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xp_logsShortly after school starts, Bas and Nica run into each other in person. There is chat about things military and air force, powers demonstrations and unwelcome skritching.
These next couple months were going to be the longest ones ever, Bas thought to himself as he strode purposefully but wearily into the kitchen, wishing (not for the first time) that he'd been born earlier in the year. The end of December was a crap time for a birthday. He wanted his driving license more than anything in the world, but was doomed to wait what felt like forever.
Until he got it, he was stuck taking public transportation into Mount Vernon- almost an hour and a half worth of it, each way- to and from their Junior Reserve Officers Training Corps Air Force meetings. Today's first trip had been so boring he'd almost wished that he'd hated the program so much he would vow to never return. But that wasn't the case. The program was fine. It was the best chance he had to become a fighter pilot. He had to keep going.
In desperate need of an energy drink, Bas set down his skateboard, his air cadet cap, and the suit bag containing the American cadet uniform he'd been given at the meeting today. He'd shown up in his British uniform so that an 'official' transfer could take place, and now was only too eager to loosen his tie as he pulled a can of Red Bull out of the fridge and took a long swig.
"Nice outfit." This was from Monica as she came into the kitchen after some homework munchies. "Air Force always have the best look." She spotted the fruit bowl on the table and started picking through it. "Training Corps?" she continued as she poked around for the perfect apple.
Bas turned to look at a really pretty girl of around his own age whom he hadn't met yet. "Uh... yeah," he responded, looking down at his own uniform. "From the 460 back home. 'Just transferred to the 981 at Mount Vernon. You a cadet?" he asked, face impassive but voice lilting up a little to show his interest.
"Nah - military brat, born and bred. My Dad's a training sergeant in the Marines." Finding her apple, Monica turned to lean against the edge of the table, eyeing Bas with friendly curiosity. "You're one of the new Brits, aren't you? Monica Rambeau. 'Nica for short." She stuck out her hand for him to shake.
"Cool," Bas responded to the comment about her father. He closed the ridge door and leaned up against it in what he hoped was a casual-looking move. "Yeah. Bas." He raised his eyebrow at the offered hand, finding his fellow teen's formal gesture strange, but shook it anyway. "So what do you do that landed you here?"
Monica's handshake was firm - her father had impressed on her the value of a good handshake. "I'm a walking nightlight," she answered, holding up the hand she'd offered to him. Light burst from it in a sudden flare, reducing to a steady, bright glow. "We're still working out the details, but I seem to absorb light and then project it back out. How about you? What's your thing?"
"Shapeshifting," Bas answered, still staring at the bright glow from the girl's hand. It was pretty impressive.
Now it was Monica's turn to stare. "Seriously?" she asked, sounding awed. "You can change your shape? How? Is it like that old dude who can change into other people, or can you make paddle hands or what?"
"Naw. I do... animals, I guess?" Bas wasn't sure how to actually describe what he could do. "There's a cat and a... dragon." He wasn't sure if a dragon was an animal, persay. "Creatures might be a better word." He took another sip of his energy drink. "You use sunlight?" He couldn't really wrap his head around whether she used sunlight or, like, the light from an incandescent bulb or whatever.
"Any kind of light, so far. Well, as far as I've experimented - I'm still getting used to the whole mutant thing. But I'm not that interesting. Yours is much better. Especially if there's creatures." Monica was even more interested. "I'd love to see you do it, if you don't mind and it's not too much hassle?"
Bas looked at Nica for a long moment. Damnit. She was cute. He wanted to show off for her. And girls seemed to love his creature forms. Setting down his drink, he pulled his shoes off, shrugged out of his jacket and shifted into his dragon form, fighting his way out of his too-big clothes. The dragon was bright red, stood upright, and was roughly the size of a toddler, with an impressive wingspan, a long snout and tail, claws and cartoonish-ly sized eyes.
