ring of fire {James}

[Dennis Pautler]

Dennis had been training with James for a few weeks now, ever since his old one had left the business of teaching. It wouldn’t be easy to pick up right where he’d left off with someone new, but so far, the change of management didn’t bother him.

Dennis, for one, was eager to get a handle on his powers. There’d been no accidents (yet), but pyrokinesis always seemed to come with the threat of one; it was a volatile and unpredictable power, hard to control once it was in action, and destructive when careless. He’d been told that fire manipulation often required extra training. It wasn’t the best power to have indoors, that was for sure, and someone of Dennis’ aspirations – that was, a vet – needed to control it under every situation.

So he was all ears while training, earnest in his attempts to learn, though not always successful.

Dennis’ power, being a physical one, usually meant he was practicing out in the field. The ideal environment was one where the grass was damp from rain not too long before, but they didn’t always have that luxury, of course. They just happened to be lucky that afternoon.

He was already out there, waiting for him. He was shaking out his hands. He breathed in, and when he let it out, putting his arms before him, so too did a long blast of flames that plumed into tongues of yellow fire.

It was a short, sudden blast. Waves of hot air gusted from the nearly eight-hundred degree stream of fire, and then it was gone, dissolved, as easily at it had appeared. Dennis looked satisfied. When he huffed in victory, a small puff of smoke escaped out his nose.

He looked over and saw James coming his way; holding his nose, he held up a palm and waved. “Hey, Mr. Lawrence.”

[James Lawrence]

Although James had only been Dennis' trainer for a few weeks now, but already, he thought highly of the kid. Some of the students had difficulty listening to what he had to offer, and some blatantly showed signs of disrespect. Of course, it was something James was expecting, but it still was... discouraging. Dennis, on the other hand, showed potential and above all, an undeniable sense of eagerness. He always seemed to be on time (or early) to the training sessions, and seemed to really take in what James had to say. It was nice.

He had no previous experience with the ability of pyrokinesis, but had been asking around the staff lounge and getting tips from trainers with more experience than him. Sure, James had to swallow his pride, but it was for the benefit of the kid, which was more important than his ego. In his arm, the New York native carried a notebook, full of detailed lesson plans and ideas to share and try out with Dennis. He was confident, and it showed in the way he walked, striding down towards the open grounds of the training field.

From a distance, James saw the faint silhouette of someone, who he presumed to be his trainee, standing alone with their back towards him. Upon listening, he heard one last deep breath before a fury of yellow and red erupted. The whoosh of the fire paired with the incredible colours sure was a sight, and just like that, it was gone. James' lips curled into a faint smile, as he neared the younger man. His fingers twitched towards the pocket of his plaid shirt, itching for a cigarette. But that could wait.

He paused, adjusting his ability so the enhanced hearing wasn't 'on.' A faint humming filled his ear. "Please, call me James. I feel older than I am, otherwise." He said with a snort, nodding. "Pretty impressive there. You ever try pushing it for a longer time?" James asked, tossing the notebook down by his feet.

[Dennis Pautler]

Dennis reached back to rub at the back of his neck, just below his hairline. “Usually I just hear about whether or not I can get less of it,” he responded. “But, if you wanna see more…”

He’d no doubt that he could. Summoning fire felt like second nature to him (and, in a way, it was), and Dennis was already infused with a boundless amount of energy. He wasn’t sure if James knew what he was asking for here: he didn’t know of his limits himself, and he thought he could have spurted fire from his palms all day if he tried really hard. Dennis shook his hands out like he had before.

“Do I get extra points if it comes out my mouth?” he asked, on a whim. “I’ve been practicing.”

The blast of heat coming from such close proximity was substantial, even if the fiery stream was directed away from him: it was like standing in front of a crematory. It was indeed coming ‘from’ his mouth – though the astute might note that it didn’t emerge from inside him, but rushed forth from a point in front of it. The sound had its own quality, a sound not dissimilar to rushing water, but with an extra hiss to it. When it, too, vanished into smoke, it left a few burning grass blades in its wake. Luckily, they were burnt out quickly.

Dennis shook his head, as though to clear it. “Nice party trick, huh?”

[James Lawrence]

James understood that it was slightly risky to ask a pyro just learning about his abilities to push it for a longer period of time. But he found too often that everyone, specifically trainers, worked on toning down physical abilities. He wanted to see how far Dennis could push himself, to see the extent of his ability. Plus, James was curious. "I do." He answered, with a serious tone. "It has to work both ways. Suppressing it, but also pushing it."

