Fix Me Up

[Michael Jones]

The time of day that he hated was upon him now. For most kids in school, it was the school part. They absolutely didn't like the classes or something along the lines of learning. He liked classes well enough, but training was a little harder. All in all though, it was when he was alone in his room that things got a little bit…dicey. He knew he had things he had to like homework, so he’d start in on that. Michael rummaged in his backpack, grabbing onto his mechanical pencil, and then glanced at his math homework. They were all pretty basic problems, and the answers to the odd questions were in the back of the book. He didn't want to miss any of the problems, however, or get any incorrect answers, so he would do his utmost to assure himself that they were done and that they were done well. He fiddled with the tip of the pencil, then nibbled on it a bit.

The problems were done, and that left him with a bit more time to do…something else. Anything before the task he’d have to complete sooner as opposed to later. He thought about his other homework. He had some English he could do, it was just quote analysis, and he just had to give his opinion on what they quote meant. The thing wasn’t due for a day or so, but he still worked on that next, avoiding something, quite obviously. This quote was a simple one, and he let a smile mar his features for a moment, before he settled in and started to scribble out his opinion on the idea that the quote had. No one else had to read it, as they had discussion-based classes and the teacher just checked to see that the homework was done, so he assumed that his handwriting didn’t have to be amazingly special. However, no matter how much scribbling he did, he couldn’t fight off the feeling that he knew exactly what he had to do, and exactly what he didn’t want to have to do.

The reason that training was pretty bad was because it encompassed his meta-power thing. His…which was nothing but destruction at it’s most pure form. He literally made things explode…and he couldn’t often protect himself from those blows. He didn’t really tell the instructors how many cuts and injuries he was getting through his own extra practice that they recommended, and he never really went to work in the pool, where explosions would be less of a problem, as the water’s sticky properties often made it hard to do anything bad to it, so he just got hurt. He didn’t even know how to swim anyways. Michael looked down at his body. The clothes hid them, but since he was alone he was able to remove his pants and get a good look.

After putting his homework away carefully, he stood up and removed the baggy pants slowly, so as not to damage any of the bandages there, but it seemed like they already were damaged anyways. He didn’t think he’d have to change ALL of them, but he supposed it must be done. The boy, now in a pair of boxers, grabbed what seemed to be a large box from under his bed. It was filled with medical supplies…he’d just bought a lot of them. He sat on the floor, legs spread out, and started unwrapping these bandages or taking them off. Beneath them were cuts, burns, bruises, and general abrasions and maladies caused by debris making contact with him. It was clear that it hurt him, as he wasn’t in front of anyone so he winced freely. Of course, he didn’t technically realize he’d left his door cracked open…so someone could get in if they wanted to.

[Mai Adaire]

At first glance, there would be no inkling that the dazed appearing brunette singing “Painting the Roses Red” was a lady on a mission. Maiella was a believer in the threads of fate, where there were reasons and coincidences for everything that happened to a person. It was why she had found herself at Hammel and with her very best friend, for instance.

A recent encounter with a colleague would have been another instance. Shared over a drink, Maiella learned of the plight of a recent student. Oh, there were many that reside in the institute coming from unfortunate circumstances. This particular one, as the recruiter was weaving the tale of his experience with one such student, however stirred something she had long buried away. It should be dead, she was certain of it and yet here the emotions resurfaced and the bitterness still as raw and open as the cold and empty phantom halls of the estate itself.

But there was a chance to do something about this one, for this one. It was a mission in life she took up after the greatest of losses. It took some prodding and questioning, but she managed to gather a little more information about the child and his residence. And that meant a humble request from the colleague in exchange…

The brunette stopped at the door, ceasing the happy Disney-inspired humming upon hearing the winces from the door opened ajar. Crap, what to do next? Burst in with every radiant energy in her pores? That would be the usual approach, but it was more fun than practical. And what if she startled him that he explodes? Or make her explode?

Not fun!
She tapped her cheek in thought, what would Velly do?

After drawing a blank on that matter, the woman decided to take the less boisterous approach. Maiella cleared her throat. “Michael?” She’d pause to hear some sort of response. Whether it was positive or negative, she would barrel through the next statement either way.

“Maiella Adaire, institute official~! Permission to come aboard?” With a salute to go with her words, despite whether or not he could see her from the open crack of the door.