"OH!" Monica clapped her hands over her mouth after the first delighted exclamation. "That is so COOL," she continued, dropping them and barely repressing a bounce. "Can you understand me when you're like that?" He was so cute she wanted to pick him up and hug him, but she also knew teenage boys were touchy about their dignity. "And can you fly with those wings? Or breathe fire?"
"Yeah," Bas answered with a nod, voice still human despite his shape. "All five senses. Talking freaks people out. My tongue doesn't change. Dunno why." He walked over to the patio doors off the kitchen and opened them with his clawed hands, then flapped his wings and flew outside, hovering a few feet off the ground. He turned towards the pool and blew fire at it.
"That is the most incredible thing I've ever seen!" Nica had followed him as he'd flown outside, and now she clapped her hands together in excitement. "That is AWESOME!"
"Thanks," Bas said with a grin, or what would have been a grin if he hadn't been a dragon. "It doesn't totally suck. Except for the cartoon-y-ness. What you do is cool, though, too. It's useful. People always need light. Dragons, not so much."
"I dunno, I think the world always needs more dragons," she replied with an actual grin of her own. "Everything's so serious sometimes."
"True," Bas agreed. "The crappy part is most people these days see strange things and think 'evil' or 'danger' instead of 'funny.' If I went into town in this shape I don't think it would lighten peoples' moods. At least people here seem to be cool with the strange." He did a loop-the-loop. "You go to Bayville?"
"True, that." Monica sighed. "Even here, people are all 'what's so special about turning into a dragon? That's so last season', as if you're stupid for getting excited about mutant powers. It's not like I've ever seen another mutant before I came here." She pouted a moment, and then gave herself a shake. "Anyway, adults suck. I'm a senior at Bayville, yeah. How about you? I haven't seen you on the bus?"
Bas frowned at her comments on mutants. He didn't know what she was talking about but clearly she'd been involved in some sort of incident. "I ride my bike or skateboard. I'm used to taking care of myself. Who made you feel stupid?" He was concerned about what had happened to her, since it had made her pout.
"Eh, one of the random adults in this place." Monica waved the issue away. "Stupid journal stuff back when I first got here. Apparently they're all so used to mutant stuff that they've forgotten what it's like when you're new." She made a face. "They also don't know how to drink, either. The journals are like a frat house when they decide to have an adults-only party - people losing their pants and whatever else. My dad would pitch a fit if he knew."
"Those journals are pretty dumb," Bas commented with a shrug, careful to shrug his dragon arms and not his wings lest he fall out of the sky. "'Bunch of people with nothing better to do than sit in front of a screen pretending they're brave and important because hiding behind a screen lets them. Then when they actually face someone in person they're just a bunch of boring, sad tossers. Where's your father stationed now?"
Monica giggled at the sight of the mini-dragon shrugging. "Parris Island in South Carolina. It's a recruit training base. Dad figured it would be safer here for me, with all the racism and shit going on there."
Bas tried his hardest to make the dragon form look sad. "That sucks. Is this the first time you've been away from him?"
Monica bit her lip and nodded, not immediately trusting her voice. "Yeah," she said at last when she managed to defeat the tightness of her throat. "I dunno if you've had much experience with military families, but when you move around so much, it's just you, you know? Especially after Mom died, it's just been me and Dad."
Bas shrugged in dragon form again. "No, my dad's not military. Professor," he said with a derogatory tone to his voice.
She smiled in spite of herself and Bas' words. Shrugging dragons really were the cutest thing. "Not your thing?" she asked, diffidently.
"Whatever. It is what it is," Bas shrugged once more. "I'm here now." He wasn't going to focus on his dad any more. "At a mansion. Going to school with girls. Life could be worse," he smiled.
"Oh, you went to an all boy's school?" Nica screwed up her nose. "I did the single sex school thing in Japan. A whole school full of giggling pre-teen Japanese girls. Ugh. And they kept wanting to touch my hair."
