Combat Training & Theory-1 (Open to Students!)

(Ooc: For those who are involved in, or have seen the other classroom thread, this thread will be very similar in the sense that there will be a strict post order. The most people who will be allowed in this thread is five plus me. Once it circles back to me, the order that we had previously posted in will be the post order.)

Mr. Radke frowned deeply to himself as he stared at the grandfather clock on the far wall, both feet kicked up on his dark mahogany desk. His eyebrows narrowed downwards, three minutes until class started and so far, not a soul had showed up. His eyes scanned the rows and rows of empty desks before he came to his feet, the leather rolling chair squeaking slightly as he did so. He pressed his thick-framed glasses up higher on his nose as he moved to the chalkboard and wrote two things down.

The first thing that Patrick wrote was 'Mr. Radke' obviously his name, on the other half of the board he wrote another name, however, it was one that most people wouldn't recognize, perhaps one that people wouldn't know how to pronouce, this name was 'Ozymandias'. He placed the chalk back on the metal holder at the bottom of the chalkboard. Patrick dusted the white residue left by the chalk off on his dark jeans. He rolled up the sleeves of his black button down shirt and sat on the edge of the mahogany desk. He reached to the wall next to his desk and grabbed the guitar that resided there, he quietly began to strum a tune as he awaited the presence of students.

Two classes focused around fighting? Lon began to feel that he went to the school that was just right for his career path. That being a super hero. Whether the Lon that was attending the class was the real Lon or a cloned Lon was extremely difficult to tell, but it was more than likely the real Lon. He’d probably left his other clones to report to a different class during the rest of the day.

The transition from the noisier hallway to the quiet echoing strums of the teacher playing his guitar was odd. He first observed the empty classroom, seeing that no other student had been entered yet. It would seem that this was the second class in a row that he was one of the first people to attend on the first day. He eyed the room one last time before taking his seat and splaying his binder and writing utensils all over his desk. He was just hoping that there would be a lesson, so far his classes had mostly been duds.

((Ooc: As of now, anybody who joins is tardy.))

The quiet room was soon filled with sound as the grandfather clock on the left wall dinged and donged in perfect synchronization with the schools bells. Patrick looked up just in time to notice that his classroom was still nearly empty, the only one there being the young man who looked rather eager to begin. He replaced the guitar against the wall and he looked outside of the door, awaiting any further students, of which he saw none walking towards him. He stood up quietly and moved to the door, pulling on it gently so as to begin it on it's journey to the shut position.

"Good afternoon...student. My name is Patrick Radke, you may call me Mr. Radke, or Professor Radke. If you pay enough attention, we will get along just fine. I have a very simple, straightforward teaching method. We will learn the theory first, the things that people have done to lose battles, and things that describe the fall of great fighters. When we finish our time on the theory, we will begin to practice on dummy's, and after that, the students who I hope join us will practice with each other while wearing pads. I will teach you to play to your strengths, I will teach you how to protect your weaknesses so far, and so on."

Mr. Radke smiled at the young boy in his class.

"What's your name and what's your gift? And let's say, what's your favorite color and food?'

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Avery had seen the door down a long hallway, watching the large hand reach out and swing it shut. She began to sprint forward as she heard the bell start to ring. She was wearing tan jeans, a maroon ninja hoodie, and pair of black converse. She reached the door about fifteen seconds after it closed, and watched students scuddle and scurry off into their respective classes. She entered the class in the middle of Mr. Radke's speech, quietly and quickly making her way to one of the many open desks.

    Adrian had been on campus for only a few days. Just long enough to get familiar with the layout of the Academy and learn that his placement in Ruby had been someone's horrible mistake. Not only did he clash with the others in Ruby, who he perceived to be weaklings and dark, moody kids, but his own power was going to be a problem. The Antient did not play well with others.
    Unfortunately, Adrian had missed the class titled Power Training, which would have probably been the most useful to him of anything the school had to offer. All the required courses he had all but completed at his old high school, doing them again now was merely a formality. At least they would not consume his time with studying.
With few interesting choices for elective courses, specifically no metal shop class, Adrian opted for Combat Skills to fill in a time slot. He would have rather left the hour or so open, but he had been told to at least have one elective. That was fine, overall, it could be an interesting course. He had never had any formal training in regards to fights, nothing he would consider proper training, anyway. Not unfamiliar to school yard scuffles, his experience was still fairly limited. He was a big guy and that usually gave him the upper hand automatically.

