”Heya broer!”

Cassander was quickly stopped in his tracks.

“If we’re going to be a solid team we should first get to properly introduce ourselves, right? I’m Katja, Katja Kruger.”

He had been sure that no one was paying any attention to him and yet here, in front of him now, was the team's Amazonian knockout. There was no way this was actually happening. Cassander quickly looked around the barely contained chaos that was their campsite, sure that one of his teammates must have had the power of illusion and was currently screwing with his perception of reality. Alas, there didn't appear to be a second Katja and thus the blonde bombshell currently towering a head and a half over Cassander must have in fact been the genuine article.

“You euhm, got a tentmate yet?”

Cass was certain his knees were about to go out from under him at any second. He hadn't expected anyone to ask him to be their tentmate. He had a solid plan, he'd sneak away, spare himself the awkwardness of being picked last and reluctantly retire for the night with whichever sucker was forced to share a tent with the human time bomb. But this was not his plan, he had not expected to be asked to bunk with an attractive girl. He had to somehow muster the courage to turn her down.

"Actually I do," Cassander lied, his eyes rapidly darting around the campsite. "Uh, Axel and I had actually planned to bunk together since we're already used to each other."

What is wrong with you?

"I was just scouting out a good spot before grabbing a tent, y'know close enough to fire to stay warm, but not in the path of the smoke. But also far enough away from the other tents that we can't hear each other snoring at night. Standard stuff."

Put the shovel down, Charon.

"Maybe uh, Trace, needs a partner?" Cass suggested as he stepped around Katja and headed back toward the pair of trucks. There was no sneaking away at the moment, he definitely needed to grab one of the last tents before Axel either picked himself a partner or worse, Katja's feelings got hurt because of his lie. She certainly seemed like a nice enough girl, Cassander wouldn't have minded talking to her more but he was definitely not open to sharing a tent with her. He didn't know her well enough for that, and there was nothing quite like involuntary bodily functions to accelerate one's intimate knowledge of a person. At least sharing a tent with Axel or one of the others from the male dormitory, those things were expected.

Picking up a tent, Cass hauled the bag upwards with minimal effort, though noting that despite its seeming lightweight construction, it wasn't without heft. Walking over to Axel, Cass lifted the tent in a salutation before forcing a smile.

"I got us a tent! Want to help me set it up?" His eyes darted back towards Katja, before looking towards the older male in a manner that practically screamed 'save me'. With any luck, Axel would take pity and save Cass from the hole he dug.

Calliope really was stunning. Distractingly so. But Banjo continued to play it cool as best he could. If she had any interest in him at all, and he suspected she did. After all, she approached him - man, that really came out of nowhere though, didn't it - and there were a few moments he suspected he'd almost caught her checking him out. Particularly checking out his rear end, when he'd put the tent down and turned back quickly to offer his name. At first he thought maybe he was picking up on something he was hoping for, rather than something that was actually happening, but then too many things seemed to fall into place to make it seem just a coincedence.

Still, play it cool. Hell, after all, if there was anything that drew him to her in the first place it was probably that, yeah? Confidence bordering on cockiness. Banjo bein' Banjo.

"This school is...interesting to say the least. I've never been to a school like it with such stringent rules and dress codes. Granted, it wasn't like I didn't have my own set of rules governed by my father. Looking a certain way, acting a certain way. Everything had to be cookie-cutter perfect otherwise we didn't hear the end of it. Hell, the whole thing at the town center was because..."

Hup, there it was again. Family. And more to the point, the father. Guess that made some kind of sense. Daddy issues. If you could bio-engineer "Daddy wouldn't approve" in a laboratory, Banjo was pretty sure he'd be looking at a clone of himself. He'd have to thank the old man later, because if Calliope WASN'T perfection, then he'd damn sure come up with a close enough approximation of it, far as he could tell...

Then she quickly pulled up on her comments, and it left him feeling self-conscious and guilty for his own lewd thoughts. "Never mind. Suffice to say, I think we all have our pasts and reasons for being here. As nutty as it might seem, I think you have it right. At least being a Hyperhuman here won't get you kicked out or shunned by society." He got a sense she was trying to open up to him, and that it wasn't easy. But maybe that she would with time. It told him he'd played it right before. Don't probe, don't poke. Just listen.

"Yeah, looks like prime weather for me then. And I agree, our powers seem to complement each other. Or, at the very least, won't hinder the other. Provided you don't give off intense heat and I am nearby. Though not all heat is bad."

There it was. Boom. Jackpot. Clarification. Pieces all fell into place, and it wasn't just hopes or wishes. Shit. Oh shit. A comeback. Hit a comeback, before the timing's misse--

"Couldn't imagine myself giving off intensity or heat if you weren't." he fired back with a smirking grin.

What the fuck was--? Was that good? Did that work? I mean it was something. Fuck it. Sell it. Confidence and keep moving. Good ol' Banjo bein' Banjo. Say that shit and keep moving. Nothing to see here. Don't linger at the scene. And why the fuck do you give a shit? You never give a shit.

He dropped the smirk, but kept the grin on his face as he circled the yurt ensuring it was properly self anchored and in tact.

