Keep Calm & Carry On
Characters: Ben Westwood and OTA
Date and Time: July 13th, 1PM
Setting: The western point of the grounds, closest the mansion
Summary: Just... stop, Ben.
Rating: TBD
Status: Open
"No, no, nonononono - !"
And then the ivy burst into flame, spectacularly.
In hindsight it really hadn't been a great idea but to be fair, whoever had done the landscaping clearly hadn't thought things through. Nor had the architect, for that matter, because what sort of pretentious egomaniac thought flying buttresses were appropriate in this day and age?
Ben stumbled backwards, his arms windmilling to deflect the chunks of stone hailing down from above, and watched in growing horror as the west corner of the mansion's exterior did it's best impression of seppuku. The force of the lash of electric current that had struck the building had left an ugly crater, blackened 'round the edges and bleeding dust, while the high-reaching gentle foliage laced rapidly like a flaming corset, set off by the resulting heat. It was almost pretty in a brutally destructive way and if he hadn't been absolutely numb with dawning horror, Ben might have appreciated it.
It had gone something like this: after struggling manfully with some of the texts that Hank had given him - full of scientific term and theory that made it impossible to read straight-through because he had to look up every second word in a dictionary before proceeding - in a vain attempt at understanding how his mutation worked, what it was capable of, and whether or not he would ever be able to shower without fearing a sudden and painful death via electrocution, Ben had decided a little practical application was in order.
Mostly because he feared if he had to read one more sentence he would actually begin to actively plan revenge on the scientist for unleashing such evils upon him.
Ben had a vague idea of how he worked: everything was made up of particles (noun: a minute portion of matter) and each of these particles had an electric charge dependent on it's protons (noun: a stable subatomic particle occurring in all atomic nuclei, with a positive electric charge equal in magnitude to that of an electron) and neutrons (noun: A subatomic particle of about the same mass as a proton but without an electric charge, present in all atomic nuclei except those of ordinary hydro- oh god he was going to murder Hank.) Somehow the universe had decided that Ben made an excellent conduit for these currents. Hank had brainstormed an impressive list of experiments to begin determining the parameters of his abilities, mumbling about Coulomb's Law and polarization density.
Ben had simply stabbed a half-dozen forks into the lawn to create a crude conducting field and gone to town. It mostly involved a lot of hand-waving and grunting and willing the charges to leave his skin. They had stubbornly refused to cooperate.
Until they had. And then there was an explosion. And then there was the (probably goddamned heirloom) ivy on fire.
Desperately, Ben thrust out a hand at the flames. "STOP."
His intentions had been good. But what was that saying about good intentions? The road to hell was paved with them.
Date and Time: July 13th, 1PM
Setting: The western point of the grounds, closest the mansion
Summary: Just... stop, Ben.
Rating: TBD
Status: Open
"No, no, nonononono - !"
And then the ivy burst into flame, spectacularly.
In hindsight it really hadn't been a great idea but to be fair, whoever had done the landscaping clearly hadn't thought things through. Nor had the architect, for that matter, because what sort of pretentious egomaniac thought flying buttresses were appropriate in this day and age?
Ben stumbled backwards, his arms windmilling to deflect the chunks of stone hailing down from above, and watched in growing horror as the west corner of the mansion's exterior did it's best impression of seppuku. The force of the lash of electric current that had struck the building had left an ugly crater, blackened 'round the edges and bleeding dust, while the high-reaching gentle foliage laced rapidly like a flaming corset, set off by the resulting heat. It was almost pretty in a brutally destructive way and if he hadn't been absolutely numb with dawning horror, Ben might have appreciated it.
It had gone something like this: after struggling manfully with some of the texts that Hank had given him - full of scientific term and theory that made it impossible to read straight-through because he had to look up every second word in a dictionary before proceeding - in a vain attempt at understanding how his mutation worked, what it was capable of, and whether or not he would ever be able to shower without fearing a sudden and painful death via electrocution, Ben had decided a little practical application was in order.
Mostly because he feared if he had to read one more sentence he would actually begin to actively plan revenge on the scientist for unleashing such evils upon him.
Ben had a vague idea of how he worked: everything was made up of particles (noun: a minute portion of matter) and each of these particles had an electric charge dependent on it's protons (noun: a stable subatomic particle occurring in all atomic nuclei, with a positive electric charge equal in magnitude to that of an electron) and neutrons (noun: A subatomic particle of about the same mass as a proton but without an electric charge, present in all atomic nuclei except those of ordinary hydro- oh god he was going to murder Hank.) Somehow the universe had decided that Ben made an excellent conduit for these currents. Hank had brainstormed an impressive list of experiments to begin determining the parameters of his abilities, mumbling about Coulomb's Law and polarization density.
Ben had simply stabbed a half-dozen forks into the lawn to create a crude conducting field and gone to town. It mostly involved a lot of hand-waving and grunting and willing the charges to leave his skin. They had stubbornly refused to cooperate.
Until they had. And then there was an explosion. And then there was the (probably goddamned heirloom) ivy on fire.
Desperately, Ben thrust out a hand at the flames. "STOP."
His intentions had been good. But what was that saying about good intentions? The road to hell was paved with them.