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Post by Guy LeGrange on Mar 1, 2014 20:25:40 GMT -6
GUY FELIX LEGRANGE
FORTY-FIVE//MALE//HETEROSEXUAL//POWER SUPPRESSION //TRAINER//PETER DINKLAGE
POWER INFO: Power Suppression
Guy can suppress other mutant powers at will. What this means is that within a certain range, roughly his eye line though depending a great deal on the power in question and the ability of the user, Guy can suppress a mutant power. While he retains his focus on the particular mutant in question, said mutant will be unable to access his or her power. The more focus Guy can place on a particular individual, the better he can suppress the power, and a loss of focus will generally mean the power coming back.
Limitations:
--it is possible to break free of Guy's suppression field, either by rendering Guy unconscious, causing him to lose focus, or simply through sheer force of will. An incredibly willful individual can break free of the ability rather quickly, though Guy possesses great skill and experience with this ability.
--Guy's suppression ability does not nor will it ever remove a mutant's power. The moment it ceases, the mutant regains the full use of his or her ability.
--Guy's ability requires his intense focus, and being able to visualize the mutant in question helps tremendously. The ability is therefore greatly decreased if Guy loses track of the mutant for whatever reason (i.e. goes blind, person disappears, etc)
--Guy's ability suppresses powers, which means that when his targets get their abilities back, they often get a strong burst of the power, often moving beyond their normal limitations.
Guy Legrange in Seven Sessions
Session 1 – 1983
The dwarf boy hit the floor hard, wincing at the sudden contact. It hurt. Falling always hurt, but it seemed to hurt more when Guy weighed less, which never really made much sense to him. Then again, he'd only been here for a few weeks, and pretty well nothing about this place made a whole lot of sense to him. His chest ached now, and he could hear the footfalls behind him. His trainer, thankfully. This was their first official session, and Guy had somehow gotten lucky enough to get a fairly pretty woman for his trainer. Sure, she was a tad on the older side, but there was an appeal to older women.
Not that Guy was particularly thinking about that right now. He was mostly thinking about how his chest ached and how his power didn't make much sense.
“You need to get up,” said the trainer. Guy could hear her moving behind him and he saw a leg. She wore pantsuits, so even her leg looked intimidating. Hell, she was just plain intimidating period.
“I'm trying,” grunted Guy, “but in case you didn't notice, I fell there. You pushed me or--”
“Because you didn't use your power,” said the woman. Guy felt a hand on his shoulder, and for a second he thought he was going to be helped up. Instead, he felt a pressure, something weighing him down. “Your power is your weapon, your tool, it is a part of you as much as your legs or arms.”
“Are you suggesting that I have a very little power to match my very little body?” asked Guy, turning to look up at the trainer. He was smiling; she was not.
“Get up, Guy,” she said. She turned, and for a strange moment, Guy had this weird flashback of his mother. She'd raised him more or less by himself, since his father had left them for some reason. Guy never really knew the specifics there, and it really wouldn't have changed anything if he did. He did know and love his mother, and she knew and loved him in return. Their relationship had been one of love and trust.
So why was he thinking of her with this cold woman again?
Guy groaned and pushed himself up. He felt his body weight shifting, rolling about for a moment. He took a deep breath. Then another. He flexed his fingers and shook out his hands. How was he supposed to know when this worked anyway? His stomach felt as though losing its lunch was a viable option, but other than that, definitely normal. He looked up at his trainer, wondering if she somehow... felt it.
“Decent,” said the trainer. Guy looked up at her. Their eyes met. She nodded.
“I suppose I'll just have to get better than.”
Session 2 – 1986
Guy hit the mat hard. The world spun above him, and he had to struggle to breath for a few moments. He really hated getting hit by someone else's ability, and it didn't help that breaking the suppression field meant, well, meant a sort of explosion. Hence why Guy was laying several feet from his trainer, feeling as though an alien had clawed its way out of his chest.
And there she was. “Your head's not in it today, Guy,” she said, looking down at him. Funny how their relationship seemed to involve a lot of looking down. Then again, Guy supposed he could say that about most of his relationships. “You're better than this.”
