Xaviers!

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Beginning.  Level.  Five.  For Subject.  Zero.  Zero.  Zero.  Two.

The three watching in the observation deck had pretty heavy shades on, as flamethrowers erupted from the walls, bathing the danger room in an inferno. They were carefully monitoring the temperature inside the room, as well as an infrared monitor, which showed someone inside the room, arms up and extending into a shield, as he powered forward towards a button on the other side.

((open))

Sam sits sullenly in a chair in the observation room, waiting her turn.

She wasn't sure if they just wanted all the shapeshifters out of the way, but there did seem to be a theme going.

"Nervous, Ms. McManus?" the headmaster asked, turning to look her way.

In the Danger Room, a giant metal crusher slammed from the ceiling, squashing whoever was in there flat, as the flames continued to burn.

"I just don't see the point in this. I've been on missio-"

She blinks, looking to the sudden noise.

"What's that supposed to test?"

Lippencott looked back over his shoulder.

"Resiliency. Elasticity. Recovery time. Mr. Stanton has a higher level of experience than the average student, and so his tests are a little...rougher than most."

And, indeed, the infrared camera showed a mushy blob slowly squeezing it's way out from under the crusher, an arm reaching out to hit the button.

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Beginning.  Level Six.

The flames turned off as the room appeared to begin to spin, gradually picking up speed...


"The point, of course, is to best understand what you succeed at and what you struggle with, and learn to overcome or adapt to obstacles. And best to do so in a safe environment with friends rather than out in the wild, yes?"

"Don't you have like... files on him already?"

"Well, yes. Some. And files on the rest of the students. But this isn't about us. You're not some...guinea pigs in a maze. This is about helping you realize your full potential."

Will tried to reach in from the edges of the spinning room to hit a button in the center of some rooms, but in response, some poles shot up from the floor in the center, all rotating and spinning at different speeds in different directions, with Will getting stretched and twisted around them like a string figure.

"Will's pretty old. Do you really think a semester's worth of pep talks and running him through a meat grinder will do that?"

"Will's obviously a special case," Lippencott conceded. "But there's more to the program than just the power training classes, of course. There's the regular coursework, and the individual projects. It's all very personalized and designed."

Will wrangled his way around some of the poles, and was about to hit the button in the center, when whirling blades popped up, spinning and twirling around the chamber, forcing Will to twist and bend more to avoid being sliced and diced.

"All of you are remarkable, in your own ways," he said, turning back to look at Will's performance. "And all of you have different areas in which you need guidance, or can be left to your own devices."

"...so does level six mean he's doing well?"

"Oh, this isn't about doing well or not. This isn't a pass-fail sort of situation. If you're worried about that, you can rest at ease; no one will be judging you based on your performance in there.

As for Mr. Stanton specifically, her "level six" is a bit higher-danger than most people's. As you say, he has had a fair amount of experience in these matters."

He paused and looked back out over the room.

"I *would* say she's doing quite well, however. What we've done here is remove his frame of reference -- the room is spinning rapidly, and the poles and blades are also moving in both directions at different speeds. Keeping all of these variables in mind must be nearly impossible. We've also ensured that he's taking a shape that she's never had to take before; this particular configuration of stretching and twisting can't be an exact copy of a form he's taken, even after all of time. The crushing and burning from the previous stage should strain his ability to shift. Nothing should be familiar at all to her.

And yet, look at him. He's recognized the poles as 'safe' spaces compared to the blades, and is bending and twisting himself to wrap around them, and use them to find the gaps in the danger. She's somehow managed to sort of conceptualize the entire room, *and* his position in it, *and* how to stretch and move in ways she's never done before to keep herself intact.

It's rather breathtaking, is it not?"

"Will's good at what he does. He's been a team leader."

"And even if he's not mentally in that place anymore, he still retains quite a bit of the skills.

Ah, to be so lucky as to be born with an X-Gene," Lippencott smiled at Sam.

In the room, Will gauged his rapidly-diminishing options, and then reached forwards to slam the button in the center of the room, just as the blades went by him. He couldn't quite get there in time, though, and as he hit the button, razors sliced though him in multiple locations, snapping him and sending him rocketing back through the twisted mess of poles, as a red light came on.

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Ending simulation for Zero.  Zero.  Zero.  Two.

The poles and razors derezzed and vanished, as several pieces of Will lay on the floor in the danger room.

