Jack freakin' Power (whysocirrus) wrote in mutanthaven, @ 2009-02-03 22:25:00 |
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Entry tags: | jack power, michael nowlan |
LOG: Jack Power & Michael Nowlan
summary: Jack & Michael team up in an awesome adventure of What Can Michael's Powers Do On a Power? hint: a lot of really cool stuff! And then they got high. (or, not really.)
Michael:Michael had been practicing with his powers. It wasn't the easiest thing to do, given that his abilities sort of depended on those around him -- and how could you really know how effective you were if you had no one to tell you that they could feel your powers coming out? -- but he had been. Meditation exercises of a sort, focusing techniques to help him find whatever source it was inside of him that held his mutation's power. And then he started to feel something. At first he thought his mind was making things up, producing a result just because he wanted one. But the more he tried, the more he was sure that he could actually feel the release of the power wen he wanted it to go out. And there were different degrees of it, too. Small pushes, larger ones -- he hadn't tested it on anyone yet, but he was becoming more certain that there wasn't a static amount of boosting that his powers could provide. Weird. Finally though, he decided that it was time to bring someone else in on it. Or at least show someone, see if he was imagining it or not. So he called Jack up and told his friend to meet him at his apartment for something. Better to not try this out on the beach or someplace others might see a mutation go wacky.
Jack: And boy, did Jack show up lickety split, anything to get out of the mansion and away from his dead-end job to go hang out with what he considered a downright cool person. After Michael ended the call, Jack was in his (now running) little Jetta again, in all it's maroon glory, and after a stop at Burger King to pick them up some food he was there, knocking on Michael's door, letting himself into the little apartment. Regardless, any place was better than where Jack lived now and even before---he always walked in in awe, nearly running into things in the process before brandishing the bag of burgers and fries from behind his back. "I come bearing food," something that would make his mother proud, no doubt, and then held out his other hand which had been digging in his pocket, "And a little pot. God, I hope you have a pipe. I broke mine." Yeah, it fell off his balcony and shattered down below. This is what he gets for having a glass one. "Sup, man."
Michael: Why thank you, Jack! Michael thought you were pretty darn cool yourself. And not just for being part of this whole insane mutant phenomenon that was going around, although the people at the hotel all got definite points just for that. And well done on getting the Jetta back, too. Michael's apartment was pretty decent, a hookup that he'd gotten through his frat due to somebody knowing somebody who knew somebody. There were two other guys who lived there but neither were around at the moment, leaving Michael to play some video game on his own while he waited. Not on the Sega, sadly, that whole competition was still going at the store. He was starting to think that it didn't actually have an ending date. He looked over when Jack came in and grinned, which just went wider when the food was shown. "Dude." Thanks! He shoved up off the couch to go over and look in the bag. He shook his head at the weed tough. "Nah man, I want to try something else first." Michael tried to keep his intoxicating substances to alcohol ever since the whole rehab thing -- not that he didn't partake every now and then (and likely had with Jack before), but he had another reason for saying no anyway. He wasn't sure if that would mess up his ability to, well, use his ability, and he wanted to see how that went first. "I think I'm getting the hang of my power, wanted to see if you wanted to try it." Another grin. He didn't know what it would do to Jack. Make him able to fly? Turn him into a storm cloud? Make him the size of an ant? It would be an interesting experiment, at least!
Jack: Yes, he traded some pot to get that thing back but as baby's first car he wasn't about to let it go. Well, not just yet. His cocaine use hasn't really gotten to be a problem... then again, he hasn't tried. "Oh, yeah?" Something better than weed? Did Michael have some of that fictional Pineapple Express pot? Jack shrugged an agreance, grinning all the while, and passed Michael to go throw his bony frame down into the couch, nearly whacking his head on the armrest in the process and rolling into a seated position. Some of his mom's lesson may have fallen short. "Com on man, bring it on. I wanna try!" Always the eager and willing tool, Jack would try anything short of a Tijuana Donkey Show. Maybe an Oslo Donkey Show, if Norway had donkeys.
