fifthcurriculum | INTRO LOG

And I'll get you back. That's not a threat, it's a promise.

[He stands up, curling his lip at the blown kiss, and grabs one of the many books off the bookshelves that line the room. It won't be missed. Looking almost bored, he opens his lighter again, then glares hard at the book he's holding by one cover until the pages start to singe and curl. It doesn't take long before the whole thing's alight, and he shows no concern about holding it.]

[He just leans his elbow on the arm of the couch, bored and waiting for something to happen. Nothing much happens in his expression while John burns a book away - would they consider that a crime somewhere in here? - and he just drums his fingers on his face.]

Next.

[Actually, since he's gotten angry enough to try and burn Petre once before and it hasn't worked, maybe John should just use him as a stress release. Especially when he gets uppity like that.

The fire slowly peels itself off the book, coalesces into a large ball, then hurtles right for Petre's head. Maybe that much will be too much - John's first attempt was considerably smaller - but right now he doesn't care. At least it's not likely to kill him and get John in real hot water. God, this guy pisses him off.]

[OH MY GOD JOHN

welp, there goes his shirt. As for the rest of him, Petre's just left with a bit of a daze and a couple of small fires burning up the couch around his head. John, what. Even.

He should be pissed, too, that the other guy ruined his clothes, but whatever makes him angry just makes Petre laugh, so - laugh he does. (He's still upset about his clothes though.)]

Welp. You okay there, buddy?

Shit. [He just casually sets about putting out the secondary fires - his control's still off, and now someone's going to find out about it and he'll be in shit. They need another pyrokinetic around here, or at least someone who causes random singe marks somehow.]

Me? I'm just starting to have fun.

[He just picks up his laughter, it gets more intense and he just becomes all the more irritating for it. The more he thinks about it, the more hilarious it gets.]

What do you think they're gonna do about this? You know they're coming after your ass again. Now you ruined their couch.

Ruined. Whatever. It's a few scorch marks, they can throw a blanket over it.

[He really is gonna get in shit for this. As long as they don't know it was an attack on a student, though...]

I was testing out my control and lost it for a sec. That's it. At worst I'll get a slap on the wrist for not keeping it in training sessions.

While you were ditching class. And trying to burn my head off.

[He points around the collar of his shirt. How is he going to explain that, John? Not like he can wave it off because he decided to dive his head into a random fire.]

I didn't even have to try this time, dude. You're losing your touch.

We both knew damn well -

[Lips pressed into a thin line, he makes a grab for Petre's throat. When all else fails, physical violence is still worth a try.]

- there's no way it would've hurt you. There was no danger. You turn me in for this and I swear to fucking god, you will regret it.

How?

[he rises, hand around John's wrist. Come on, now.]

Tell me exactly how you'll make me regret it, Johnny. I'm all ears. Show us what's going on in that head of yours, I'm sure it's juicy.

[The problem is, it's all impossible - very juicy, flesh melting away from bone and hair curling into blackened mats, the most violent and explicit thoughts he's ever had about using his fire, but he can't do it.

Then he remembers the telepath. Ryan. Pretty useless with his power, but maybe with the right incentive, he could make his way into Petre's head. Find the key. He wants to know how to be cool, right?]

There's more mutations around here than just mine, and you're not the only one who knows how to work people. I'll find out your weak spot. I'll do it no problem. And I'll hit you just when you think you've really got me pinned.

Oh, great, [he tilts his head, still grinning brightly.] Can't way to see someone finally try.

[and he lowers his eyes.]

I like the idea of seeing you pinned, though.

[Ever provocative, ever uncaring. To be honest John could dig and dig and all he'd find was a horror story that serves as an ending to and endless wave of darkness, blank memories, nothing to hold on to. He could play on that - that Petre isn't really even a person because he has no recollection of a life before the institute, but - how far would that get him? Petre's already been through the horror of surviving a disaster that killed everyone around him. He survived because he's a mutant.

