OOC Log Dump
John's not in much of a writing mood, at the moment, but lucky you, you get to see the logs still
<> Large Cave
This cavern is huge, mostly hollowed out by thousands of years of water erosion but modified through architectural efforts by various members of the Brotherhood. Thin waterfalls bathe the walls and empty themselves in the large lake that surrounds a wide platform of stone. Smaller slabs of stone surround the main platform, each a brief hop away from one another. While their surfaces have been smoothed by water exposure, the main platform has been inlaid with metallic tiles that create a courtyard atmosphere. The water that surrounds the area bounces light in all directions, providing limitless illumination with little effort. The sound of lapping water carries well on the echoing interior, but not so much as to drown out the speaker of the moment. At the edge of the main platform furthest from the entrance of the cave, a metallic podium has been set into the rock and elevated on a granite pedestal. There are no seats, but it is safe to say one does not have meetings here for their attendants to get comfortable.
It's rather late in the evening. While that may mean nothing on the Brotherhood island in relation to who is awake and who isn't, it does mean that the main caverns and hallways are less occupied than they might be otherwise. The largest of them, of course, being the exception. Near its center, Erik stands grounded, booted feet shoulder-width aparth - shoulders squared, with his right hand lifted and splayed to steady a thick 3'x3' flat metal panel that hovers just above chest-level some twenty feet away.
It's a good thing Pyro's new suit is made of that particular material. Were he in a T=shirt, it'd be quite drenched from the effort. As is, his hair has gone pretty wild as sweat-slicked fingers had repeatedly brushed it back. "Dammit," he mutters under his breath, before bringing the fire to is fingers again. The tension in his shoulders is quite evident as he scowls at the flame, sending forth a jet that once again splatters against the metal sheeting rather than knocking it over.
Lorna shields her eyes from the gout of flames that splashes up against her grandfather's metalic shield, wondering just what it is the young man is trying to do. It was possible that he was trying to smelt the hard metel, but what exactly would that accomplish? "You boys havin' fun?" The tall, green haired smartass calls in her usual half mocking tone of voice. Dressed simply in a low riding pair of cargo pants, black military boots, and a dark blue tank top, Lor decided to drop by the island for a visit but never expected to find the old man playing heat shield with a fire flinger.
Magneto squints against the light as well, shielded as he is from the worst of it - the deep blue of his shirt and black of his slacks briefly highlighted orange by the stream as odd shadows flicker out across the cavern, only to fade almost as quickly. "Unless you intend to be next, I suggest you keep your mocking to a minimum." Is directed across the cavern at Lorna a moment later - cold eyes flicking to John only once he's deemed his point sufficiently made. "Hrmm. Perhaps you lack the proper motivation." Not a problem. The inch-thick metal seems to tire of the punishment it's taken thus far, lunging forward at Erik's mild direction.
Thank... Toad for pressure sensitive blazes. As the metal comes lurching forward, Pyro gapes a moment, then the flames leap out, a beacon of fire blazing from his fists. There's a bit of Moses act going for a second as the metal parts the flames easily in two, spilling to either side, then as it draws closer, Pyro leans into the fire, willing it back from deep inside. Whatever the cause, it seems to give the flame enough density ot at least slow the progression of the sheet and Pyro grunts as he attempts to hold it at bay.
Lorna smirks in the elderly man's direction, taking his chastizing with a grain of salt while she watches the practice bout. After a moment realization blooms on her features when she finally grasps the point is pressure more than heat. Build up enough heat and you can press the sheet into stopping. Simple physics, even if that wasn't the girl's expertise. "Ever consider sapping all the heat real quick? Snapp that sheet like a pencil." Now metalergy was much more Lor's avenue, and anyone who took high school chemistry knew that rapid cooling of a super heated metel made it brittle.
No congratulations is offered just yet - though Erik does relent somewhat upon recognizing resistance, carefully shifting the rush of the panel into slowly building pressure against Pyro's so that the metal continues to creep forward through the fire. "Perhaps another day. This is a test of will rather than wit, and I really would rather not be set on fire if it's all the same to each of you." Distracted, Erik's voice is little more than a loud mutter - glare focused steadily upon what little of John he can see.
Pyro scowls as well, partly at the distraction and partly at the metal sheeting itself. And another good part at the fact that were he to have to admit it, he doesn't think he /could/ supercool the metal anyways. Extinguishing a fire's one thing; eliminating the results, another entirely. Well, if this is a battle of wills, Pyro's not going to go down without a fight. He knocks a bit of hair away, plastering it to the side of his forehead in the process, and he throws more heat at the wall, trying to funnel the flame to a central point.
