Bon matin, brothertruckers. (ouvert)

[Thomas Lajoie]

Breakfast.

Thomas couldn’t separate himself from the idea that breakfast was either for saturday morning cartoons or responsible adults with jobs. He hated breakfast. His appetite was non-existent after waking up, and the energy it took to get ready early enough to join the school for breakfast was not often something he opted into. However, if he was ever going to win over the administration into letting him train, he had to start exuding professionality. First step: a healthy breakfast.

Getting ready wasn’t as arduous as he expected. He threw on some straight leg jeans, a v neck and a cardigan and ran down to join his colleagues. He still wanted to look stylish, but thought the cardigan gave him a weird sense of false authority. He tripped nearly twice and was successful in removing sleep from both eyes before he arrived. Upon entering the hall, however, he came upon a horror all on it’s own.

Pancake day.

What a disgusting thought. Super sweet, carb heavy dough to fill you with enough sugar to keep you crashing through the day. Reluctantly, he got in line, grabbed an orange juice, and grabbed two pancakes for his plate. They were a lot thicker than the ones he had back home, as this style pancake wasn’t popular with pompous Quebecers. Crepes only. This thought of chastising his people left as soon as he saw the carmel-coloured syrup being poured on the pancakes before him. It was clear upon sight that the sticky substance on his food was not at all what it should be. This concoction had never seen a tree, or a cabin de sucre, but was a derivative of a plant used all to well in North America.

Corn syrup.
Maple flavoured corn syrup.

An overdramatic eye roll followed this discovery, and he marched over to a seat and put it down. With the care of a surgeon, he cut a small triangle from the circle before him, and pierced it with his fork. He raised it up, brought it to his mouth, and suppressed a gag. This had to happen. He had to eat, and be a normal, responsible American for once.

”Yahoo.” he whispered, before placing it behind his teeth and pulling the fork from his lips. As the pastry hit his tongue, he was surprised at what he found.

It wasn’t half bad.

[Evgeny Demidov]

The mighty life of a pensioned man. And the even mightier life of being a pensioned man with very good pension. Everyone was so entitled to envy him. Evgeny didn't had to work a day more in his life, he could save up and buy a flat, with cash, in a little more than a year, and that was if he didn't use his life savings from the military days. Evgeny was a happy man. And as happy men do, he decided he didn't want to worry about anything anymore and left all those stability and real state plans for some other day and decided to live in a Hotel room. That's right, a Hotel room. The fanciest he found in Pilot Ridge, actually, which wasn't that fancy at all, but it was fine.

Then why in earth was he, this morning, having breakfast at Hammel's cafeteria when having all that nice hotel food? Well, he had to bring a final set of papers and sign his contract as teacher. And why in earth was he now a teacher after being pensioned for life? He was bored. He had seen almost every corner of the world and learned dreadful secrets of almost every important country, he wanted a taste of 'normal'. A taste he was not going to enjoy for much, he thought, but a taste anyway. His contract was only for a year, he could leave afterwards and find a new home. Heck, he could leave before if he wanted, he could easily pay whatever happened to him for breaking his contract and just go on with his life.

Yes, he loved his life.

And life was now offering pancakes. Super sweet, carb heavy dough to fill you with enough sugar to keep you crashing through the day. Deliciousness! He thought as he got in line. His mouth was salivating, it had been a heck of a long time since he ate pancakes. He had been off the Russian barracks for barely a month and in that time he had several shopping sprees, visited most world-class he found online and partied in every internationally acclaimed disco he had heard of, and yet, he had not eaten a pancake. As he watched the pancake in his plate before looking for a place to sit, he cursed at himself for not having done so before.

Now, decisions. He looked around the cafeteria. Any other thirty years old man would have remembered his high-school life at the moment. The life-or-death-kind decision that was to choose a sit in the cafeteria. But Evgeny was not your average man. To start, Odarennyĭ was not your average high-school, and for seconds Ev was not shy and after living a life filled by pressure and the constant thought that you may die painfully, there was nothing that made him nervous anymore. Some field work might do the trick. He started walking through the tables to find a good spot, analyzing every person like any good intelligence scout would do. When someone whispered very slowly 'yahoo', the decision was made, and so, in a quick second, Ev had already scanned with his power the boy up and down. A second later his intelligence report conclusions were already in his mind.