"That's weird," the dragon agreed. "Remind me not to go to Japan. Especially not like this." He landed on the lawn and waddled back over to the kitchen. "How long were you in Japan?"
The waddling did it. As Nica walked back with him across the lawn, she scritched the scales at the top of his head. "Two years. Then South Korea for a year. We moved to Germany when I was eleven. We were there for four years, which was a huge change. Too bad my mutation screwed things up."
Bas gave her a 'are you seriously doing that right now?' look when she scratched his head and stepped out of her reach, but he didn't say anything to her about it. "Germany's nice. Which base?" He'd been to Büchel Air Base on a cadet exchange for a couple weeks last spring.
Monica grimaced as Bas stepped out of reach, but the damage was already done. "Panzer," she replied. "My Dad's a Marine. Mom was military police."
"Ah. I don't think Marines and Air Force get along here, do they?" he asked curiously.
She snorted. "Not really, no. The Air Force think they're all that 'cause they have the money and the fancy planes, and think Marines are just jarhead thugs. But I'll forgive you in advance." It was clearly a joke, and she winked at him as she said the last. "What about you? Why the interest in the Air Force?"
"I'm going to be a pilot," Bas told her, waddling past her into the kitchen and using his little dragon claws to pull his now-enormous clothes back on over the little dragon body. "A fighter pilot. I've wanted to since I was little. So Air Force seemed like the best way to make that happen." He shifted back into human form, having to only slightly adjust his clothes, then started searching the cupboards for the food he now desperately needed. "What about you?" he asked, repeating her phrase. "What are you going to do after school?"
"I haven't decided yet. Dad's dead set against me joining up, says he wants a more normal life for me." Nica's eyerolling said what she thought of that logic. "I'm interested in politics and social justice and stuff. Maybe I'll end up working for Amnesty or something. There's time yet - I'm only a Soph."
Bas raised an eyebrow at her. "You're a mutant. I think it's pretty clear your life isn't going to be normal," he told her with a hint of amusement in his voice.
"Yeah, I'm starting to get that."
These next couple months were going to be the longest ones ever, Bas thought to himself as he strode purposefully but wearily into the kitchen, wishing (not for the first time) that he'd been born earlier in the year. The end of December was a crap time for a birthday. He wanted his driving license more than anything in the world, but was doomed to wait what felt like forever.
Until he got it, he was stuck taking public transportation into Mount Vernon- almost an hour and a half worth of it, each way- to and from their Junior Reserve Officers Training Corps Air Force meetings. Today's first trip had been so boring he'd almost wished that he'd hated the program so much he would vow to never return. But that wasn't the case. The program was fine. It was the best chance he had to become a fighter pilot. He had to keep going.
In desperate need of an energy drink, Bas set down his skateboard, his air cadet cap, and the suit bag containing the American cadet uniform he'd been given at the meeting today. He'd shown up in his British uniform so that an 'official' transfer could take place, and now was only too eager to loosen his tie as he pulled a can of Red Bull out of the fridge and took a long swig.
"Nice outfit." This was from Monica as she came into the kitchen after some homework munchies. "Air Force always have the best look." She spotted the fruit bowl on the table and started picking through it. "Training Corps?" she continued as she poked around for the perfect apple.
Bas turned to look at a really pretty girl of around his own age whom he hadn't met yet. "Uh... yeah," he responded, looking down at his own uniform. "From the 460 back home. 'Just transferred to the 981 at Mount Vernon. You a cadet?" he asked, face impassive but voice lilting up a little to show his interest.
"Nah - military brat, born and bred. My Dad's a training sergeant in the Marines." Finding her apple, Monica turned to lean against the edge of the table, eyeing Bas with friendly curiosity. "You're one of the new Brits, aren't you? Monica Rambeau. 'Nica for short." She stuck out her hand for him to shake.