"Well, whilst I would more than happily keep chattering away to you all night, I s'pose we should probably make the most of what little time we have getting to know the rest of these jokers. Looks like we got our tent done first anyway. Probably give a decent 'in' with some of the others who might be struggling. Worst comes to worst, at least 'this' feels pretty good and solid. Least I know one person's got their head screwed on right."

Stop giving a shit. Does she know that you're into her? She knows that you're appropriately into her. Stop this. She flirted, you flirted back. She was letting you know she's into you, you let her know you're into her. I mean she didn't seem to cringe terribly. She didn't hurl herself off the cliffs. Knock it off. You did fine. Did it seem like you ran away? No, she knows we have to speak to the other people.

Goddamn it. You have to speak to the other people. The people where it probably won't go as well because they didn't necessarily like you going in.

"Well, shit..."

Katja had expected Cassander to take her hand and greet her in kind, but he seemed to completely ignore it. Instead he immediately turned down her offer to tent together. The boy seemed to be under some stress, his eyes darting around almost frantically, as if he was looking for someone. She awkwardly withdrew her extended hand towards the back of her neck when it became obvious that he wasn’t going to shake it, her smile faltering slightly.

Cassander quickly turned down her offer to share a tent, which was unfortunate but didn’t bother Katja that much. What did make her a bit uncomfortable was how Cassander seemed to want to keep their interaction as short as possible. After explaining why he was here “scouting out a good spot” he tried to suggest Trace as a possible tentmate. ”I… I see…” Katja said as she glanced over to where Trace was at. It was only a few seconds, but that was enough for Cassander to take his leave, as he was already making his way towards Axel.

Had she done something wrong? Katja had mostly hoped to start a conversation with Cassander and get to know him a little better, but he didn’t seem to want any of that. This was the third interaction she had with her team members today, and it was the third time things just ended up being awkward. Maybe this whole dealing with people business wasn’t something for her.

Raising her head to look up at the gathering clouds, Katja deeply inhaled before letting out a dejected sigh. She had always thought that people avoided her because of what she was, a Hype, but right now she was feeling as if it’s because of who she was instead. Maybe she just wasn’t that likable. As she was looking up at the rolling clouds, her thoughts were slowly drifting away. Maybe…

The sudden sting on her cheek dragged her back to the here and now. Looking down at her hand, she came to the realization that she had subconsciously slapped some sense back into herself. ”Stop it with the self pity and pull yourself together Kruger.” Katja mumbled to herself.

Just because previous attempts didn’t go well didn’t mean that it was time to start moping and feel sorry for herself. She wasn’t raised to be a quitter and she wasn’t going to start being one now!

Shaking her head to clear her mind, Katja steadied the tentset on her shoulder and put on a smile again.

There seemed to be some commotion back at the trucks, where about half of Team Blackjack seemed to be gathered. It looked like it was mostly centered around Haleigh and people trying to help her. While that seemed mostly sorted, with a team member who Katja hadn’t seen before seemingly offering his help, it looked as if Trace was kinda left on the sidelines.

”Yo Trace!” Katja called out to Trace as she walked towards them. “I know you said you’d hope to get mates whom you can borrow clothes with but euhm…” A sheepish smile formed on her lips as she got closer to her pale team member. “I’ve got a tent here and no one to share it with, would you be down?”

---

Just like that Haleigh had found a partner.

Well, in actuality, it hadn't been all her doing. Sure, she had taken the first steps, but it'd been Trace that had done most of the work for her, calling over some of the men in their group to come assist Haleigh. Those that she had called over, however, were beaten to the punch by another one of their teammates. Like the rest of of Blackjack, Haleigh hadn't interacted with him much at all. Or before, for that matter. For some reason unknown to her, Haleigh had difficulties recalling who he was, but she figured that had been because she had been avoiding everyone else. She probably just forgot his name, that's all.

"No worries. It shouldn't take long for us..." Haleigh trailed off, trying to think of what his name was, but drew only blanks. "I'm sorry, I can't for the life of me remember your name. I'm Haleigh, though you might've known that already."

While Haleigh awaited for his answer, she took the time to look towards the others and their progress. What Haleigh saw she felt disgust for. Disgust that, for the first time in awhile, that wasn't directed at herself. Those tents. Haleigh had pictured a traditional tent, with nylon or polyester fabric hammered into the ground with pegs and string. This wasn't it by a longshot.

She didn't dare say the forbidden word—glamping. The Canadian had argued against it on her outdoors blogs for years. Yet here Haleigh was, being forced to "glamp" against her will. If she wasn't stuck in a wheelchair, and if the approaching weather changed for the better, Haleigh would've thrown down with some blankets on cold dirt rather than sleep in that monstrosity. But alas, things weren't going to go her way, as they hadn't for some time lately. Swallowing her pride, Haleigh submitted to the tent gods, and made peace with that she was about to glamp for the first time in her life.

"Well, the first thing is that we need to do is work from the base. Make certain that it is secure before working our way up and around. I just hope they gave us enough tools to work with. These models can be... annoying to work with."