He stepped back, with a little hesitation. At Dennis' next question, a grin appeared on James' face. "Sure, kid. That'd be a sight to see."

Before he could prepare himself, James was hit by the sudden heat from the flames. It was so hot, he almost felt like he was being burned. Sweat began beading on James' forehead, and he lifted a hand to wipe it away, eyes burning from the intense light of the flame. And James could swear he saw it coming from Dennis' mouth. When the flames and heat disappeared, the New York native was left grinning in the aftermath. "That was amazing." He said, in awe. "How do you feel? Alright?" He was hoping the side effects weren't too strong.

James stroked his chin. "You have any particular exercises you like to do that help out? I got some ideas, but if there's something you already like to do and work, I'd like to hear it." He said, nodding towards his notebook.

[Dennis Pautler]

The rush felt good, he had to admit. He didn’t feel the heat as James did; the blast was a part of him, like it really had come out of his throat; and it might have, for all he knew. For a pyrokinetic, he knew surprisingly little of his own abilities. It built up, he breathed out, and all that energy came whoosh-ing forth - and in a second, it would all be smoke. That was the limit of his understanding. The world simply became bright orange and yellow and red.

Dennis shook out his fingers again; the tingle would fade in seconds. He hopped in place, like a runner gearing up for a sprint. The release of energy never seemed to tire him out – it only fanned the flames. He grinned wide at James’ comment – “amazing” – his eyes thinning with his smile. “I’m alright,” he assured him, readily.

He thought for a second. “My old trainer used to make me do – uh – stretches,” he said. “Not like touching your toes shit – I mean, like, yoga. He said kinetics were all about movement, you know?” Dennis made a motion with one of his arms. “I don’t know. I didn’t really get it, but I’m really flexible now.”

He shrugged. He could take that exercise routine or leave it, and James was a different trainer, with a different way about his job.

[James Lawrence]

James barely had enough time to distinguish the different colours and flames. Since he had no previous experience with pyrokinesis, he was learning along the way as well. Hopefully, the other trainers' ideas would help Dennis out, since James would hate to feel at fault for not adequately training him come graduation.

Even after what the New York native considered tiring, the kid seemed to bounce with energy. Constantly. Nodding, James was relieved to hear that he was alright. There was a small list of compiled side effects that he had read about, and he remembered that restlessness was one of them. Explained all of the energy. James brushed aside the thought for now.

Stroking his chin for a moment, James knelt on the field, flipping through the pages of his notebook. "Yoga? Hm." He mused to himself. "Do you think it benefited you? Because we can continue that routine or we can try some new stuff." James said, holding up the notebook. "I asked around and the main answer I got was practicing control. Seems like you already have a pretty good handle on it."

"Does your temper set the ability off?" James asked. He didn't intend to imply that Dennis had a temper, but it seemed to be a common trigger for pyrokinesis.

[Dennis Pautler]

“Sure. It was alright.” One might have thought Dennis wasn’t the type to have the patience for yoga-like activities, but Dennis was naturally an active person, who found pleasure in remaining active. He wasn’t sure about the meta-spiritual side of yoga – the chi or what not – but he did subscribe to the notion that it energized the body. There was fire in his veins that needed direction. It needed to be soothed, and channeled, and a session of slow stretching always left him feeling a tad cooler in body temperature. He could take it or leave it, though; he wasn’t about to tell his new trainer how to do his job. “I can try new stuff, I don’t care.”

Dennis inclined his head. He was always hearing about ‘control’. It was valid – fire was a dangerous tool, he knew that, and he had a fear all his own about bringing on a cataclysm, but it still made him frown. It was enough to make him wonder if pyrokinetics like him suffered from bad reputations. He had heard about an incident, through the grapevine, but he had no idea if the rumor was true.

“I don’t think I have a temper,” he responded, wrinkling his nose. “Why?...Do we usually have tempers?”

He was frustrated, but he hadn’t quite taken it personally; he was more honestly curious. Perhaps it was another side effect, like his metabolism, or his energy level. “I get mad, I know I do. But I’ve never hurt no body.”

[James Lawrence]

In one of the margins, James quickly noted down 'yoga' alongside other ideas that the other trainers had. "I'm learning just as you are." He said, since he figured Dennis was already aware that James hadn't been a trainer for a long time. Although, admitting so was incredibly difficult for him to do. it made him feel... inadequate. "You can keep practicing yoga." Then there keeping fit in general, like doing cardio or lifting weights.

