forward, landing himself before the two still standing. His right fist thrusts against the ground and the air is suddenly alive with ionic energy. But this ambiance isn't a risk, nor the thing to watch out for; it's the network of expanding electrical currents surging across the floor that could present a problem. The space between Drake and the sentinels has come alive with brilliant blue arcs of electricity, creating a virtual web of deadly energy across the floor, thick and pulsating, 'flares' leaping into the air periodically. The room has easily fallen under a neon blue glow as he pours all that excess energy into that single, sustained attack, hoping to fry them both before the amped level of energy drains away.

The other two are biding their time, watching Drake with unblinking circular eyes. The arcs of electricity illuminate the room in a strobe effect. Perhaps Drake may see the soldiers coming from around the already fallen Sentinel, carrying weapons. They open fire, but instead of bullets, they seem to be pain pellets. Perhaps it is to see how many times they can hit Drake before the two Sentinels fall. "You are like a baby snake, Drake." The other mutant's voice echoes. "A baby rattler is more dangerous than an adult. They can't control the amount of venom the put out, which is exactly what you're doing."

"Tch…," Drake grunts. The amped reserves of energy wear off, and the cascading electrical trap abruptly cuts off - right in time to get pegged by a few 'bullets' along the right shoulder. With a yelp, Drake dives for the only thing that seems even kind of like cover: the original slouchy sentinel.

Whether the other two have dropped yet or not, he has a new issue to tackle. People.

"Hah.. right about the dangerous part.. wrong about the control..!," he calls, breathing a bit worked up. The pain is a definite reminder to play defensive, and it's making using his right arm a definite hassle. So when he leans from around the sentinel to launch a counter attack on the soldiers, it's his left arm that extends out. A stream of vibrant electricity lances from his palm, aimed to strike one soldier, then connect to two more adjacent to him. The level of output is, while frightful, not over the top of extreme, and the current cuts off after only a couple seconds. "Learning to control the strength was the first thing I ever did! Because I was determined to not accidentally /kill/ someone!"

Some of the men fall, others pour in from all directions, coming up and holding their guns at him. "If this wasn't a drill, you'd be swiss cheese by now." The instructor says, adjusting his glasses. "You're doing a good job but there are a few things you still have to learn. Have you had enough or do you want to keep going?"

When it's clear the soldiers have their guns trained on him, Drake has an idea. His eyes shift left, then right, but… they're just spaced too far out. If they'd close in a lot more, he could conceivably take them all out! But alas, that amount of projecting an aura is beyond his training.

With a sigh and slouch, the youth leans forward and plants his hands to his knees. "Yeah, yeah. I get that. I wanna go on, but if I'm screwing this up or need to learn more, fill me in. What'm I doing wrong, here?"

"You'll learn more, don't worry. It's not like you're even remotely ready to graduate to the next level yet. You're here to learn, right? So we're here to teach. If we knew everything when we came here, we wouldn't need to be here." The man smiles, tapping a few buttons on the tablet. The Sentinels vanish, as do the soldiers, leaving Drake in his paint splattered glory. "It doesn't all happen at once. One day it will all come together and you'll get to really appreciate and have fun with your powers."

The lights come on, and Drake gets to really see what's become of him. His Phys-Ed uniform is splattered with paint. "Aw, dude. Hope this comes out in the wash."

Abruptly, Drake turns around to face the other male. "As long as I'm making progress, doesn't matter. Some people wanted me to use this," he says, left fist raising with a corona of electricity, "for some less-than-legal stuff back home. Wouldn't do it." The stream of electricity cuts off, and he lowers the arm again. "Wouldn't use the powers at all unless I absolutely had to. And, uh…"

He hesitates, sizing up the teacher.

"…Point blank question, how much do you know about me?" He can't very well talk about New Mutant stuff with someone who doesn't know. And as far as Drake's aware, the teachers don't all know about it. Or they do. It's murky.

"Good. Using our powers for illegal reasonss what the BRotherhood does. As for how much we know, we know everything Professor Xavier knows. He's a world-class telepath, so I'm sure that's quite a lot. Don't worry, it's not public knowledge or anything. Nothing you tell any of the teachers will get out to any of the students."

Drake shifts his vibrant emerald eyes aside and scratches at his cheek. "Not quite what I meant. I'm talkin' about what I'm doing /here/. In this mansion. Or what Xavier's asked me to do."

"What you're doing at this mansion is what everyone that comes here does. You're here to learn, and you're here because it is a safe place. Almost everyone here has had difficulty in their past, and so nobody is going to judge here. Everyone is on the same page. Now if you're asking me if I know you've been recruited into the New Mutants, then obviously I do or you wouldn't be talking to me now. I am one of the trainers."

