xp_logs | Kyle and Fred and a Junkyard (Backdated to Nov 22nd)

Kyle accompanies Fred to a Junkyard in search of treasure, and talks about sharing the load a little

"Dude, I'm just saying, that the rear gate is gonna go and if you're gonna get parts, we might as well get that too." Kyle 'tinked his claw against the rear of Fred's truck. "Seriously, listen to that. It shouldn't be making that noise like that."

Fred furrows his brow, setting down the fender and driving bench he'd been carrying to lean in and try and hear what Kyle was, "Hmmm...what's it sound like...?"

Watching people just pick up giant car parts like they were cups of OJ never stopped being kinda cool, Kyle thought to himself. "It sounds, you know hollow-like. Like the metal's starting to shear or something." He tapped the rear of the truck a few more times. "You know, now that I think about it, Mister Marko never could tell the difference either."

"Mister Marko?" Fred's brow knit close; trying to both listen for the phantom sound and recall the seemingly familiar name taxing his thought processes...

"He used to be the groundskeeper at the school. Taught a little too. He left after that big thing in the city with Apocalypse and all that?" Kyle explained, and then tapped his claw against the metal harder. "Dude was, actually about your size. Big -big- guy, strong, invulnerable. So like you only older and with red hair." He paused, scuffed a bare foot against the ground a little. "I dunno where he got off to, I used to be his assistant and he up and left and gave me the job."

Fred looked around and, after he was sure no one but Kyle would see, hefted the remains of an ancient Edsel into the air to check the flotsam under it, "it's hard to believe sometimes, guys like Mr. Rasputin or this Mr. Marko guy are out there, yah know? People that can do what ah do" Fred used his free hand to casually set nearly a full engine block to the side as he continued to heft the old junked car, " ah imagine it came in handy. Being strong and groundskeepin', ah mean."

"Yeah, it's kinda a pain sometimes, because a lot of the stuff he did was setup for him, so when I got the job full-time, first thing I had to do was go buy a bunch of tools that weren't designed for a dude who could, well, you know, lift cars like I lift pizza boxes." Kyle cocked his head and watched Fred move the car parts around easily. "Uh, so, crazy question. How's your employment situation?"

Fred gingerly tried to set down all the parts in the order he'd found them in, and sighed in vexation a little as he left a large hand-shaped indent on the fender of the junked car. He finally noticed that Kyle had asked him something, "Employment? Well...up till about a week ago I had odd shifts at a few skin bars in town, but..." Fred grinned a little, "Angelo's got me thinking about some different stuff I could try."

"Aw, man, stripper bars. Ew." Kyle scrunched his face up. "They smell gross, it's not like I'm opposed to naked women, it's just, you know, the smell. Anyway, with Yvette being all collegiate, and me about to go do some teaching, I actually need another set of hands, and you probably know more than I did about fixing stuff when I started." He walked over to the junked fender, and poked at it. "Man, I wish Kevin was back, he'd probably dig this and turn it into some kinda cool art thing. "

"Dude, you don't know the half of it. Some of the dancers and staff are real cool, but the rest..." Fred shrugged, "It's weird barely being an adult and already tired of naked dancin, yah know?" While Fred examined the floor panel of a truck not unlike his own, he listened to Kyle, pausing after he mentioned helping around the grounds. Fred thought about it for a bit, before answering very slowly, "Ah'd love tah help, Gibney, but, uh...." Fred tried to find the words he was looking for, "Would it get in the way of, uh, X-Manning...? Ah mean, me doin' it, iffen Ah ever get up the nerve to ask Dr. Grey about it..."

"Dude, hello, I have this awesome set of black leather pants in my locker..." Kyle said, grinning widely. "And if not Doc Grey, you could talk to Doc Hank or the Prof or even like Gar, or call Scott on the phone or something." He sized Fred up, and nodded. "I can't promise it doesn't smell worse than strippers but I bet there's less drunk asshats vomiting on you."