“Why thank you for the compliment,” he replied, pushing against the ground. He could feel her pushing back, her telekinetic demonstration saying more than words could. Guy focused on her, drew tight; he needed to suppress her, at least enough so that he could get back on his feet. “I've just a few things on my mind, that's all.”
“I noticed.”
“I don't suppose I could talk about it with—- nevermind,” Guy sighed, running his hand over his face. He managed to get himself fully upright, despite feeling her push against him. It was sort of like holding the reins of a wild horse; you kept expecting it to break free at any moment. He dusted himself off a few times, picking at imaginary dust specks on his suit. His trainer moved around him.
“I'm your trainer, not your therapist. We have people for that.”
“Why thank you for that information. I certainly would never have thought about approaching therapists with my problems. I am so very lucky to have a trainer like you!” said Guy. He ended by clapping his hands together and then spreading them out, indicating the woman in question. She returned his gesture with a sardonic look.
“It's a girl again, isn't it?” she asked.
“Yes, actually, one in particular who--”
“Save it. Like I said, I'm not your therapist. Now, move over there. We're going to try another balancing exercise.”
Session 3 – 1988
Guy watched his trainer hit the mat. She'd attempted to lash out at him with her power again, and he'd suppressed it as easily as working with a child. Then had come the physical combat, which, admittedly, Guy wasn't brilliant at. He'd managed to get her on her back for a change though, so he considered that something of a win. Then again, this close to graduation, he should be absolutely brilliant at suppression.
The trainer's legs spun as she sprung upright, heading straight for Guy. He felt her struggling against his field, the power straining, will matching will. To make matters worse, she went into the attack. Thankfully, Guy had much better luck defending his small frame than attacking. His arms moved reflexively, countering her blows and working backward. The motions barely distracted him, and he kept his focus locked on the trainer. So when she surged forward, pouring all her telekinetic will for an attack, Guy was able to push right back. They ended up locked by the hands, staring hard at one another. She backed away first, nodding and smiling.
“I knew you had it in you, Guy,” she said. She dusted herself off, giving Guy a little look. “Honestly, I'm not sure there's much more I could teach you.”
“I'm certain we could come to some arrangement, but I'd rather keep our relationship where it is,” replied Guy, smiling. His trainer chuckled and shook her head. Guy spread his arms. “What? It's not as though you haven't done your best to beat my wagging tongue out of me. It's not your fault that you didn't quite succeed. Don't worry though: I'm certain to use it with all the skill you taught me.”
Guy moved to the corner where he stashed a water bottle, grabbing it. He took a deep swig of the water, leaning his head back to feel the liquid sloshing within.
“You're heading to college after graduation, right?” asked the trainer.
Guy turned and raised his bottle at her. “Thanks in no small part to the dedicated work of Bellefonte staff members such as yourself.”
“About that,” Guy paused mid-drink, raising his brows, “have you considered becoming a trainer yourself?”
Guy chuckled, lowering his bottle. “What? Do you think that the students really want to be trained by a midget with a razor sharp tongue? That sounds like something out of a cartoon.”
“You know what it's like to struggle with your ability. In fact, your ability is perfectly suited for this line of work. Plus, you've felt the ridicule that so many that come here are all too aware of. Plus, you're intelligent, you're driven, and you actually care about people,” said the trainer. Guy paused to actually look at her. He couldn't recall her ever saying so many nice things about him in a row. He opened his mouth to comment on that, but she raised her hand instead. “save it. Just focus on getting through college first.”
Session 4 – 1993
Guy watched as the student hit the mat, hard. His bones ached just from watching her hit so hard. Super-strength was difficult to deal with, and to be honest, Guy felt desperately out of his depth with this one. He licked his lips, watching as his frustrated student hit the mat a few more times with her fist. Guy focused just a little harder on her when she did, preventing her from breaking her hands.
“You know,” said Guy, taking a few steps closer to the girl, “the mat really didn't do anything to you. It's perfectly innocent here. If you want to punish someone, you should punish yourself.”
The girl gave him an obscene gesture and hurried up, her anger clear on her face. Guy thought she looked pretty, though he certainly knew better than to look at his students that way. Besides, he still found he preferred older women. Give him someone who knew what they were doing any day of the week.