Michael: Damn, now he had food though! Om nom fry. He moved back over to the couch, sitting on it and facing Jack. Sadly, it was not Pineapple Express, and he really had no idea how it would feel. He was pretty sure that it wouldn't hurt Jack but, uh. Well. From the apparent other times that it had gone off for him around another mutant, some bad things had happened. Those had all been more dangerous powers than Jack's, though. "Yeah so, I think I can work my powers. Like I can supercharge yours. I don't know what that'll make them do, but I wanted to try it out." A grin. He'd thought of Jack, naturally. He liked the kid, what could he say. He put the food aside so that he could concentrate, closing his eyes for a moment so that he wouldn't be distracted. He could feel that source of energy inside of him and tugged at it some, pulling it up and pushing it out. It took a minute, but then it did leave him, shoving outwards and hitting Jack in a sudden dose. Powers? Consider them now jacked up (and pardon the pun!). And then, you know, senses and brain and everything else too. WHEE! Hooray for drugs.
Jack: On nom nom indeed! Jack wasn't sure what to do or say with his bodacious friend up there flappin' his lips. It's safe to say that after Jack had toned out after unwrapping his burger from the bag and taking a massive bite out of the side. Jack chewed, looking up and catching the tail end of Michael's words. Something about supercharging and him. Well, that sounded like a good drug! His mind was wondering if he'd taken it before, setting the burger down on the wrapper next to him on the sofa and rubbed his hands together. "K, let's do this!" he was prepped, he was ready, and... well, hey. Jack blinked, and looked down at his body, grinning widely. Something funny was going on here, everything felt so... fuzzy, like a really awesome drug trip. Or like morphine, when morphine ran into his veins. Or a good bought of sex. "... Whoa, hey, man," Jack touched his face and found it felt soft, like a fleece blanket. Everything was good, man, super good. Feelin' full of giddy, he stood up and checked himself out. Fingers were tingling and everything felt warm, like sitting out in the sun and baking while being baked. "Dude... I think I'm high... but I didn't smoke anything..." not in the last five hours, that is. He was about to say something else when he noticed his hand was fading, clouding, all on it's own and slowly up his arm. This usually came all at once. His feet were, too; Jack was turning into the Genie. "... Oh my god, call my sisters, this has never happened before."
Michael: He opened his eyes to see what had happened -- and Jack was talking about feeling high? What the. He hadn't heard that his powers would make someone feel high. Crazy! He grinned as he watched Jack move around. "For real?" Drug powers, how fitting. He was like a speedball in person form, apparently. Did this mean he failed the rehab that he'd gone to? Annnd then Jack started to disappear. Which reminded Michael that he had roommates that could come home at some point. He laughed and shoved off of the couch, grabbing the food as he did. "Come on, float your ass this way." He moved down the hall to get into his room. "I don't think I have your sisters numbers. Should I use your phone, or are you going to cloud it?" Omg, could Jack turn into a little thundercloud and zap people now? That would be kind of amazing. Mmm burger.
Jack: "Man..." Jack wasn't sure how he felt about this! Well, besides really fucking amazing. He did as told, floating after Michael, watching the ground as shoes and socks dropped every two feet. "I don't think so... if I did, uh... Tessa'll get me a new one?" Or something. Jack had no cares right now, everything was just too good. "They're in the phone book I think, or online." He knew they could always be found online somehow. Julie was on the Mr Tits site about anything and everything nude on tv or in the movies. Glancing down again, he watched his toes curl into little tight puffs of smoke and legs retract into the bottom of his pants, all mist like. Normally his clouding time was swift, but this was taking ages to go---not to mention he was feeling particularly tiny, like, shrinking. He'd never done both, was it possible? "Whoa..." Keanu Reeves was his first grade teacher, all his expressions he learned from him. "Dude, whats going on here?"