It takes a lot to get Fred Jacobi Dukes to doubletake, but Kyle Gibney's first comment got him in spades. After a blink or two and a shake of the head, Fred nodded to Kyle, "I wouldn't wanna waste Professor Xaviers' time or nuthin-" Fred lit up like a Christmas tree as he spotted what he seemed to be looking for, but put it aside for another cursory glance around and a response to Kyle, "Ah would love tah help around the place, Kyle. Hell, I do a lot around the garage and smoker's porch outta boredom already..." Fred scratched the back of neck as he continued to look around, "Uh, hate tah ask, but...does it pay...?"

"What the X-thing, or the job-job? Because dude, the job-job totally pays. I mean, not a ton, but it does, and I know there's some grant thing the Prof does, though he might lean on you to try to go to college or get some kinda further education or something. Dude went to Oxford, he is huge on education." Kyle followed Fred over to another junk pile. "Seriously, not a waste of time either. You're big, you're strong, you're durable, if you wanna join the team, join the team. I mean, okay, what's the worst thing that happens? You wear ugly grey leathers and have a stupid code name for a while and Garrison drops you on your head a couple dozen times to break any bad fight habits you have, that's not that bad."

"Ah sparred with Logan a few times, and after living with Sunder and growing up with mah Uncle Frank...I think I can manage the trainin'. Well, cept the, uh, leather part..." Finally completely sure there was no one around, Fred took of his coat and quickly shed his boots. In a few moments, Fred's large frame seemed to inflate, and he slowly grew up to almost a foot taller and his enhanced girth strained the stitching of his clothing. He smiled, even through the sharp, quickly fading pains his power still caused; after almost a year he had gotten some of the tricks of his mutation down, but it still seemed weird to him...

At this size, Fred easily hoisted the remnants of a Volkswagen out of the way to access the husked Nova he'd spotted moments ago. After a small amount of prying, Fred held the prize in his hand: a large, foot-shaped accelerator pedal, with remarkably little wear and tear.

"Seriously, that -never- stops being weird, dude." Kyle said. "The growing, not the cheesetastic gas pedal. Really dude? Really? Are you stuck in the 80's?" But he was grinning, and shaking his head in amusement. "Eh, the leather's not that bad. It's kevlar and stuff
mostly, and really it's comfy enough. Not great when it's hot, but hey, I've been shot. It sucks."

"I, uh, actually...Ah been shot too. Once. Uh, once anna half. Kinda." Fred got back to normal size as quick as possible, hissing a little as fire shot up his spine. But he covered it with a smile and a shake of the novelty pedal, "Dude, some things just never stop being cool, yah know...?"

Kyle laughed more. "Yeah, leather jackets, the Fonz and motorcycles. You gonna put an 8-ball on your gear shift too?" If Fred had one of those, he was going to feel really really dumb for not noticing. "Yeah, it sucks. Body armor's my friend, I don't care how fast I heal, flying home with a bullet in my thigh sucked." It had itched too. "Damn, we are all kinds of productive. New ridic gas pedal, new parts for your truck, couple of things off Wade and Korvus' car parts list, job and team stuff for you." As though it was a done deal, of course.
"We rock."

"Nah. My shifter's a cow skull." Fred said it as matter-of-fact as he could, "High five for productivity? Yah wanna show me some of the basic groundskeeping stuff when we get back or do Ah gotta fill out some forms...?"

"Dude, you gotta fill out -tax- forms." Kyle said, with an air of misery, but also with a fist-bump to Fred's outstretched hand. "W-2 and all that crap. But I can walk you through the work orders and what needs finesse and like, where I keep all the stuff. Man, I gotta find the key to the shed we put all Mister Marko's custom tools. I put it away since most of it was too big for me, but it'd right up your alley. Seriously, that man had a him-sized riding mower. I was like, what the -ass-."

"Riding mower?" Fred grinned broadly, hefting their entire haul onto his shoulders, "Best. Job. Ever."