    Somewhere, a bell rang, causing a multitude of students to suddenly and hurriedly disperse and vanish into their own classes. Adrian glanced the tail end of a blonde bombshell rushing to a class at the far end of the hall; she stood out a midst the crowd, especially once the hall had emptied. Following out of curiosity, he decided to check the doors along the way, he still had a class to attend, after all. Luckily, the door she had entered and the door to his own classroom were one in the same. Oddly, another student arrived at the door nearly simultaneous with him, giving Adrian an uncharacteristic pause. The kid was smaller, sure. Disheveled and frail, even, but he wore a mask and gloves with an expression that Adrian took as apathy, urging the larger boy to push his way into the classroom first. What kind of freaks was he getting himself mixed up with?

Tucker sighed when the shoulder of the larger boy pushed him back unnecessarily. Perhaps this had been a mistake. Tucker had had no interest in a fighting class if all they were going to do was punch each other in the face. Martina had suggested that he take a closer look, given his penchant for observation and analysis, and her assessment swayed his decision in its favor. Still, self-defense seemed like a non-issue for Tucker, who could inadvertently kill anyone that came in contact with him. He had faired well enough against Infinity's assassins, or collectors?, before coming to the island, but truth be told it had all been Solace. Sure, he kept himself alive on his wits, but he would never have escaped on his own.
 Supposedly, the class would have a higher focus on theory and tactics, which were concepts in Tucker's favor and interest. History, on the other hand, had never been a strong point for him. He had been so disconnected from the world that he really had no bearing for its standing or history that had not been provided by fictional movies and books. They all gave him disproportionate views of how the world worked, and yet, in the short time since leaving the Clinic he had seen all of his previously perceived facts flipped onto their heads.
 
    When Adrian entered the classroom, he realized that it was not at all how he had expected it. Wrestling mats, padded walls, dummies, and open space were all suspiciously absent. Just rows of desks and some crap poetry on the walls, like some aging old literature teacher. Great, he thought, it's a pacifist fight club. Still, the blonde he had spotted earlier was here, and like the hallway, there was hardly anyone else to speak of. That was a good enough reason to stay. Turning his attention to the instructor as Tucker entered in behind him, Adrian held out a piece of paper, his class assignments, with no intention of handing it over and offered an apologetic shrug, "Sorry I'm late. Couldn't find the room." He had come in well after the speech, so that he missed the question and was unaware he might be interrupting. Without waiting for a response, he moved to take a seat to the right of Avery, knowing that it would be more natural for her to turn towards him when they talked that way. Still, he knew better than to strike up a conversation with her like this, when there were hardly any other students to distract the instructor.

    Tucker had entered in just behind Adrian, his eyes roaming over the classroom and briefly taking note of the fact that Avery was here. The layout of the room brought a sigh of relief. It seemed that towards the back of the room was a stage likely meant for practicing the physical aspect of what this class intended to teach, but the majority of it was a row of desks. He could handle lectures. The walls, adorned with various quotes and poetry, none of which he knew, gave him the impression that this instructor would be well thought out and informative. He could give it a chance.
    Deciding not to crowd on Avery, the opposite of what the other student had decided, Tucker made his way to sit at the side of the class against a window. The warmth of the sun coming in was not an altogether typical sensation for Tucker, who was still wearing the clothes he had arrived at the school in. With nothing to change into, his pants were still crusted with mud and his shirt wrinkled from the previous day's rain. Thankfully, he had taken advantage of a bath, so that his feet weren't a muddy mess, but he was still barefoot. The whole image gave him a completely disheveled and unprofessional appearance, which made him look completely out of place and, for lack of a better descriptor, homeless. Unlike Adrian, who had brought a single notebook and pen, Tucker was completely without resources, but at least he looked more attentive and curious to see what the instructor had to say.

