SkyKnight117

Reform

Ryan nodded, hiding the bike was way better than cops and medics. He damn sure couldn't afford a ride in an ambulance, much less a doctors visit. He could hear the sirens in the distance now. "Lets do it." He stuck hi arm out, and one of the men grabbed it, pulling him to his feet.

As he stood he felt his left foot hit the pavement. Where's my damn shoe. Ryan looked around, most of the smoke was thinned out by now, and he saw his shoe a few yards away, a bright white beacon in the street. He half hopped his way to it and picked it up, sliding his foot back into it, and caught a glimpse of his bike.

Oh baby....He thought, a frown forming to his lips. Grace wasn't bent out of shape at all, but she was missing a side mirror, and long deep scratches covered her white pearl body. With time of the essence, Ryan would have to look her over further another time. He picked up the sport bike, and hit the kill switch, she'd been idling too long.

He looked back at his rescuers, "Where are we going?"

Reform

Air suddenly spilled back into Ryan's lungs, his breathes no longer forced. Whatever was on top of him, he could feel it being peeled away. The air came to him so fast he couldn't help but choke on it, much like surfacing from water that he'd been submerged in too long. His eyes widened, and his vision was less blurred. There was a newfound strength in him now that he could breathe.

Fresh air....Works wonders.

"Hey hey hey stay awake. Hey. Christ, please be alright."

Ryan was trying to answer but he was still choking on the new air. He could only manage to wave his hand around as he coughed. He formed his index finger and thumb into the O.K. sign, then lifted his arms to remove his helmet.

As he pulled the thick plastic from his head, he coughed a few more times, dropping the helmet to the ground as he caught his breathe. Looking up he saw two men, his rescuers, staring at him worryingly.

"I'm...I'm alright." Ryan choked, "What the cough, cough, What the hell happened?"

Reform

The wind lapped against his jacket as Ryan sped down the street, his motorcycle growling pleasantly as he went. With school out for the day, and maybe even the rest of the year, he wasn't really sure where to go, and with all these weird things he was experiencing, a good ride seemed like the only answer.

He had decided to take the long way home, he had no place to be, and he needed some time to escape his current deboggle. As he rode, the city became less coffee shops and pizza joints, and more power plants and utility buildings. The shittier side of town for lack of a better phrase. Tweakers and prostitutes on every corner, and the occasional homeless dude passed out on a bus stop bench or curb.

Yeah Ryan, that'd be a good way to end the day. Just get mugged, and lose your bike and rent money to one of these junkies. He rolled to a stop as he approached a 4-way. The street was mostly desolate, but he noticed a beat up car with brand new spoked rims on the right, and cars just loved pulling out in front of him, so he waited.

A voice called out to his left, "Hey man!"

Ryan turned to see a man in dirty clothes, thin as a rail, waving his arm at him. He didn't answer, but the turn of Ryan's head was apparently enough of a welcome for the man to walk out into the street towards his bike.

"Hey man!" The guy repeated, still walking over to Ryan, in no hurry to get out of the road. "Say bruh, you got a cigarette?"

Ryan shook his head, more in disbelief than an answer to the stranger.

"Come on man, you can spare a cigarette!" The man insisted.

Ryan looked back at the other car to the right, who still hadn't moved. He noticed someone leaning into the drivers window now.

Of course it's a drug deal.

Ryan shook his head again and sped off. Leaving the man who wouldn't take no for an answer standing in the middle of the road. Maybe I should find somewhere else to ride, this place is just a shithole.

A few miles down the road he found a cross street that would probably lead back to the inner city, and turned on to it. There were less people here, and mostly just old warehouses, most of which seemed run down or otherwise vacant. He slapped his helmet a few times, trying to shake of the grogginess that was still lingering inside him. As tired as he was, he probably shouldn't be riding.

Home it is I guess.

Suddenly there was a massive boom. A warm orange glow glared over the left side of his helmet visor, and as he turned his head he was barely able to see the explosion of the nearby warehouse before a large sheet of metal whisked past him. He swerved away from it, but as he turned forward, the thickest layer of smoke he had ever seen had already encompassed the road and he was completely blind.

He could hear shrapnel falling all around him, but before he could slow to a stop, he was struck by something large and hard. The sport bike slid out from under him, and he skidded across the road. The grinding of his helmet on the pavement tore through his ears as he slowed to a stop.

He couldn't tell if he was on fire, or if his gear was just hot from the slide, but even in his helmet, the air was burning his lungs. He struggled to get up but collapsed back onto his face.

My bike. He thought, trying to catch a glimpse of his beloved machine, but the smoke was too thick. He couldn't even see the pavement he was laying on. Ryan just layed there, pain shooting through his body, too tired to move. He could only hear the sound of his own aching breathes, amplified inside his helmet.

Get up. he told himself, Get up and get out of the road.
But he couldn't move.