"Cool," Bas responded to the comment about her father. He closed the ridge door and leaned up against it in what he hoped was a casual-looking move. "Yeah. Bas." He raised his eyebrow at the offered hand, finding his fellow teen's formal gesture strange, but shook it anyway. "So what do you do that landed you here?"
Monica's handshake was firm - her father had impressed on her the value of a good handshake. "I'm a walking nightlight," she answered, holding up the hand she'd offered to him. Light burst from it in a sudden flare, reducing to a steady, bright glow. "We're still working out the details, but I seem to absorb light and then project it back out. How about you? What's your thing?"
"Shapeshifting," Bas answered, still staring at the bright glow from the girl's hand. It was pretty impressive.
Now it was Monica's turn to stare. "Seriously?" she asked, sounding awed. "You can change your shape? How? Is it like that old dude who can change into other people, or can you make paddle hands or what?"
"Naw. I do... animals, I guess?" Bas wasn't sure how to actually describe what he could do. "There's a cat and a... dragon." He wasn't sure if a dragon was an animal, persay. "Creatures might be a better word." He took another sip of his energy drink. "You use sunlight?" He couldn't really wrap his head around whether she used sunlight or, like, the light from an incandescent bulb or whatever.
"Any kind of light, so far. Well, as far as I've experimented - I'm still getting used to the whole mutant thing. But I'm not that interesting. Yours is much better. Especially if there's creatures." Monica was even more interested. "I'd love to see you do it, if you don't mind and it's not too much hassle?"
Bas looked at Nica for a long moment. Damnit. She was cute. He wanted to show off for her. And girls seemed to love his creature forms. Setting down his drink, he pulled his shoes off, shrugged out of his jacket and shifted into his dragon form, fighting his way out of his too-big clothes. The dragon was bright red, stood upright, and was roughly the size of a toddler, with an impressive wingspan, a long snout and tail, claws and cartoonish-ly sized eyes.
"OH!" Monica clapped her hands over her mouth after the first delighted exclamation. "That is so COOL," she continued, dropping them and barely repressing a bounce. "Can you understand me when you're like that?" He was so cute she wanted to pick him up and hug him, but she also knew teenage boys were touchy about their dignity. "And can you fly with those wings? Or breathe fire?"
"Yeah," Bas answered with a nod, voice still human despite his shape. "All five senses. Talking freaks people out. My tongue doesn't change. Dunno why." He walked over to the patio doors off the kitchen and opened them with his clawed hands, then flapped his wings and flew outside, hovering a few feet off the ground. He turned towards the pool and blew fire at it.
"That is the most incredible thing I've ever seen!" Nica had followed him as he'd flown outside, and now she clapped her hands together in excitement. "That is AWESOME!"
"Thanks," Bas said with a grin, or what would have been a grin if he hadn't been a dragon. "It doesn't totally suck. Except for the cartoon-y-ness. What you do is cool, though, too. It's useful. People always need light. Dragons, not so much."
"I dunno, I think the world always needs more dragons," she replied with an actual grin of her own. "Everything's so serious sometimes."
"True," Bas agreed. "The crappy part is most people these days see strange things and think 'evil' or 'danger' instead of 'funny.' If I went into town in this shape I don't think it would lighten peoples' moods. At least people here seem to be cool with the strange." He did a loop-the-loop. "You go to Bayville?"
"True, that." Monica sighed. "Even here, people are all 'what's so special about turning into a dragon? That's so last season', as if you're stupid for getting excited about mutant powers. It's not like I've ever seen another mutant before I came here." She pouted a moment, and then gave herself a shake. "Anyway, adults suck. I'm a senior at Bayville, yeah. How about you? I haven't seen you on the bus?"
Bas frowned at her comments on mutants. He didn't know what she was talking about but clearly she'd been involved in some sort of incident. "I ride my bike or skateboard. I'm used to taking care of myself. Who made you feel stupid?" He was concerned about what had happened to her, since it had made her pout.