"Hellos." Evgeny smiled broadly as he took a seat in front of the stranger. "I know every single staff member in this school." Lie. But it seemed funny to say. "And you're not a student. And it's not visiting hours." Are there visiting hours here? "What is your business at my school?" He, very uncarefully, sliced a piece of pancake and placed it in his mouth. Heaven. "I'm just kidding man." He said as soon as he swallowed and placed a smile back in his face. "I'm Ev and you don't seem like a student, are you? I don't want to have a file on teacher-student harass when I haven't even started working yet."

[Thomas Lajoie]

Had Thomas had a normal high school experience, something like this might have been more daunting. But in this school, he was actually poised in somewhat of the “normal” “popular” group of students. At Hammel, the differences were much larger than that of an average high school. Physical manifestations of mutations - purple skin, wings, and horns - kept people feeling ostracized, so the brand name of your clothing didn’t come up as often. There were plenty individuals who were from international backgrounds, so Thomas rarely felt like much of a foreigner. Thomas’ disinterest in making a good impression also helped him, but these things combined made finding a seat a non issue.

He was careful not to sit with anyone, however, as to not seem to comfortable with the students he’d soon be teaching - despite some of them were his age. The bites of pancake were becoming larger, and he was finished one in no time. He could feel his stomach begin to protest his early morning meal, especially one of such sweetness, but it was nothing of concern. Especially when a man he had never seen before sat across the table from him and began asking questions.

”Um, good morning!” he said, a bit taken off by his wide smile and comfort with joining him without asking. He wouldn’t have turned him down or anything, but it was against all he was taught in etiquette school to just sit at someone’s table. Thomas kind of respected it. What a rebel.

Then things got weird. This man claimed to know every faculty member of the school, was instilling that “visiting hours” - a thing that didn’t exist - sat in protest of Thomas’ presence at the table, and then demanding his business at the school. He could only get out a few awkward stammers before the man conceded to joking and introduced himself. He wasn’t surprised the man thought he was a student, but he assumed now was the time to correct him.

”Nice to meet you, Ev.” he said, reaching a hand out to shake across the table. “You’d probably ‘ave trouble getting a file on ‘arassment, considering I’m a trainer here at the school. Well, not officially. My meeting is today. Nevermind. “ he said, embarrassed to be rambling. ”My name is Toemah” he said slowly, assisting in his understanding of the name. ”I’ve been a student here for a while, and never had you as a teacher! Are you new to the school?”

[Evgeny Demidov]

"Really? A trainer? That's nice." He, again very uncarefully, sliced more of his pancake and ate it like it was his last meal. "I am new, yes, and my meeting was like three days ago. You'll have no problem, they barely look at your files before they accept you." It wasn't like that really, but taking into account that most of his files were actually fake, though almost impossible to tell, perhaps Hammel wasn't as strict as it would seem as first. "That's a really weird name, Toemah." He said before sipping from his orange juice. "Do people call you Toe? Like in the feet's toes?"

Now, when someone talks about feet in the middle of a meal, you, most certainly, know they don't have any manners at all. He couldn't realize this, though, he was still a soldier in many ways, a very naive one and these pancakes were really good. Even if they weren't they were food, and when you spend a three weeks isolated in the middle of a tundra desert with only canned food, which happened several times to him and his team, you learn to appreciate anything that tastes sweet or still feels fresh.

"I had a partner called Semenov once." And now half his first pancake was gone. "Guess what we called him once someone realized what it sort of sounded like in English?" Ev laughed strongly but softly, covering his mouth a bit late for no one to notice his food in his mouth. "But no worries, I'm you'll do fine. Seem like a nice kid and I'm sure they love when students stay to teach, no? What subject do you mean by trainer, though, if you haven't gone to college?" He continued his pancake without stopping talking. "Oh, or you mean power training? You must be quite the savant to train others at such a young age."