Sam blinks, as she thought Will was going to get out of this one. Tensing, she gets up and rushes to the doors, heedless of whether they're going to let her in or not.

"Ms. McManus!" Lippencott called after her, as she rushed to the door.

The Danger Room was unlocked now that the test was over, so Sam would have no trouble getting in. From above Will, a strange white light that Sam couldn't remember the DR ever emitting before was shining on Will, with a low pitched hum.

As for Will himself? The bits of clay were slowly sliding together, helped in part by the floor in the DR tilting and angling to sort of...shove all of it together into one pile.

"Come on, Will..." she says, going out onto the unsteady ground and trying to help bring the pieces back together.

"I'm here. I can't believe they did that to you."

It's not overly difficult to slap some clay on top of one another, if you don't mind getting your hands a little dirty, so it doesn't take Sam too long to help get Will into a sort of central glob. It would take another moment or two before that glob started vaguely resembling a person again, but a doughboy-esque shape with limbs and a head and everything was beginning to reform.

Nnng. Samantha?

I guess I mistimed my reach, there...

Don't...don't mean to make you look bad, he joked(?) as more of his facial features began filling out into something that looked 'normal'.

I...don't know? Will said, blinking as he...no, check that, she...sat up, leaning a bit against Sam for support.

But I feel...I feel alright. A little disappointed," she said, as her mouth finished forming. "And I think I'm going to be sore in the morning but...I kind of strangely feel...OK?"

She grabbed at one of her shoulders and slowly rotated it, testing her range of motion.

"Besides, y'know. I'm a pretty tough cookie. Takes more than a little fire to burn me," she said, with a half-wince, half-smile.

"Whether you can survive it is different from whether you should be expected to, aye?"

"I believe Ms. Stanton regularly exceeds our expectations," Lippencott said, coming into the room behind Will and Sam. "Very well done today, Will. That was a very impressive showing, all in all."

Samantha McManus wrote:"Whether you can survive it is different from whether you should be expected to, aye?"

"You're sweet, Sam. I love that you care. And you're right; I shouldn't be expected to be literal chopped liver," she added, turning to give that aside to Lippencott.

"But I think I'm fine. I think."

"I don't know who's drawing up these tests, but where is Will realistically going to encounter that?"

"An overly-complicated death trap? More often than you'd think, based on Excalibur's records," the headmaster smiled. "And besides, I believe you'll find that Will has been cut up before, even if you limit your search to just our universe."

"No, this was more about reaching limits, rather than this exact scenario occurring. And pointing out where those limits were reached, and what mistakes occurred. That way, we can work to improve and move beyond them, and make things that much easier the next time around."

"I've gotten shot at before, and if that's what's going to be in these training sessions I think you've gone mad."

"We're certainly not going to shoot at you with safeties off, Ms. McManus. You getting shot is a serious issue. Mr. Stanton getting sliced is, as you can see, a minor inconvenience.

I understand your self-preservation here, but I assure you, you will be fine. We're not out to hurt you; we're here to help you."

"Self-preservation? I'm not the one you just chopped up!"

"Would you like a few minutes to ascertain for yourself that Will is alright? Would that put your mind at ease?"

"I think that'd be better than a golf clap, aye."

Lippencott sighed a little bit, and then gestured at Will. "As long as he doesn't mind, be my guest."

"I think I'm alright, Sam; I'm just a little...tired. Maybe I'll play hookie from class today," she added, in a stage whisper that Lippencott could clearly hear.

"I'm sure the headmaster can give you a note that he literally bisected you."

"'Quintisect', I believe, if you're looking for 'being literal'.

And I'm afraid not, Mr. Stanton. Your theoretical & computational aerodynamics class is very important to your studies. I'm afraid our dalliance with Ms. McManus means that we'll have to put our review of your performance here off for another time - come by my office this evening after your last class, and we'll go over your results in detail."

Will groaned and rested her head on Sam's shoulder.

"Crack the whip, why don't you."

"What, are you looking to sell off the jet and have Will take over?"

"Ms. McManus," the headmaster said, adopting a more stern tone than he had in their earlier conversations. "Mr. Stanton's future plans are none of your concern at the moment."

"So you chose that class, Will?"

"No, I didn't," Will frowned. "Nor any of the other nine classes I've been signed up for -- a triple classload.

I mean, I get that I already have a degree in theater, so doing that again is a waste of time, but...I mean, man," she harumphed.