Noodle Arms (Mike)

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Phoenix had been struggling with powers training for quite some time. Several months back, it had just been apathy - he hadn't cared to learn, and barely followed anything his trainers asked him to do, always stuck in his hallucinogenic daze. He figured he had his powers down well enough - he hardly ever flew (leaving him with very weak wing muscles and no stamina), and his dust was just... There to use whenever he wanted.

But now that he'd been clean for a while, and actually wanted to graduate this year, Phen was determined to get this power stuff down so he didn't have to worry about accidentally dusting people when he felt the pressure building up too much. And, hey, maybe eventually he would want to be able to fly, even though he thought he looked dumb doing it.

His new trainer was... Well, Phoenix had been scared (terrified) at first, but it was going alright so far. With his current injuries, they couldn't do a lot, but at least it was something, and it made Phen feel like he was making some sort of practice. With that mindset, he approached his assigned training room, hobbling in on his crutches with his partially-healed wings spread out behind him, peering around for his trainer. "Mr. Batista?" he called out. Even though this wasn't their first meeting, he was still a little nervous - adults just made him anxious in general. He put his bag next to the door and stepped inside further, wishing Oriel could be here too... He was so reliant on the boy's support, it felt weird to be doing anything without him.

[Mike Batista]

It wasn't often Mike got kids so late in their tenure at the school. Phoenix Tang would be older than the average high school student when he graduated (supposedly this year, though the kid's grades were... unimpressive to say the least), but was only now become serious about his training. The old trainer had read his file thoroughly, and had gone to Sean to talk about some of the other bits and pieces. Nothing the psychiatrist couldn't talk about for patient confidentiality reasons, but things like the duration and severity of the boy's addiction, and the strange tangle that was his relationship with one of Mike's other trainees, one Mr. Vanguard.

As far as he understood, the boys were rather unhealthily codependent and possessive (as well as sexually active). He theorized that Mr. Tang had simply substituted one addiction for another, and that the relationship was volatile because of the personalities involved. Both boys had trust issues, impulse problems, and were not very mature, and though they were both improving in this department, both also lacked direct access to common sense. It would be trying for anyone to deal with, but add in Phoenix's advanced age and Mike had serious concerns about the boy's ability to deal with life past Hammel.

But. Well. While he had thoughts and opinions about things like that, his job was to train, and train he would.

"Phoenix, come in," he called, from where he was moving a bench. It was the padded kind seen in gyms, but it didn't have anything attached to it. Mike was only going to have his trainee sit on it, anyway. Looking over his charge, he was glad to see the wings looked better. "How're you feeling? Why don't you come sit on the bench?"

There wasn't much the kid could do, but Mike would have him exercise what he could. Phoenix had the stamina and muscle tone of a dead person.

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Phoenix was working really hard in order to graduate on time, and that included trying to get his grades up, although they were still less than impressive just because, well, Phoenix wasn't all that bright, and his studying habits were awful. Not to mention whenever he and Oriel 'studied' together, they got distracted about every five minutes, so....

And Phen would have disagreed very much with his trainer's thoughts, even if they were, well, extremely accurate. Oriel had even told Phen himself to rely on him instead of his drugs, to let him become his addiction. And Phoenix had taken full advantage of that. At least, however, they had both started seeing Dr. Neville, and Phen actually had his first job interview in a couple days, which he'd worked very, very hard for so he might not come across as the complete failure he typically was.

But since Phoenix didn't know any of Mike's opinions, he was all shy smiles and tentative waves upon seeing his trainer. He wobbled his way over to where he was moving the bench and watched, wishing he could offer some sort of help. "I'm doin' pretty good," he replied, setting his crutches on the ground and trying to balance on his one good leg as he lowered himself down. "Doc says I have about another month until I'm all nice an' healed up." It had seemed like ages already; Phen couldn't wait to get the stupid cast off, and be comfortable bringing his wings in. "Thanks," he added with relief, glad for the bench to sit on.

"So, uh, what do you have planned for me today?" he asked curiously, tangling his hands together in his lap. "I, um, I'm startin' t'be able to use my dust again, but not a lot. It kinda hurts too." He hadn't realized before that breaking his wings would actually inhibit his dust usage. It was weird... And had also sort of been a relief. He hadn't had to worry about accidentally spraying Oriel, or anyone else, for the past two months or so.