Rory's foot tapped against the ground softly, the wooden chair he was in creaking incessantly with the constant motion. His eyes failed to meet the good doctor in front of him, as Jonas sat with a small smile plastered on his lips and watched. Rory stared at everything else he could. He knew what was sitting in front of Dr. Lehrer was perhaps one of the most disappointing transcripts he'd seen in a while. Rory wasn't disruptive enough or dumb enough to be kicked from schools, or fail out of being able to compete on various sports teams. But PRCU wasn't exactly known for its football team, and Rory wasn't going to be able to use his extracurricular physical performances as a selling point here. After what felt like seconds, but could have been minutes, Rory's eyes finally met those of Dr. Jonas Lehrer.

"I am sorry for your loss, Mr. Tyler. I know you've heard that a lot in the past year, but I feel it is still important that it be said." Jonas both forearms on his desk, clasping his hands together as he leaned in. The shaking in Rory's leg stopped for a moment as his focus fell entirely to Dr. Lehrer. "You know, I interviewed the two of them when they were accepted here. They were dedicated to their life's works, as I am. I had a tremendous respect for them both, and I do not believe English has a word that could encompass the tragedy of what has been lost with them gone."

Rory's eyes diverted from Dr. Lehrer, turning to a small clock on the wall. The leg shaking began again as Rory stifled the various thoughts and feelings that welled in his chest and threatened to crawl up his throat and out of his lips. "Uhh... yeah... Yes, I mean. Thank you, sir."

Jonas turned his gaze down to the file in front of him, skimming through some of the papers. He stopped after only a few seconds, looking back up to Rory. "What do you want?"

Rory nodded, smiling politely and centering himself before answering confidentiality. "I want to become an agent of HIT, just like my father, sir. I really want to ser-"

"No no... I see you have enlisted in the HEAT program right here. I can tell what your plans are. I'm asking what you want, Mr. Tyler. What is your goal? What motivates you?"

The shaking stopped for a moment, before intensifying. Rory felt like he had been suckerpunched in the gut. He wasn't sure how to vocalize it... or even understand why he was here, truly. I don't know wasn't going to be satisfactory. Rory scrambled for a moment, before blurting out. "Family." Dr. Lehrer smiled softly, clearly a little amused. Rory looked over to the clock on the wall, a strange wave of confidence washing over him as he continued. "I want to stay close to the remaining family I have... My grades aren't as good as theirs, I know that. But I'm willing to give everything to keep 'em safe."

Dr. Lehrer nodded, folding up the folder in front of him and sliding out a single sheet of paper filled with names and pictures. Across the top of the paper was a simple title: Team 21: Blackjack. "I appreciate that dedication... and ask that you extend that to your new team while you are here."

In moments, the campsite was alive with energy… and distractions. Rory followed Trevor as he began setting up a tent, trying to get a good handle for how to set one up to begin with. He kept eyeing the others as they were setting up their tents, raising an eyebrow at the realization of just how lavish they were: they were a far cry from the small things he used to set up in his backyard as a kid. Trevor was entrenched in figuring out how to work the tent, so Rory’s eyes drifted to the rest of his teammates. The group was pairing themselves up rather quickly. Rory wasn’t that big on putting himself out there. So, he figured he’d warm up the social muscles… and there was no better way than with a quick game of catch. He fetched a football out from his backpack, throwing it up in the air to sort of accentuate his point about spending some time as a group... and keep his hands occupied. He looked between those who hadn't yet partnered up. Of those remaining, Trevor seemed like the best option, as he seemed like the only one who could even stand to be around Rory. Though, there was always…

”Heya broer! You euhm, got a tentmate yet?”

Rory’s eyes were locked on the tall woman, back turned towards him as she had approached Cassander. His heart sunk slightly, a small whirlpool of undeserved jealousy knotting his stomach before washing away. Rory understood, Cass had a pretty look about him… the brooding was less appealing, though. Not that Rory had much room to complain on that front. Regardless, he was so lost in thought he hadn’t noticed the ball sail back down and bounce in the direction of Banjo and Calliope. He didn’t even realize what he had been doing until a small change in light quickly got his attention. Banjo’s transformation was terrifying. Rory took a half-step back as his teammate was surrounded by a shining aura of energy. Quite frankly, Rory couldn’t piece together by any stretch of the imagination what that could possibly mean. Luckily, Banjo demonstrated an application, at least, by launching Rory’s football into the stratosphere.

“Oye, you two.” They then pointed to the wheelchair bound girl. “One of you needs to go ovah and team up with her. The other one can stay behind and be my partnah. I don’t care which one it is, just leave your shared braincell with the one that’s stayin’ with me. Okay?”

Rory’s blood ran cold instinctively as Trace spoke, a byproduct of his conditioning at this point. Everyone seemed to have a critique about what he was doing and how he was doing it. At least Trace was obvious about it, even if he could barely understand what they were saying. He wasn’t quite sure how he and Trevor were sharing some sort of mind prison, but it had to be some kind of saying from overseas. Unless Rory was in the mind prison now… and if he was, how would he even know he was in it? That was the plot from that one movie with the John Wick guy, Rory was pretty sure. Stop it, Rory. Focus. Rory’s eyes turned back to Trace, and it took him a second to comprehend their request. As soon as he opened his mouth to respond, looking towards Haleigh, a football plopped down to the ground from on high. Rory slowly walked over towards the football, that was covered with fastly melting ice. There was a permanent dent in one end, and a tear in the seam. It was still somewhat functional, but clearly damaged. Another thing to fix and replace, as if Rory wasn’t capable enough to damage his own items on his own.

