nextgenerationmarvel | Training Day

Current Location: Danger Room, Xavier Mansion

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Training Day

Dolemeck was a bit excited about today. He would finally start training in the Danger room with his telekinetic powers. Not just that, but he would also be training with Ilya. Since his arrival, the two formed a unique bond which enabled them both to open about their lives and problems. This made Dolemeck less anxious around the mansion and in class. He was coming off as more relaxed and mature.

The two only worried that Headmistress Ramsey would say something about their closeness. It hung over their heads as they entered the Danger Room. Dolemeck allowed Ilya to wheel him in, and both young men were dressed in their training uniforms (which Dolemeck hated his with a passion). Giving Rachel a salute, Dolemeck smiled as they arrived.

"Dolemeck Night, reporting for training, Headmistress Ramsey!" He sounded more cheerful and care-free than ever. All of this, despite the worry he felt inside.

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The added destructive elements in this assessment were very illustrative. The Shi'ar tech in the room was much more durable than the damage most students could put out. Rachel wasn't remotely worried about the actual parts of the Danger Room being destroyed. She was also perfectly shielded as the small, metal bits rained down around her.

"These tests are not pass/fail." She had to coin float to her hand. It landed on the pad of her forefinger. The coin raised up on edge and spun slowly on her finger. "It's to see what you can do, so the education you get on using your powers is tailored to you."

She flipped the spinning coin to the floor. She let it roll a foot away from her and knocked it over. "Again."

Amazingly, the results of him trying harder so he doesn't look like a raging incompetent 'muscle-brain' just results in the same debris and small metal confetti effect as before, but slightly bigger.

Again, the sensation of being cold and a vague memory of metal goes through him, and this time he can't suppress a shudder, rubbing his arms to chase out a chill more psychological than physical. He wishes he was in his usual layers of clothing that kept him overheated. He needs it.

Rachel hummed to herself a moment as the floor carnage showered down around her. She raised her hand and the coin flipped into her palm.

"I've got a fair idea on that aspect." She put the coin back into her pocket. She waved her hand to put all the debris back in place while Ilya shudders. She kept watch on him out of the corner of her eye as she waved and the floor solidified once again.

"Ready for another test?" she asked as she turned to the student.

"Yes ma'am." The sooner he's done embarrassing himself, the better. He wishes he had Dolemeck's ability to pick up small things with ease; what he thought was wonderful to watch yesterday just makes him feel inadequate now. It doesn't make sense. Someone with the physical muscles to pick up something heavy can pick up something small, so why can't he?

He keeps rubbing at his arms, absentmindedly. "I'm sorry I keep making such a mess, ma'am. I'm trying my best."

If only his best was less... well, destructive. And this, he noted, is why he would never ever use his powers with other people anywhere around.

"There is nothing wrong with what you're doing now. I need to assess what you can and can't do. We're doing this in the Danger Room because I didn't expect a nice and clean assessment. It can take more damage than most X-Men can dish out." She motioned for him to follow her to a far corner. Once they were situated facing the room, the Danger Room popped a block up in front of them. It was about the size and weight of one of the ore carts Ilya had pushed around in the mines.

"While standing here, push this around the room as far and as much as possible."

Oh, this he actually knows how to do. Sure, it's minus wheels, but he used to have to this uphill. This is an oddly familiar task and he sort of braces his feet against the ground and goes back into a focused stare. The block moved with same speed Ilya could run and following the vague direction of 'as much as possible', it goes in zigzag patterns, picking up speed as he applies more force to it, then with a furrowed brow he pushed hard at it and the block slid all the way over to the opposite wall. It wasn't without effort, but again, he'd hauled things up steeper inclines for longer periods of time, and he was only breathing faster, not hard.

Moving it around without a destination is a new experience for him, but the wall's as far as anything can go, so he pushes it along the wall's side in one direction, then in another. Experimentally, he picks it up. That's more effort, enough to have him breathing hard, but he can still move it back and forth even at this distance.

"Ma'am? When do I know when to stop?" It's more confusion than exertion. He can do this all day, in the sense that he can force himself to keep going in a life or death situation to do this all day. Still, it's the lack of specific directions that's getting to him.

Rachel watched him move the block around the room. She was casually glance at him to check if there was any strain or not. Then she would go back to watching what he would do if given free reign.

"Well, if you're done with moving it around the floor, push it back to the far wall and then up that wall to the ceiling." She was curious if he would brute strength it up or knew how to make telekinetic tethers to the wall.

"Once you get it to the ceiling, make it travel along the ceiling."

"Yes ma'am." Okay, that's a lot more holding up than he's used to, but the weight isn't too much for him. It takes a lot of focus, a lot of making sure his grip on the block is still from below and more holding than just pushing against the ceiling - that seems like a way to keep it from dropping suddenly, and that's kinda important given how much this weighs - and up the wall and around the ceiling it goes in circles and zigzags, though the circular motion doesn't lend itself very well to a block shaped object. The zigzags seem to give it more speed and more fluid movement.