[Thomas Lajoie]

This man looked as if he hadn’t eaten in a while. Not by his frame, he looked healthy enough, but by the vigor with which he ate his pancakes. Maybe he had gone to work out earlier and had worked up a hunger? Or maybe he isn’t used to being around food, like they say orphans behave soon after being adopted. Either way, it was fascinating, and between his quick speaking and even quicker (and sloppier) eating, Thomas was transfixed. It was “nice” that he was a trainer, eh? Seemed a spot patronizing, but this man seemed naive enough in his mannerisms to have meant no harm. It was reassuring at first to register that it was a breezy process, becoming a staff member. But he had no files, no credentials, and a sketchy history with the school as being a bit rambunctious. He began to roll this around in his head with heightening anxiety until “Ev” mentioned something about his name.

Yes, his name was not often heard, and as soon as the man in front of him reads his name anywhere, he’ll laugh at how familiar it is. But through a french accent on something and people lose their marbles. “It’s like Tomuss, but French.” he said, trying to demystify his name - oddly enough to a person who’s name was Ev. “Yah, some people call me toe. Kinda gross, but you get used to it.” Especially when you spend your days manipulating people’s blood.

Semenov seemed like a russian name. A partner. Was this man gay?! Not that Thomas is the type to make a judgement call, but what did he mean by partner? Who was “we”? His friends? This man did not make carrying a conversation easy, throwing out snippets of information and leaving them unfinished. He wasn’t sure he got the joke either. The only word that came to mind was seminary, and he wasn’t quite sure why that was funny, but laughed lightly to be courteous. He was bad at this “bro-y” kind of interaction. just the guys, hanging out, grabbing brews and making jokes about seminaries. What’s so funny about a seminary?!

Luckily, the topic changed, and he was more in his comfort zone. Before he could explain what he would be training students in, Ev caught on and figured things out. Although he never felt way ahead of his peers, he knew his grasp on his abilities exceeded those he went to class with, and he was learning more and more ways to manage his potentially fatal gift. So yah, maybe he was a savant! Ego +5.

But, being the gentleman he was, he remained humble in the face of praise. “Kinetics like me are very popular here. It doesn’t matter what you’re controlling, as long as you learn control. I think I can help teach alot of kids.”, he said, finishing his pancake.

[Evgeny Demidov]

"Oh yes, but they're so two-thousand late." Who knew? Ev listens to Black Eyed Peas... "What do you control, then? Oh no, don't tell me, let me guess!"

When there are just a couple of old Monopoly games, very few porn magazines and very few things to do, like it usually was in any station that Ev happened to be stationed, one of the most popular games among his unit was guessing games. As simple as it sounded, it was just about trying to guess someone else's whatever. Now, taking into account that Evgeny was the only one in intelligence before entering black ops, something most considered cheating, he was really good at the game, often winning the couple of beers they smuggled inside to use as prize. Of all the categories that the game had, about sixty-something, the most difficult one was probably guessing the pubic-hair-style of the last person the other person had slept with. Really, it was a challenge. The second most difficult was the one he had happened to propose to his new acquaintance, Toe: guessing someone's meta ability.

"Let's see..." He moved on to his second pancake. "You're not a pyro. Maybe electricity, but let's leave that for later. Not telekinetic either." Something strange about the clichés, is that they happened to be right most of the times, and Toe didn't seem to fit in any of those clichés just yet. "I bet is something unpopular. I would say unique but I've seen them all, really." Well that's a good idea... Evgeny decided to, well, cheat. If he was going to present himself for a teaching application, he had to be carrying his Curriculum Vitae. So, focusing his ability, he saw the boy in his entirety. Nothing. Not a single sheet of paper, not even a flashdrive where to carry digital documents. Really? There was something sketchy, he had to be lying, but the years of experience didn't flag any typical lying reflex when he talked, so either he was a good liar, or dumb enough to not carry his CV when applying for a job. "Summoning. It has to be summoning, right? Because you're not carrying anything with you to your supposed interview and you should have brought at least your Curriculum Vitae. Though, thinking about it... That's not really kinetic, is it?"

[Thomas Lajoie]

Seriously, was this stranger trying to confuse him intentionally?

Being two-thousand and late to something is not a phrase Thomas was familiar with, and he spent the time Ev used to muster up a guess of his powers to think about it. Where the students “late” for having kinetic powers? Or calling him toe? He could tell it was a caddy insult, and the slightly mocking tone Ev took made Thomas think he was quoting something, but regardless, he was clueless. He made a mental note to google it, or ask one of the more popular kids what it meant later. There was still a level of discomfort between the two of them, as there was obviously a lot this man was keeping from him. He would be kind, he decided, and pull out this man’s life story with his charm.