He leaned over and picked up his football, sighing as he messed with the fraying seems and dent. He looked up to see Katja walking away from Cass, a small bit of dejection noticeable there. But before Rory could act, Inigo and Katja had made their moves. Inigo extended an offer to Haleigh, and Katja chose Trace. They had practically made the decision for Rory at this point... and Trevor had set up his own tent. Rory awkwardly shoved the broken football into his duffel bag, his hand grazing against something fuzzy in the bag. He reached in and pulled out a small playbook wristband he had used back in high school. He looked around at the others gathered and flipped up the first set of cards. Within each plastic sleeve were the small campus ID photos of his teammates, along with their names. Next to the pictures were several small lines for Rory to write notes with a small pencil stored in a small velcro pouch. The whole setup was Will’s idea from ages ago, an easy way to study Spanish terms while going for a morning jog. Maybe, just maybe, this could help him keep everyone’s powers straight.

With the future playbook strapped to his wrist, Rory sauntered over towards Trevor and admired the fancy tent. They were nicer accommodations than he was expecting. "You mind if I crash with you? Looks like everyone else has paired up." Rory plopped the duffel bag on the ground next to Trevor’s tent, unzipping it briefly to pull out a second football. ”Name’s Rory… You’re Trevor, right? Wanna toss this around and get to know what everyone can do?”

Trevor looked beyond Trace, not even acknowledging their existence. He waved at someone before walking away. “I’m like a meter away from you, wanker. Are you fucking kidding me?” They glanced at Rory, who became distracted by an American football. The boys turned white when Trace tried to employ them beyond just continuing their two-man circle jerk. They bit those words on their tongue, knowing better than to dig their heels into the situation. It was useless. Neither of them was smart enough to comprehend what Trace was asking. They would just do it themselves.

Of course, when they turned around to help the wheelchair girl, they found her being wheeled away by someone that Trace had never seen before. “What the hell?” They extended their arms in exasperation. “Who the hell is that? And we’re all okay with them taking her?” No one seemed to acknowledge or show panic during this entire interaction. Even their leader Bill, or whatever, seemed to be nonplussed by this development. Meaning that this person was either a part of Blackjack, or the school was fine with vagrants running off with their students.

Trace sighed, watching everyone pair off. Fine. Fuck it. They’d just assemble this goddam tent themselves, and whoever decided to sleep with a ghost, could join. Now to find a spot that was at least decently flat. That’s what a tent needed, right? A flat spot? Not too much wind. Not too much sun. Not too much… fuck if I know.

They were in the midst of rubbing their brow when a shadow leered over them. It wasn’t hard, really. Trace was only about five feet and some change. It didn’t take much to overshadow them. A tenacious blow-up doll had more length on them than the young Brit. They turned on their heel to see Katja. Hadn’t she gone to partner up with Cass? They looked beyond her and didn’t see him amongst the others milling about. Their eyes met Katja’s.

“Oye, don’t worry about it Katja. I meant, like, for flatmates. We shouldn’t be swappin’ clothes here in the tent. I’d love to partner up.” They paused. “But weren’t you talkin’ to that blond-haired wanker earlier? He turn you down?” As soon as they said those words, they figured that had to be the case. They knew how shitty that felt. “I wouldn’t worry ‘bout him. He’s probably scared that he might utter ‘step on me, mommy,’ in his sleep. He looks as milquetoast as they come—a right, proper crybaby. So, let’s get this tent set up.” They smiled at Katja, trying not to make it seem haunting. Though—everything they did was a little haunting.

“I meant to ask yah, if it isn’t personal or anythin’, but what’s your power? Feel free not to answer. I get that not everyone has an interestin’ ability. We can’t all turn things to ice or fly.”

Axel’s brow furrowed. He looked at Cassander and then back at Katja before bringing his eyes to land back on Cassander. With a reluctant nod, he agreed to the younger teen’s request, though admittedly confused why someone in Cass’ situation would rather spend the night in a tent with him than take the opportunity to ‘snuggle to keep warm’ with Katja.

“Whatever, kid.” Axel gestured for Cassander to put the tent down as the blonde-haired boy got to work.

“Great,” Cass replied, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. He could tell he had hurt Katja’s feelings. He had at least shook her hand and introduced himself, but panic had set in and his mouth was faster than his brain. Thankfully Axel had covered for him this time.

“I’ll get this set up.”

Admittedly, Cassander had never been camping before. And what he knew of camping, he knew solely from movies and television. That said, this ‘tent’ was nothing like the poles and canvas he was expecting and after a few moments of fidgeting with the shelter, Cass found a small lever. Giving it a quick pull, a hiss escaped the tent as the poles began to unfold and the base extended over the dry, patchy grassland.