As he tried to lift himself up again, he heard a tink on the back of his helmet. Something was on top of him. Now he could feel it digging into his shoe. His other shoe seemed to have disappeared, he could feel the air on his toes.

He just laid there. Unable to move. His breathes getting harder to take. Where was the adrenaline he'd heard so much about? Why was he still so weak? The shrapnel finally stopped falling around him, and he could finally hear the familiar growl of his exhaust.

Well Grace....I guess we die together.

Reform

Ryan sat outside the school on one of the many stone benches underneath the large blue awning known as the "smoke tent" puffing on a long cigarette. The students from his class were also around him, along with the occasional instructor or janitor taking a break. Bruce was standing by the entrance talking to one of the directors of the school, talking very seriously about something. Ryan couldn't help but feel like a target, as if they were going to throw the blame for whatever just happened on him. Perhaps that was because he was unable to put the blame anywhere else either.

He had done as Bruce asked, and jogged down the hall to MOTO-6, a class in his building that frequently had running motorcycles inside the classroom. The school had once had an issue with instructors and students passing out due to the carbon monoxide in the exhausts not being properly ventilated, and had to update the facility to include long hoses that clamped around motorcycle exhausts and channeled into a large overhead ventilation system, forcing the exhaust outside the school. The ventilation seemed to be working properly, and all the inhabitants of the MOTO-6 classroom seemed perfectly fine, and Ryan hadn't smelled anything in the classroom that could be related to exhaust. Nonetheless, the instructor in that class ordered all the bikes to be shut off and an evacuation of the class.

Their class was joining Ryan's at the smoke tent now, as were the few other classes in Building A. The students from other classes were finding their friends from Ryan's class and checking on them, bringing them water or even fanning them as if to flush out any carbon monoxide poisoning with fresh air.

Ryan turned his attention back to Bruce and the director, who was now gazing around at each of the students with a horrified expression. Ryan imagined the last thing this guy wanted was another story about carbon monoxide in the school affecting students. The director nodded to Bruce, who started making his way to the smoke tent.

Much to his surprise, Bruce came and sat down next to Ryan, who put out his cigarette in the stone ashtray on his left.

"So what's gonna happen now?" Ryan asked.

"Well," Bruce started, "If there's an exhaust leak in the building, we can't chance anyone getting poisoned. We'll wait for the board's official decision, but I don't think they're gonna chance it. The school may be temporarily closed until we can have the ventilation systems inspected, and if need be, updated."

Ryan frowned, he gave up everything to relocate and come to this school. He never had much, but everything you have is everything you have. Update the system? That could take months! What am I supposed to do while until then?

"How long will that take?" Ryan asked, unable to hide the panic in his voice.

Bruce looked back at Ryan, their eyes locking. Somehow his expression and tone reassured Ryan. "You'll be fine, son." He said, interlocking his fingers, "You're grades are solid, and your lab work is spot on. I'm not sure how long this will take, but look at it as a break. You've been busting ass and it shows, in your grades, and in all your instructors notes."

Bruce's eyes narrowed, and he put a hand on Ryan's shoulder, "You sure you feel alright?" He asked, "You're looking a little bit like the rest of us now..."

Ryan suddenly realized he was tired again, like he felt on most days. Only moments before though, he was surging with energy, like he could've run for miles. Now he was crashing again, and the thought of bed was the most blissful thing he could imagine. What the hell is going on?

"Ryan?"

The instructors voice shook Ryan out of his sleepy trance. Back to zoning out it seems.

"Yeah, I'm fine," He replied, "Just been a long day."

"Well I'm gonna go check on your classmates," Bruce declared, standing up, "seems like they're all coming around now."

Ryan snapped his head around to see the other students. He hadn't even noticed how loud it was becoming around him. Conversations were flooding the air, and even pockets of laughter. Life seemed to suddenly appear out of what was moments before a horde of the undead.

"Fresh air," Bruce proclaimed, "works wonders."

The instructor smiled and walked away to check on the other students.

"Yeah," Ryan muttered to himself, "Wonders."

Reform

Ryan leaned toward his Instructor, Bruce, and nudged him. He was really starting to get creeped out by the simultaneous slumber party that seemed to have take over the class. As he touched Bruce's shoulder it merely broke the rhythm of his quiet snoring, only for it to quickly relapse to its original standard.

"Bruce" Ryan said quietly, trying to be gentle in his attempt to rise his mentor.
The instructor's snores did not falter. Ryan cleared his throat and shook his teacher harder, this time without stopping.
"Bruce," He said, this time louder, "Mr K, I'm finished."