He spread a smile as his guesses kept coming, and raised an inquisitive eyebrow when the man noticed he was without a resume. Had he not been in a cafeteria, right now would have been a great time for a headdesk. Who forgets a resume to a new job? “Ah, well, the school knows my life better than I do. They don’t need it on paper.” he noted, believing in what he said after it came out of his lips. The school probably had all of his past job, volunteer, and hobby information documented in a file somewhere. “I apologize if you ‘ave a week stomach, as you’re eating. I’m ‘emokenetic. I control blood.” he said, mustering up the biggest, cheesiest grin he could manage to take away from the morbid, disgusting power he just revealed to the man.

“Am I correct in assuming you too ‘ave a power?”

[Evgeny Demidov]

Ev nodded with the fact that Hammel probably had a better fact on Toe than whatever he came up with. Meta schools are like that, stricter than the government. Not stricter than intelligence agencies but close enough for a comparison to be made in fair grounds. Ev was now halfway through his second pancake and it still tasted like heaven, he couldn't get tired of it.

"Blood?" Ev laughed in a mocking way. "I once so a girl hidrokinetically control her own vomit." He joyfully continued eating, like if such body fluids were normal topic of conversations when eating. And as matter of fact, they sort of were back in the barracks. "See, she got intoxicated by some shrimps and when she was starting to feel bad, she sort of threw up via her powers and dropped the thing in a dumpster." God, this tastes so good. "It was a good night. Lots of laughs."

And that was it. Second pancake gone. Sad, it was the last one too. Evgeny drank what remained of the orange juice in a single movement and sighed in relief of a good meal while looking at his empty plate.

"Of course I do." He said after Toe's inquiry of his power. "How did you think I know you don't have a CV with you?" It had always been difficult to explain how his powers worked to other people, and when he did, they always wonder if he can see them naked with it and felt awkward afterwards because he actually can. "I can see a lot of things with it. It's called Spatial Awareness."

[Thomas Lajoie]

Thomas’ was kind of relieved to hear him scoff off blood as insignificant. Most people winced, or went “Well, you mean water right?” or just turned green. This was nice. Actually, Ev was a refreshing kind of person. You could tell he was holding back, but he was genuine with his emotions. If he felt something, you saw it right away - no guessing, no games. And he certainly wasn’t an eyesore. Thomas’ had his own kind of spatial recognition. Although he wasn’t brilliant at it yet, he could feel the blood in the area nearby. Kind of mentally map out how it moved, where it was, and how much he had to work with. The amount of muscle tissue storing copious amounts of blood in and around Ev’s abdominals were -

... Stop fantasizing about strangers, Thomas. That makes you creepy. Don’t fit the French creep stereotype.

Luckily, this bout of temporary arousal awareness was cut short by a very unfortunate story. Thomas could just imagine “them” all, at some grimy pub, singing weird songs and slamming down wooden mugs of beer. Why this suddenly became a villain scene in a Disney movie is beyond him, but he had the image strong in his mind. A brazen woman pulling vomit out of her stomach through her abilities, conveniently manipulating it into a garbage can. He could imagine them all cheer, and someone shouting out “The next round is on Seminary!” and the group laughing in unison.

A slight shutter ran through his body at the thought, but he let it pass. Vomit was way grosser than blood, any day. His signature eyebrow raise of curiosity came out for an encore as he explained his power. Spatial Awareness. So he could... effectively see everything around them. GAMETIMEEEE!

“Oooh! ‘ow many people are in dis room? NO WAIT, ‘ow many pancakes?!” Thomas wasn’t even sure his powers worked that way, but he figured he’d try. If you can’t be a kid and play games at breakfast, then when could you?

[Evgeny Demidov]

((spencer, i must congratulate you. i love you and i love Toemah. really. pure awesomeness. REALLY))

"Really?" Ev leaned back on his chair while remembering the old good times. "I stopped playing that game since I was eighteen. Maybe nineteen. I'm way too good at it."