“Ah!” A voice foreign to Cassander suddenly rang out from behind him. “I see you’ve made a friend.”

Turning around, Cassander saw a faculty member approaching. He didn’t immediately recognize the man, but he bore more than a passing resemblance to Axel. Combined with the House Lynx emblem proudly displayed on his windbreaker, Cassander realized this had to be Viktor Bordeaux; Axel’s father.

“Friend?” Axel retorted with a snide chuckle, “More like a rescue dog.” He added, not making an attempt to hide the barbed comment. “Are you checking in on me, old man?”

Cassander felt his cheeks sting as they flushed red.

“Just wanted to see how you were settling in.” Viktor mused looking over Cassander briefly before turning his gaze towards the rest of Team Blackjack. “You are, after all, something of a flight risk.”

Cassander allowed himself to scoff at the bad joke. Axel subsequently shot him a look that caused Cass to second guess if he’d regret it.

“How long have you been sitting on that one?” Axel asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest before stiffening up. It was the same sort of hostility that Axel had shown earlier in the day.

“It was just a joke.”

“I don’t think I’m at the place where I’m ready for some ‘friendly’ father-son ribbing.” Axel snapped back, “I definitely don’t need you coming down here to babysit me, and I frankly don’t appreciate it.”

Cass began fidgeting with the door to the tent. It was probably time to give them some space.

“You got this, puppy?” Axel asked, snapping a pair of fingers towards Cassander.

That was it.

“That does it-” Cassander roared back, a flare of light emitting from both palms as he stepped forward only to be stopped as Viktor placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Ha, guess they didn’t neuter you at the shelter.” Axel laughed. “Whatever, I need a breather. Enjoy kumbaya or whatever.” He saluted before becoming airborne and heading off towards the storm cloud-laden horizon.

“Sorry about that, young man.” Viktor apologized, turning towards Cassander. “I wouldn’t count on Axel returning tonight, but on the plus side, you’ll have plenty of space to stretch out.”

Taking a breath, Cassander allowed himself to nod. As the burn subsided in his hands, he slowly released his fingers, looking down at the nail marks dug into his palms.

“Take a moment, cool off and then you really should go and bond with your team, I’ll let Jim know what happened,” Viktor added, patting Cassander on the back who looked around at the other ten members of Blackjack.

Was this really what the school year would be like?

Yeah, he'd screwed up. Trying to take a peek around the yurt he was using for cover, to catch a glimpse at her reaction and facial expression, she looked... down. Maybe not crestfallen, but certainly disappointed with how things had played out.

Now whether that was because of the poorly delivered flirtation or not, he was unsure of, but it certainly wasn't remedied by his suggestion that they check in on everyone else.

Bloody dickhead. She was struggling to open up, you read it right and weren't overly forceful in poking and prodding clumsily - tread carefully and listen... and then you decide "Hey you know what would be a good idea? LeT's cHeCk iN wItH eVeRyOnE eLsE." Idyut.

Stop. Giving. A. Shit. Be cool. There's time to fix this later on. Hell, you're sharing a tent. And since we're going to have our own thoughts on everybody, there'll doubtless be something to discuss. 'Bonding' over team bonding, so to speak. It'll all work out.

Unless she decides she likes someone else here better and decides to ditch out and go with someone else after that piss-poor display... No second chances then.

A cold shiver ran up his spine, confronted with this new terrible possibility. Which also made him confront the fact that it was too late - he did, indeed, care.

But they were all already paired up, Jim-Bob wasn't going to allow some bullshit scuffle or petty argument kick off over people baselessly deciding to switch tents. He'd make people pick-n-stick just to avoid all that. Surely?

Calliope sighed audibly and began to walk away. Banjo wrapped up his "final check" and quickly fell in behind in as casual a pursuit as he could muster.

Now he was pretty much at the mercy of who she'd choose to approach, for who they'd be dealing with. He prayed to whatever deity who would still actually take his calls that it wouldn't be Trace, and was relieved when he saw it was the blonde girl in the wheelchair he'd seen around the traps and... someone else. Had he just completely forgotten this other person altogether? Had they always been here? Realising that Calliope was the only person whose name he'd cared to remember amongst their group from initial introductions, it immediately seemed plausible.

"Hey, do you need any more help? We got our tent up and figured we would come and check on everyone else. You know, get this whole bonding thing started. I'm Calliope, by the way."

"Evenin' thrillseekers," Banjo kicked off with an impression that no-one within a thousand miles would pickup on. "Banjo here." He gave a little three finger wave with his thumb and two forefingers. "There are no tools. Whole thing sets itself up. Piss-easy, if a bit unfulfilling in terms of soul. Got a lever, tucked just under that fold." He said as an aside, giving a conspiratorial wink to the blonde girl in the wheelchair who was inspecting the tent bag.

"Don't tell this one that, though." He said sticking out his tongue and gesturing at Calliope. "Reckon she thinks she's got herself a real Crocodile Dundee to up the tent." He joked.

Too soon, dickhead. Still raw... She's still disappointed with you...

Sparking and disruption caused the group to look over to the side, just in time to see Sparky McGee's hands spark blue, and his tentmate take to the skies and fly away.