Lorna scoffs softly, half amused at the prospect of a grandpa french fry and half disbelief that the man would be in the least bit of danger no matter what the flame spouter did. But then Lor had and would always believe Erik captable of just about anything. "A battle of strength then." The girl mutters to herself more than anyone, her deep set jade eyes following the progress of the sheet as it presses forward, halts, then continues.
Magneto smirks faintly to himself as the edges of the metal begin to curve inward, the heat making it easy to mold to mirror the bowl-shaped curl of his fingers. And at the same time, some distance behind Pyro, a second sheet of metal has lifted, slender and disk-shaped. Another rises behind it momentarily, with a single glance past the younger mutant the only indication Erik gives that there might be something going on behind him before he turns his gaze pointedly onto Lorna.
It's a wonder that Pyro does notice that glance. The flames are licking around his arms, creeping closer and closer to his body as he focuses on the one sheet. Call it observation or promonition or whatever, though, he glances over his shoulder to see the other sheet floating up. He repositions his stance, then throws an arm the opposite direction, extending the flame in a horizontal column that bisects his chest quite neatly. As he strengthens the fire, now pushing back from both sides, the column widens, enveloping his torso.
Lorna laughs delightedly, clapping her hands in honest admiration. Of course she knew, or believed she knew, that Erik was just playing with the poor boy. Yet still he couldn't be faulted for lack of ability. Chancing a glance that finally notices her grandfather's rather direct gaze she quickly shuts up however and holds her hands up innocently in a 'What did I do?' expression. Surly if the man wanted her to leave, he'd just say as much.
Magneto chuckles to himself. Two points for being wary enough to notice the second and third plates. The first of the newly lifted two recoils against the impact of flame - leaning back as if straining against the pressure. But perhaps unfortunately for Pyro, this allows the bottom to lift, so that plate number #3 comes whirling from behind it horizontally - cutting through the column like the giant nightmare disc of steel that it is. And through all of this? Erik has yet to break a sweat - two steps taken neatly aside as his control over the first plate is dropped.
Well, Pyro's sweating more than enough for both of them, the sweat pouring fromhsi face and neck, though evaporating quickly in the heat, leaving streaks across his exposed skin.. At the slowing of the second plate, he throws a bit more effort, trying to push it back even further. As the other one slices its way through his effort, he quickly drops into a crouch, which is probably the best of all possible actions, else he might have lost balance as the first plate flies away. He's got enough sense to retract that spout of fire, pulling it back and over his head, letting the flames cover him entirely, pushing back against that side of his fiery shell, giving it all the density and heat he can muster.
Lifting a hand and calling to it a few specks of the molten metel that have sluiced off the middle of the first sheet, Lor idly shapes them into little balls and sets them to danceing above her palm while she observes the human flame thrower in his sphere of fire. "Can he breath in there?" She calls out the question to Erik tentivly, not wanting to bother the man but doubting that he's putting forth much effort in the exercise anyway. "I mean a blaze like that would eat the air inside lickty split, wouln' it?"
Magneto lifts his hand once more to halt the progress of the disk dodged by Pyro before it can cut through /him/, the first plate whirling along on its momentum to crash into the surface of the lake, which answers with an explosion of steam before it sinks well below the surface. "I'm not entirely sure. I suppose we'll find out." Because the one disk still in play certainly isn't relenting in its slow, steady progress for Pyro.
Pyro's not entirely certain either. It's an exhilarating experience letting the fire swarm over his entire body. Sure, he's had arms, legs, whatnot, but to have the flame above, below, beside--for a moment, he almost loses track of the task at hand, revelling in the fire itself. The fire's raging, white hot now. Even not being inside, the other occupants of the room must feel the blistering heat. His fist are balled up, extended between him and the oncoming plate, the blaze swirling about each arm like a glove as he continues to push. As for the oxygen, he's breathing heavy, panting with the effort as much as anything.
Lorna lets her little molten toys fall to the ground and then forces them deep to let the dirt drink the heat and possible pain to an unwary foot. Recoiling a bit from the heat radiating off the so called 'battle of wills' the girl forces herself to take a few steps tword her grandfather, all the while keeping a wary eye on pyro boy. "How long can he keep that up Grandad?" she asks curiously, wondering if perhaps the boy was going to push past his limits and be engulfed. Lor imagined it happened all the time on this island if only for the simple fact that the weak were of no use to the great Magneto's cause.