When you're on a very militaristic and strict meta school, there are few things besides powers that you can use to have a little fun. Not like they had much free time, it was just barely two hours or three after homework were done and mandatory sleep time was due, but still, meta-powers-games were very popular. Who could float longer while weight being added for flyers, who could turn on the most candles in the less time for pyros, etc. It was really some nice clean fun, and it served as extra-curricular power training, so if some accident happened, the staff would oversee it to make sure they would not stopped playing them.

"But ok, if it soothes you, I'll take a look around." Evgeny's definition of looking around, sometimes meant he would stay put and close his eyes, and this time it was what he did. And then he counted in his mind the pancakes, and just for fun, the people too. Not a minute had passed and he opened back his eyes. "Thirty-three people. Only sixteen are still eating pancakes and there are only twenty-three pancakes. thirteen are still untouched. And one of them..." He pointed to the cafeteria ceiling. "is for some reason up there." He looked at the thing, stuck in the ceiling like those cartoons when someone making a pizza threw it upwards and accidentally it got stuck there. "I wonder how it got there..."

[Thomas Lajoie]

^{((Sorry bout the length. And shush! I want to BE Ev.))}

Things were about to get serious. As Ev began to focus, Thomas turned his head slightly, and with wide eyes waited, and braced himself, for the display of power that was about to occur. He wasn’t sure how it would work. Would the whole room shudder with a wave of energy as it was being surveyed? Maybe everyone would just have the hair on the backs of their neck stand up straight. MAYBE, Ev would burst a blood vessel in his eye and it would squirt everywhere! OR -

But before he could conjure up a more gruesome, intricate plan for the display of abilities Ev was going to demonstrate, Ev just did it. He just said the number of people, and the number of pancakes, inside the room. It was so simple, and so effective, like he was just reading the lines out of a book. Thomas’ wide eyes fixed on the pancake above his head and couldn’t help but feel disappointed. This man could use his powers and you wouldn’t even be able to tell. Thomas, on the other hand, had to choreograph his life in order to throw a drop of blood here or there. He refused to accept this. No, if this man could do it, Thomas would show him just what a non-spectacle his abilities were too.

“I can ‘elp with that” he said cooly, bobbing his head like it was no big deal. He bit the inside of his cheek, and he could taste the metallic fluid almost instantly. Cheeks healed quickly, and no one had to see it happen, so it was often his ideal place to draw blood. The scars were there to prove it. In an attempt to make his movements disguised, he yawned aloud, and stretched his arms, one heading up and the other down, with a flick of his wrist at the apex of the stretch to move the blood. The blood shot up, but reached the height of its toss just before the pancake, and began to fall once more.

Being the Gross Gus he was, Thomas caught the drop back in his mouth like nothing happened, and looked around. His plate! It was disposable, so he grabbed it and made a dramatic motion in throwing it in a bin nearby. The motion sent the blood up, but instead of sneaking in between the pancake and ceiling as he planned, it just cut the pancake in half where it was. The blood returned to it’s starting point, his mouth, and he grunted with dismay. That was it - this was beyond showing Ev what he was made of. This pancake had to die.

He stood on the bench he was sitting on, then stepped onto the table they were eating at. He moved to one end, and with a graceful movement, swept his hand in front of his mouth and began to move it in a Tai-Chi fashion before him. The blood emerged as soon as his hand passed his lips, and pooled into a sort of small orb in front of his torso. Without hesitation, he bent his knees, and shot up, tucking his knees into his chest, and twisting. The blood rose up, flattened, and moved between the pancake and ceiling like a spatula. Thomas landed a backflip, facing the table, and made another grand motion to move the blood from the air, into a drain on the cafeteria floor. He then grabbed Ev’s plate, caught the pancake halves, and put it before the man before sitting down.

Once seated, he realized how horribly unnecessary all that was. Who does that?! Who actually slings blood at a pancake on the ceiling, and offers it to a stranger? “Ah, perfect! Would you mind using your urine to bring me to class?” HEADDESKHEADDESKHEADDESK. Thomas blushed intensely, and grabbed the plate, throwing it to the garbage as well.

“I’m sorry. That’s disgusting. I shouldn’t ‘ave... I mean, I...” he mumbled, his face growing warmer. “Subject? You said you teach... ah... what subject?” he articulated, his voice cracking before the first word made it out of his mouth.