Lon was surprised by the lack of people, the bell had already rang and he was still the only student there. Maybe it would be for the better that he was the only student, the teacher could be his mentor and he’d be closer to achieving his goal since there wasn’t a whole class holding them back. The teacher had another name he’d never heard of. Radke, if it were written down somewhere he wouldn’t even know how to pronounce it.

He listened to the teacher’s spiel with genuine interest, though only because he basically promised to teach him how to become a better fighter. The professor afterwards asked some odd questions like what his favourite food and colour was, though he didn’t question it much. He wasn’t one to question a higher authority. “Lon Huxley, sir. I’m able to clone myself, though I already maxed out on my limit for the day so I can’t really show it” he spoke while trying to sound as adult-ish and serious as possible. “I like red and uh… apple pie” he hesitated since he wasn’t really prepared for such a question.

When Lon’s gaze went back to the other end of the classroom he noticed three other students already seated. He was a bit surprised by it and wasn’t sure how they got there unless they snuck in while he wasn’t paying attention, but he didn’t draw such a conclusion. Perhaps the class wasn’t going to be as he fantasized, but he couldn’t really complain. At least they were still in small numbers.

Mr. Radke's eyes locked in on the students one by one as they came in late, then later, then even more late, if only by a few moments. He crossed his arms over his chest and nodded as Lon spoke, right foot tapping lightly on the ground, grey eyes scanning the students a second time over, lingering for a few moments on Tucker. His right eyebrow rose upwards, a smirk touching his face as Lon spoke of his power of cloning himself, the things that people could do never ceased to amaze him. He then nodded at the thought of apple pie and smiled, he knew that the questions he was asking were strange, definitely uncharacteristic of the class, but anything that would help him learn names.

"That's very interesting Lon, one time in the future I'll have to ask for a demonstration of it for the class. Now..." He turned his attention to the three students who had entered late. "I understand it's very early in the school year, but don't make being late a habit. Now, miss, I'd like to hear a brief description of your power, your name, and just as Lon, your favorite food and color. I'm listening even if I'm not facing you, so continue."

He turned and faced the board, beginning to chalk words down on the board beneath the name Ozymandias, the words to the poem.

'I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
`My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.'

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Avery quietly nodded and looked around the classroom for a few moments, eyes locking on the chalkboard after this time to read the writing that was being stamped onto the board.

"Uhm... My name is Avery Sinisterra, I'm not sure how my power works but I can kind of charge items with energy and give them explosive properties, or I can give myself properties like that... My favorite color is green, and my favorite food is sushi."

Avery nodded as she finished speaking, she turned her head and looked at Adrian for a moment, then skipped past him, smiling at Tucker from across the room. She lifted a hand and gave a small wave to him before she turned her attention back to the teacher at the front of the room, just as he was turning around.

---------------

Patrick was nodding softly to himself at the description.

"Fascinating Avery, simply fascinating."

His eyes now locked on Tucker, he pointed at him, and then Adrian.

"You first, then you."

    Sinisterra? Tucker smiled behind his mask at Avery's wave, merely his eyes showing a fondness in return. He did not wave back, since the instructor's attention was focused on him and Avery's had retreated to diligence. "Uh," Tucker started, as though failing to think of his own name, "Tucker Avari. I..." He still could not aptly describe his own ability, but he tried to summarize the numerous documents that had made him aware of it with his own experience. "I breed pathogens and make people sick." There was a small pause as he thought over his unintentional victims, "I can't control it yet, so," A brief pause, his eyes roaming over the few in the class, "No physical contact, please."

    His appearance now spoke with clarity as to his 'condition'. Or at least, the mask and gloves. How this would be resolved in a fighting class, Tucker was not quite sure. Still, he found himself curious of the others. Avery had some kind of energy potential and Lon could make clones. He could not really visualize the implications of either, but it was information he could archive away in his head. It took another second for him to recall the remainder of the question and he was a bit perplexed by it. He had never thought of food as having favorites. It was just what you got by on day to day. But if he thought about it, "Eggs, hashbrowns, sausage, and biscuits and gravy." The way he said it seemed to carry a longing feeling towards the meal as he remembered it. "And green," He agreed with Avery, knowing for certain that white happened to be his least favorite color. The forest and grass signified so much freedom and life to him, something he had been absent of for far too long.



