Bro Time

Posted on Sun Oct 15th, 2023 @ 20:17 by Jonathan Monroe & Cameron Johnston

Chapter: All Hallow's Eve
Location: Avalon Institute: Garage
Timeline: A few days after "Steal from the Rich"
1893 words - 3.8 OF Standard Post Measure

Jonathan had mostly isolated himself from faculty and students since the attack. He'd played his part in securing the old castle and making sure everything was okay, but aside from that he'd kept mostly to himself.

Losing control of his powers had inevitably resurfaced several old traumas. Mainly flashbacks to his teenage years and the initial days after discovering his mutant gene. The incident with Becky, and being unable to go with her to the hospital, prime among them. Now he'd lost control and destroyed an entire building by accident. Those feelings of self-doubt, of vulnerability, were back again.

Avoidance, however, could only last so long. Even in the one place almost nobody ever went: the garage filled with old motor vehicles. He wanted to work on his bike, despite the nagging anxiety of spending time around highly flammable things. But that was why he figured inviting Cam was a sensible option: there was no way the other guy was going to let Jonathan set fire to anything in there.

Mulling over the state of the exposed motorbike engine, he finally sighed loud enough for Cameron to hear. "You ever wonder if coming to a place like this was the right idea?" he asked.

It wasn't often that Cameron could be deemed as reclusive as his fellow mutant, being every bit the classic extrovert to Jonathan's more complex introvert. In the past, his response after any kind of tense situation had been to fling himself into the middle of whatever solution emerged, knee-deep in crisis management and vigilant to the recovery of those around him. This time had been different. Partially responsible was the departure of his off-sider, though he didn't talk a lot about Reagan's decision to rebury herself rather than risk exposure other than to be outwardly reassuring that he completely supported her decision. More insidious was the attempt to process how the entire calamity had left him feeling different, oddly less drained than he'd expected and far more clear-headed than seemed reasonable. Like everyone else, he'd spent time trying to process what the surge had revealed and, for once, hadn't balked at the solitude of grease and motor oil. He'd gone almost an entire half hour without speaking, which was practically unheard of, though he wasn't without an immediate quip as response for Jon's question.

"I barely passed high school, there's not many days where I don't wonder if being on this end of academia isn't just screwing over a bunch of kids." It probably wasn't what the other man meant but, as he pulled his head out of the Camaro's hood, Cameron wiped off his hands on a rag and squinted at his friend without compunction. "But then I take a look around and realise my shitty spelling's not the worst thing they're having to deal with right now."

"Like getting attacked in their home..." Jon nodded glumly. "Or their powers going haywire. We were lucky none of them were hurt." A small fragment of fortune in their favour, among a steaming pile of everything else that had gone on the last week or two. "Maybe we are screwing over a bunch of kids. Putting them in danger like that."

"We're not the ones putting them in danger, Jon."

There was a sternness to Cameron's tone that didn't appear very often.

"This goon with a god complex, coupled with opportunistic bigots, are the real threat. What's the alternative?," he continued, tone softening a smidgen. "Trying to fit into mainstream schools? Never having an opportunity to learn how to control their powers and use them responsibly? Growing up never knowing that they're part of a wider community that will go into bat for them when they need it? You know half of the anxiety I'm hearing from them isn't around being attacked again but whether or not the school will get closed down. This is all some of them have."

"How did the whole 'controlling our powers' thing work out for us so far?" Jon half-snapped, then withdrew it quickly. "I know, I know," he raised his hand before Cam could even counter that question. They both knew the answer, as much as it was difficult to process. "We were lucky, I guess. Mostly. I can't imagine if my powers had gone supernova here instead of somewhere else. A lot more people could have gotten hurt. So, yeah, I feel pretty guilty...but also a little bit worried that it could have been way worse."

Leaning his weight forward on both palms, Cameron peered into the engine and allowed his gaze to rove. "Do you know how many deaths are caused by traffic accidents every year?" It was a rhetorical question and not one that Cameron himself tried to invent a number for, the point spoke for itself. "Compare it to how many fatalities have been caused by Jon Monroe losing his shit and I think you'll find that people being in possession of extremely dangerous potential that they eventually lose control over isn't just a mutant thing." He glanced across. "It's certainly not just a 'you' thing."

"That's what I mean, though. We're dangerous. I can burn down buildings. If you weren't careful you could run someone over...I don't even want to think what that would look like." The prospect of Cam hitting someone at Mach three wasn't a pretty one. "I thought I was starting to get to a place where I felt like I had a grip on it, you know? And then when we lost control, even for just a few minutes - I suppose it just proved that we really are still dangerous, no matter how much control we have. And they hardly go around handing out the equivalent of driving licences for mutants."

