With great vanity comes great responsibility.
Amongst his vast wasteland of negative qualities, Trip openly displayed one surprisingly positive quality. It was a trait that at times seemed to contradict every other aspect of his persona. Dedication. The very person that would go so far as to sell his own grandmother given the opportunity, just for amusement, was in fact capable of devoting himself to something. In the past a rare few had even witnessed this trait develop into his friendships. However in this case, it was vanity that garnered this enthusiasm. Every morning despite even the weather, he’d start with a run. After that, like clockwork, he’d hit the pool. And most of time, somewhere along the day he’d find himself at the gym. It wasn’t that he needed all that work, Mark just thought of it like fine tuning perfection. Although, in truth it some credit did go to instilled habits that developed while in the detention center.
Over the years he had really taken a liking to the sport of boxing. It was a sport that required both physical and mental prowess. Sure any moron could get into a ring and start swinging arms, but chances were they wouldn’t last long without a sound strategy. Then there was the aspect of footwork. Boxing relies heavily on foot placement in order provide leverage with both strikes and side steps. One little slip and the whole thing would be over. Conveniently, little slips just so happened to be a specialty of his. Boxing was practically made for him.
At first sight the gym could be a little intimidating. There was a virtual sea of torture machines lined up as if on display. Much of the equipment were standard, yet toward the back there even a few modified contraptions that Trip wasn’t even going to try and figure out. They were most likely adapted for different physical mutations. The soft blue pads on the floor were a nice change from the cold tile floors he was used to.
From an obscure little corner of the gym came the unspoken cries of the heavy bag as it absorbed blow after blow. Its abuser, standing before it, huffed heavily between each act of aggression. There was no telling just how long Trip had been at it, but judging by his disheveled appearance it had been a while now. He was covered in a glistening blanket of sweat. Thanks to an earlier mechanics class, sweat smeared and mixed with a few grease spots making him look even messier. A small rag draped from the back pocket of his denim shorts, not that he had really bothered to stop and take the time to use it.
All of his frustrations were thrown with each punch. This was how he vented, and the newcomer definitely needed to such a thing. The mansion was nice, but the people, god were they annoying. Everyone seemed so positive all the time. Always upbeat and helpful, that just didn’t seem natural. Cheery people willing to help, it was a bit sickening. Those weren’t the type of people Trip was used to being around. Such reactions made him uneasy and skeptical. Idealists deserved to be shot. Ironically, the ideals he hated in so many others, where the very ones that seemed to be driving his affinity towards a certain female teacher. Thankfully though, Max and his friends thus far had proved to be alright. In fact, his opinion of Max had grown quite a bit really. Granted Chadstone wasn’t the most intelligent person, but he had an odd charm that was slowly growing on Trip.
Between the rattling of the bag’s support chain, the impacts, and his deepened breaths; Trip wouldn’t hear much going on around him short of a car accident. For the moment, he was off in his own little world.
The clouds had seemed to thin slightly, allowing yet again the suns rays to creep meekly through their dreary cover, the ground was probably still muddy outside where the rain of earlier days would have soaked deep into the ground. Then again, even the mud of outside had to be better then the cold tiled floor of the gyms shower he had suddenly found himself pressed down against, the firmness of the gripe that held him almost unshackable in the initial shock. There were words whispered into Max's ear, heated breaths that stroked against the side of the Chadstone's face as the other sat atop him.
"Not exactly Daddy's little boy anymore, are ya?" The words were soft, as if it gave the other some form of pleasure to know this, though Max was suffering a moment of disorientation as his cheek pressed down into the small tiles of the floor, still recovering from the initial shove where he had been pushed hard against the wall and rebounded clumsily to the floor with the weight of the other pulling him down. With a pain thudding on the side of his temple, and the familiar taste of what could only be described as a sort of copper sensation in his mouth, Max felt both submissive and irritated at the same time. It wasn't often that the Chadstone's emotions did not spill over into a furious rage by this moment in time, however things of late weren't exactly filling Max with a 'can do' attitude and more of a 'what's the point'. For a moment, that mentality poisoned Max's retaliation, and for that moment all Max saw in the blur of memories that reminded him of other times he had felt this, they were moments of weakness bought on by his own mistakes, at least that is how his father made him feel. The only problem right now...