[Mike Batista]

Say this for the kid, he was putting in the effort. Sure, some of the things he was doing were sabotaging those efforts, but the important thing, in Mike's mind anyway, was that he was seriously doing the work. It was just that... the last semester of the last year of schooling was a poor time to realize improvement was needed. At the very least Mike hoped Phoenix was developing habits that would help him in the working world. Just being off his drugs was a good start, but unfortunately that's all it was, a start.

Mike smiled as Phoenix came in, and watched him carefully, ready to offer a hand (or a field) in case the kid stumbled or fell. "Sounds good," he said, to the doctor's news. "Maybe you could ask him about exercises you'll be allowed once the cast's off and the wings are free."

Mike didn't think he'd get the boy flying with any skill in five months, but he was hoping he'd get him feeling comfortable in the air and able to land decently in the case he ever did.

"Today? Well, I'll need you to turn around," the trainer said. So that Phoenix was sitting on an end of the bench and facing the longer portion, straddling it with one leg on each side. "I would like very much to see your back, but if that's not possible that's fine." Mike was worried about his back muscles. They were already loose and almost flaccid, but if they got too bad even taking the wings out would start to hurt. On the dust, he asked, "Have you produced any? Have you tried, or has it just happened?"

On that count, he was hoping that eventually Phoenix could control his dust output to the point he could 'milk' himself, like how snake trainers milked the poison out of snakes. Get it out in one controlled burst and then not have to worry about it for however long it lasted.

"I was thinking I'd have you do a few easy back stretches and then work on your arm strength and joint rotation."

However much they were hated, Phoenix had a physical power and his body needed exercise Mike knew he wasn't getting.

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Phoenix was aware that he'd have to work his ass off to be able to make up as much of the time he'd been neglecting... Everything... In time to graduate. So far he was making strides, but it was rough. His memory was not as good as it used to be; he hoped that would change the longer he was clean. And he hoped working on his ability rather than avoiding it would help, too.

He nodded along with what Mike was saying, already finding that the older man's calm demeanor was rubbing off on Phen just being around him. It was exactly the sort of thing he needed - nothing overwhelming, just a little at a time. "I'll do that," he promised. "And I'll let you know." Doctors scared him, but he was slowly starting to get better at working with adults in general. Which, really, he knew he should, considering he technically was one...

"Oh, right, okay," he replied to the instruction, twisting himself to sit as his trainer explained. "Yeah... Yeah, that's alright. Uh.... just... Strip?" he asked, flushing lightly. He knew his muscles were extremely under-developed; when his wings weren't broken, he could hardly stay in the air for more than ten seconds without getting exhausted and incredibly sore. Assuming Mike confirmed this, Phen carefully pulled up the back of his shirt, working around the holes in the back so as not to bump his wings. Soon enough, his thin, bony back was bare for the trainer to study; Phen felt very embarrassed and exposed. "Um... I haven't really tried, I've just gotten, uh, puffs that come out sometimes when I'm stressed or anxious," he replied. Fortunately not enough to be problematic, but he knew that wouldn't last forever. "And it hasn't felt... Built up, like it did before. Like... I had t'get rid of it every so often when the pressure got too bad."

He'd started the sort of 'milking' process ever since he started hooking up with Oriel, to some degree of success. Since his boyfriend had reacted so badly to it the first time, he'd made a point to do what he could to make sure it didn't happen again. It wasn't easy, though.

Ugh... That sounded far from fun, but Phen trusted Mike's training, and so nodded in understanding. "Sounds good," he replied. "I, uh... Well, you know I ain't very flexible or strong, so I hope you don't expect too much..." he added with a wry, dry smile.

[Mike Batista]

"I'll look for it then," he nodded. "Don't be afraid to write it down. I don't expect anything verbatim."

Besides, writing it would mean he wouldn't have to try to remember anything long and chance remembering it incorrectly. Kids these days didn't seem to like making notes, relying on memory exclusively. Pity.

Mike let his trainee see the edge of his good-natured eyeroll. "No, Mr. Tang, I do not want you to 'strip'. I want you to show me your back so I can see how your muscles are faring as your trainer."

