Rplog Badaboom

Log Info

Title: Bada-Boom
Emitter: -
Characters: Sasha, Jerry, Jack and Miranda
NPCs: -
Place: The Student Union
Time: May 06, 2010
Summary: The kids discuss pool, until Miranda's bully incident sets off Jerry's power and he almost brings down the house.


It's nothing serious coming from the pool tables this evening, really. Though, the telltale small crowd of crumbs could be a clue by the edge of one of the tables as Jack Bowen leans forward, alone at a table, to take a shot. He's got a pretzel rod clamped in his jaws, sometimes moving it from one side of his mouth to the other, occasionally chowing down on it, which will be causing the noise and the crumbs. Stupid school rules. He hits the cut dead on, but it goes wide and misses the 10 ball he was aiming at.

Miranda comes in carrying her own pool cue and smiles as she sees Jack. "Hey there." Her voice is soft, not a whisper, just… not very loud. She gives him a smile. "The rental cues here aren't too bad, but you might do better if you got a cue of your own.."

Sasha's sitting on a couch in front of a coffee table. There's a half-eaten burger and fries sitting on the table, along with a stack of Sasha's homework. She's been staring at it for the past five minutes, trying to ignore the distraction of her schoolmates. Finally, she smacks her books closed with a frustrated 'ARGH' and stands up. "Nothing more tonight. Hit the wall."

Jerry has been to the school store to replace a notebook and now he wanders by, drawn by the sound of clacking plastic. He approaches the table opposite from where Sasha is sitting, and so doesn't see her for some time. He picks up a cuestick as he rounds the table, and tests the heft of it. He taps the table as Jack misses his shot and quirks a smile. "Nine ball in the middle pocket," he declares, dipping the stick in and tapping the nine with it, carooming it off the six and dropping it in the middle pocket. "See, now aren't you glad there's no money on the table, Jackie?"

When the other approach the table, Jack backs away, eats a bit of the pretzel rod before taking it out of his mouth. "If I was a bettin' man, Jerry," he says, tipping his hat up as the ladies approach. "Evening. And I've been meanin' to get my own, but it's been slipping my mind. "Miranda, Sasha, how's the night seein' you ladies?" he says, ever amiable. "Shoot some stick?"

Miranda lowers her eyes demurely. "I wouldn't mind playing a little… I just started playing last week and could use the practice." She looks over at Jerry, smiling. "If you wanted, we could put five bucks on it and call it the cost of a lesson? Since Jack doesn't seem to be the betting type, that is?"

"Go ahead, be suggestive why don't you," Sasha tells Jerry. She steps aside from the table, leaving her bag and her school books behind as she goes towards the table. "Wrap this, play teams?" she suggests. "Me and Miranda against Jerry and Jack?" she suggests. "Or we could get another table."

Emerging from the school store comes the unhappily feline female Jonathan. Sure, the bookstore's no Barnes & Noble, but it's close at hand, and it has a sci-fi book she hasn't read, and which is now in her hand. Her tail twitches lightly in anticipation as she heads in the direction of the snack bar. She glances over at the pool tables, but then continues on to the snack bar.

Jerry's color rises as Sasha speaks, and he grips the cue stick as he steps back. A moment, a breath. "Teams are good," he says, looking to Jack for confirmation, the clad-in-black boy squaring his broad shoulders.

Indeed, Jack's rented cue looks a little bowed. He's going to pay for that dearly. But, his lack of good shots so far hasn't revealed any temper he might have. "Okay by me, then," he says. Though, his head turns as a flash of tail…the feline kind, passes by. "Hey Jon," he calls out. Jon does live in his dorm along with Muranda, after all. "Fancy some hanging out time?" He doesn't call the felinoid his usual slang names; apparently, he can be taught.

Miranda looks over at Jon and gives her a smile. "Don't think we've met yet. I'm Miranda." She looks at the guys. "So, shall I rack the balls?" She seems completely unaware of any innuendo. And given the conservative nature of her dress, that just might be the case.

Sasha winks at Jerry, cracking a smile as she circles around, fetching her drink and her half a burger from the coffee table. She's got a bite of burger in her mouth and nearly chokes at Miranda's joke. Dear god, is she really that sheltered? She coughs a few times before recovering.

Jonathan hesitates a moment at Jack's invitation, clearly considering turning it down outright, but thinks better of it. "Yeah, just a sec," she says in her very slight Southern drawl. She turns to the snackbar to order a soda and a hot dog, and once those are ready, she'll drag a chair over towards the area of the pool table.