Bruce slowly opened his eyes, like a lazy kitten stretched out in the sun. His eyes were still partially rolled toward the back of his head. He must've been sleeping pretty hard. The instructor gathered himself in a manner that Ryan could only compare to a sloth....or maybe a zombie, and after several minutes he seemed to finally realize that he'd just been caught sleeping on the job by a student. Ryan felt a little uncomfortable now, it was an akward situation that he could never have predicted he would ever be in.
Bruce wiped the sleep from his eyes and looked at Ryan confused, then slowly took the test and answer sheet from his hands. The instructor stood and looked at the clock, scratching his head, then turned back to Ryan.

"Very good Mr. Fowler, you may-" Bruce paused and looked past Ryan, obviously spotting the rest of the class, still drooling onto their desks.
"Are you feeling alright, Fowler?" He asked.

Ryan felt a surge of unease come across him. He couldn't help but wonder why everyone in the class, including the Instructor was fast asleep in a matter of minutes, or why he felt oddly energetic. Did Bruce suspect this was HIS doing? that Ryan was somehow involved? No. That would be foolish. Ryan was sure he was blowing this way out of proportion.

"I feel fine." Ryan answered, trying to smile, but not too big of a smile. The akwardness is just impossible to mask at this point. Still, Bruce seemed to believe him.

"Do me a favor son," Bruce began.

"Yeah, whats up?" Said Ryan.

The Instructor propped the door open as he ushered Ryan into the hall.

"Go make sure MOTO-6 has their exhaust vents running, and if so, ask the Instructor to double check the fans."

"Yes Sir." Ryan replied, heading out the door toward MOTO-6.

Neither the classroom or the hall smelled like exhaust emissions, and judging by the way Bruce was acting, Ryan was sure he knew that wasn't the case. But it still seemed to make more sense than everyone but the insomniac taking a nap in the middle of a test.

What a strange day.

Reform

Ryan entered the classroom, his backpack thrown over one shoulder, and made his way to his seat. He was early, as usual, so there wasn't many students in the room with him. It was Friday, meaning it was test day after a long week of tearing engines and transmissions apart and throwing them back together. Between work and school, Ryan hardly had time to study, let alone sleep, but he'd always had problems sleeping. Insomniac was his self proclaimed title, though he'd never been to a doctor for his sleep deprivation. Doctors are expensive. He wasn't particularly worried however, because it would seem as though a lifetime of insomnia made it harder to notice how tired you were, as it eventually became the norm.

As the students began to file in, Ryan could tell everyone else was moving a little sluggish as well. The Instructor entered with his usual greeting, "Another day in paradise, goin' to motorcycle school." only today even he seemed to be lacking his usual chipper attitude. The students all made their way to their seats and took out their notebooks for a final study before the test. Ryan's lab partner, Josh, sat down next to him, releasing a yawn that seemed to last forever.

"Long night?" Ryan asked.

Josh nodded slowly, "But hey, it's Friday."

Josh smiled a little then opened his notebook and began shuffling through his notes.
Ryan shook his head. He was a little tired, sure, but these people were definitely going to put him to sleep. Instead of the usual talking and laughing that goes on at the beginning of class, it was dead quiet. Ryan looked around the room to find every student was staring straight into their notes without even a mumble.

After a few minutes, the Instructor stood up, a pile of folders in one hand and a stack of scantrons in the other. The test was about to begin. Ryan's eyes were becoming heavier and heavier, he almost didn't realize the instructor was now in front of him, sliding a folder and a scantron onto his desk. Ryan leaned back and stretched, trying to shake of the overwhelming feeling to take a nap, and began writing his name on the scantron. He could hear yawns all around him as the test began. He couldnt remember the last time he was this tired, and of all days, on his exit exam. He knew he needed to wake up somehow. Ryan stretched again, popped his neck, and sat straighter in his chair in an attempt to liven up.

Question after question he found himself feeling a little more energized. His focus became more solid, and even the parts of the test he'd been worried about seemed to become simpler to him. His memory seemed as refreshed as he was, and he finished the test much faster today than he had any of the other tests. As he stood up, Ryan tucked his pencil into his shirt pocket, and gathered up his test and scantron. HE made his way to the Instructors desk and extended his arm to hand him the test. The Instructor was sound asleep, propped up on his elbow, and drooling straight into his steaming coffee mug. Ryan smirked, and turned around to see if an of the other students had noticed. But as he turned around, the wide grin on his face slowly faded, and he had what was probably the most puzzled expression imaginable.

As he gazed around the room he realized, every student in the room, was also sound asleep. Ryan couldn't help but wonder if he was dreaming. If maybe HE was the one asleep while all the others finished their tests. He could imagine the Instructor looming over his sleeping body, shaking his head at Ryan's lack of professionalism. But Ryan knew he wasn't dreaming. He felt more energized than he's ever been in his whole life. What a curious thought....an insomniac....that isn't even the slightest bit tired....

Reform

Name: Ryan Fowler
Age: 24
Ability: Sleep Inducement

Reform

testing testing....1 2.....1...2......

Reform

Heeeeeeeeeeelp