"I'm not entirely sure about that either. This is the first opportunity I've had to take measure of him." A brow arched as Erik lifts the heel of his right hand to rub at the sweat just beginning to gather around his neck against the heat, he keeps a careful eye on the pyre that is Pyro - allowing his show of power to go on for approximately a minute more. Once that time is up, so is the game - the sheet of steel bulldozing forward through the flame in the space of an instant with the intent of knocking the boy to the ground.
Man, you mean he hasn't /already/ been trying to knock him down? Pyro's face is drawn tight, throwing bout after bout of fire at the sheet, letting the fiery tunnel channel each wave. A few of them contain enough substance to hit the steel, setting a loud ringing echoing through the cavern. Now he's really breathing heavily, even past sweating as he begins to tire.
"Well I s'pose if the power ever gets 'nocked out, you'll always have a flashlight handy." Lorna kids, tossing a smile at the elderly man and taking up a stance a little behind him. Sure she could probably stop the sheet if it happened to come flying at her, but breaking Erik's control wasn't something she wanted to tamper with. Ever.
What was a bulldoze becomes a sledge-hammer blow, jarred only slightly by the abuse the metal is taken from Pyro's interference - Erik's posture and expression both going hard at the spiked increase in effort and concentration required, with Lorna's good humor lost in the process.
As the last bit of his fiery resistances crumble, the metal finally reaches through his shields, smacking Pyro upside the head. Perhaps the blow, perhaps the exhaustion, and very likely somewhere between, John collapses tot he ground as the cave and training exercise blacks out.
Lorna brushes her hair back and wipes a bead of sweat from her temple. "Man, kid sure knows how to push the limits eh?" She waits a moment for the ambiant heat to die down to tolerable levels before she slips forth and checks on John's pulse, measureing it against her wrist watch which is of course digital. "He blacked out, but it's cool." she comments, retaining her crouch but turning her eyes up on Erik "Why'd you push him so hard?" It's not an accusaion, her grandfather's henchmen are his business, just a question as to the reason he was working a new recruit and not making one of his underlings do it.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Erik paces over with cold deliberation to angle his chin and the curious flicker of his cold glare down over John and the crouched Lorna at his side - a brow lifting for the state of the young man as the offending, twisted chunk of metal is tossed lazily aside. "Nobody else has ever bothered."
<> Infirmary - Lv1
Unlike the slight disrepair and unfinished atmosphere of some of the other rooms of the complex, the Infirmary seems to be in perfect running order. It's ridiculously clean and sterile, with more high-tech equipment than one might expect. Most of the electronical devices, computers, and what have you are secluded to the edge of the walls, with several large, steel tables in the center of the room, and plenty of room to move about in-between over the white tiled floor. Despite the air of intensely focused upkeep that this room projects, it's quite empty of personnel, most of the time, save for an odd white-coated scientist type once in a while.
Well, other than a bloody, mind-splitting headache, Pyro's not doing too bad for running himself unconscious last night. Although it's a good thing that Paddy-boy came through with hooking him up with those protein shakes and stuff, because most the morning, Pyro's been alternately downing water and shoveling in food, not quite able to fill that gnawing feeling in his stomach. Right now, he's lying back on the cot, eyes closed, but the pained expression on his face would likely indicate he's not sleeping.
And wouldn't you know, when the door slides open for the fiftieth time today - the dress shoes that pace through it come at a rather distinctive rhythm. Dressed down from his visit with Emma (missing the jacket and fedora, having retained the neatly fitted grey-tan vest and dark tie over a white dress shirt) Erik enters with a faint, distracted scowl - cool glare immediately flicking over the available beds, only to settle upon Pyro's.
The sound of the door catches his attention, and Pyro pries an eye open, quickly shifting to a seated position when he sees the visitor. He's quiet for a long moment, scowls slightly himself, then offers a feeble, "Sorry 'bout last night. I... ran out of reserves. I'll tr-- uh, not let it happen again."
"Part of the point of the exercise was to determine what your limits were. You held out for longer than I might have liked, actually." Erik lifts a lazy hand towards his own head to indicate bruising as he glances elsewhere for a chair. "I helped you along, in the end."
Pyro blinks at that, trying to unobtusively peer at Magneto. Is that actually a ... compliment? "Well, have to say, I've never done anything like it before. Let the fire, you know, bandy about me like that. Could make it pretty hard for people to get to me."