“My mentor once told me that it was my power,” he said, walking toward her. He tightened his focus on her, squashing every bit of her ability, compressing it tight, like kinking a hose. “It's my tool, an extension of my self, like an arm or a leg.”
“So your power must be really small then.”
Guy smiled. “That's what I said,” he was standing by his student now. He could feel the strength bubbling up from within her, her will straining at the edges, pushing against him with each and every breath. Guy leaned over, raising his eyebrows.
“Now, I want you to get up and try again,” he said, adjusting his stance, “because we need to see what the limits of your tool are.”
It took them thirty minutes.
Session 5 – 2000
“There's definitely improvement here,” said Guy, stroking his chin, “but I think that's more in me than in you.”
His student, a black male currently wearing an organic steel skin, glared at him. Sweat poured down the student's brow, his entire body quivering with the effort of keeping his shell.
Guy raised his brows in response. “Well, think about it. Just a few weeks ago, you were able to withstand much harsher forces than I've put you through today. It's almost as if your mind is somewhere else. Could it possibly have something to do with your upcoming graduation party, perhaps?”
The student chuckled and shook his head, rubbing it with one hand. “You heard about that, huh?”
“Well, I know that Kallispell is a truly massive place, but these things do have a tendency to get around,” said Guy. He took a few steps closer to his student, releasing his hold on the male's abilities. Within a few steps, the young man had completely relaxed, taking steady, easy breaths. Guy stood by the beam where his student sat, the young man looking slightly abashed. “You know I keep an eye on my students.”
“Well, yeah, it's that and—well...”
“Save it for your therapist,” said Guy, waving a hand. He slapped the balance beam. “Now get up here. I want you to start moving and--- oh for the love of...”
The student had started crying. Guy ran his hand over his face, letting out a deep breath. Since when do boys cry? He certainly couldn't remember crying, especially not in front of his trainer. He would have been absolutely mortified if she'd ever seen him break down like that. Though, in truth, it seemed that his student felt the same way. He looked up at Guy, his eyes watery behind the strange steel.
“It's—it's--I know you're supposed to use protection, but we—it was late and--”
Guy nodded, his expression serious. He walked to stand before his student, his fingers templing in front of his face. “Pregnancy or STD?”
The student looked up at him, his eyes wide.
“Is your girlfriend pregnant or did she give you the clap?”
“Pregnant, I can't---”
“You can, actually, and you will,” said Guy, nodding. “You'll do whatever she wants, because she's the one with the baby. If she decides to keep you, you'd better be a damn good father. If she decides not to, then you need to tell her it's okay.”
“But it's our---”
“You're the one who couldn't keep it in your pants. Be a man now,” said Guy. He paused. “She's Catholic, isn't she? So the question is rather redundant.”
He nodded gloomily.
Guy sighed. “Look, there are plenty of people in Kallispell who are more than willing to help. I know a few that would absolutely love to take care of a child, especially one that's---ah, what did we say about hugging? I believe we established that there would be no hugging!”
Session 6 – 2008
“Are you even trying? Because, honestly, I have about a dozen other students that I could be actually training. They're the ones that actually want to use their powers. Oh, I'm sorry, are we going to cry now? Are we going to cry and miss our mommy?” Guy waved his hand at the small boy who stood in front of a section of targets. The boy couldn't be older than twelve, maybe thirteen; Guy wasn't the greatest at judging ages, despite having worked with children for, what, fifteen years now? Usually they didn't send Guy the homesick, little scared ones. This struck him as unusual, and he wondered what the thought process had been.
His major conclusion was that apparently someone wanted to see the dwarf make somebody cry.
“I---I--it's just too hard!”
“No, it's not. You're making it too hard,” said Guy, walking to move in front of the child. “You're being lazy.”
“I am not!”
“Yes you are. You're being lazy and selfish. If you're going to be wasting my time like--”
And just like that, Guy felt something push against his chest. The explosion of power hit him and hit him hard. His feet left the floor with ease and he felt his body flying backward. This was hardly the first time that he'd flown through the air under someone else's power, and he sincerely doubted it would be the last. Several of his students needed to fling him through the air. This one apparently needed to do it in such a way that Guy knocked over all the targets. He lay there, feeling the bruises that he was certain were forming all over his small, battered body.