Back in his youth, James remembered a couple of pyrokinetics who didn't have the best self control. Trees and dorm rooms got burned down, though it wasn't frequent. "We'll also practice the control aspect by working with your ability. You seem to already have a good grasp on it." He complimented the student, before moving onto the next question.

He shrugged. "It seems to be a common characteristic." Maybe a bit of a stereotype as well. "If not, that helps. A temper seems to be the main trigger for a lot of pyrokinetics."

"For example, when I was student, there was a verbal fight going on between a couple of kids. It escalated and the pyrokinetic lost control and ended up setting fire to a tree." James shrugged indifferently. There were a lot of stories of metas losing control of their respective powers and causing damage. He wasn't saying this to scare Dennis either.

Smiling, James nodded towards the boy. "Good. Then I think we can continue on and go for a run."

[Dennis Pautler]

There were times Dennis remembered feeling angry; that much was true. But didn’t everyone? He’d never considered it a symptom of his power, though he knew that he had felt the heat spark in his veins, his stomach, and his head, growing red hot and feverish with pent-up power. But Dennis had never acted in retaliation. He couldn’t even imagine himself doing it, and neither did he want to imagine it - he knew just how dangerous fire could be.

He wondered if there were such a thing as unfair stereotypes assigned to certain types of meta. Dennis had never met another pyrokinetic. His grandparents had been alarmed to see his hands alight with fire, of course, but that was probably not out of any pre-existing prejudice – it was more out of the fact that Dennis had been standing in a barnhouse filled with straw hay at the time.

“But I’m in my jeans,” Dennis protested. “Can I go for a walk instead?”

[James Lawrence]

It probably was an unfair stereotype, James would have to admit in retrospect. He didn't mean for it to come across that way, or that he was scared of Dennis' ability or anything of the sort. He was learning too, just like his students, and hopefully with time would be able to give valuable insight. Afterall, this was only his second year of being a trainer; there was a lot to learn still.

It was probably the fact that fire had the potential to be dangerous. When James was a student and his power was uncontrollable, the worst that could happen was him hearing a private conversation across town and then dealing with ringing in his ears hours later. He had been warned by his trainer that overuse could lead to deafness. Needless to say, James only used the ability when necessary.

Looking at the boy's jeans, James let out a small chuckle. "Sure, kid. No problem. Just walk around a couple of times and it's all good." Just to get the blood flowing. "You want me to walk with you, or do you prefer going by yourself?" It was at these times that James talked to his students, making small talk outside of abilities and control and training. He tried to get to know his students on a personal level, provided they wanted him to.

[Dennis Pautler]

Making the kids do laps seemed like a common practice. He’d heard of it before from friends, and his last trainer had made him do it, too; the only reason he hadn’t brought any exercise-friendly clothes for this session was because he wasn’t sure what his new one would have him do, and he was also kind of hoping he wouldn’t be the same, too. Oh, well; trainers must’ve all had the same idea. Maybe they shared notes.

“I don’t think the mental trainers make their students do laps,” he said. “What do they do, anyway?”

Sometimes he wondered what it was like to read minds or stuff like that – it’d be much different, that was for certain. He knew that they stayed inside the training rooms for their sessions, while he and the other kinetics, the winged metas, the shifters, they all stayed outside. He couldn’t deny that it was entertaining to watch.

“Sure. Wanna race?” Dennis laughed. He was joking, really, and he was still in his jeans, but he wondered if James would consider it. Dennis was still trying to figure out what kind of trainer he was.

[James Lawrence]

As it seemed to be a common exercise regime, James adapted physical activity into his own training sessions. He wasn't huge on it; the young trainer was still testing out and experimenting with different methods to see what would yield the best results. Which was what the notebook was full of; notes from various trainers. Dennis' guess was definitely accurate.

He chuckled, a hand lifting from his side to stroke his chin in thought. What did the mental trainers do to help their students? Mind puzzles? Expanding the brain and knowledge? "To answer honestly, I have no clue. But my guess would be puzzles and other brain exercises." Sudoku maybe? All were guesses at best.

He'd never paid much attention to the divide between mental and physical abilities, having a physical ability himself. James had done his time, run his laps, and graduated. The system didn't change much.

Looking down at his own pair of dark wash jeans, a grin appeared on the New Yorker's face. "It wouldn't be much of a race, considering we're both in jeans." He pointed out. "We could prepare for next time."