[Evgeny Demidov]

"Why would you..." Ev started mumbling as Toe's circus act started, but felt quiet when noting the man was not really going to pay attention.

And good god, circus was nowhere near a correct comparison. What Toe started doing in front of all the eyes of the cafeteria seemed more like something coming plainly out from a comedy film. More like the second. It was so strange, even for Ev who was outside most social conventions and whatnot. Oh, but when the pancake was put in front of him, a terrified expression was all his reflexes got out of him, because every other skill, such as speaking, was lost while the brain processed what Toe had been doing for what seemed minutes. Does he really need to do all that to do... well... that piece of nothingness? Is he supposed to teach others how to control their powers with that method?

"I..." Evgeny started answering after the pancake was far gone. "P.E. Yes..." He let out a small sigh while raising an eyebrow at his breakfast companion. "Out of what cartoon exactly did you get out?" He wondered if the same feeling of awkwardness Ev was sensing was felt by the boy, and by the surrounding people who were still shocked and looking at both of them. "I don't even think the Avatar kids danced so much. Have you tried not doing it? Or plainly doing it in your mind?" Evgeny was no expert in kinetic powers, after all his power was mental and they worked very differently. "Every person has a different way to connect to his power, but believe me, that's the lest effective one I've ever seen." It was standard in Odarennyĭ that every meta learned to use their powers without using much concentration nor physical movement, but if one had to be sacrificed, it was better to stay put and concentrate than to dance all over the place. Attracts less bullets, they used to say. "You're concentrating too much on your dancing and not on your bloodbending. Ever thought of being a dance teacher?" Ev grinned. "I'd go! Seemed like fun."

[Thomas Lajoie]

Physical Education was by far Thomas’ least favourite class. There is this sense of gender policing that occurs in gymnasiums and locker rooms - all the guys show off the extent of their masculinity, and all those who don’t measure up are reminded how different they are. Thomas was strong, this was true, but his grace and agility left him excelling in gymnastics and hurdles, not football and weightlifting. So, when he heard that Phys Ed was this man’s specialty, he couldn’t help but feel a knot grow in his stomach, remembering a strong feeling of inadequacy he battled with for a long time.

And the feeling of inadequacy only grew, ladies and gentlemen. Thomas’ cheeks had barely stopped flushing when the man opened his criticism on what just occurred. His cheeks flared up again when the cartoon was mentioned, and as the man asked several questions about what he had tried and not tried in regards to controlling his power. The knot in his stomach grew exponentially as he was told his display was the least effective one Ev had ever seen. This sense of guilt and inferiority shifted into an almost angry state when he told Thomas how he should go about adjusting himself, and that maybe he should teach dance. He inhaled shakily, and calmly explained to the man his thoughts in English.

“Per’aps it’s different with you, Ev. Your brain... it understands whats around you... it is in control. But blood doesn’t answer to your brain. It answers to your ‘eart. Your blood doesn’t flow because you think it, it just moves. And so do I.” he explained, clearly shot down a couple notches on the confidence scale. He felt defeated, and didn’t really want to be subjected to more criticism. He had an excuse to leave, and he was going to use it.

“I’m afraid I should go prepare for my interview. It was nice meeting you, Ev.” he said, standing from the table and nodding his head, avoiding eye contact completely. “‘ave a nice day.” he mumbled, and left the cafeteria. Hopefully his breakfasts got better, as opposed to getting worse.

Damn pancakes.

[Evgeny Demidov]

Even if being such an intelligent person, and experienced at intelligence, there were occasions when a conflict rose inside the man's head when it was time to judge someone. In the left side of his brains, cold facts such as tone of voice, gestures and direction of the eyes could tell him one thing, when in the other side, just guts and instincts may tell something different. This time, however, both parts of his brain were telling him the same thing: something Ev said or did had made Tow uncomfortable and it was fairly obvious.

Even though he had no idea what it was, even after his speech about how his heart control his blood, he still didn't get it at all. Perhaps he was just too naive. He intended to apologize, he truly did, but there was something in the boy's way to not look at Ev on the eye that told him it wouldn't matter, not at the moment. So, with a little bit of pain in chest, and a knot in his throat, he let it go.

"Take care, man!" He smiled at Toe as he left, waiting an appropiate moment for him to get up and do the same in the next couple of minutes.