Michael: Jack would have to remember to get the socks before he left, or they'd disappear the way that socks are wont to do, more than any other article of clothing. He moved to sit on a beanbag (because yes, he was that cool (and cheap!) that he had one of those in his room instead of a normal chair), watching Jack do his thing, kind of mystified. "I don't know man, you're turning into smoke or something." He pulled out his phone that the hotel had given him. "I'll tell them on the journals." Thanks, handy contraption! He typed up a quick message before focusing back on the slowly disappearing guy. "So what does it feel like? Can you feel the parts of you that aren't there anymore?" If he threw a pen through you, would you be able to tell? "Does it really feel like you're high?" Man, he could make a killing off of that, if so. He wouldn't because he is an upstanding citizen, but still. He wondered if it would show up on tests. Huh. "...Dude, this is really weird, it's like watching how the smoke monster got created on Lost." Can Jack knock down trees and kill people?
Jack: Socks are BFF with the monster under your bed. Jack kept on doin' his thing in the center of the room, giggling to himself and articles of clothing just kept dropping off. "Dude, I'm like... haha, this is amazing," he was beyond loving this now. Amazingly so, Jack stopped smoking and held onto all his limbs, slightly corpreal and fog-like, but obviously an arm was an arm and... well, his legs were gone. "What, LOST? I don't. What's this LOST?" Was it about monsters, because then that would be cool. Or even zombies. "Shit... man, I think I'm stuck like this." But Jack wasn't freaking out, he was just taking it easy, grin as wide as the Cheshire cat.
Michael: "How have you never seen Lost?" Seriously, weird. Michael didn't watch a ton of TV, but he watched that show. And never had any idea what was happening. He was kind of hoping that one day they'd just have an episode where they point-blank told him the answers. THAT'D BE SWELL. He laughed at Jack floating there like Aladdin's genie, and reached over to grab a pen from the ground. Which of course, he tossed through Jack's lower half. "Can you feel that?" Bizarre. And Michael was kind of jealous, truth be told. Not necessarily of the fog-mutation, but of the good time that seemed to be being had. Drugs R bad, kids. "You didn't smoke anything before you got here?" Was it really his powers that did that too? Crazy!
Jack: "DUDE I FELT THAT!" Jack shouted, twisting around and watching the pen land behind him with a little bit of his man swirls on it. That was unique. "You just---haha! You threw something through me! Throw something else!" Have you got a cat, Michael? Now is the time you should throw a cat through him. Or a beer can. "Nah, I didn't. It's still illegal if you get caught and I'd suffer in jail, you know? Too pretty for that junk." Or just too much of a catcher to actually, you know, survive in a small little cinder block room. This was all Michael, baby, all Michael. Jack was lovin' it.
Michael: "Did you really?" How bizarre. He looked around for something else and picked up some random paperback, tossing that through him. "What does it feel like? I think I can find a hair dryer, what would happen if I used that on you?" Would Jack disappear forever, or reform somewhere else? Would it feel like a jet engine blowing you away? Michael really wanted to test that out, but he didn't want to accidentally make Jack not exist. Sadly there were no cats about, and anyway what if the cat inhaled him? ...Whoa, would breathing in high!Jack be like shotgunning off of him or something? Michael was making mental note of his drug-effect too, neat. He'd have to try it on someone else later. But possibly warn them first.
Jack: "Yeah!" And again, Jack felt the tingling sensation of the book passing through him. It felt like after sleeping on his arm, that feeling of having blood rush through a nearly dead limb again. But much, much lighter. "Um, I don't know! My dad tried sucking me up through a vaccuum and it kind of worked..." meaning, go find that hair dryer! "Maybe you can blow me like a ship?" You know, with sails and stuff. Jack is kind of bothered that he still has his head here, but you know, he's kind of digging it. Total Genie in a Bottle Baby, you gotta rub him the right way sort of deal---except with a dryer.
Michael: "Blow you like a ship?" One of the weirdest sayings Michael had ever heard. But then again, Jack was high. Shouldn't Jack be blowing the sails anyway? He sort of looked like the North Wind anyway, with the cloud-body and random head. He just needed to purse his lips and make his cheeks really big to complete the image. He did get up though, to head to the bathroom. "Stay here." No floating out like this, ghost-boy. He came back a few minutes later, blow dryer in hand. He moved over to find the outlet, plugging it in and fall-sitting back on the bean bag. "Okay stay still." Relatively speaking. Annnnd ON!