"Eh, one of the random adults in this place." Monica waved the issue away. "Stupid journal stuff back when I first got here. Apparently they're all so used to mutant stuff that they've forgotten what it's like when you're new." She made a face. "They also don't know how to drink, either. The journals are like a frat house when they decide to have an adults-only party - people losing their pants and whatever else. My dad would pitch a fit if he knew."
"Those journals are pretty dumb," Bas commented with a shrug, careful to shrug his dragon arms and not his wings lest he fall out of the sky. "'Bunch of people with nothing better to do than sit in front of a screen pretending they're brave and important because hiding behind a screen lets them. Then when they actually face someone in person they're just a bunch of boring, sad tossers. Where's your father stationed now?"
Monica giggled at the sight of the mini-dragon shrugging. "Parris Island in South Carolina. It's a recruit training base. Dad figured it would be safer here for me, with all the racism and shit going on there."
Bas tried his hardest to make the dragon form look sad. "That sucks. Is this the first time you've been away from him?"
Monica bit her lip and nodded, not immediately trusting her voice. "Yeah," she said at last when she managed to defeat the tightness of her throat. "I dunno if you've had much experience with military families, but when you move around so much, it's just you, you know? Especially after Mom died, it's just been me and Dad."
Bas shrugged in dragon form again. "No, my dad's not military. Professor," he said with a derogatory tone to his voice.
She smiled in spite of herself and Bas' words. Shrugging dragons really were the cutest thing. "Not your thing?" she asked, diffidently.
"Whatever. It is what it is," Bas shrugged once more. "I'm here now." He wasn't going to focus on his dad any more. "At a mansion. Going to school with girls. Life could be worse," he smiled.
"Oh, you went to an all boy's school?" Nica screwed up her nose. "I did the single sex school thing in Japan. A whole school full of giggling pre-teen Japanese girls. Ugh. And they kept wanting to touch my hair."
"That's weird," the dragon agreed. "Remind me not to go to Japan. Especially not like this." He landed on the lawn and waddled back over to the kitchen. "How long were you in Japan?"
The waddling did it. As Nica walked back with him across the lawn, she scritched the scales at the top of his head. "Two years. Then South Korea for a year. We moved to Germany when I was eleven. We were there for four years, which was a huge change. Too bad my mutation screwed things up."
Bas gave her a 'are you seriously doing that right now?' look when she scratched his head and stepped out of her reach, but he didn't say anything to her about it. "Germany's nice. Which base?" He'd been to Büchel Air Base on a cadet exchange for a couple weeks last spring.
Monica grimaced as Bas stepped out of reach, but the damage was already done. "Panzer," she replied. "My Dad's a Marine. Mom was military police."
"Ah. I don't think Marines and Air Force get along here, do they?" he asked curiously.
She snorted. "Not really, no. The Air Force think they're all that 'cause they have the money and the fancy planes, and think Marines are just jarhead thugs. But I'll forgive you in advance." It was clearly a joke, and she winked at him as she said the last. "What about you? Why the interest in the Air Force?"
"I'm going to be a pilot," Bas told her, waddling past her into the kitchen and using his little dragon claws to pull his now-enormous clothes back on over the little dragon body. "A fighter pilot. I've wanted to since I was little. So Air Force seemed like the best way to make that happen." He shifted back into human form, having to only slightly adjust his clothes, then started searching the cupboards for the food he now desperately needed. "What about you?" he asked, repeating her phrase. "What are you going to do after school?"
"I haven't decided yet. Dad's dead set against me joining up, says he wants a more normal life for me." Nica's eyerolling said what she thought of that logic. "I'm interested in politics and social justice and stuff. Maybe I'll end up working for Amnesty or something. There's time yet - I'm only a Soph."
Bas raised an eyebrow at her. "You're a mutant. I think it's pretty clear your life isn't going to be normal," he told her with a hint of amusement in his voice.
"Yeah, I'm starting to get that."