    Adrian had by now settled back into his seat, his single notepad in front of himself as he crossed his arms. "Adrian Mackenzie," He spoke proudly and matter-of-factly, not putting too much display into his attitude. "Any fire I'm around goes crazy and tries to kill me." He definitely felt that his own continuing survival in the face of his own power was more impressive than Tucker's uneasy warning about sickness. If there was a hierarchy of weird kids and likeable, popular ones, Adrian felt certain that he knew Tucker's placement. "Red," He ran a hand through his hair as if it were an obvious answer, "And steak."

Lon felt proud of himself after the teacher had labelled his power as interesting. He simply answered his request of displaying his power sometime in the future with a nod since Mr. Radke then asked the same questions to the other students. The other students Lon couldn’t quite recognize, but then again he knew few people in the school that looked different from him. He felt like he’d seen the one girl before, but couldn’t quite put his finger on where he’d seen her previously.

The other three then proceeded to answer the similar questions. Lon could vaguely understand any of them, though he was quick to catch on that it was probably for the best that he didn’t touch the guy wearing the mask, Lon believed his name was Tucker. Lon was surprised the boy could project any clear words through his mask. He was easily the youngest in the class once again, in fact he hardly seen too many kids his age around the school period.

He began to frantically jot down anything that the teacher put on the board since he wasn’t sure what to expect from the class since it was all based around theory. His pencil grinding against the pages in his binder were a dominate sound in the classroom, only being over shadowed by the others voices and the sound of the teacher’s chalk against the board.

"Hmm...Tucker, because of the deadly nature of your power, I'm not entirely sure if we'll be putting you into the ring any time soon, but this class, at least a good portion of it, is based on theory and principle. So! That being said, I'll introduce myself and say a few things about me. My name is Patrick Radke, to you I am Mr. Radke. I play several different kinds of instruments, and spend good portions of the day studying, analyzing, and having an all together good time with poetry. I spent seven years in the United States Marines before I came over here. Contrary to popular belief, I'm well trained in the usage of most weapons and hand to hand combat. My power is on not often seen,Typhokinesis I do believe it's commonly called."

Mr. Radke opened his mouth into a narrow circle shape, hardly enough space for a pencil to get through. He inhaled in fresh air, then exhaled out a smoke that was purely black. He allowed the smoke to travel a few feet higher, allowing for a cloud of the stuff to shape before he he held out his right hand, fingers clutching at the air. The smoke spiraled down into the space between his fingers rather quickly and then began to weave itself around his hand.

"The ability to produce, breathe, and control smoke. The fact of the matter is my ability can be used in several different ways, most commonly a smoke-screen of sorts."

The smoke slowly dissipated and became absorbed by his hand, his pores having a dark tint to them for a few moments before returning to his skins natural color.

"Now!Let's begin! Adrian and Avery, partners. Lon and Tucker, partners. What I want you to do is introduce yourself to your partner and tell them one thing they would wish they had right now if it was the middle of summer. Then, together I want you to discern a meaning from my favorite poem up here on the board, Ozymandias. This is relevant to the class. Good luck!"

-------------------------------

Avery had been somewhat captivated with the class up to this point, with everything between the poetry, to the power demonstrations and so long. At the command to speak to her new partner she rotated to her right, smiling.

"As I said before, I'm Avery. And I wish that I could have swimming season back already. After one of my activities ends, I always feel like I never have anything to do anymore."

She looked at the poetry, having a few moments of confusion etched on her face before she shrugged.

"It sounds like the fall of a kingdom to me,not much else. How about you?"