"I'm getting really tired of you lot thinking a little family row gives you all the right to start pushin' me around," The flesh of the youth hardened enough that Max started to lose the sensitivity his bare skin offered, leaving the pain to fade further and further away as he struggled free with all the knowledge Wolverine and Garnet had tried to drill into him. It wasn't until the other had been kicked off that Max recognized the attacker as Damon, a fire powered mutant who wasn't well liked by many of the school's population. Patches of wet marks splattered over Max's legs, his jeans were hardly a concern though, throwing a fist into the face of this idiot however was high on Max's list of priorities, "I don't know what you're problem is this time-" Max's hand reached out and twisted the handle of the shower, just as Damon's fist raised, the flames already flickering about his knuckles only to be sizzled out by the spray of water now drenching the two of them. "We're in a frickin' shower you moron, and I'm made of bloody stone, you demented idiot.... finally proof that your brain really was turned to ash so long ago," A growl from Damon came just as his arms lashed out and pushed Max back against the wall, trying to throw the other offbalance in an effort to make his escape.
If Max's feet hadn't slipped under the force and successfully knocked the feet from under the blonde's body, causing Max to trip down and land hard on the ground, if he had not been in stone form then there was not a lot of doubt that might have hurt. For a moment, Max sat there, offering only a slight tilt of his head as he stared up at the water which poured down from the shower head. It was just a mere moment, a few breaths, but enough for the gym's shower door to be heard opening and Damon obviously making a run for it while Max was down, which only fuelled the Chadstone to his feet and after the fleeing assailent.
When the schools well known bully found himself at the doorway into the main gym, Damon was already legging it out of the other side of the area, leaving in a slipping and sliding manner as Max stood there, looking between where Damon was vanishing off to the sole other figure in the gym. A hand raised to allow stoned fingers to press against his solid lips, with only a moment passing as his greyed skin returned to its living flesh, revealing a cut lip where his tooth and split the skin when his face had hit the ground.
"That retart just ... " It didn't click till then that the other person at the punching bag was Trip, it had only been a few days since Wilderness training, if the gravity mutant had any idea of what transpired directly after they arrived back. It seemed Damon and the others had, and while Mr Summers had not been too kind on the onlookers who had watched the fiasco and done nothing to help with the situation. "Oh hey.. he got on Lara's wrong side.." Standing shirtless, dripping wet, with a cut lip, talking to another semi dressed, gease smeared... it gave Max an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach. "..he's been bitchin' about it ever since,"
Re: With great vanity comes great responsibility.
As a little more time slipped past, and that coveted burn had spread up into his shoulders and neck Mark decided to call it quits. A final haymaker of a strike sent the bag flailing about wildly. It was an obvious sign of mutant ability, more specifically a sudden upward thrust cleverly placed under foot. Luminous blue eyes spun around in an awkward attempt to regain balance. Both exalted and exhausted, Mark stepped aside. As he took the moment to catch his breath the peculiar glow of his eyes dimmed away.
Out of his peripheral vision something called out for attention. Whatever it was it was gone as quick as it came though. All he saw was a blur. His best assumption was that someone had probably peered through the doorway or something. Either way, it didn’t matter. As quickly as that focus faded a new one seemed to show up, Max.
"That retart just … Oh hey.. he got on Lara's wrong side.."
The way Max chose his wording there was perfect. Just the thought of such an open ended statement brought about a hint of a smirk. Sure, it was an easy retort, almost too easy, but it couldn’t be resisted. “... I’ve seen a few of her sides so far and they’ve all looked right to me.” He retorted in a calmly sarcastic manner. As quickly as it came his smirk was gone. Whatever Max was going on about it clearly seemed to have irritated him.
One thing about the institute that amazed Mark was just how easy it was to get information. Its’ female population was a perfect and abundant source of it. All one had to do was look for a cluster of chatty girls, offer up a nice big smile, and ask away. “Oh, was that the Damian kid or whatever? I heard something about that… I forget what though… Did he just try something?” In all honesty Trip was playing a little dumb at the moment. Information is almost always a wonderful thing, but know it alls are just plain annoying.
As he spoke a bead of sweat began to trickle down his forehead and momentarily rested on his eyebrow. Agitated, Trip slipped the towel from his back pocket and gave his face a quick pad down.
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