Jerry flushes at the wink, uncertain. What, is that a signal? Things are good, things are bad, she's out to get me, she liked it, WHAT? he thinks, his mind a hormonal stew of unbalanced emotions that somehow don't leak out to his carefully schooled lazy smile. "Hon, you can polish the cue later if you like," he casually says, corralling the balls on his end and rolling them towards Miranda for, ahem, racking. Jon definately gets his attention for several seconds, he not having seen her around before, and it's a bit before he can tear his eyes away from, well, /fur/.

There's a moment or two as Jack's eyes slide from one person to another, before a quick hand movement hides his eyes under the brim of his ever-present fedora, and he chews on the pretzel again. "So, Jon, you know Miranda, and this is Sasha and Jerry. This is Jon, one of mine," he explains. He steps out of Miranda's way, letting her rack. "Go get 'em, babe," he says to his dorm-mate.

Miranda is, perhaps, exactly that sheltered. Let's face it, her blouse and skirt combo covers everything. She even removes a delicate pair of white gloves, folding them and resting them on the edge of the table. When she bends over and racks the balls just /so/, lining them up perfectly. If an observer was determined, they MIGHT get a glimpse of ankle when she bends over, but that's about it.

"I thought that was a task best done ones self," Sasha replies to Jerry. She finishes up her burger and tosses the wrapper in the trash, stepping up and getting down a cue from the wall. As she holds it, a liquid metal slick slides over it, adjusting the length and curve of the thing, making it straight again. Sasha looks over to Jon, indicated by Jack. "Hey. Sasha," she says. Sasha's got her hair back, dressed casually in a tank top and skirt. Below the skirt her legs are squareish, obviously mechanical and covered in blue metallic plating. A matching scheme covers her arms up to the mid-bicep. Jon might actually recognize Sasha, if he follows the racing sports, but Sasha's not expecting it.

Jon frowns some at Jerry. "What?" she asks, tail giving a lash of irritation. "It's a book, okay? I like sci-fi." Yeah, deliberately misconstruing the look there. She takes a seat, pausing just before sitting on her tail to move it out of harm's way. "Uhm, yeah, howdy," she says after the introductions. For her part, she seems a bit curious about Miranda's outfit, and Sasha's legs, but tries hard not to be caught at either. "Nice trick," she says warily as the stick gets straightened out.

"Only if you're a loser," Jerry says calmly to Sasha, absently twirling the smooth wood. He steps back and waits for the break, eyes cutting to Jon. "One of yours, Jack? I didn't know you were building a harem?"

If Jack notices the ankle-flashing Miranda is giving off, he doesn't say a word, but there's a slight scowl and a light punch on Jerry's upper arm. "Ass," he says. "They live in m'dorm," he says. "I'm responsible." And a bit protective, it would appear. Oh, this team-up for pool is going to over like a lead kite, this time. "So, who's breaking this bad boy, anyway?"

Miranda smiles, "I'll let someone else break. I'm glad I ran into you, Jack. I was hoping to run into a friendly face. I had some… trouble the other night. Maybe I can walk back to the dorm with you and Jon?" She flashes the cat girl a warm and friendly smile. She, at least, is not put off by Jon's appearance.

Neither is Sasha, although it's a little unusual to have anybody as obvious different as herself in the room. If they were in public, she might feel overshadowed. As it is, she doesn't, and instead rolls her eyes. "We can decide who's in Jack's harem later. I'll break," she says. She leans in and takes the rack off the table, hanging it back up. She shoots and breaks, and manages to wind up sinking nothing. "Damn it," she mutters.

Another frown from Jon at the word 'harem,' but she focuses her anger by biting savage into the hot dog. As she crews, Miranda's words register and both expression and posture soften. "What kinda trouble? Definitely can walk back with you, no problem." Hero, no. Chivalrous, yes.

"Noted for it," Jerry says to Jack in response to the arm punch. He returns the punch. "Nursemaid," he says. His expression darkens at what Miranda says. "Wait, you need to be walked back /here/," he says, eyes cutting to look outside, then back to the group. "Who's gonna start some shit in here, except another one of us?" He takes his turn after Sasha. Nine-stripe in the corner pocket. Sinks. The next is a miss, though, and he steps back.

"A nursemaid with gainful on-campus employment," Jack retorts, fingers stained slightly blue from chalking his own pool cue. But, as Miranda speaks, Jack curbs the snark towards Jerry, his expression going scarily calm. "Trouble on campus? From who?" It's got that whole 'who do I get to drop an academic building on?' tone to the question.