Ilya's breathing is still a bit hard, but he's actually smiling a little. He didn't know he actually had this much 'fine control', as incredibly bad of a usage of the word 'fine' as this is. It's a lot more than he thought he was capable of doing. He deflates when he remembers Dolemeck's 'I-can-pick-up-a-single-piece-of-paper' control, though, and the smile's gone as quickly as it came.

"Very good control," she commented as she watched the block move to and fro. "Now, continue to try to maintain control of the block."

She reached out with her own telekinesis. She pushed and prodded the block off whatever path Ilya sent it on. She started off light to test. Though she did increase the strength of the pushes to see when distraction or strain came in. Not too much considering how own power, but she tried to keep it on Ilya's level.

He kept ahold of it despite the prodding for a while, but only because he was used to hitting snags with mine carts, which was his only real frame of reference. After a few minutes, it became easier, especially if he maintained a speed instead of varying it or speeding the block up, since that would have taken too much concentration.

That said, he's not straining to do it like he thinks might've been the intent, and he's fairly sure that means she's about to make it harder.

"Very good," she commented absently.

Ilya was correct about it getting harder. Once she had an idea of how much he maintained of his telekinetic hold, She started to shove the block around with force needed for double the weight. Then double again. She would keep it up until she could shove it out of his control. Just to see how fast he could regain it if at all.

After a minute of her increasing the shoving, he was breathing hard and having to push it in erratic patterns just to keep the momentum going so it could move it circles. But he can't keep this up, and he'd rather admit it and just let her be disappointed in him than in some way drop the cube and hurt someone.

"...I can't keep up," he admits, carefully lowering the block to the ground. "I - I'm so sorry, ma'am."

Once he started to lower the block, she stopped testing his hold on it. She pressed a finger against her lips for a moment in thought.

"There's nothing to be sorry for. You know your limits. We'll just have to work on expanding them power-wise." She looked him over. "You have more fine control over heavier objects than I expected. We'll slowly work on decreasing the weight you can push around and not overpower it. Thankfully, I know how that goes. I started out as more brawn than finesse. It'll take time, but I will eventually get you to move around a singular piece of paper with no harm to anything else."

Why yes, she had caught that thought earlier.

"I'll also work with out on your telepathy and getting more mental guards up. But for today, I think we've covered what I needed to see to figure out your training regimen."

"If I panic, I don't know my limits. When that happens I don't even know how not to use my powers. So I really want to learn more control. I know it takes time, I just... I don't want to hurt anyone, ever." It's frightening, but he's hopeful. If she can do all these amazing things, then maybe he can learn, too. Ilya doesn't have to or want to be the best telekinetic to ever live. He'll settle for being safe to be around and being able to use his powers in a way that helps people.

He bites his lip. He and Dolemeck had talked and Ilya had promised he'd say something to Headmistress Ramsey. But SHIELD didn't have much information from when he was in the gulag on file. Incidents between prisoners were only recorded if they resulted in murder and last Ilya checked he was very much alive. Ilya bites down harder, drawing blood. His healing factor patches it up quickly. He does it again.

...it's too humiliating. He can't talk to the Headmistress. She's too high above him, too dignified, too important to come to with ghosts of his past. So he just nods and puts on a fake look that says 'I'm fine'.

"So does that mean the session is over?"

"I learned what I needed to. It's done. Unless you had anything you wanted to ask?" She waved her hand and the large block disappeared from the Danger Room.

"Danger Room: end assessment IG-01." She waited to see if Ilya had any questions.

He wanted to say something. But it wasn't about his powers. But it was important. But - Ilya's mind races, and he ultimately defaults to his basis for how the world works: he's not important enough. He falls silent.

"No, I'm good," he says softly. He can't think of anything else to say.

She nodded in acknowledgement. She was not about to force him to talk about something that was on his mind. She was aware there was something on the surface, but she was not going to probe any deeper to find out what it was. "If there's anything else, you know where my office is. Have a good day, Ilya. You did just fine in here."

The redhead headed toward the door.

A pang of panic goes through him. And then his mouth opens before his brain can stop it. Sadly, for Ilya blurting things out is the best way to get he truth of a situation out. "Ma'am? There's a... a group that Dolemeck told me about. That meets around the same time his does, and I... I mean, I know I'm new to this century and everything but it'd just be there and back and..."

He locks up. Ilya has never requested anything of someone higher up in the food chain than himself. He ducks his head, watching her reaction closely for any hint of annoyance or displeasure. He seems stunned by his own bravery.

"...and I'd really like to go," he finishes lamely, biting his lip.

Rachel turned neatly on the heels she was wearing. She would never admit if that was skill or a little telekinetic assistance. She tried hard not to blink at the request. She looked a little past Ilya as she considered it.