"Indeed." A spare chair located and dragged over, Erik drops himself uncerimoniously into it - tugging his vest down out of reflex before he settles enough to wrap his hands around the armrests. "The trouble, of course, will be calling forth such abilities without having to build up to them. But the knowledge that you're capable of such things tends to provide a bolster in itself. Did they never allow you to push yourself at the Institute?"
"Not like that," Pyro shrugs, shifting to lean against the wall for better conversation--which seems to be helping the headache some. "Went out of town once with Jean; we burned down an old shack. But most the time, it was all about control and stuff."
"Oh yes. Control. Well, for the sake of the island and those that live on it, I'm sure you've found that our rules place a rather tight leash on certain activities, but I trust you're intelligent to know better than to break the ones I mean." From the arch of the brow, he /knows/ he's intelligent enough, or he won't like what happens. "You are a deadly force, ergo, I would rather not have you pointed at any of my own recruits. Personal disputes are to be handled through me, if any should arise. Now. Were you previously aware of your ability to exert force through the fire?"
Not even to mention that Pyro's still trying to figure out which of the recruits could kick his ass. He might be a hothead, but he's not stupid. Or at least he has a high sense of self-preservation. He simply nods at that admonishment. "Well, not force like that," he admits. "I've been able to-- well, occasionally happened to is more like it--give the fire some substance, enough to pack a punch. But trying to do it over that much distance was something new."
"Mmm. Well, in the future, you might set up metal panels and attempt to knock them over at short distances, until you're comfortable with the focus required to do so. From there, I suppose we can work on the amount of force you can get behind a decent missile." Brows knit in slow, welcome thought after a day spent having to be on his telepathic toes, Erik doesn't speak again for a good minute or two, though he clearly has more to say. "I may ask Toad to set up thermocameras for your next training session, to measure the heat you're putting off, as well. Given enough practice, you may eventually be capable of melting through metal floors with that pyre manuever of yours."
Pyro raises an eyebrow at that thought. "Ace. Didn't even think of /that/," he admits. "Don't really know how hot I can get them. Too hot for other people to be around is all I've done. Guess I might be able to melt it though. Have to be careful. Don't think even I could survive boiling metals, though."
"All the more reason to be certain that you don't do it accidentally." Smirking faintly at the...well. It really isn't something he should be smirking at. "Given the potential for destruction that your abilities offer, I suspect you're going to find that control is a rather important factor in keeping yourself alive. But you should know your limits better than anyone else. They will loosen over time. In sparring matches, I recommend that you avoid trying to over-extend yourself in the near future, unless I direct you to do otherwise."
Pyro nods, tapping the side of his temple lightly. "This should remind me for a while yet," he says, allowing a small chuckle. "Feel like a freight train ran over my head. But it's still the good kind of pain, I guess. Makes me know I'm a bit tougher for it."
"I know the feeling." Erik mutters, as close to companionable as he's ever going to get as he leans forward to get back up onto his feet. "They should release you back to your quarters before too long. Do as they say, and you won't have anything to worry about. Did you have any questions?"
"Will do," Pyro nods, watching his motions as he makes his exits. "Not reall--," he pauses, the corrects himself. "Well, two, actually. Not that I'm really stircrazy to get off the island or anything, keeping as busy as I've been but, I was wondering," he trails off a moment, then plunges forward. "What will it take for me to be trusted, you know, on my own? I'm not going back. Can't go back."
"Time." Erik remarks unfalteringly, not particularly surprised by the first question - or bothered by it. "Otherwise, it depends upon the individual, and the situation. You might speak to a few of your Brothers about arranging another 'boy's night out' if you believe you could use the break. So long as you refrain from getting into trouble, I care little for what you do in the time granted you on the mainland."
Pyro nods, filing away the information, apparantly satisfied or resigned to the answer. "Okay. And then the other," he pauses, a wry smile crossing his face. "You weren't even trying last night, were you?"
Magneto actually chuckles at that. Quietly. But at least it's a chuckle. "Last night's match was meant to put your abilities to the test. Not mine."
Well, at least he's not making the cot crumple up and crush John in his invalidity. He smirks slightly at that. "Thought so. They say you and the Professor are two of the most powerful mutants on earth. /He/ never really showed us what he could do. I hope to see you in action someday."
"Is that what they say?" Mild amusement coloring tone and expression enough to give him pause at the door, Erik nods to the perceived compliment, looking only /a little/ smug. "I hope to eventually provide you with the opportunity. Get some rest. Listen to the infirmary workers." And with that, he slides the door open, and vanishes back through it.