Miranda sighs, "I ran into some other students that… well, don't think my kind belong here." She smiles sadly. "I don't scare off easily, but… I'm not walking around campus alone any more." She shrugs, "It's no big deal… I've had trouble with bullies before."

Miranda says "Twelve ball corner pocket. Eleven ball side pocket. Fourteen ball side pocket." She takes the shot, sinking all three balls just as declared, but the next shot doesn't line up the way she likes and she sighs. "Still don't have the changes coefficient of sliding friction from a worn table down," she mutters to herself."

"Your kind?" Sasha says with disgust. "Holy…." she starts. The shot's amazing and Sasha just gapes at it. No way she can do that, not without more practice. Sasha looks over at Jon. "You really think we're not safe here?" she asks with skepticism.

Jerry's nostrils flare and a light of real anger reaches his eyes. "Say fucking what? 'Your kind', in this place? What the fuck," he growls, voice low and hard. Little ripples of purple light play over the cue stick where his grip on it goes white-knuckled before he calms himself with some difficulty. His jaw unclenches. "Who?" he says. "I'll break this cur stick off in their ass."

Jon glances at Jerry briefly, but doesn't answer the question out loud. "So a couple of us walk with you, try to keep things with a low profile." A bite of hot dog and she considers before fully finishing the bite. "Maybe give things a chance to calm down and get over themselves, and no one has to get a building dropped on 'em, or a stick broken up their butt," she adds. "Look, what did they do?" she asks Miranda.

There's a moment of silence as Jack just stares. "What did they mean by your kind?" It's his turn to shoot, so by the time this is said, the cue's in his hand. "Isn't the whole point that we're supposed to be safe here, and we're finding out that…" Her kind? A bit of anger flashes in his gaze, and there's a small popping noise. When Jack looks down, he finds that the cue ball is now powder in his balled fist. "Sorry, kid," he says. "I…need to go wash my hand." And splash his face with cold water before his stack blows. Picking on a dame, and one of his charges, and Jack knows going off half-cocked now will only make things worse.

Miranda sighs, "My parents were villains. And I got hauled in once by the cops already… when I was in foster care, there was this guy who would harass me. He pushed me too hard, and I used a wireless taser I had made…. all it did was stun him, but I got in trouble with the cops, expelled, and another set of foster parents gave up on me. Anyway, one of the guys here tried to convince met to drop off by hitting me with a sonic attack… I have real problems with loud sounds. I'm building a set of earplugs, and I don't go out alone at night, and I'm fine. It's no big deal.

Sasha glares daggers at Jack. "So this is what you do when you're loosing? Bad sport," she says with a snort. Sasha turns and goes to find another cue ball. If she *can* around here. "What, Villains?" Sasha says, apparently having missed part of the story. "Your parents are *villains*?"

"Okay, see, I was hoping it was just name callin' or something like that," Jon says. "But a sonic attack like that? Nu-uh, that just ain't right." She glances over at Sasha, and then back to Miranda. "You a villain?" she asks the girl point blank. "'cause if you're not, then we've got no problem."

Jerry is allll ready to go off half-cocked, or fully-cocked, or whatever range of cocked one can be - his own power leaks out some more, setting up a gentle rolling vibration on the floor for a second until he damps it back, growling again. "Oh they need it, kitty, their kind always does. They calm right the fuck down once you break an arm or two, though. No prob," he says. He eye-widens at Miranda. "That's fucking cool. They jumped you just for /that/? Man, my second mailing address is the damn detention wing. I wanna have them jump /me/," he says with a steely smile. "Better keep outta range then, 'cause my power is related and I don't have that great a control over it even when I'm not pissed," he says to Miranda, shifting a bit just so she's not in line of sight to him.

Miranda sighs, "My parents were villains. They retired back in the early eighties, got married, had me… and a little over a year ago, were murdered by agents of Venom, a terrorist organization they had beaten more than once." She smiles bitterly, "Trust me, I'm no villain. I hate the idea of hurting people… well, except if I got my hands on a Venom agent, I'd make an exception." She swallows hard. "I… was the one who found my parents' bodies… and I have perfect memory. PERFECT. So -that- memory is always floating around, waiting to flash before my eyes." She wanders off a bit, returning with another cue ball. "So I keep my mind busy… like teaching myself to play pool, or building the perfect coffee maker."

Great. Now she's the bitch. Sasha frowns and crosses her arms. "Sorry," she says, "I've met plenty of lowlives just no real *Villains*, you know?" she looks down for a moment, "Fuck," she hisses. "Fuck fuck." She has her own flashback last night, a memory still fresher than she'd like to admit.