This student is here at SHIELD's behest. Her eyes focused back on him. "I will have to check it out personally. To see if it's an appropriate support group for you to attend. SHIELD wants me to vet everything you go off-campus for. Also, we need to be sure there will be no problem that a mutant is going to attend. We're a publicly outed school for mutants, and there are those who don't like us just for existing. Just because it's near where Mr. Night attends his support groups does not automatically make it safe for you to attend. I'll check into it for you."

And with someone who bit his lip to bleeding and had it heal up quickly afterwards, Ilya had a tell even if though he could pass otherwise.

"N-no, you can't - I mean - SHIELD can't know. I never told them when they had all their psychologists question me, m-mostly because it never came up, but I-" He looked at her with big eyes, suddenly feeling very cornered and very alone. After a deep breath, he said quietly, "Please. Please don't tell SHIELD. It's humiliating enough to be this messed up in the first place."

Rachel kept her facial expression placid. The boy obviously had no idea about what SHIELD put in his file to her. Also, he had the idea that not telling a psychologist meant they couldn't figure it out. Professional solidarity would have made her point that out if it weren't a scared fifteen year old boy.

"I'm not telling SHIELD anything if they don't ask about it. I will still have to vet where you want to go myself. And there is no humiliation to needing help considering what you've been through."

"I guess - there's a lot going on in my head. Sometimes the whole day is fine until suddenly it's just not. And this place isn't like the gulag, it's nicer than any place I've ever even seen in Russia, but I keep having... I keep having flashbacks. To something that, that happened but didn't get recorded. Because it was no big deal. It is no big deal. And if anything's going to screw me up it should be the train crash or losing my family, right? So I shouldn't care about little things." Ilya rarely rambles, but he's both trying to talk himself into and out of something. He's nervous, he's scared, he wishes his mother were alive and here so he could curl up with her and cry, and so he just sort of blurts out, "A lot of guys in the gulag turned on each other. No women around so - things, uh, happened. Kind of happened, to me. Once."

Just uttering those words makes him feel like the lowest form of life on planet Earth. A powerful enough mutant to lift mining carts had to be rescued by a guard. And how shallow does it make him to even care about that when his hometown is deserted, everyone he knew is dead, the world as he understands it is gone? And he's flashing back to something as completely insubstantial as this? Worse, he's having flashbacks of it? The only way he can make sense of it is that maybe he's too much of a coward to face the rest of what he went through. Maybe he's just not strong enough.

"...I know it's my fault. For being out of sight of the guards and being stupid. But ever since SHIELD pushed me for details of every little thing I could remember it's all sort of resurfaced. I don't know why. I used to be fine."

If 'fine' meant 'never thinking about it and focusing on anything else he could'. If 'fine' meant being too shocked to do anything but keep going. Honestly, if Dolemeck hadn't pried it out of him, Ilya might've just gone his whole life resigned to flashbacks, nightmares, being afraid of other men in the hall and ignoring his own quiet panic.

Rachel really wished she could pinch the bridge of her nose at the moment. It would definitely send the wrong signals. But she was having so much information thrown at her she was having a hard time sorting through it.

She walked back to stand in front of Ilya. She took a breath. "I understand about flashbacks. More than anyone else on campus. I'm not from here originally. I lived in the South Bronx Mutant Internment Center for awhile. So, another one of things you and I will do is have regular counseling sessions."

She carefully reached out to try to place her hand on his shoulder. "What he did to you is never your fault. Ever. The blame is entirely on him. And I will slowly help you realize that. Anyone else who says otherwise will have to deal with me and my ability to scramble things mentally and physically."

He looks at her with an almost total lack of comprehension. These modern values, these new views on things, they're always an adjustment process, like learning how manners were different or what was considered bad language in English. But this is a leap from where he's used to things being on this topic. It was always, always the fault of both people if they were men. That's why he never said anything to SHIELD. They asked if anything bad had happened off the records and this wasn't bad, this was his fault. His mistake. So he'd answered no and kept his shame to himself because that was how the world worked.

This is not how the world works. Dolemeck told him before 'it's not your fault' and it's just as surreal to hear it from someone in power who should know better. Those words are madness to him. But he knows the words 'internment center' all too well and their implications, so he know she's been through her own dark times, her own moments of terror. Whatever they are, they're hers in that horrible way his are his; trauma was an intricate and well-woven web never quite the same between two people.

He bites his lip again. "I don't want SHIELD to know. I don't want it on my files, please - it's too humiliating. If we do 'counseling'," and it's clear from his tone of voice he's not sure what that will entail, "will it go on my record? I can't have people know I - the whole thing is just - please, don't tell anyone."

His voice wavers, and cracks as he begs.

"SHIELD will not be privy to what we discuss in our counseling sessions. There is something known as physician–patient privilege, which will protect our conversations during those meetings," she assured gently. She gave his shoulder a light squeeze.

"I know this feels huge and unbearable, but we'll work through it. Okay?"

Training Day

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