"I think the current situation involves extenuating circumstances," Cam pointed out. "None of which were instigated by you." Straightening up again, the mutant continued whilst focused on his task, "Look, I get where you're coming from but if you reduce it down to a mixture of preparation, mitigation, intention and opportunity, you're not much more dangerous than a toddler with a box of matches. The fact that you spend so much time agonising over it does a lot more to prevent problems than you give yourself credit for. This whole shit-show was something else."

"Ain't that the truth," Jon sighed. It really was the chaos that Cam described. But a toddler with a box of matches could still burn down a house. He looked at the tools laid out in front of him. Like a strange sort of metaphor, he recognised that each of them had a purpose; the spanner had a role, the wrench another. Maybe that was what he was missing. He looked up at Cam. "Listen, Claire's always on about teamwork and preparation, right? Well, if these bad guys are capable of turning our strengths into chaos...maybe we should work out some way of working together to mitigate it." He tapped the spanner against the wrench. "Case in point: if I were to turn into a fireball again, we should figure out a system for someone to stop it spreading. Like someone who can move so fast he could do some sort of vortex-air-trapping thing?"

If there was one thing Cameron had always been enthusiastic about, to the point of exuberance some might say, it was training in tandem with other Knights. It wasn't lost on either of them that his main collaborator had turned tail and headed back towards the comfort of obscurity, which may have made the subject matter a tender point had it not been so immediately intriguing. Part of his wish list included a friction-resistant suit, a little more hardwearing than what he currently made do with. It wouldn't be too far-fetched to suppose that whatever Claire and Phoebe had in the works would also provide him with some measure of flame and heat protection. "So run actual rings around you," he jested with a grin.

"Whatever cooks your goose, Cam." Jon grinned back. "But I'm serious - the way those Sherwood Rangers combined abilities and covered each other...the only way we can match them is if we learn from that." He shrugged, trying to hold back the momentary excitement at the prospect. "Like how Kaylee and I showed with the handshake. It's got to help, right?"

A ghost of a smile twitched at Cameron's lips. "Sure, absolutely." He bent low again, as much to hide his amusement as to check the spark plug he'd just changed. "First rule of combat, holding hands."

"Holding hands with you? Rip my arms off..." Jonathan snorted. "At least act like you think it's a good idea, Cam."

"I did not say it was a bad idea." A hand held up cautioned accuracy on that point. "The part about working together is absolutely spot on and I am down for helping you any way I can."

Carefully, Cam unhooked the strut and allowed the hood to lower gently before turning back to his friend.

"I'm just trying to figure out where we could practise that wouldn't wind up leaving very little room for error."

"Hmph. I'll ask Claire for a hazard chamber or something..." Jon snorted. "I'm not saying we take a load of risks or anything. If it helps, I'll even ask Phoebe to tell us if we're about to blow something up. But at least let's agree to start trying to figure this out. I just...I can't take the chance that we screw everything up again."

"Consulting the boss ladies is probably a good place to start. We'll sort something out," Cam added as reassurance, patting his friend's arm as he moved past. "I get the feeling the Knights will be putting in a few extra yards as it is. Couple of new members, significant escalation of threat..." Buried beneath his flippancy was a distinctive note of hesitancy. Cameron had to wonder if even Phoebe was capable of figuring out what came next. "And here I thought the biggest challenge was getting through Spooktober with a bunch of sugar-hyped kids."

"Sugar-hyped kids with powers," Jon added. "But yeah. I guess we've got to keep working at it. Hopefully it'll be easier than fixing a bike..."

"Bound to be," Cam quipped. "I mean, it's just us taking on every person on the planet who thinks we're a bunch of freaks intent on pissing in their proverbial Cornflakes, ought to be a piece of cake, right?"

"If only we all had your boundless optimism," he retorted. "After the week we've had? I think we could use a little more of that, buddy."

"Well, all I've got right now is boundless hunger pangs. You coming up or you need me to bring you back a doggy bag?" By now, Cameron had adjusted to the fact that most of his friends struggled to keep up with how many meals he tended to cram into a day.

"I'm good. I should probably catch up with Claire. And prepare for classes..." Another distraction he had to figure out a way of managing. "...and try not to eat all the cheese, Rebecca will be upset..." he trailed off as he realised Cam had already left. "Aw, damn."