<> Large Cave
This cavern is huge, mostly hollowed out by thousands of years of water erosion but modified through architectural efforts by various members of the Brotherhood. Thin waterfalls bathe the walls and empty themselves in the large lake that surrounds a wide platform of stone. Smaller slabs of stone surround the main platform, each a brief hop away from one another. While their surfaces have been smoothed by water exposure, the main platform has been inlaid with metallic tiles that create a courtyard atmosphere. The water that surrounds the area bounces light in all directions, providing limitless illumination with little effort. The sound of lapping water carries well on the echoing interior, but not so much as to drown out the speaker of the moment. At the edge of the main platform furthest from the entrance of the cave, a metallic podium has been set into the rock and elevated on a granite pedestal. There are no seats, but it is safe to say one does not have meetings here for their attendants to get comfortable.
It's rather late in the evening. While that may mean nothing on the Brotherhood island in relation to who is awake and who isn't, it does mean that the main caverns and hallways are less occupied than they might be otherwise. The largest of them, of course, being the exception. Near its center, Erik stands grounded, booted feet shoulder-width aparth - shoulders squared, with his right hand lifted and splayed to steady a thick 3'x3' flat metal panel that hovers just above chest-level some twenty feet away.
It's a good thing Pyro's new suit is made of that particular material. Were he in a T=shirt, it'd be quite drenched from the effort. As is, his hair has gone pretty wild as sweat-slicked fingers had repeatedly brushed it back. "Dammit," he mutters under his breath, before bringing the fire to is fingers again. The tension in his shoulders is quite evident as he scowls at the flame, sending forth a jet that once again splatters against the metal sheeting rather than knocking it over.
Lorna shields her eyes from the gout of flames that splashes up against her grandfather's metalic shield, wondering just what it is the young man is trying to do. It was possible that he was trying to smelt the hard metel, but what exactly would that accomplish? "You boys havin' fun?" The tall, green haired smartass calls in her usual half mocking tone of voice. Dressed simply in a low riding pair of cargo pants, black military boots, and a dark blue tank top, Lor decided to drop by the island for a visit but never expected to find the old man playing heat shield with a fire flinger.
Magneto squints against the light as well, shielded as he is from the worst of it - the deep blue of his shirt and black of his slacks briefly highlighted orange by the stream as odd shadows flicker out across the cavern, only to fade almost as quickly. "Unless you intend to be next, I suggest you keep your mocking to a minimum." Is directed across the cavern at Lorna a moment later - cold eyes flicking to John only once he's deemed his point sufficiently made. "Hrmm. Perhaps you lack the proper motivation." Not a problem. The inch-thick metal seems to tire of the punishment it's taken thus far, lunging forward at Erik's mild direction.
Thank... Toad for pressure sensitive blazes. As the metal comes lurching forward, Pyro gapes a moment, then the flames leap out, a beacon of fire blazing from his fists. There's a bit of Moses act going for a second as the metal parts the flames easily in two, spilling to either side, then as it draws closer, Pyro leans into the fire, willing it back from deep inside. Whatever the cause, it seems to give the flame enough density ot at least slow the progression of the sheet and Pyro grunts as he attempts to hold it at bay.
Lorna smirks in the elderly man's direction, taking his chastizing with a grain of salt while she watches the practice bout. After a moment realization blooms on her features when she finally grasps the point is pressure more than heat. Build up enough heat and you can press the sheet into stopping. Simple physics, even if that wasn't the girl's expertise. "Ever consider sapping all the heat real quick? Snapp that sheet like a pencil." Now metalergy was much more Lor's avenue, and anyone who took high school chemistry knew that rapid cooling of a super heated metel made it brittle.
No congratulations is offered just yet - though Erik does relent somewhat upon recognizing resistance, carefully shifting the rush of the panel into slowly building pressure against Pyro's so that the metal continues to creep forward through the fire. "Perhaps another day. This is a test of will rather than wit, and I really would rather not be set on fire if it's all the same to each of you." Distracted, Erik's voice is little more than a loud mutter - glare focused steadily upon what little of John he can see.
Pyro scowls as well, partly at the distraction and partly at the metal sheeting itself. And another good part at the fact that were he to have to admit it, he doesn't think he /could/ supercool the metal anyways. Extinguishing a fire's one thing; eliminating the results, another entirely. Well, if this is a battle of wills, Pyro's not going to go down without a fight. He knocks a bit of hair away, plastering it to the side of his forehead in the process, and he throws more heat at the wall, trying to funnel the flame to a central point.