USMC, huh? Adrian thought curiously, taking note of the instructor's physique and mannerisms. Neither aspect struck him as such, though there was no denying the hardened muscle of a trained soldier. That's where I should have gone, Adrian glowered unintentionally, The Marines. He was fit enough and old enough, but his odd habit of making a simple fire go completely out of control was not something the military wanted to deal with. At least, not until he could keep it from happening involuntarily. He doubted that day would ever come, and indeed, it never would.
    Despite his discomfort with Gifted, Adrian would admit that a smoke-screen producing soldier would be particularly effective. A master killing agent. Perhaps this man was someone to be learned from after all. Poetry aside, Adrian did not view Radke as a pushover.
    Adrian grinned with success upon being assigned to Avery and he was not concerned with hiding it. It had worked out to his planning and he mimic'd her body language in reverse to face her. A subtle compliment of interest.
    "Avery? I like that." He wasn't lying, although he had always thought of it as a boy's name. "I'm Adrian. Hm," He gave a brief thought, "A pool." It was an answer delivered specifically in response to her answer, and, in this case, still an honest one. "Avery..." He said again, as though thinking on the name while she focused her efforts on the poem. "I knew I'd heard that name before. I'm told you pack one hell of a punch."
    He had had a very brief conversation with some Emeralds, a group who, personality wise, he got along with a lot better than the Ruby's. The problem, however, was that their abilities were even more obtrusive and off-putting than Ruby. And that was saying something, considering anyone toying with fire could wreak havoc in proximity to him. He hadn't really even glanced at the board, only reminded of the basic assignment by her guess.
    "Oh, yeah. Some explorer found a statue that told of a pharaoh who had been both cruel and caring towards his people." He was simply regurgitating what he had read from a history class at some point, "Serves as an example of how even really powerful nations can fall and be forgotten."


    Tucker felt a little put out by being singled out, but it was completely understandable and he could not fault the instructor for it. It was an issue that he struggled with before signing up for this class. Tucker had little to no experience with poetry and no regard for the Marines, leaving him with little to do other than to tuck those mental notes away to learn about later. The more interesting part of the conversation, or, as it became, demonstration, was when the instructor began demonstrating his ability.
    Patrick Radke, Tiefokinesis? Smoke. Is it normal for people here to have a handle on their ability to such an extent?
    Tucker, jarred from his thinking, got up and made his way around Avery and Adrian's desks while they 'discussed' the given topics to meet Lon. He did not necessarily feel the need to repeat his name, but his mask may have muffled him from across the room. He did not immediately take a seat, nor reach out a hand for a shake, "Tucker." He waited only long enough for the reply to take a seat, moving it out of order with the other desks to face Lon properly. "I don't know how to answer that question." Last summer he had been travelling across country from place to place. It was hard for him to imagine wanting anything but success in his endeavors in those moments. He would not go back to those months even if he could wish it. "Maybe air-conditioning?"
    Eventually, Tucker's attention would be drawn to the board and he would try to reason his way through it. Unfortunately, it made absolutely no sense to him reading it line by line. It was not until he read it all at once continously that he was able to get a vague idea of what it was saying. He read it over a few more times, then by each line individually, and seemed to settle on a response.
    "It appears to tell of an.. unlikeable ruler's monument. 'Heart that fed' seems like they respected his rule, but the rest doesn't make him sound enticing at all. And he was quite full of himself, but only the monument remains of his empire."

After receiving a bit of backstory from Mr. Radke, Lon felt even more confident in his teaching ability. He might not be a leading example of the profession Lon was aspiring to, but a marine was as close as he was going to get. Lon would have questioned what Typhokinesis since he couldn’t dissect the word in order to figure out its meaning, but the teacher had displayed what he was able to do. Lon didn’t understand why people would describe their powers with complicated names if no one would understand what they meant to begin with.

Lon’s assigned partner saved him the time of wandering over to his seating area and introduced himself, though without gestures due to obvious reasons. Lon didn’t quite abject to the teacher’s choice in partner for him since it made the most sense for him to be partnered up with Tucker over the other two. Lon could easily spar against himself when needed due to his ability to clone himself. “Well, you should probably already know my name since you approached me” he stated simply.

Patrick aroused the question concerning what he wished he would have had during last summer. Similarly to his partner, Lon found the question quite difficult to answer since the most prevalent thing on his mind from last summer wasn’t his proudest of moments. Maybe he would wish that he hadn’t mistaken an innocent hobo for a drug dealer and had his team of clones beat up on him in the name of justice? Some common sense, would that count? Maybe he should just say something stupid and childish to avoid it altogether since he could get away with it. “Uhhh… apple pie would’ve been nice.”