Swap tent-partners, no... but he might just let someone go from one tent to a vacant spot in another.

And now Banjo was watching a vacancy open up as this guy flew over the horizon.

"Well, shit..."

Upon a closer look at the bag, there was no way that Iñigo would've set the tent up alone. That should've been obvious earlier, given their lack of experience in assembling tents. But, as per usual, there was no foreseeing them awkwardly inserting yourself as someone's partner. At least Haleigh was also kind, given that she didn't mind the slip-up and was concentrated on the tent. And it was also fortunate that she knew a thing or two about tents and (more importantly) setting one up. Then, before having the chance to say their name, a very familiar high-pitched voice interrupted them. Familiar in the sense that it was assigned to the obnoxious, childish tourist. The ones who have one too many drinks at the casino and start acting irresponsibly before security gets involved.

Banjo might've actually been a kind and pleasant person to hang around with, but his unpalatable demeanor was not doing him any favors. As a result, Iñigo found themselves tuning him out, but not completely to have heard him mention a lever that had been obscured underneath the tent. And the pathetic attempt at flirting by such an irritating man. Iñigo needed to interfere before having to endure any more tries were made. So they decided to speak up for some (much-needed) assistance with the tent. It wasn't a complete lie, given that the manual did not make sense to an inexperienced camper like them. "Haleigh, I need you to read out the instructions while I use the tools provided to us. Whenever you have the time, of course."

And when she was close enough to them, Iñigo stopped messing around with the lever and turned to face her. They didn't care if Banjo was still close enough to listen in to the conversation. "Sorry if I am presuming or whatever, given we hardly know each other. But you can tell me if he's starting to bother you. I have dealt with my fair share of obnoxious tourists who have overstayed their welcome. But if you're fine with him around, then let's focus on this pretentious tent and be done with it before it's too dark to see."

Banjo saw the same kind of red an Australian man sees when someone attempts to order him a Fosters lager. The same kind of red that arises when someone goes the raw prawn and suggests barbies and "shrimp" are their parlance.

The same kind of red as when someone shittalks the sacred baggy green and the beloved Australian cricket team who it adorns.

Oh, fuck no, rude cun--...

"Right, listen mate," The word spat with the kind of malicious venom that only an Australian could ascribe to the word. "You were just dealing with me at the peak of my civility, because I was trying to make a good first impression. But we've pissed that away, so how about I just settle for making myself understood..."

"As I tried to explain, in the simplest of bleedin' terms, you find y'self a flat deck, slap that bad-boy down, pull the lever... ONCE, with a bit of rigour in it if you can actually muster it, and Bob's ya bloody uncle it unfurls into an instant glamp-shack. I tried to explain it to-- well, there's the other thing..." Banjo gestured at the blonde girl in the wheelchair.

"This is the point I'd refer to..." He snapped his fingers in her direction repeatedly, too pissed off from the original affront to muster any more courtesy. "Haleigh."

"Cheers. ...Haleigh, here, but you didn't even have the bloody decency to carry out basic introductions when Calli here... apologies... Calliope here. Overly familiar. Was nice enough to do so. You could have come out and said, I dunno, 'G'day Calliope, Evening Banjo, I'm Rude-Prick-Who-I-Still-Don't-Know-Who-The-Fuck-You-Are and this is Haleigh'."

"Iñigo."

"Thanks again. Helping. Appreciated. 'G'Day Calliope, Evening Banjo, I'm-Rude-Iñigo-Who-Banjo-Now-Doesn't-Give-A-Fuck-Who-He-Is and this is Haleigh. Boy, some weather it looks like we're about to have, eh?'" But no. No common bloody decency. Now I'm going to be on my way to cool off and see if I can make any better headway with someone who isn't a total prick. It's been lovely meeting you, Haleigh, if you need any more help, feel free to ask..." He then pointed at Iñigo. "You." He spun the middle digit around and walked off.

...before turning after three more steps. "Oh, and 'Tourist'? Fuck off. Sure I've been here five bloody minutes, but if you've been in this country any longer than me, I'd be bloody stunned."

And with that he stomped away.

Before her newfound partner could respond, the duo had been approached by one of their teammates; a woman by the name of Calliope. Of course, another member of team Blackjack that had been more or less a total stranger to Haleigh. She'd been offering to help out with their tent construction, seemingly done with theirs already—a fact Haleigh was astounded by. Tents like these were annoying to set up, yet they already had their tent up. Was Calliope, or rather her partner, also a camping aficionado? Her curiosity had been peaked, eager to pick their mind of all the potential camping knowledge they had.

"It'd go by faster if we had more hands." Haleigh replied, taking a momentary glance in her partner's direction. Although Haleigh knew her way around a tent, more hands would certainly pitch it up much faster than her partner and her wheelchair-bound self could've. "Haleigh; it's nice to meet you, Calliope."

As Haleigh introduced herself once more, another of their teammates joined in on the conversation. This time it'd been Banjo, the speedo-streaker. Or so Haleigh remembered from earlier. With a stylized wave, he gave Haleigh a figurative nudge, directing her attention towards the lever within the tent bag.

