Red Solo Cup

[Beau LaRoux]

Beau aimed carefully, blocking out the noises of the party around him. He knew he'd need his best focus here: all his attention honed on the task at hand. Keep the aim steady, keep the hand true. He aimed, threw, and let fly. The ball bounced against the table, arched into the air, and landed perfectly in the cup. Beau let out a hoot and clapped his hands.

"Alright, that's one for me! Now drink up!" he said, gesturing toward the table. He grinned as he did, knowing that his opponent would be that much closer to being drunk. Normally Beau wasn't one to indulge in games like this, though he had tried before. All those years on various sports teams had left him with pretty decent hand-eye coordination, and all the years on the bar circuit had left him with equally decent alcohol tolerance. Which sometimes made beer pong feel just a bit unfair.

It didn't stop Beau from enjoying a game every now and then, and he did so now. He'd drank a few of his own, and the buzz was already starting to make him even happier. Now he nodded to his opponent, gesturing again. "Well, c'mon. You owe me for that. 'sides, you won't ever get your revenge if'n ya don't toss of your own," Beau replied, winking and grinning.

[Nathan Hayden]

Every superhero needs a weakness. Superman has his kryptonite, Green Lantern has his crappy movie and Batman’s got his bat-nipples. Nathan is no exception, though his Achilles’ heel is somewhat less special. Alcohol. You heard it folks, the good ‘old C2H5OH, or Ethanol, if you will. He doesn’t know if it has to do with his mutation somehow, or if it’s because he rarely drinks, but the kid simply can’t handle it. The freaking Pope probably has more alcohol tolerance than he does, just so you get an idea. Normally, it’s not a big deal, since Nate doesn’t even like the taste, but the same couldn’t be said for this instance.

Why was he playing in the first place? Well, Nathan had never participated in this kind of recreational competition before, and that alone seemed like a good enough reason at the time. After all, when it comes to his brain, New =”Shiny!!!” He was confident, at first, but after the first couple of cups, things started to go downhill. His fabled aim was nowhere to be found, and to make matters worse, his opponent seemed to be pretty good at this sort of thing, so the odds were no in his favor.

Nathan raised the cup up in the air, and offered Beau a nod –“Here's to the floor...”- He said, still not quite drunk, but well on his way –“...who will hold you when no one else will”- After the loud and cheerful words, he emptied the cup of its contents, and proceeded to prepare for his turn. It was hard enough to focus will all of the noise, but he also needed to keep his hand steady, which wasn’t particularly easy. He managed, eventually, and took a deep breath before making the shot. It was close, damn close, but not enough. Nathan cursed silently and clenched both his fists, but always with a smile on his face and a friendly tone –“It seems I won’t be paying you back just yet…”-

[Beau LaRoux]

"Amen, brother," Beau said, raising a hand up to meet the toast with a salute and a smile. He watched as the other guy drank his drink in one solid gulp. Beau smiled all the way through the process. The alcohol had been provided by one Ellen Banks, which meant that it was better than what Beau was used to drinking, far better than a party like this one really deserved. So he knew it wasn't that bad.

Then came the throw: just slightly off. Beau laughed and raised his hand up, fingers just slightly spread apart. "Missed it by that much," he said. Beau dipped and grabbed his own ball. Strangely, his focus felt a good deal better than normal. He swore he could almost see the angles or something. Beau wasn't one to overthink things though: he just launched the ball, volleying it off the table and right into another cup.

"Looks like you're gonna be downing another one. Here's hopin' you got a hollow leg," Beau grinned at that, nodding toward the drink in question. He knew it was only a matter of time till he was drinking too, but hey, the point of the game was to have a rowdy good time, right?

[Nathan Hayden]

-“Is it just me, or is this stuff improving with each cup?”- Asked Nathan, surprised to discover he was actually beginning to enjoy the drinking part of the game. A warm sensation had arisen in his stomach, one he had experienced only a handful of times before. Everything seemed so positive and simple, perhaps because his power was weakening more and more. When he saw a leaf, he didn’t see the photosynthesis play out in his head, he didn’t see the Calvin Cycle or the thylakoids. It was just a regular leaf, green, plain and boring. Nathan had no idea Beau was capable of mimicking his mutation, but that would certainly be a game changer in and of itself. If alcohol was not hindering his abilities, then Nate would have no problem winning this game, just like he had no problem hitting a target half a football field away with exemplary precision. When physics is your plaything, and angles reveal themselves to you, then this sort of things are effortless.

Of course, his mutation alone, without a large amount of information and study to back it up, wasn’t much. He didn’t suddenly gain understanding of how things work. It took time and effort, granted, it was much less than what a normal person would need, but it still wasn’t automatic –“You’re a pro at this”- Was all he could say before another cupful went down the hatch –“My turn”- This time, he took his time, focused only on the target, and closed his eyes. Who needs’em when you can memorize the trajectory, right? I am the ball, he repeated, over and over, until the projectile left his hand –“Bullseye!”- He shouted, when he discovered he didn’t miss this time.

[Beau LaRoux]

"It's jus' you," Beau promised, chuckling. He'd experienced that before: taste buds adjusting to the alcohol and starting to make it taste better with each passing sip. Sometimes he ended up drinking more than he really needed. Weird though, but he could swear he was going through the math of how much alcohol it would take to get someone of his weight and height drunk. He'd read that before during the college intro thing and all, but he didn't quite remember it that well.

Must be the other guy's power or something. Beau didn't really want to dwell on it: wasn't like it was really going to help him with the game at hand. Not that Beau needed it, as Nate pointed out: "Yeah, I'm kinda a ringer," he admitted, chuckling and rubbing the back of his head. "Been playin' sports an' all, plus this ain't my first rodeo," which was something of an understatement. Though most of the establishments Beau frequented didn't usually do beer pong, it definitely wasn't the first time Beau had lobbed balls across a table.

Nate finally seemed to focus enough to score, but Beau cheered as it hit the cup, raising his hands to clap. "Thattaboy!" he said. With a nod, he took the cup, raising it up to swig, holding one finger out. When he finished, Beau smacked his lips, crushed the cup, and rubbed his hands together. "now I gotta try for my revenge," he said, reaching down for the ball. Beau went a little faster this time, a mixture of confidence and excitement. This meant that it was his turn for the "almost" as his ball slid right in the space between a few cups. Beau let out a groan of disappointment, making it sound worse than it was, before nodding and gesturing. "Looks like some things ain't improvin' with each cup, eh? Yer go."