As for the poem, maybe Lon was too young to understand it or he didn’t have a strong understanding of literary devices since he wasn’t even in high school yet. The poem didn’t hold any significance to him, in fact he was surprised that his partner could even rationalize something out of it. Lon shrugged largely and quite animatedly to Tucker and whispered to him “Your answer’s probably better than mine.”

Patrick quietly sat down in his desk, smoke still swirling around as a ball in his hand. He glanced around his classroom slowly, eyes narrowing studiously at each student as he passed over the individuals. He now opened his mouth rather wide and allowed smoke to billow freely from his mouth, some excreting slowly from his skin. He allowed a large cloud to gather above his head before he stood up, moving to the board once more. The smoke began to take shape. It shifted and writhed, forming the scene described in the poem.

"Talk amongst yourselves for the next few minutes while I get what I'm doing ready. I don't care if you talk as a group, or just keep in pairs.'

He walked through the isles of desks, between Adrian and Avery as he headed towards the kiva in the back of the room, he eyed the beanbag chairs he had set up in there for this particular day, a frown creasing his features. The scene that had formed at the front of the room broke apart into a huge cloud of smoke, it became an extremely long thin line of black smoke. The smoke rushed down the isles, beneath the feet of the students and over the heads of the kids.

----------------------

Avery quietly yawned, she blinked quietly as the teacher moved to the back of the room, her right eyebrow slowly lofted and she turned, nodding at the order to do whatever. She kicked her legs up on the desk that was originally behind her, leaning against her actual desk. She looked over at Adrian, smiling slightly mischeviously, both arms crossing over her chest. She seemed rather keen to explain her actions about what had happened, to defend herself.

"Of course I pack a punch, but at least I did it for a good reason. The moment some random guy grabs me and calls me a stupid bitch, I'll be damned if I don't fight back."

Avery's eyes flicked back and forth between Adrian and Tucker, the smile widening slightly as she spoke about what had occurred. She tossed another wave at Tucker, happy that she had been able to help him out in the long run. Her eyes returned to Adrian.

"So, what do you think about Mr. Radke?"

    For Adrian, the whole show of twisting smoke had been off-putting. Uncomfortable with being surrounded by people with Gifts, he tended to prefer Avery's style. She had no reason or current means to display her power and effectually appeared normal, a far better circumstance than some of the Emeralds he had seen. Obviously, she had an ability, but unlike other students he had seen she did not flaunt it around and show off, though she seemed quite proud of her abilities when questioned. Nothing wrong with being confident, Adrian appraised.
    Emeralds, Ruby, and people like Tucker made Adrian wary. The potential for that kind of power had made its way into many anti-Gifted arguments in the past, but, really, anything 'above' human was a threat in Adrian's mind. He realized he had to label himself in a similar category as Tucker. Disastrously hazardous and uncontrolled. Oh, if only he had the ability to restrict his Gift at will.
    That became the primary impression of Patrick Radke: a man seemingly impressed with his own power, flaunting it to show how valuable he viewed himself. It was something that separated him from the rest of humanity and he was proud of it. Adrian disapproved.
    "Class hasn't really started yet," he admitted, with evasive purpose, "He can probably kick all our asses, but can he teach us to kick his?"