Wait. Lever? What lever? Haleigh immediately dug around inside the bag, her eyes staring right at, indeed, a lever, apparently designed to inflate the tent as Banjo mentioned.

Ohgodimgoingtobesickwhyistherealeverherewhatthehellisthissupposedtobethisisntcampingiwouldliketohaveawordwiththedirectorwhoseideawasthiswhospentmoneyonthisabhorrentabominationthisisaninsulttocamperseverywhereisthissuposedtebeajokeisthisjustacrueljokebeingplayedonmefirstyoumakemeglampandnowyouremovethesatisifactionofputtingittogetherwithyourownhandsrichpeopleneedtobestoppedthisisnonsenseamisupposedtoexpectabutlertocomewiththistoodoesitcomewithathreecoursemealandthefinestchampagnewhataboutakingsizebedhuhareyouguystoogoodforsleepingbagsjesuswhatthefuck—

And so on. Her mind raced, going in loops like a NASCAR driver doing left-turns for hundreds of laps. She wanted to scream. This wasn't right. This wasn't okay. The outdoors was one of the few good things Haleigh still had in this world since she developed her powers, and P.R.C.U. ruined it! They said they'd help her, not destroy the very things she still loved!

Turning around, Haleigh opened her mouth to say something. Before she could get a word out, however, all hell broke loose, spewing in her direction like a tsunami of hatred and anger.

"I have dealt with my fair share of obnoxious tourists who have overstayed their welcome. But if you're fine with him around, then let's focus on this pretentious tent and be done with it before it's too dark to see."

"Right, listen mate. You were just dealing with me at the peak of my civility, because I was trying to make a good first impression. But we've pissed that away, so how about I just settle for making myself understood..."

Haleigh sat in silence as Banjo let loose, going off on Iñigo, and to an extent herself and Calliope as well. She desperately wanted to interject, but Haleigh was at a loss of words. What was she supposed to say? More importantly, what the hell had happened just now? Why were Iñigo and Banjo so clearly angry at each other?

She could only manage a few words, but they were enough to get her point across. "What the fuck is wrong with you guys?"

“What the hell? Who the hell is that? And we’re all okay with them taking her?”

Trace’s outburst settled on Rory as he had set his bag down next to Trevor’s tent. He looked over in the direction of Inigo and Haleigh, who were being approached by Calliope and Banjo. Certainly offering a helping hand, now that Banjo had destroyed one of the four footballs tucked inside the military-style duffle Rory had packed. He knew it was smart to come prepared for something like that. Will was always the one who thought ahead like that. But unlike Will, Rory couldn’t quite get that bad taste out of his mouth. Trace was rude, certainly, but seemed to show genuine concern and confusion. If they were all going to get along, who better than Rory to try and smooth things over.

Rory gave a polite nod to Trevor, holding up a single finger to indicate he needed a moment. He took a quick jog over towards Trace and Katja, his eyes nervously darting between the two. Knots twisted in Rory’s stomach at the thought of getting yet another tongue lashing for just existing from the angry enby vampire… but maybe this would help smooth things over. Hell, maybe Aunt Lily was right: everyone was probably just as nervous about all this as he was. Clarification certainly couldn’t hurt, right? Rory didn’t even hesitate by the time he got within a few feet of Trace and Katja, interjecting himself into their conversation headlong. ”That’s Inigo.” Rory paused a moment, realizing he hadn’t actually thought about what he was going to say… and pausing just made it even weirder. Rory just quickly continued, speaking about as fast as he could. ”With Haleigh. I think they got here a little late, missed the opening ceremony. Seems like a good person. So I wasn’t concerned with them trying to bunk with Haleigh. I wasn’t trying to ignore you or anything, you just-”

"Oh, and 'Tourist'? Fuck off. Sure I've been here five bloody minutes, but if you've been in this country any longer than me, I'd be bloody stunned." Rory turned his head quickly to see Banjo storming away from Inigo after pointing and yelling. This was getting quite out of hand. Rory’s entire train of thought came to a screeching halt. Someone needed to rein things back in.

Rory turned back to Trace and Katja, giving them an awkward smile and wave before just quickly jogging after Banjo. He called out, ”Hey, Bro!” In that instant, Rory panicked. He looked down at his wristband playbook, opening it for a moment as his mind grew too loud. There was too much happening to remember what that guy’s name was. He recognized the picture by the cocky grin, and quickly scanned the first name listed. Andrew… Andrew. Andy. Got it. Without so much as waiting for an acknowledgement, Rory continued, ”Look man, we need to be trying to get along here. If you need to walk things off, walk it off… but you can’t be talking to people that way, Andy. We’re a team, like it or not… so let’s just try to get along.” Rory pushed to jog a little faster to finish closing the gap, and accentuated his point by reaching out to grab Banjo’s shoulder in an effort to stop him for a moment and come to a sense of understanding.

This couldn’t possibly go wrong. Maybe Dr. Lehrer was right… maybe this team did need Rory.