He was getting too old for this. Guy groaned and pushed himself up, looking at the boy. Said boy's mouth was wide open, his eyes shimmering with the tears. Guy grunted and picked up a target, tossing it to the side. “Close your mouth, you look like a fish. You pushed through quite well. And if you can do this to me, then you can certainly hit some targets. Get these set up, and we'll try it again.”
Session 7 – 2013
Guy was definitely too old for this. He fought back a groan as he felt the blows hammering against him getting successively stronger. It was rare that someone would break his focus like this, chip away at it piece by piece, but it always did seem to be those with super strength that managed it. Guy could almost feel a rib crack, and he couldn't help but feel grateful that he'd insisted on holding a pad, keeping the barrier between him and the overeager young man. The blows were far from fatal, about like being tackled, but Guy knew he'd still be feeling them in the morning.
“Good, good, that's enough!” he called, waving a hand. Of course his student didn't hear him, causing Guy to sigh and run his hand over his face. He then planted both his feet, really not liking his option. He hated just suddenly snapping his full ability onto someone, especially someone with a subconscious ability. Still, Guy needed to get the attention, and this would work, hopefully before the trainer's bones were powder. The student stopped when he realized that his blows were about as effective as, well, a normal teenager.
“You should work out that tension,” said Guy, looking up at the student. “Maybe take some time to yourself in the shower. Use lots of soap.”
Okay, so that was crude, and probably going to get Guy in trouble. The young man laughed though, and Guy had a feeling that he wasn't about to tell anyone. He hit the pad one last time, looked at him with a raised brow, and then turned to go. Guy watched him for a while, pursing his lips. He was getting almost too good, and Guy was seriously considered about whether or not he could keep this up.
His phone rang. He heard it and he hurried over to the bench where he'd set it. He hadn't quite made it in time and saw the missed call. He recognized the number at least, and he knew that he'd have to call him back soon. “These people worry far too much; honestly, you'd think the school had been taken over by nursemaids,” muttered Guy. “All love and affection for everybody!”
He sighed, tapping the phone a few times. But wasn't that part of the appeal of Bellefonte, really? Some place where those kids could feel comfortable? Before it had been freaky mutants with their freaky powers. Now that was getting more and more normal. Guy had a feeling that someday everything would just be seen as some degree of normal. He chuckled and shook his head, sliding his phone into his pocket. He'd be damned if he let any of the queens know that. They didn't need any more ammunition.
Guy ignored the buzzing in his pocket, letting him know that he got a message. He turned and looked at the wall, studying it for a few seconds.
“Someone else can get that. I hear we have a new janitor,” he said. With one last look around, Guy turned to leave, hitting the lights on his way out.
Session 1 – 1983
The dwarf boy hit the floor hard, wincing at the sudden contact. It hurt. Falling always hurt, but it seemed to hurt more when Guy weighed less, which never really made much sense to him. Then again, he'd only been here for a few weeks, and pretty well nothing about this place made a whole lot of sense to him. His chest ached now, and he could hear the footfalls behind him. His trainer, thankfully. This was their first official session, and Guy had somehow gotten lucky enough to get a fairly pretty woman for his trainer. Sure, she was a tad on the older side, but there was an appeal to older women.
Not that Guy was particularly thinking about that right now. He was mostly thinking about how his chest ached and how his power didn't make much sense.
“You need to get up,” said the trainer. Guy could hear her moving behind him and he saw a leg. She wore pantsuits, so even her leg looked intimidating. Hell, she was just plain intimidating period.
“I'm trying,” grunted Guy, “but in case you didn't notice, I fell there. You pushed me or--”
“Because you didn't use your power,” said the woman. Guy felt a hand on his shoulder, and for a second he thought he was going to be helped up. Instead, he felt a pressure, something weighing him down. “Your power is your weapon, your tool, it is a part of you as much as your legs or arms.”
“Are you suggesting that I have a very little power to match my very little body?” asked Guy, turning to look up at the trainer. He was smiling; she was not.
“Get up, Guy,” she said. She turned, and for a strange moment, Guy had this weird flashback of his mother. She'd raised him more or less by himself, since his father had left them for some reason. Guy never really knew the specifics there, and it really wouldn't have changed anything if he did. He did know and love his mother, and she knew and loved him in return. Their relationship had been one of love and trust.