So one can guess that just makes him a freak. And a survivor, but a freak nonetheless.]

[Ugh. He yanks his hand back at that like he's been burned, not even wanting to touch Petre after that insinuation.]

You're disgusting.

[And even though it's the least of his problems right now, he's already grabbing a throw blanket from one of the chairs and draping it over the couch. At least hide that for as long as possible, hope that Petre's gotten enough amusement out of his threats to decide snitching again isn't worth it.

He doesn't know that there's no real weak spots to be found in Petre's mind, though. So he's still confident that he can do something.]

So go run and tell on me then. At least you'll be going away.

[pfft.]

Don't be ridiculous. I never run.

[he tilts his head, eyes never leaving John. It's true enough - the gym teacher could never get him to do anything.]

So, what now?

I'm pretty sure I've told you more than enough times what happens now, at least in some wildest dream where you aren't a jackass.

[He lets himself fall down onto the couch, lighter back in his pocket, stretched out and staring up at the ceiling for a moment before rolling his eyes back over toward Petre.]

In case you forgot, it was that you fuck off.

[a pause. He looks to the side, shrugs, shoves his hands in his pockets.

Make another compelling argument, John, he might actually listen.]

I have as much right to be here as you do.

Then sit down, shut up, and don't bother me.

[He flips onto his side, grabs a remote from the coffee table and flips on the TV. Just idly going through the channels, never settling on anything for very long. Purely to distract himself and hoping just a little that Petre is the type to be annoyed by channel surfing.]

Are you always this bossy?

[He walks back, flops down, watches John. He isn't paying the smallest bit of attention to the TV.]

Must be an older brother thing. Or maybe you're an only kid? That's gotta be it. Always used to getting your way, right? Mommy and daddy did everything and anything for their darling son and now they've spoiled him rotten.

[No, that's not it.]

Or was it the other way around? No one ever gave you the choice and now you're overcompensating. That's a whole lot of issues, Fire Balls.

You'd make a shitty telepath. Or shrink. Or even Vegas psychic. [Well, it's almost like conversation, at least, not just telling him to leave.] None of the above. What makes you think you know anything about families, anyway?

[Fine. Stick around. Find out just how friendly he gets when he's not listened to.]

[He does know something about families! They make hideous smelling corpses.]

So tell us a story. What is it? What's made John into what he is today.

Not my family. [A bitter lie, but one he believes with all his heart. He rose above them, became something better - his anger and violent distance from others was in no way caused by their emotional neglect and then complete desertion.]

You really wanna know?

I'm listening, aren't I.

[he even leans both arms on the back of the couch, crosses one leg over the other. so interested right now.]

[It's a trick. He's stepping right into it. But for a few days when they were planning the end of year prank to end all end of year pranks, he spent a brief period of time thinking he had a friend.

It's why he's so angry at Petre, and why he still weakens sometimes.]

I was homeless. For three years.

Shit. How'd that happen?

[He's actually interested. And wondering how it works. It's not like he remembers ever meeting someone who was homeless.

(Isn't he homeless, in a way? Even if he's still got a very fancy roof above his head.)]

Not important. [But obviously tied to his family somehow, since they should've been providing him the home, so there's the sore spot. The big, obvious, video game boss sore spot.

He can feel the genuine interest, though, so he keeps talking.]

I squatted in old abandoned factories and shit. Slept in Central Park a lot. Stole so much crap, man, I bet the entire economy of NYC dropped for those three years. Got into a couple of shelters, but they were usually full. You'd find other mutants, groups of 'em, and if you could be useful then they kept you around. I could keep whatever piece of shit place they were hiding out in warm without burning it down, so I was useful.

Then the Spring I turned fifteen, I got pneumonia. After Winter, for fuck's sake, survived the snow and then I got sick. Basically spent a week and a half on a park bench thinking I was gonna die, too weak to feed myself or get water, and when the bright light showed up, Xavier was at the end of it.

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