Lorna scoffs softly, half amused at the prospect of a grandpa french fry and half disbelief that the man would be in the least bit of danger no matter what the flame spouter did. But then Lor had and would always believe Erik captable of just about anything. "A battle of strength then." The girl mutters to herself more than anyone, her deep set jade eyes following the progress of the sheet as it presses forward, halts, then continues.
Magneto smirks faintly to himself as the edges of the metal begin to curve inward, the heat making it easy to mold to mirror the bowl-shaped curl of his fingers. And at the same time, some distance behind Pyro, a second sheet of metal has lifted, slender and disk-shaped. Another rises behind it momentarily, with a single glance past the younger mutant the only indication Erik gives that there might be something going on behind him before he turns his gaze pointedly onto Lorna.
It's a wonder that Pyro does notice that glance. The flames are licking around his arms, creeping closer and closer to his body as he focuses on the one sheet. Call it observation or promonition or whatever, though, he glances over his shoulder to see the other sheet floating up. He repositions his stance, then throws an arm the opposite direction, extending the flame in a horizontal column that bisects his chest quite neatly. As he strengthens the fire, now pushing back from both sides, the column widens, enveloping his torso.
Lorna laughs delightedly, clapping her hands in honest admiration. Of course she knew, or believed she knew, that Erik was just playing with the poor boy. Yet still he couldn't be faulted for lack of ability. Chancing a glance that finally notices her grandfather's rather direct gaze she quickly shuts up however and holds her hands up innocently in a 'What did I do?' expression. Surly if the man wanted her to leave, he'd just say as much.
Magneto chuckles to himself. Two points for being wary enough to notice the second and third plates. The first of the newly lifted two recoils against the impact of flame - leaning back as if straining against the pressure. But perhaps unfortunately for Pyro, this allows the bottom to lift, so that plate number #3 comes whirling from behind it horizontally - cutting through the column like the giant nightmare disc of steel that it is. And through all of this? Erik has yet to break a sweat - two steps taken neatly aside as his control over the first plate is dropped.
Well, Pyro's sweating more than enough for both of them, the sweat pouring fromhsi face and neck, though evaporating quickly in the heat, leaving streaks across his exposed skin.. At the slowing of the second plate, he throws a bit more effort, trying to push it back even further. As the other one slices its way through his effort, he quickly drops into a crouch, which is probably the best of all possible actions, else he might have lost balance as the first plate flies away. He's got enough sense to retract that spout of fire, pulling it back and over his head, letting the flames cover him entirely, pushing back against that side of his fiery shell, giving it all the density and heat he can muster.
Lifting a hand and calling to it a few specks of the molten metel that have sluiced off the middle of the first sheet, Lor idly shapes them into little balls and sets them to danceing above her palm while she observes the human flame thrower in his sphere of fire. "Can he breath in there?" She calls out the question to Erik tentivly, not wanting to bother the man but doubting that he's putting forth much effort in the exercise anyway. "I mean a blaze like that would eat the air inside lickty split, wouln' it?"
Magneto lifts his hand once more to halt the progress of the disk dodged by Pyro before it can cut through /him/, the first plate whirling along on its momentum to crash into the surface of the lake, which answers with an explosion of steam before it sinks well below the surface. "I'm not entirely sure. I suppose we'll find out." Because the one disk still in play certainly isn't relenting in its slow, steady progress for Pyro.
Pyro's not entirely certain either. It's an exhilarating experience letting the fire swarm over his entire body. Sure, he's had arms, legs, whatnot, but to have the flame above, below, beside--for a moment, he almost loses track of the task at hand, revelling in the fire itself. The fire's raging, white hot now. Even not being inside, the other occupants of the room must feel the blistering heat. His fist are balled up, extended between him and the oncoming plate, the blaze swirling about each arm like a glove as he continues to push. As for the oxygen, he's breathing heavy, panting with the effort as much as anything.
Lorna lets her little molten toys fall to the ground and then forces them deep to let the dirt drink the heat and possible pain to an unwary foot. Recoiling a bit from the heat radiating off the so called 'battle of wills' the girl forces herself to take a few steps tword her grandfather, all the while keeping a wary eye on pyro boy. "How long can he keep that up Grandad?" she asks curiously, wondering if perhaps the boy was going to push past his limits and be engulfed. Lor imagined it happened all the time on this island if only for the simple fact that the weak were of no use to the great Magneto's cause.