Given Phoenix's rumored standard mindset, 'strip' wasn't surprising. A bit disappointing considering how inappropriate it would be, but almost expected. When the shirt went up, Mike helped get it around some of the more difficult places and then looked down at the pale, narrow back. He managed to keep his sigh silent. Rubbing his hands together so they wouldn't be cold, he wondered how much of what he was seeing was genetic, how much was drug habit, how much was poor food choices, how much was no exercise. The kid's spine jutted Stegosaurus-like, and when he gently touched the back muscles they felt like taffy. Mike was careful not to tickle or cause discomfort, but he ran his fingertips over the major muscle groups, avoiding contact with the wings. Good lord. Still, his voice was calm when he answered. "It would help a lot if you could find a regular time to 'empty' out what dust you have in you, and do it every day at that time. I would suggest before breakfast or before bed. What we want to avoid is that 'built up' feeling, so this is good."

Helping the boy pull his shirt back down, Mike took a few steps so he was facing Phoenix again. "I know," he said, smiling back. "So that's why we're gonna to have to start. It's not gonna to be fun, it's gonna be a pain in the butt. Boring. Very, very boring. But it's going to help you so much. I can't stress this enough. What we're trying to do, us trainers, is get kids to a place where they can live as normally with their powers as someone who doesn't have them, or you know, as close as they can. For you, this means we have to get those back muscles built up. Not even to the point flying is easy, but to the point I can't see your ribs from behind. It'll be so much easier to get your wings in and out, like flicking a switch. And then if you do get to flying, you'll have so much more control, and we're all for keeping injuries to a minimum."

Hands on hips, Mike looked at that skinny back. "Okay, I'm going to have you do some stretches. They shouldn't hurt your wings as long as you take it easy. Lean forward and put your hands on the bench, so you're almost on hands and knees, like."

Helping Phoenix get settled, he said, "Okay, now I want you to arch your back. Push your stomach in, lift your shoulders. And then hold it for three counts. And then you want to do the opposite, drop your shoulders and push your stomach down. You should feel your muscles here-" he touched the back deltoids and the trapezius that met at the spine "-and it's going to help stretch out your back in general. Don't strain, just go slowly and stop if it hurts your wings."

Placing one hand on Phoenix's stomach and the other lightly on his back, Mike gently guided him through several sets.

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Phoenix's blush deepened at his trainer's response to his... Lack of proper wording, and he let out a embarrassed chuckle. "Uh, right," he squeaked as he did as he was asked. He could only imagine what Oriel would think if he could see them now... The teasing would be endless.

He shivered slightly as he waited for the inspection, hoping it would be over quickly. Not surprisingly, his absence of much meat on his bones left him almost constantly feeling cold, and even in a room-temperature environment, he felt a little chilly with his shirt pulled up his back. He jerked a little as he felt Mike's hands begin to feel the muscles around his wings, biting his lip to hide his giggles; a few escaped despite his efforts. Even though Mike was being careful, he was really ticklish there! It didn't help that Oriel took advantage of that fact in their own spare time, so Phen was used to being tormented in that way. "It t-t-tickles," he explained, in case his trainer was wondering why he was suddenly seeming spastic. He took a deep breath and managed to calm himself, listening to what the older man was telling him. "So like... Make it a habit?" he replied, nodding slowly. That made sense, and he could manage it. At the moment, he just did it when he felt the need; maybe making it something he did on a regular, patterened basis would make it even easier to control. "Okay, I can do that. Definitely." Huh, who knew actually listening to a trainer's advice might actually help...

With Mike's assistance, he tugged his shirt back down, giving a relieved sigh. He looked up as the man stepped in front of him, feeling very small and weak under his trainer's wise, kind gaze. "I can handle borin'," he promised, straightening up just a tad. He kept nodding and twitching his wings as Mike explained what they wanted, feeling a sort of eagerness build up in him despite the promise that it wouldn't be fun. "You think you can help me get them built up that much?" he asked, genuinely uncertain. He'd been a scrawny kid since the day he was born - he didn't realize all it took was some actual effort under a knowledgeable eye in order to make that much progress. "I... I'd really like that," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. The idea of it being that much easier... Of course it sounded enticing. His wings were a pain in the butt to deal with as they were.