So why was he thinking of her with this cold woman again?
Guy groaned and pushed himself up. He felt his body weight shifting, rolling about for a moment. He took a deep breath. Then another. He flexed his fingers and shook out his hands. How was he supposed to know when this worked anyway? His stomach felt as though losing its lunch was a viable option, but other than that, definitely normal. He looked up at his trainer, wondering if she somehow... felt it.
“Decent,” said the trainer. Guy looked up at her. Their eyes met. She nodded.
“I suppose I'll just have to get better than.”
Session 2 – 1986
Guy hit the mat hard. The world spun above him, and he had to struggle to breath for a few moments. He really hated getting hit by someone else's ability, and it didn't help that breaking the suppression field meant, well, meant a sort of explosion. Hence why Guy was laying several feet from his trainer, feeling as though an alien had clawed its way out of his chest.
And there she was. “Your head's not in it today, Guy,” she said, looking down at him. Funny how their relationship seemed to involve a lot of looking down. Then again, Guy supposed he could say that about most of his relationships. “You're better than this.”
“Why thank you for the compliment,” he replied, pushing against the ground. He could feel her pushing back, her telekinetic demonstration saying more than words could. Guy focused on her, drew tight; he needed to suppress her, at least enough so that he could get back on his feet. “I've just a few things on my mind, that's all.”
“I noticed.”
“I don't suppose I could talk about it with—- nevermind,” Guy sighed, running his hand over his face. He managed to get himself fully upright, despite feeling her push against him. It was sort of like holding the reins of a wild horse; you kept expecting it to break free at any moment. He dusted himself off a few times, picking at imaginary dust specks on his suit. His trainer moved around him.
“I'm your trainer, not your therapist. We have people for that.”
“Why thank you for that information. I certainly would never have thought about approaching therapists with my problems. I am so very lucky to have a trainer like you!” said Guy. He ended by clapping his hands together and then spreading them out, indicating the woman in question. She returned his gesture with a sardonic look.
“It's a girl again, isn't it?” she asked.
“Yes, actually, one in particular who--”
“Save it. Like I said, I'm not your therapist. Now, move over there. We're going to try another balancing exercise.”
Session 3 – 1988
Guy watched his trainer hit the mat. She'd attempted to lash out at him with her power again, and he'd suppressed it as easily as working with a child. Then had come the physical combat, which, admittedly, Guy wasn't brilliant at. He'd managed to get her on her back for a change though, so he considered that something of a win. Then again, this close to graduation, he should be absolutely brilliant at suppression.
The trainer's legs spun as she sprung upright, heading straight for Guy. He felt her struggling against his field, the power straining, will matching will. To make matters worse, she went into the attack. Thankfully, Guy had much better luck defending his small frame than attacking. His arms moved reflexively, countering her blows and working backward. The motions barely distracted him, and he kept his focus locked on the trainer. So when she surged forward, pouring all her telekinetic will for an attack, Guy was able to push right back. They ended up locked by the hands, staring hard at one another. She backed away first, nodding and smiling.
“I knew you had it in you, Guy,” she said. She dusted herself off, giving Guy a little look. “Honestly, I'm not sure there's much more I could teach you.”
“I'm certain we could come to some arrangement, but I'd rather keep our relationship where it is,” replied Guy, smiling. His trainer chuckled and shook her head. Guy spread his arms. “What? It's not as though you haven't done your best to beat my wagging tongue out of me. It's not your fault that you didn't quite succeed. Don't worry though: I'm certain to use it with all the skill you taught me.”
Guy moved to the corner where he stashed a water bottle, grabbing it. He took a deep swig of the water, leaning his head back to feel the liquid sloshing within.
“You're heading to college after graduation, right?” asked the trainer.
Guy turned and raised his bottle at her. “Thanks in no small part to the dedicated work of Bellefonte staff members such as yourself.”
“About that,” Guy paused mid-drink, raising his brows, “have you considered becoming a trainer yourself?”
Guy chuckled, lowering his bottle. “What? Do you think that the students really want to be trained by a midget with a razor sharp tongue? That sounds like something out of a cartoon.”