Jonathan glares at Jerry. "Don't call me kitty," she murmurs, almost in a growl. "And you know what, if you don't have that good of control, then maybe you should calming the hell down, huh? You're not gonna help anyone like that." She winces as Miranda speaks. "I…I wouldn't wish that on anyone," she says, some of her heat at Jerry leaving.

Jerry is a huge mixed bag of pure emotion right now, mostly anger, kept in line by a thin thread. One that snaps when Jon snaps at him, and the pool que in his hand explodes into a mist of fine slivers that thankfully rain down to the floor. He steps back, fists clenched, energy spillover radiating out from his as arcs of purple light. "Fuck.." he growls, trying to get control of himself, his shirt and shoes twisting like taffy until they burst apart and ffly to every corner of the student union, drifting down like confetti… Jerry backs off from people, and runs, stumbling out a door that stars as he passes by. Seconds later, the sound of car alarms comes from the parking lot as the ground quakes gently.

Miranda says "I only found out they had been villains after they died… I mean, mom was a housewife, dad was a college professor. Ok, having Mordred as my god father was a bit odd, but he wore black business suits and looked more like a very expensive lawyer than a villain. And I haven't seen him since I was eight." Then Jerry explodes, the sound making her flinch. "My… senses are much stronger than normal. Thank goodness he left the room." She sighs. "I'm sorry… I seem to have ruined everyone's evening… I should just go back to the dorm."

Sasha grinds her teeth. Yeah, she was profoundly stupid. She's annoyed Miranda and now she's got Jerry…what, freaking out? She clenches her mechanical fists and looks over to Jon, "Can you walk Miranda back?" she asks, desperate for some help, "I should check on Jerry."

Jonathan's fur ripples with anxiety as she realizes Jerry's close to the edge, and then over it. And she remembers only too late how -dangerous- people here can be. She flinches away from the exploding cue, then ducks bits of shoe. "Mine arse on a bandbox," she whispers softly at the display. "Uhm, yeah, let's get back to the dorm. I'll walk with you." Book and mostly forgotten soda are snatched up. "Good luck," she tells Sasha wryly.

Jerry does what he can to minimize the damage, that much can be said for him. He sprints across the union parking lot to that part of The Green beyond it, and lets go - the ground quakes, dirt billows around him, torn to dust and the dust torn to smaller dust by the conflicting kinetic shockwaves radiating off him. He goes to all-fours, panting, as he finally gains a measure of control, damping down the power inside him, locking it away again. Finally, a few people watching from the distance, he whews and rocks backwards onto his butt, chest and face streaked with dirt and his best pair of black running shoes in ruins back in the Union. "Fuck," is all he can say.

A few minutes after Jerry departs, Sasha comes bursting out of the doors to the student center. She looks around and starts running. Her strides get longer and then she leaps up through the air, taking a long arc and landing right near Jerry, in a crouch and leaving a dent in the dirt. She's got a helmet on now, with a visor that flickers with images on the inside. "Jerry?" she asks, tanding up. "What the hell?"

Jerry reverses, scrambles back, eyes wide. "Don't get too close!" he yells, as possibly she can feel the surges of energy off him, pulling and pushing at the same time. "I gotta.. I gotta think, get calm," he pants, almost hyperventilating. Not many people have seen him up close when he's like this, and he's perhaps disturbingly vulnerable. "Fuck!" he groans, jamming fists into his eyes and pounding his head, rocking back and forth as he tames the rampaging energy inside him, brimming over, fueled by every moving thing around him.

"God damn it Jerry!" Sasha snaps. She takes one step towards him, then steops. "I was freaking out last night but you don't have Claire to here to help you! You've just got me. So you gonna be some macho ass hole or are you gonna tell me what's up?"

Jerry snarls at the armored girl, only half-hearing what she says, the ground underneath him twisting into a spiral. "I don't have that great a.. control on my fucking power.. when I get mad, OK?!" he snaps, scrambling to his feet, the dirt on his clothes, hair and bare chest vibrating off into clouds of dust as he unleashes some more, controlled this time, controlled.. he clenches hands into fists again, breathes. "I don't wanna.. bring down the building…" he pants, at last.

"You're outside, not much chance of that," Sasha says. Sasha takes a couple steps back, giving Jerry a further berth. "Fine, I'll let you be," she says, turning and striding away.

Jerry folds his arms and watches the back of her. He opens his mouth. No, wait. Stop. I'm sorry. All that and more comes to his mind, but he's too embarrassed and proud at the same time. He clams up and walks the other way, hobbling back to his dorm for clothes and to log in and fill out an accident report. More detention time, certainly…

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