He snapped his focus back onto the task at hand, nodding once again at the instructions. "Alright," he breathed, allowing the older meta to show him what exactly he should be doing. It felt a little odd, but he trusted Mike's instruction. "Is this like... Like that cat yoga move?" he asked with a tiny smile. He thought he'd seen it somewhere before. It sounded simple enough. "Okay, I've got this." With a dedicated expression like he was doing something groundbreaking, he slowly eased into the first position, straining just before it began to hurt. After holding, he switched to the opposite, once again just pushing himself until it became uncomfortable. "I can feel it," he told his trainer, eyes bright. "How long should I keep goin'?" He continued to switch back and forth every few seconds; with each rep, it felt just a tiny bit easier.

[Mike Batista]

It was always interesting, the reactions kids gave to him seeing a bit of skin. Mike thought it was unfortunate he wasn't a doctor just to make things more comfortable and less personal, but he'd been trained as a physical education teacher and knew about muscle groups, and had been a trainer for almost thirty years and had worked extensively with shifters and physical metas. Well, at least Phoenix wasn't a girl. Tricky, but he managed.

An inspection like this wasn't anything to be embarrassed about (even if you were as impressively flaccid-muscled as Phoenix), and it wasn't like Mike was going to tell anyone about it except possibly the school doctor, for any tips. He smiled when the boy laughed. "Don't worry, you're not the first."

The kid was nervous, too, and that didn't help. Mike kept the inspection as short as possible. "Yep. It helps your body to have a schedule. Once you're emptying out at the same time every day, you'll know when something's off too. You'll be used to feeling empty right after and feeling it build to certain points during the day and be able to gauge it. It's like once you start waking up at the same time for awhile you start waking up around that time even on days you didn't set an alarm. Your life's been a bit chaotic, Phoenix. A schedule would help more than your body."

Mike laughed when the kid said he could do boring. "We'll see. I know you like excitement."

He nodded. "I know I can, if you're faithful to the regimen and make sure you get your meals regular. I know you've heard this before, but you could stand to gain some weight. Once your muscles start getting stronger, they'll only be able to take you so far unless you gain more mass, meaning more muscle. Protein. Lean meat, eggs, nuts, milk. Veggies for the vitamins, and some sun for the vitamin D. You have delicate wings, but I don't think they would've gotten injured this bad if you'd had a bit more bone density."

The trainer didn't even want to know what that was on Tang, it was probably worse than Erik Stewart's and that was an accomplishment. "But it's all stuff you can achieve, as long as you go about it the healthy way, and I can help you with that. You're lucky, actually. Most people have to lose, and that's a lot harder."

He smiled at the kid. "'Course you should like that. Anyone would like being in more control of themselves, and you can only go up. The more you work at it, the easier it'll all get."

Gently, so gently, he guided that thin form to the correct position, feeling for anything unusual, tremors or tightness. "It is, a little. But you can do this anywhere and don't have to be on your hands and knees. You can do it standing, sitting. All you need is something to lean against, even the back of a chair."

It was going well. Mike smiled, gave a little laugh at the kid's surprised expression. "Okay, easy. Go a little slower. It's not a race. You really want to concentrate on how those back muscles feel when you do this. There's not a lot of tone back there, and I don't want you to strain anything." His warm hand corrected the boy's posture a bit. "You want to go straight up and down, try not to twist or overarch."

He was encouraged by Phoenix's enthusiasm, but he knew this was just the beginning too. The trick would be seeing that he kept it up. "I'd say do three slow reps at a time, as a set, and then right now do up to five sets unless it starts hurting." The side of his mouth quirked. "This isn't the only exercise I've got for you."

Letting him sit back up, he said, "Okay, the next one is planking. Lay forward and balance on your palms. Now lower yourself till your elbows are bent ninety-degrees. Hold that for five counts. Sounds easy, but..."

Mike smiled as he watched. "You're doing good, Phoenix. You turned it around a little late, but there's plenty of time. And I'll help you as much as you'll let me."

He was old enough that he knew it wasn't 'as much as I can'.