    As the class carried on with display and introductions, Tucker took note of Lon's equally insincere response to the summer question. We all have issues, Tucker felt, deciding not to pursue it. He returned his attention to the board as Lon studied it, but found his gaze shifting towards Radke. The man was playing with his smoke skillfully, moving it about however he wanted and using it to project a scene. Tucker could not imagine that taking anything less than skilled, intuitive control to wield in such a way. He had a feeling that given that kind of ability it would require too much focus on his part to do something so refined. Yet, maybe that was a fault in his thinking. Was he treating his own 'power' too bluntly? Not that he had really made much attempts in learning to harness it yet, he had no idea where to start, but now he wondered if it was supposed to feel as natural as Radke's smoke looked.
    Lon's comment roused Tucker's attention to the present, turning his head somewhat abruptly to witness the exaggerated gestures. The commentary gave Tucker a strange sense of satisfaction. Tucker was not the type to discredit someone's intelligence based on their age, so he took it as a compliment. He had been uncertain of his answer before, fearful even that he had missed some crucial detail or was simply far too inexperienced with the world to find some hidden meaning, but now he was confident in his answer. Certainly, that must be it.
    As the instructor moved to the rear of the class, guiding smoke overhead and underfoot, Tucker took the opportunity to focus on Lon, "What does it mean to clone yourself?" He had never heard the term before and was curious not only in how it worked but if it was as 'natural' feeling of a process to Lon as Radke's smoke appeared to be. What kind benefit could a 'cloned Lon' provide? Around here, plenty of students and teachers had identified a use for their Gift, but Tucker still had trouble identifying with his. "Is it easy for you to do?"
    His perceptual attention had a hard time ignoring the smoke, so he turned his body to face the rear of the room, catching Avery's eye and a wave. He grinned beneath his mask, looking to Lon, eager to hear what he had to say, but standing up in the process, "Come with me, Lon." It was an invitation, and he waited to make sure that Lon would follow before finding seating that would allow the pair to join the other two at the tail end of Adrian's reply.

Lon was sort of questioning the reason behind Mr. Radke slowly filling the room with the smoke expelling from his body, but given his quick respect for the man he gave him the benefit of the doubt and expected he had a reason for doing it. Whatever it was. He also began to wonder at what point they would have a hard time breathing in such an environment.

Tucker began to outline the usual questions Lon would get after telling them about his powers, though he asked in a way that provoked more thought than the usual inquiries. Given the way the diseased boy questioned though, he wasn’t sure if he was asking how it happens physically or how he lives with it. “Well, my body splits into two and rapidly regrows the missing half and then there are two of me. We both share the same way of thinking, but not the same mind” he explained as simply as he could.

“Oh yeah, it’s like a morning routine for me. I wake up, brush my teeth, and then replicate myself five times. We all go do our own thing and then we come back together at the end of the day and form a singular Lon again.” Some days he wondered how he could even survive without his clones, they were such a big part of his life he could hardly imagine how others managed without at least a second version of themselves.

Lon’s attention was regained when Tucker invited him to join the other two classmates. From the looks of it, the girl and Tucker were acquainted, if nothing more. Their continuous trade of waves and smiles toward each other weren’t very hard for him to spot. Lon wasn’t going to suggest anything, but he could make as many accusations as he wanted within his head. Lon followed since he lacked a reason not to.

He seated next to Tucker exclusively since he was the only person of the three he knew and reset his binder layout on the desk in front of him.

"Well, I guess we'll figure out what's going on eventually. And figure out if he can teach us how to whoop his ass."

Avery smiled as the other boys joined her, but as she glanced around, her head tilted to the left, and she blinked. Up to this point, she was the only female who seemed to be enrolled in the class, something she hadn't noticed up until now. She offered a tiny wave to the group who had coagulated about her. She crossed her legs and straightened her hoodie out.

"So, apparently I'm the only girl in the class, I really can't imagine why though. Everybody at this school seems to be so aggressive, I'd think that most people would simply flock to this class, especially on an island like this, when nearly everybody has some sort of power or ability. Anyway! How about we go around this circle and learn some stuff about eachother?"

Avery shrunk back slightly in her seat, giving some proper room for people to push themselves into the conversation, she hadn't done this to be the center of attention, she would rather everybody get to know eachother than to be the only one people would get to know about.

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Patrick had been continuing to prepare his little presentation in the kiva, body moving this way and that, the smoke doing much the same as he did. He opened his mouth to call out to the students, but stopped himself, eyes locking on the students just as the other two moved to join and form a small group. He smiled to himself, and sat down, allowing them to enjoy themselves for a bit longer before he was going to go over everything he wished to in the day. His eyes shifted to the grand-father clock set up against the wall, head tilting as he noted how quickly time had been passing, the clock already showing that they were already about twenty five minutes into the period.