G: To Fly on Paper Wings

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POWERHOUSE: Clarity, huh? Sure. This was clarity. In the month since impromptu get-together with the rowboat the haze of the Stage 2 concussion on Alex’s body had lifted, the bruise on his brain fully healed, but all that more conscious senses had brought him was more time and faculty to mull over unanswered and difficult questions. Needless to say, Powerhouse’s mind was far from clear.

He’d been so awash with managing what he’d come to terms with were feelings that exceeded friendship for Alison, the unfamiliarity of the undiscovered emotional territory that brought him, and the guilt he’d convinced himself was owed for feeling the way he did, that Alex had done everything he could to find meaningful distraction. Something positive had come of this turmoil though, a sense of rededication to honing his abilities and their potential.

Alex had, after much trepidation in spite of their month old commiseration, sought out Jean Grey to aid him in his endeavors, not the least of which included grasping and targeting objects from a distance. While certainly not easy due to the strain of the healing concussion, it had made the training all the more of a challenge – one that it seemed that ‘House was rising to. Oddly enough, when he actually applied himself he was capable of achieving at an alarming rate.

During his recovery a care package of some significance had arrived for him as well – much to Alex’s own surprise. Most notable among the gifted books, Sudoku, and photos was the one large object in the box: Thick smoke-colored nylon stretched and expertly stitched about a framework of lightweight plastic piping to form a pair of wings, each three-foot in length. Upon closer inspection, he found that they had been fitted to a set of backpack straps and were themselves fitted with leather ties to go about the wrists.

The note inside was brief but heartwarming and was signed ‘Julie,’ from his little sister.

This particular morning, he’d already spent a solid three quarters of an hour up on the roof reviewing all the principles of physics in his head like a pre-takeoff checklist of sorts. Sure, for someone that controlled gravity and could enact in essence a controlled fall, the prospect at hand wasn’t quite so much a proverbial leap of faith, but he wanted to this to work right on first attempt so as to avoid looking like a fool who failed.

This particular morning Sir Isaac’s laws were going to be put to work, namely the second and the third. ’The net force on an object is equal to its rate of momentum change,’ and ’To every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.’ Theoretically, this should be no different than achieving deflection of flow similar to an airfoil in a wind tunnel. However for theory to become practice Alex would need to be the one exerting the flow or force, as he was trying to achieve more than just simple lift but actual synthesized flight.

Here he was, preparing to leap off the roof of a 5-story mansion and… this was not exactly the best time to have a convoluted mind.

Message 1 of 3. [#35507]

Summary: Alex considers a pretty large leap.

Where: XI: Roof;

When: Morning, Jul 24, 2010;

OOC: PSYCHE and DAZZLER tagged for mention. I've got one more post that will go up in this thread either tonight or tomorrow, after which it will be open for any and all.

Tags: PSYCHE, DAZZLER

POWERHOUSE: Time for the pre-flight checklist:

Straps tightened… Check.

Cuffs secured… Check.

Sufficient height?… Yup. Plenty high.

Zipping his leather motorcycle jacket up to his chin, Alex stepped to the edge of the roof preparing to – hopefully – take flight… well, sort of.

“Well. Here goes nothing,” he said to himself, no so much as a confidence booster as it seemed the sort of appropriate thing to say at a time like this.

His signature translucent black aura emanating millimeters above his epidermis, Alex lessened his own gravity, rising at a forty-five degree upward vector to get to adequate safe distance away from the building, which would be rather unforgiving in the event of a collision. He’d just gotten over a concussion, he really didn’t need another one so soon… or ever.

Twisting his arms forward at the shoulder, he positioned the wings in such a manner – at least as he understood symmetric aerofoils to work – that leading edge ought to cut any oncoming air current so as to direct the air to the center of pressure, or ‘sweet spot,’ and produce lift.

With a final brief and silent prayer, Alex abruptly altered the vector so that gravity’s pull on him was along a horizontally forward plane. The material of the wings fluttered, failing to produce sufficient tenseness. Alex increased the pull until the nylon finally found proper tensity… for a fleeting moment at least until…

POP! RIIIIIIIP!

The resisting pull had apparently been too much strain to bare as first a bit of the tubing framework of the left wing gave way, followed by the shearing of the nylon material most adjacent to either side of the break.