Jack: There was no where for him to go so Jack stayed as still as a glacier in winter: not moving except a little to the south. The carpet, that is. When Michael came back, Jack grinned and braced his cloudy bits for the inevitable wind and prepared himself with balls o' steel for the first gust. When it came, Jack went! Watching as his lower bits spread out in bits of cloud, he laughed and shook his head. "Dude, this is fucking awesome!" Jack declared as his legs came apart and floated away behind him into nether. "Wait. Wait." Time for seriousness is here. "What if that was my legs and now I can't go back?!"
Michael: Hmm, that could be a problem. Especially if when Jack shifted back, the other parts of him did too and then Michael had legs in the hallway or something equally gross. Very hard to explain to others. "Can't you just stretch yourself out more?" Being made of smoke, and all. "Or maybe you'll just turn back anyway. I mean you have to be just a cloud sometimes right?" Or did he always look like a cloud in the shape of a body? Michael was actually wondering what would happen if he blew all of Jack away, but he wasn't a killer, so he didn't try it. "Try turning back into you." And we shall see how it goes.
Jack: "Er," Jack wasn't sure but he hoped for his sake Michael was right and he'd come back together. All the while this whole experiment was going on, that feel-good fuzzy stuff inside him was ragin' and it felt damned good. Like sitting in the sun on a bright white beach in Mexico good. "'K, here I, uh, go?" Jack wasn't sure here but he focused and imagined all his parts coming back to him: it worked twofold. One, his body went wide, like a beached whale, before recalling itself into a bunch of tight little tornado like coils and, from them, his legs emerged, toes, so on and so forth.
But Jack's pants dropped somewhere back there, about two feet, so as his body became whole, Jack was whole and he dropped to the ground in a bare bottomed thud, swiftly pulling his legs to his knees and sitting there in a cocoon. "Hee," he tittered, "I'm whole."
Michael: Michael was pretty sure that it would be alright. He figured if Jack had really just lost his lower half, then he'd be in some kind of pain. Even if he was made up of gases rather than human parts at the time. AND HEY, it was a good thing that he was right, because otherwise again with the awkwardness of trying to explain that. And blood and guts everywhere and blech. His eyebrows shot up some when Jack turned human again annnd lacked clothing. He grinned a bit, shoving up off his seat. "Yeah man, you are. Want your clothes?" He moved past to go and grab them from wherever they'd fallen. Oh hey, there's some pants.
Jack: "Please," he sounded like a wee little mouse, and scooted across the floor on his rear to go hide behind the bed until his pants were returned, and more importantly, until he could hide his stick legs in them. Socks, all that can go back on later. But once he found himself clothed, Jack bounced up onto his heels and triumphantly pumped his fists in the air, "Let's do that again! Shit was awesome! Dude! How high have you been? Name your best high, any high, name it. Go. Do it. Name it."
Michael: He grinned a bit and shook his head some. Name his best high? Michael had a few that he could list off, but he didn't really want to. People out here didn't know about the rather massive fuck up he'd been for part of high school, and he liked it that way. Telling new friends -- especially ones that you partied with -- about your coke binges and resulting rehab stays tended to lead to awkward times. And anyway, he was a different person now. New leaf, new life, etc etc. "Nah man, maybe another time. We should probably ask Tessa if it's supposed to do that to you." Or maybe it was just Jack because...he was Jack. "Food's gonna get get cold anyway." He had not forgotten about the lonely burgers and fries out there.
Jack: Mmm, food. Jack nodded, he knew better than to REALLY push people about their highs. They share stories eventually! Or, you know, you get high with them and that becomes a new story. "Oh, fuck yeah! Let's grub, man!" And, like that, he was off like a fat kid to a candy store racing back out to the living room to go grub. Because being high on Michael was, like, the best thing ever and now he was hungry. Michael may need to get out the phonebook. He'll want Dominos now, too.