“You know what it's like to struggle with your ability. In fact, your ability is perfectly suited for this line of work. Plus, you've felt the ridicule that so many that come here are all too aware of. Plus, you're intelligent, you're driven, and you actually care about people,” said the trainer. Guy paused to actually look at her. He couldn't recall her ever saying so many nice things about him in a row. He opened his mouth to comment on that, but she raised her hand instead. “save it. Just focus on getting through college first.”
Session 4 – 1993
Guy watched as the student hit the mat, hard. His bones ached just from watching her hit so hard. Super-strength was difficult to deal with, and to be honest, Guy felt desperately out of his depth with this one. He licked his lips, watching as his frustrated student hit the mat a few more times with her fist. Guy focused just a little harder on her when she did, preventing her from breaking her hands.
“You know,” said Guy, taking a few steps closer to the girl, “the mat really didn't do anything to you. It's perfectly innocent here. If you want to punish someone, you should punish yourself.”
The girl gave him an obscene gesture and hurried up, her anger clear on her face. Guy thought she looked pretty, though he certainly knew better than to look at his students that way. Besides, he still found he preferred older women. Give him someone who knew what they were doing any day of the week.
“My mentor once told me that it was my power,” he said, walking toward her. He tightened his focus on her, squashing every bit of her ability, compressing it tight, like kinking a hose. “It's my tool, an extension of my self, like an arm or a leg.”
“So your power must be really small then.”
Guy smiled. “That's what I said,” he was standing by his student now. He could feel the strength bubbling up from within her, her will straining at the edges, pushing against him with each and every breath. Guy leaned over, raising his eyebrows.
“Now, I want you to get up and try again,” he said, adjusting his stance, “because we need to see what the limits of your tool are.”
It took them thirty minutes.
Session 5 – 2000
“There's definitely improvement here,” said Guy, stroking his chin, “but I think that's more in me than in you.”
His student, a black male currently wearing an organic steel skin, glared at him. Sweat poured down the student's brow, his entire body quivering with the effort of keeping his shell.
Guy raised his brows in response. “Well, think about it. Just a few weeks ago, you were able to withstand much harsher forces than I've put you through today. It's almost as if your mind is somewhere else. Could it possibly have something to do with your upcoming graduation party, perhaps?”
The student chuckled and shook his head, rubbing it with one hand. “You heard about that, huh?”
“Well, I know that Kallispell is a truly massive place, but these things do have a tendency to get around,” said Guy. He took a few steps closer to his student, releasing his hold on the male's abilities. Within a few steps, the young man had completely relaxed, taking steady, easy breaths. Guy stood by the beam where his student sat, the young man looking slightly abashed. “You know I keep an eye on my students.”
“Well, yeah, it's that and—well...”
“Save it for your therapist,” said Guy, waving a hand. He slapped the balance beam. “Now get up here. I want you to start moving and--- oh for the love of...”
The student had started crying. Guy ran his hand over his face, letting out a deep breath. Since when do boys cry? He certainly couldn't remember crying, especially not in front of his trainer. He would have been absolutely mortified if she'd ever seen him break down like that. Though, in truth, it seemed that his student felt the same way. He looked up at Guy, his eyes watery behind the strange steel.
“It's—it's--I know you're supposed to use protection, but we—it was late and--”
Guy nodded, his expression serious. He walked to stand before his student, his fingers templing in front of his face. “Pregnancy or STD?”
The student looked up at him, his eyes wide.
“Is your girlfriend pregnant or did she give you the clap?”
“Pregnant, I can't---”
“You can, actually, and you will,” said Guy, nodding. “You'll do whatever she wants, because she's the one with the baby. If she decides to keep you, you'd better be a damn good father. If she decides not to, then you need to tell her it's okay.”
“But it's our---”
“You're the one who couldn't keep it in your pants. Be a man now,” said Guy. He paused. “She's Catholic, isn't she? So the question is rather redundant.”
He nodded gloomily.
Guy sighed. “Look, there are plenty of people in Kallispell who are more than willing to help. I know a few that would absolutely love to take care of a child, especially one that's---ah, what did we say about hugging? I believe we established that there would be no hugging!”