It was only when Trace turned around and tried to meet her eyes that Katja really noticed their eyes’ strange, eerie look. They were almost completely white, like looking into a pair of marbles. She was kind of amazed at her own inattentiveness at how she hadn’t really noticed it before. Though to be fair, the most they ever interacted had been with their backs turned towards each other. But while the surprise was probably clearly visible on her face, she didn’t feel any unease. In fact, those eyes really completed Trace’s goth look, something Katja could absolutely get behind.

Being so distracted by their eyes, Katja almost missed them agreeing to share a tent. Shaking her head a moment to clear her thoughts, she looked back at Trace with a genuine smile on her lips and a spark of joy in her eyes. ”Fuck yeah! You have no idea how happy I am to hear that!” she exclaimed ecstatically as she only barely managed to stop herself from embracing Trace in a hug.

Katja quickly tried to regain her composure, but any attempts of that were rendered moot when Trace brought up the step on me mommy line. Her eyes widened in surprise at the insinuation. Katja quickly looked back over her shoulder to Cassander, then back to Trace, quickly back to Cassander again before finally returning back to Trace, her cheeks flushed and mouth slightly agape. “Wh-wha…” she stammered, but Trace seemed to pay little heed to her embarrassment as they looked up to her and smiled.

Trace’s smile might have looked creepy to some… Okay, to most. But honestly, Katja thought that had a charm of its own. It helped calm her down a little and forget about the whole mommy business. She returned a smirk before looking over the tentset that she had been holding on to. ”Let's see if we can get this tent set up, shall we?” The instructions were kind of unclear - when weren’t they? - but she eventually figured out that there was a small lever on the weird contraption. Putting the set down, she pulled the lever with a firm tug. In no time the tent was unpacking itself and slowly taking on the form of a yurt. She had expected one of those cheap tents you saw at festival grounds, not… whatever the hell this was. Not that she was complaining though, those things suck when it rains. And boy would you look at those clouds…

As the tent was doing its thing, Trace asked Katja about her Hyper abilities. The mere mention of it triggered a twitch from her lips. ”Uhm…” she began hesitantly as she tried looking away. Getting asked about her powers in earnest by relative strangers was a new phenomenon for Katja, as she was used to getting nothing but scorn and disdain over it. Sure, the PRCU had asked questions too, but this was different. This was a peer who showed genuine interest. It felt strange but also… Liberating? Comforting? Elating? She wasn’t quite sure how to phrase it, but one thing was certain. Katja was beaming.

Straightening her back to restore some of her composure, Katja tried to regain eye contact with Trace before taking a deep breath and began to answer their question. “I won’t bore you with the details, but the TLDR is that I can manipulate the density of my body, changing my weight and my body’s toughness accordingly. It’s not as flashy as generating electricity from my hands or shaping the earth around me, but I think it’s quite helpful that I can punch through brick walls or take a bullet to the face and live.” A grin settled on her face as she recalled messing around with her uncle’s guns a couple years back. ”Don’t ask me how I know about the latter.” she said with a chuckle.

“How about you though? What kind of abilities do you ha-” Katja wanted to ask Trace about their powers before she was interrupted by another member of their team. Rory, if she remembered correctly, seemed to respond to a comment Trace made earlier about whatever was happening with Haleigh and this stranger, who’s name was apparently Iñigo. He looked about as nervous as she had felt mere moments ago, with an awkward pause in the middle of his answer. But things were kicking off at the other group right as he seemed to apologize to Trace for a reason Katja didn’t understand. And he was off again after giving a slightly awkward wave to the pair of them.

Katja turned back to Trace with her hand pointed at the group in confusion. ”What the hell is happening over there?”

---

Iñigo wasn't fazed at the man's outburst, colorful insults, and thick English accent. There were worst insults out there than the ones spat out by him. And then he began lecturing them about... well, they weren't quite frankly paying attention. It was nothing more than Banjo whining about them being a 'rude prick' while being such a hypocrite with that display of the bird. And once his temper tantrum had ended, the tent was practically set up and ready for use. Iñigo smiled in delight for pitching a tent without any fuck-ups. Then, they turned around to greet Haleigh and Calliope, acting as if the outburst didn't occur. "Iñigo is indeed my name! I would've properly introduced myself sooner if not for the... interruption. Sorry abo-."

"What the fuck is wrong with you guys?"

Before having the chance to react, Calliope inserted herself into the conversation. And yet, Iñigo truly listened to her words and felt terrible for not acknowledging her. But that was the only thing they agreed with. She wasn't any better than them with her snide remark toward Rory, all because he was trying to be a mediator. It wasn't their fault that Banjo lost his cool so fast. And furthermore, Iñigo never agreed to participate in this bonding-with-complete-strangers-in-the-woods activity. Hell, the entire idea of the homecoming trials was meaningless to them. Iñigo didn't even care about winning or which house chose them. All they cared about was upholding their agreement with the Americans.

So they can ultimately be reunited with their parents and little brother. Stop thinking of them! Not with everyone staring at you, idiot!

"You're right. I shouldn't have ignored you and your offer. And for that, I am truly sorry." Iñigo sincerely apologized to Calliope, regretful for being dismissive towards her earlier. Then, it was time to apologize to Haleigh and hopefully be done with this awkward mess. "And I'm sorry for misreading the situation. I swear it won't happen again."