"I'm not entirely sure about that either. This is the first opportunity I've had to take measure of him." A brow arched as Erik lifts the heel of his right hand to rub at the sweat just beginning to gather around his neck against the heat, he keeps a careful eye on the pyre that is Pyro - allowing his show of power to go on for approximately a minute more. Once that time is up, so is the game - the sheet of steel bulldozing forward through the flame in the space of an instant with the intent of knocking the boy to the ground.
Man, you mean he hasn't /already/ been trying to knock him down? Pyro's face is drawn tight, throwing bout after bout of fire at the sheet, letting the fiery tunnel channel each wave. A few of them contain enough substance to hit the steel, setting a loud ringing echoing through the cavern. Now he's really breathing heavily, even past sweating as he begins to tire.
"Well I s'pose if the power ever gets 'nocked out, you'll always have a flashlight handy." Lorna kids, tossing a smile at the elderly man and taking up a stance a little behind him. Sure she could probably stop the sheet if it happened to come flying at her, but breaking Erik's control wasn't something she wanted to tamper with. Ever.
What was a bulldoze becomes a sledge-hammer blow, jarred only slightly by the abuse the metal is taken from Pyro's interference - Erik's posture and expression both going hard at the spiked increase in effort and concentration required, with Lorna's good humor lost in the process.
As the last bit of his fiery resistances crumble, the metal finally reaches through his shields, smacking Pyro upside the head. Perhaps the blow, perhaps the exhaustion, and very likely somewhere between, John collapses tot he ground as the cave and training exercise blacks out.
Lorna brushes her hair back and wipes a bead of sweat from her temple. "Man, kid sure knows how to push the limits eh?" She waits a moment for the ambiant heat to die down to tolerable levels before she slips forth and checks on John's pulse, measureing it against her wrist watch which is of course digital. "He blacked out, but it's cool." she comments, retaining her crouch but turning her eyes up on Erik "Why'd you push him so hard?" It's not an accusaion, her grandfather's henchmen are his business, just a question as to the reason he was working a new recruit and not making one of his underlings do it.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Erik paces over with cold deliberation to angle his chin and the curious flicker of his cold glare down over John and the crouched Lorna at his side - a brow lifting for the state of the young man as the offending, twisted chunk of metal is tossed lazily aside. "Nobody else has ever bothered."
<> Infirmary - Lv1
Unlike the slight disrepair and unfinished atmosphere of some of the other rooms of the complex, the Infirmary seems to be in perfect running order. It's ridiculously clean and sterile, with more high-tech equipment than one might expect. Most of the electronical devices, computers, and what have you are secluded to the edge of the walls, with several large, steel tables in the center of the room, and plenty of room to move about in-between over the white tiled floor. Despite the air of intensely focused upkeep that this room projects, it's quite empty of personnel, most of the time, save for an odd white-coated scientist type once in a while.
Well, other than a bloody, mind-splitting headache, Pyro's not doing too bad for running himself unconscious last night. Although it's a good thing that Paddy-boy came through with hooking him up with those protein shakes and stuff, because most the morning, Pyro's been alternately downing water and shoveling in food, not quite able to fill that gnawing feeling in his stomach. Right now, he's lying back on the cot, eyes closed, but the pained expression on his face would likely indicate he's not sleeping.
And wouldn't you know, when the door slides open for the fiftieth time today - the dress shoes that pace through it come at a rather distinctive rhythm. Dressed down from his visit with Emma (missing the jacket and fedora, having retained the neatly fitted grey-tan vest and dark tie over a white dress shirt) Erik enters with a faint, distracted scowl - cool glare immediately flicking over the available beds, only to settle upon Pyro's.
The sound of the door catches his attention, and Pyro pries an eye open, quickly shifting to a seated position when he sees the visitor. He's quiet for a long moment, scowls slightly himself, then offers a feeble, "Sorry 'bout last night. I... ran out of reserves. I'll tr-- uh, not let it happen again."
"Part of the point of the exercise was to determine what your limits were. You held out for longer than I might have liked, actually." Erik lifts a lazy hand towards his own head to indicate bruising as he glances elsewhere for a chair. "I helped you along, in the end."
Pyro blinks at that, trying to unobtusively peer at Magneto. Is that actually a ... compliment? "Well, have to say, I've never done anything like it before. Let the fire, you know, bandy about me like that. Could make it pretty hard for people to get to me."