Session 6 – 2008
“Are you even trying? Because, honestly, I have about a dozen other students that I could be actually training. They're the ones that actually want to use their powers. Oh, I'm sorry, are we going to cry now? Are we going to cry and miss our mommy?” Guy waved his hand at the small boy who stood in front of a section of targets. The boy couldn't be older than twelve, maybe thirteen; Guy wasn't the greatest at judging ages, despite having worked with children for, what, fifteen years now? Usually they didn't send Guy the homesick, little scared ones. This struck him as unusual, and he wondered what the thought process had been.
His major conclusion was that apparently someone wanted to see the dwarf make somebody cry.
“I---I--it's just too hard!”
“No, it's not. You're making it too hard,” said Guy, walking to move in front of the child. “You're being lazy.”
“I am not!”
“Yes you are. You're being lazy and selfish. If you're going to be wasting my time like--”
And just like that, Guy felt something push against his chest. The explosion of power hit him and hit him hard. His feet left the floor with ease and he felt his body flying backward. This was hardly the first time that he'd flown through the air under someone else's power, and he sincerely doubted it would be the last. Several of his students needed to fling him through the air. This one apparently needed to do it in such a way that Guy knocked over all the targets. He lay there, feeling the bruises that he was certain were forming all over his small, battered body.
He was getting too old for this. Guy groaned and pushed himself up, looking at the boy. Said boy's mouth was wide open, his eyes shimmering with the tears. Guy grunted and picked up a target, tossing it to the side. “Close your mouth, you look like a fish. You pushed through quite well. And if you can do this to me, then you can certainly hit some targets. Get these set up, and we'll try it again.”
Session 7 – 2013
Guy was definitely too old for this. He fought back a groan as he felt the blows hammering against him getting successively stronger. It was rare that someone would break his focus like this, chip away at it piece by piece, but it always did seem to be those with super strength that managed it. Guy could almost feel a rib crack, and he couldn't help but feel grateful that he'd insisted on holding a pad, keeping the barrier between him and the overeager young man. The blows were far from fatal, about like being tackled, but Guy knew he'd still be feeling them in the morning.
“Good, good, that's enough!” he called, waving a hand. Of course his student didn't hear him, causing Guy to sigh and run his hand over his face. He then planted both his feet, really not liking his option. He hated just suddenly snapping his full ability onto someone, especially someone with a subconscious ability. Still, Guy needed to get the attention, and this would work, hopefully before the trainer's bones were powder. The student stopped when he realized that his blows were about as effective as, well, a normal teenager.
“You should work out that tension,” said Guy, looking up at the student. “Maybe take some time to yourself in the shower. Use lots of soap.”
Okay, so that was crude, and probably going to get Guy in trouble. The young man laughed though, and Guy had a feeling that he wasn't about to tell anyone. He hit the pad one last time, looked at him with a raised brow, and then turned to go. Guy watched him for a while, pursing his lips. He was getting almost too good, and Guy was seriously considered about whether or not he could keep this up.
His phone rang. He heard it and he hurried over to the bench where he'd set it. He hadn't quite made it in time and saw the missed call. He recognized the number at least, and he knew that he'd have to call him back soon. “These people worry far too much; honestly, you'd think the school had been taken over by nursemaids,” muttered Guy. “All love and affection for everybody!”
He sighed, tapping the phone a few times. But wasn't that part of the appeal of Bellefonte, really? Some place where those kids could feel comfortable? Before it had been freaky mutants with their freaky powers. Now that was getting more and more normal. Guy had a feeling that someday everything would just be seen as some degree of normal. He chuckled and shook his head, sliding his phone into his pocket. He'd be damned if he let any of the queens know that. They didn't need any more ammunition.
Guy ignored the buzzing in his pocket, letting him know that he got a message. He turned and looked at the wall, studying it for a few seconds.
“Someone else can get that. I hear we have a new janitor,” he said. With one last look around, Guy turned to leave, hitting the lights on his way out.
SAMPLE: see above, or Beau, or Add, or Frank...
USERNAME: Fate
AGE GROUP: Late Twenties
EXPERIENCE: Around a decade
USERNAME: Fate
AGE GROUP: Late Twenties
EXPERIENCE: Around a decade