The sound itself was so slight that Alex actually noticed the sudden jerk in lack of symmetrical lift first, and by the time he processed exactly what had gone wrong, he came to another far more pressing realization – while he’d been proceeding along an ‘X’ vector, he’s not attained sufficient enough lift to counteract the Earth’s gravity’s effect on his person and had lost substantial altitude on his ‘Y’ axis.

In other words, the ground was A LOT closer than he had remembered… like 15 feet or less.

It took about two seconds to process and exhibit the thought of Oh shit! which fortunately left another roughly three as more than enough to change the vector of his powers once again, this time back along the vertical axis, bringing himself to a fully inverted stop with his face barely a foot and a half from the grass-covered lawn below.

That was close! he though with a heaving chest as he performed a handstand, letting himself down easily back with his feet on solid ground. It’s a nice thought, Jules. But these are going to need some serious reinforcement… and a lot more calculation to find that sweet spot. My angles are going to have to be precise.

Alex removed the damaged wings, examining the issue closer, and headed back for his room.

Anyone who had been at or near a window on the northeast side of the mansion – which would have included all those in the cafeteria and the Girls dormitory – would have had a front row seat to the entire affair as it unfolded.

Message 2 of 3. [#35652]

Summary: Alex's attempt at flight does not go as planned.

Where: XI: Roof;

When: Morning, Jul 24, 2010;

OOC: Thread now open. Alex is headed back to his room, so if you're going to join and tag him feel free to set the location anywhere between the side-patio entry and the boys dorm.

Tags: ALL

INKLING: “Brilliant job at not becoming lawn fertilizer there flyboy… Two things though…” the voice chimed in from the side, slightly proceeding Alex’s notice of the Amethyst Amazon walking up across the lawn. Her head was turned upward toward the spot he’d rather ceremoniously leapt from. She stopped, folded her purple arms and tapped at her lower lip via a lilac index finger, still staring up at the point of previous plummeting.

Marina was currently draped by a loose, long-armed, low-cut collar blouse over her torso, appearing to be made of several layers of black, spider-web style lace, a pair of baggy, black pants with enough chains and buckles to set off metal detectors from the distance of a football field away, and her feet resting solidly in black 12-eyelet Doc Martens bearing bright purple laces…

“Point 1… You ever see the annual MIT ‘Egg Drop’? Statistically speaking… about 67.349% of the entries for the last 4 years on average didn’t survive the landing… the cushioning or airflow redirection theories didn’t hold up in actual execution…” The coal-black eyes shifted to Alex from their previous focus up to the roof. “So you’re technically above the odds for being able to even stand … the point being… feel lucky, Alex.. very… that you’re NOT part of a bloody, pulped imprint in the ground right now… After that, you earn props and a free coupon to have your balls bronzed…”

Marina’s lavender hand held up a pair of fingers, and she turned to face him.

“Point 2… there was a point 2 there somewhere… oh yeah… right. Those stabilizers are waaaaaay too rigid, without a decent ‘rudder’ or flap mechanism… and short…. You have a cute ass, but no rear ballast… even a kite has a counter-balance control by having a tail attached. Those wings might work great if you were jumping out of a plane and angling your descent. But umm… even ‘base jumping’ goes for higher altitude to start with, and that’s with a custom-shaped chute. You want something to curve you descent and grab the airflow more sharply… that is.. if you don’t wanna take another stab at winning the ‘Human Lawndart of the Month’ award again first.”

Marina wouldn’t have been normally so ‘harsh’ in her phrasing, but Alex power wasn’t exactly known for his willingness to listen to subtle rationality… His repute was for dealing with things in an up-front manner, by her recall, at least the few times she’d actually seen herself. Marina also knew that Alex had an overridingly umbilical attachment to this personal pride, hence was unlikely to actually.. say it with me… that’s right…ask for help… on his own volition.

Marina drew one mauve eyebrow upward, gave a short head-nudge toward the ripped wing assemblage, and added, very matter-of-factly, “SO… you want some help, or should we just set up the trampolene at the bottom of the wall for your next attempt?”

Message 3 of 3. [#35682]

Summary: Inkling responds to Powerhouse’s attempt to become the Human Lawndart…

With: POWERHOUSE, INKLING

Where: XI: Patio bordering Lawn;

When: Morning, Jul 24, 2010;

OOC: Much respect to Ryan… Marina's just pissed he almost broke his own neck un the attempt… and all the other bones in his body…

Self-edit re: Location noted… oops..

Tags: POWERHOUSE, EVERYONE

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