Drake lifts his hands in a dramatic shrug. "I can never tell with you people! But okay, alright. Good. We're on the same page. Because what I was gonna say is that, in light of the shenanigans I'm hearing about, I could be using these abilities to help things outside the school. I know this group I'm in now is mostly expected to just keep the school safe, and I can dig it, don't get me wrong - but things are getting hairy out there."

He lifts an index finger, and a small arc of electricity begins dancing over the tip with a gentle 'bzzrt'.

"And I can help. It'd be nice to use this stuff in a /good/ way. Take something that's been a problem and turn it into something you can be proud of, y'know?"

"I know, that's why we're training you. If we let people just run off and start using their powers all over the place, things could get even messier than they already are. You'll get to use your abilities for good, don't worry. I just hope you get the chance. There has to be something we can do to prevent the end of the world…but what can we do?"

"Yeah, but…," Drake pauses, allowing the conversation to get sidetracked. His hands plant to his hips. "Know anyone who's deep into Norse mythology? Start there. Find out what all's supposed to go down in this 'Ragnarok' party and figure out who the key players and, and where these other critters I'm hearing about fit in. From there, have a chat with one of those Norsemen - an Asgardian. They're gonna know a lot more about it than us."

A glance is cast aside as he thinks back. "I met a few of'em. They seemed like decent people, and from what I gathered, this thing isn't a good event for them, either." That vibrant emerald gaze returns to the instructor. "I'd bet smart money that they'll be happy to get help from people like us."

"Where do we find a Norseman? We'd have to go all the way to Norway. Perhaps that is the solution…we can take the Blackbird and go to Norway and maybe find all the answers there! The only thing I know is that Ragnarok is an online game, and the name of a club somewhere downtown Chelsea. And that it's the end of the world in Norse mythology. Maybe we ought to suggest they give us some classes in that if they're really hanging around here. I'll ask Professor Xavier to contact Doctor Strange, and maybe we can get something going to save the planet."

Drake blinks slowly, then quickly crosses his arms, waving away the teacher's misconceptions. "Nonono, this 'Ragnarok' is more like the one in Norse mythology. And by 'Norsemen', I meant those deified people. Asgardians. You know, Thor, Loki…" …the Hell were the others' names? "..Grumpy, Sleepy, Doc… anyway, those are the ones to ask. They'd have firsthand accounts, and would be the ones to fill in the blanks our books might have."

"Classes on it might not be a bad idea, but we have no idea what kind'a timeframe we're looking at. I can see about finding some Asgardians to talk to, myself. If Loki's still kicking around, I can find'em. And I hung out with Thor earlier, too, so we have a rapport already."

Unfortunately, the Asgardians are no longer alive. But that isn't something immediately known. "Loki? God can we do anything without that guy's name popping up? If he's not trying ot murder senators, he's driving people nuts around here. He found out how to get under Scott's skin, so he's been making him rather insufferable." The young man sighs, looking at his tablet. "I'll talk to some people. See what you can find out. I will call a meeting of all the New Mutants and get something going."

Drake nods curtly. "Can do! Though, uh… discretion's sake, I should be taking some precautions, right? If I'm snooping around, or find myself in the middle of a crazy, paranormal skirmish, what should I do? What should I tell people if they wanna know who I am?"

"If they want to know who you are, give them a fake name. Just call yourself something like Sparky or whatever. If you find yourself in the middle of a paranormal skirmish, get a hold of someone from the school so they can come and help. It's going to be a little unpredictable for a while…I hope things will straighten out."

Drake screws up his expression a little. "A'kay. Sparky or whatever." He's fairly certain he can come up with something better than that. "Do we have anything less… 'civilian' than regular street clothes? Might help in the credibility department there. Or better yet, something more durable than my regular duds."

"I'll see if we can get you an outfit made from an insulated material. The New Mutants don't really have a unified uniform, so we just tailor outfits to their powers. Some graduate to the next level. Some stay here."
"Works for me." Hands lace together behind his neck, and Drake flashes a smile. "Anything else I should know or do?"

"Not at the moment. Just remember what we learned in this session and I'll see you tomorrow for your next one. Any questions or anything before you head out?"

Drake shakes his head firmly. "Nope! I think we're good here! Thanks, teach!" The teen cants his head to the older male, then turns to make his way to the exit. This has certainly been an unusual experience in the Danger Room, but progress is progress. Moreover, he's going to get some shiny new clothes out of it.

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