"Indeed." A spare chair located and dragged over, Erik drops himself uncerimoniously into it - tugging his vest down out of reflex before he settles enough to wrap his hands around the armrests. "The trouble, of course, will be calling forth such abilities without having to build up to them. But the knowledge that you're capable of such things tends to provide a bolster in itself. Did they never allow you to push yourself at the Institute?"
"Not like that," Pyro shrugs, shifting to lean against the wall for better conversation--which seems to be helping the headache some. "Went out of town once with Jean; we burned down an old shack. But most the time, it was all about control and stuff."
"Oh yes. Control. Well, for the sake of the island and those that live on it, I'm sure you've found that our rules place a rather tight leash on certain activities, but I trust you're intelligent to know better than to break the ones I mean." From the arch of the brow, he /knows/ he's intelligent enough, or he won't like what happens. "You are a deadly force, ergo, I would rather not have you pointed at any of my own recruits. Personal disputes are to be handled through me, if any should arise. Now. Were you previously aware of your ability to exert force through the fire?"
Not even to mention that Pyro's still trying to figure out which of the recruits could kick his ass. He might be a hothead, but he's not stupid. Or at least he has a high sense of self-preservation. He simply nods at that admonishment. "Well, not force like that," he admits. "I've been able to-- well, occasionally happened to is more like it--give the fire some substance, enough to pack a punch. But trying to do it over that much distance was something new."
"Mmm. Well, in the future, you might set up metal panels and attempt to knock them over at short distances, until you're comfortable with the focus required to do so. From there, I suppose we can work on the amount of force you can get behind a decent missile." Brows knit in slow, welcome thought after a day spent having to be on his telepathic toes, Erik doesn't speak again for a good minute or two, though he clearly has more to say. "I may ask Toad to set up thermocameras for your next training session, to measure the heat you're putting off, as well. Given enough practice, you may eventually be capable of melting through metal floors with that pyre manuever of yours."
Pyro raises an eyebrow at that thought. "Ace. Didn't even think of /that/," he admits. "Don't really know how hot I can get them. Too hot for other people to be around is all I've done. Guess I might be able to melt it though. Have to be careful. Don't think even I could survive boiling metals, though."
"All the more reason to be certain that you don't do it accidentally." Smirking faintly at the...well. It really isn't something he should be smirking at. "Given the potential for destruction that your abilities offer, I suspect you're going to find that control is a rather important factor in keeping yourself alive. But you should know your limits better than anyone else. They will loosen over time. In sparring matches, I recommend that you avoid trying to over-extend yourself in the near future, unless I direct you to do otherwise."
Pyro nods, tapping the side of his temple lightly. "This should remind me for a while yet," he says, allowing a small chuckle. "Feel like a freight train ran over my head. But it's still the good kind of pain, I guess. Makes me know I'm a bit tougher for it."
"I know the feeling." Erik mutters, as close to companionable as he's ever going to get as he leans forward to get back up onto his feet. "They should release you back to your quarters before too long. Do as they say, and you won't have anything to worry about. Did you have any questions?"
"Will do," Pyro nods, watching his motions as he makes his exits. "Not reall--," he pauses, the corrects himself. "Well, two, actually. Not that I'm really stircrazy to get off the island or anything, keeping as busy as I've been but, I was wondering," he trails off a moment, then plunges forward. "What will it take for me to be trusted, you know, on my own? I'm not going back. Can't go back."
"Time." Erik remarks unfalteringly, not particularly surprised by the first question - or bothered by it. "Otherwise, it depends upon the individual, and the situation. You might speak to a few of your Brothers about arranging another 'boy's night out' if you believe you could use the break. So long as you refrain from getting into trouble, I care little for what you do in the time granted you on the mainland."
Pyro nods, filing away the information, apparantly satisfied or resigned to the answer. "Okay. And then the other," he pauses, a wry smile crossing his face. "You weren't even trying last night, were you?"
Magneto actually chuckles at that. Quietly. But at least it's a chuckle. "Last night's match was meant to put your abilities to the test. Not mine."
Well, at least he's not making the cot crumple up and crush John in his invalidity. He smirks slightly at that. "Thought so. They say you and the Professor are two of the most powerful mutants on earth. /He/ never really showed us what he could do. I hope to see you in action someday."
"Is that what they say?" Mild amusement coloring tone and expression enough to give him pause at the door, Erik nods to the perceived compliment, looking only /a little/ smug. "I hope to eventually provide you with the opportunity. Get some rest. Listen to the infirmary workers." And with that, he slides the door open, and vanishes back through it.